Kitabı oku: «The Gold Collection», sayfa 3

Dante was in the process of pouring himself a drink. He had told Rebekah to be ready for seven p.m., but it was only five to and he assumed she would not appear for at least another fifteen minutes. In his experience, women were rarely ready for a date on time.

He glanced round in surprise when he heard the door open and was so astonished at the sight of her that he froze with his glass midway to his lips.

‘Rebekah …?’ His voice deserted him as, for one crazy second, he wondered if the exquisite creature standing across the room was really his chef, who he had only ever seen wearing an unflattering uniform that made her appear as shapeless as a sack of potatoes. She walked towards him, moving with a fluid grace that held him mesmerised. As she came closer he noted that her incredible violet eyes were the exact same colour as her floor-length gown.

It was definitely Rebekah, but what a transformation! He had never seen her hair loose before and he could not take his eyes from the glossy chocolate-brown mane that rippled down her back. Soft grey shadow on her eyelids emphasised the colour of her eyes and her lips were defined with a slick of rose-coloured gloss.

As for her dress—Dante took a gulp of his drink to ease the sudden dryness in his mouth. She looked as though she had been poured into it and the silky material moulded her voluptuous figure. He stared at the creamy upper slopes of her breasts and felt a fierce throb of arousal in his groin that made him catch his breath. Utterly disconcerted, he was conscious of heat flaring along his cheekbones. He was not usually lost for words, but he did not know what to say and the casual greeting he had been about to make died on his lips.

Only once before in his life had he been so overwhelmed by a woman, and the memory caused his jaw to tighten. He did not want to feel this powerful attraction to Rebekah. He had asked her to accompany him tonight on a whim, thinking that it would be nice to give her a treat by taking her to the theatre in thanks for her hard work at the christening. He had been intrigued by the idea of her wearing an evening gown, but he had not expected her to turn into a gorgeous sex siren who made his heart race and had a disturbing effect on another pertinent area of his anatomy.

Dante’s silence stretched Rebekah’s nerves until she blurted out, ‘If the dress is not suitable then I won’t come with you tonight. I … I don’t have anything else to wear.’ She felt crushed by his reaction—or rather lack of it—to the dress. And that made her feel angry with herself because deep down she admitted that she had wanted to impress him.

‘The dress is fine. You look charming.’ Dante forced himself to speak. But as soon as the words were out and he saw the little flash of disappointment on her face he cursed himself that his tone had been unnecessarily brusque. He walked over to her, smiling with the careless charm that came so easily to him, but the delicate rose scent of her perfume filled his senses and it took all his willpower to resist the urge to run his fingers through her long satiny hair.

Flicking back the cuff of his jacket to check his watch gave him something to do with his hands. ‘We should go,’ he murmured. ‘The traffic is usually hellish along Shaftesbury Avenue.’

With a nod of her head she spun round and preceded him out of the sitting room. Dante could not prevent his eyes from following the gentle sway of her bottom beneath its covering of shimmering silk, and as they walked down the hall to the front door he glanced towards the stairs and almost gave in to the fierce urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her up to his bedroom. He had been looking forward to the evening, but now he felt tense and frustrated and not in the mood to act the role of urbane playboy that was the façade he presented to the world.

CHAPTER THREE

THE show was spectacular—an extravaganza of music, dancing and amazing costumes that earned the cast and director a standing ovation when the curtain fell. Rebekah had enjoyed every moment of it, especially as she’d had an excellent view of the stage from the private box she had shared with Dante.

In the car on the way to the theatre she had sternly told herself to stop being stupid about his lukewarm reaction to seeing her dressed up. He quite clearly wasn’t interested in her, and the sooner she accepted that fact the better. Following her silent pep talk she had been determined to make the most of the evening. She had never been to a top London show and she knew her grandmother would want to hear all the details.

And so when she had taken her seat next to Dante at the theatre she had willed herself to ignore the fierce tug on her senses as she breathed in the spicy tang of his aftershave. In the twenty minutes before the lights dimmed she studied the programme with him and peered over the balcony to spot the celebrities in the audience, many of whom Dante knew personally and a few he had represented in their divorce petitions.

‘I hear the game show host Mike Channing has recently married for the third time,’ he told her, directing her gaze to a man with an alarming orange tan. ‘Against my advice, he didn’t bother with a pre-nup. That’s going to be expensive when his new wife decides to become the next ex-Mrs Channing.’

Rebekah shook her head. ‘I feel sorry for you that you are so cynical.’

‘I prefer realistic,’ he replied with an amused smile. ‘And you don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’d rather be a cynic than a sucker. It’s a fact of life that some women make a career out of divorcing rich husbands.’

There had been an edge of bitterness in Dante’s voice that had puzzled her, Rebekah recalled later, when they were at the after-show party. Why would a self-confessed serial playboy have such a scathing view about marriage?

Perhaps he had been badly affected by his parents’ divorce when he had been a child, she mused. From across the room she watched him chatting to an attractive blonde in a skimpy gold dress and thought wryly that his determination to avoid commitment did not stop women flocking to him. But, in a room packed with A-list celebrities and London’s social elite, his stunning looks and virile sex appeal made all other men fade in comparison.

From the moment she had seen him dressed in a tuxedo she had been blown away by his sexy charm and had longed to trace his chiselled jaw and run her fingers through the lock of dark hair that fell across his brow. Her infatuation with him was becoming a serious threat to her peace of mind and her common sense told her that the only way to end her fascination with him would be to look for another job.

At that moment he glanced over at her and she hastily turned her head, hoping he had not been aware of her staring at him. A waiter paused in front of her to offer her a drink. She briefly contemplated risking one glass of champagne, but she knew it would give her a headache and instead she chose the fruit punch that she had already discovered was deliciously refreshing, with a zing to it that she thought might be sherbet.

‘Rebekah.’ Dante appeared at her side. He gave her an intent look. ‘Are you enjoying yourself? I noticed you’ve been chatting to a few people.’

‘I’m having a great time,’ she assured him brightly. ‘Please don’t feel you have to stay with me all evening. You’re highly in demand,’ she added drily, aware, as she was sure he must be, of the numerous predatory female glances directed his way.

‘Someone would like to meet you,’ he explained. He turned to the lean-faced, silver-haired man who had just joined them. ‘This is Gaspard Clavier.’

‘Yes … I know,’ Rebekah said faintly. She knew she was gaping, but she could not help it. The world-famous French chef was an iconic figure and her personal hero. She couldn’t believe he had asked to be introduced to her but, to her astonishment, the Frenchman lifted her hand to his lips with a Gallic flourish.

‘So this is the Rebekah Evans I have heard so much about.’

‘Have you?’ she said blankly.

‘Certainly. I believe you prepared the wedding lunch for Earl Lansford’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’ Rebekah remembered cooking the four-course lunch for three hundred guests at the Earl’s manor house in Hampstead when she had worked for the catering company. It had been manic in the kitchen but, to her relief, everything had gone to plan and she had been proud of the menu she had created.

‘Dante!’

At the sound of his name Dante looked round and waved to someone across the room. ‘I’ll leave you and Gaspard to chat,’ he murmured to Rebekah. ‘Please excuse me.’

She watched him walk over to a statuesque blonde and stifled a sigh, before resuming her conversation with Gaspard Clavier.

‘I was a guest at the wedding,’ Gaspard told her. ‘The food was a triumph. Every dish was divine. You can really cook, ma chérie, and that is not something I say lightly. You understand flavours, and your passion for food is evident in the dishes you create.’

Rebekah’s cheeks flooded with colour at the Frenchman’s fulsome praise. Earning Gaspard Clavier’s approval was the highest accolade she could have dreamed of.

‘Thank you,’ she said shyly.

‘You have heard, perhaps, of my restaurant, La Petite Maison, in Knightsbridge?’

‘Oh, yes, I visited it once when I first began my training and I was inspired by your food, Monsieur Clavier. It confirmed for me that I definitely wanted a career as a chef.’

‘After tasting your wonderful food at Olivia Lansford’s wedding, I decided that I would like you to work for me.’

For a few seconds Rebekah was speechless. ‘Cook at your restaurant, you mean?’

‘Oui. Not at La Petite Maison, but at my new restaurant that I hope to open soon in St Lucia.’

Once again Rebekah was lost for words. ‘St Lucia is in the Caribbean,’ she said slowly, and then blushed when she realised she had spoken out loud.

Gaspard looked amused. ‘It is indeed. My restaurant is on the beach. Imagine miles of white sand, turquoise sea and palm trees. How would you like to work in paradise, Rebekah?’

‘I don’t know … I mean, it sounds wonderful.’ She pressed her hands to her hot face. ‘It’s just a shock. And I already have a job here in England.’

The Frenchman shrugged as he pulled a business card from his pocket. ‘The new restaurant will not be ready to open for a few months, so you do not need to make an immediate decision. Think about it and, if you are interested, phone me and we will discuss it further.’

‘Yes … yes, I will.’

‘Bon.’ Gaspard smiled. ‘And now perhaps I can persuade you to dance with me?’

Later, Dante fought his way through the crowd on his way to the bar, wondering where Rebekah had disappeared to. He had glimpsed her periodically during the evening, dancing with Gaspard Clavier and then with a couple of other men. Now, as he scanned the ballroom, he caught sight of her partnering a handsome young actor from one of the popular TV soaps. The guy was a notorious womaniser and, from the way he was laughing and flirting with Rebekah, it seemed that he had decided to make her his next conquest.

But perhaps Rebekah had decided to seduce the pretty-boy actor? Dante’s mouth tightened. He had been concerned at the beginning of the party that she might feel shy when she did not know any of the other guests. But he need not have worried. It was not only her appearance that was transformed tonight. His quiet, reserved chef had turned into a confident and self-assured woman who was attracting the attention of every red-blooded male in the room.

He must have been mad to have brought her out in that dress, he thought grimly, as he changed course and headed towards the dance floor. He should have followed his first instinct and taken her to bed.

Rebekah was having the time of her life. Gaspard Clavier’s praise of her cooking skills had given her self-confidence a huge boost, and she was seriously considering his job offer. If she moved to the Caribbean, surely she would forget about Dante.

Although he had not been impressed with her dress, she had discovered that plenty of other men were and she’d had no shortage of dance partners. Mind you, her current partner was like an octopus, she thought, as she firmly moved the hand that was sliding up to her breasts back to her waist.

‘Come on, baby, let’s get out of here.’ Jonny Vance, who apparently was a famous actor, although Rebekah did not recognize him, stopped dancing and tugged her against him. ‘My car’s parked outside.’

‘No!’ she muttered, trying to pull away from him. ‘Will you please let go of me?’

‘I’d do as the lady says if I were you,’ a familiar voice said dangerously. Before Rebekah realised what was happening, she was jerked away from Jonny and clamped against a broad, rock-solid chest.

Her heart lurched as Dante’s arm imprisoned her and she was so surprised by his sudden appearance that her feet stumbled as he spun her round in time with the music. ‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ she said shakily. ‘He was getting a bit over-friendly.’

‘What did you expect?’ Dante gave her a derisive look and Rebekah saw that he was furious. ‘You were flirting with him and leading him on. Of course he thought he’d got it made with you.’

‘I was not leading him on.’ Outraged by the accusation, she glared at him, stumbled again and would have tripped on her long skirt if it hadn’t been for the fact that her body was practically welded to Dante’s. ‘I was just dancing with him and being friendly.’

Dante laughed. ‘Do you really have no idea of the effect you were having on him and on every man here tonight?’

Rebekah was fighting the temptation to sink against Dante and enjoy the heady delight of being in his arms. She had often imagined him holding her close like this, but the reality of feeling his thighs pressed hard against her soft flesh evoked a molten heat in her pelvis.

‘What do you mean?’ she muttered, discovering as she lifted her head to meet his gaze that his mouth was mere inches from hers. She wished he would kiss her. She ached to feel his warm, sensual lips on hers. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip.

‘I mean that Vance, and probably every other male in this room, has been fantasising about removing your dress to reveal your delectable voluptuous, naked body,’ he said harshly.

She gaped at him. ‘Of course no one has been thinking that. You make me sound like a … a siren who men find irresistible—but that’s just ridiculous.’

‘Why is it?’ Dante’s voice deepened, no longer coldly angry, but rough with a sensuality that sent a quiver through Rebekah. ‘I find you utterly irresistible, mia bella.’

Clearly he was having a joke at her expense, she thought bitterly. ‘Of course you do,’ she said sarcastically. ‘That’s why you barely spared me a glance before we left the house. If you had really thought me irresistible you would have …’

‘Been lost for words,’ he said softly. ‘I was completely blown away when you walked into the sitting room. You look so beautiful in your dress. I had no idea that you concealed such delightful curves beneath the shapeless clothes you usually wear. And your hair—’ he lifted a hand from her waist and threaded it through the rippling waves that streamed down her back ‘—it feels like silk.’

Dante could not control the hunger that clawed in his gut. His arousal strained uncomfortably against his trouser zip, necessitating him to shift his position. He heard Rebekah draw a sharp breath when his hardened shaft nudged her thigh.

‘Don’t do that!’ she gasped, shocked by the realisation that he wasn’t joking and unbelievably he really did seem to find her attractive.

‘There’s not a lot I can do to prevent it,’ he said sardonically. ‘Sexual desire sometimes manifests itself at the most inconvenient moments.’

‘But … you don’t desire me.’

‘I think the evidence is pretty conclusive, don’t you, cara?’ He looked down at her, his eyes glittering when he saw her confused expression. ‘Why shouldn’t I desire you? You are an incredibly desirable woman.’

Dear heaven, was Dante flirting with her? Rebekah swallowed and tried to control the frantic excitement that spiralled through her.

‘You shouldn’t say things like that,’ she muttered. ‘I work for you, and it’s not appropriate for you to make suggestive remarks.’

His husky laugh made the tiny hairs on her body stand on end and beneath her ribs she could feel the heavy thud of her heart.

‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t desire me, Rebekah?’

Her head spun. The situation felt unreal—being held in Dante’s arms, their bodies pressed intimately close as they danced and his eyes gleaming with sensual heat that sent a tremor through her.

Somehow she clung on to her sanity. ‘Of course I don’t,’ she said stiffly.

‘Be honest with me.’ He bent his head close to hers so that his words whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve seen the hungry little looks you give me.’

Mortification scalded her and she felt her cheeks burn. She cringed at the knowledge that he had recognized she was attracted to him. She had felt confident that she had hidden her feelings for him. But he had known, and maybe he had been amused that his frumpy cook had fallen for him.

She did not know what to say and, to her utter relief, the music track came to an end.

‘Excuse me,’ she said jerkily as she pulled out of Dante’s arms and almost ran across the ballroom in a bid to escape him. A waiter stopped to offer her a drink from the tray he was carrying. She took another glass of fruit punch before she stepped through the French windows that had been left ajar and walked across the terrace to rest her elbows on the stone balustrade. The night air felt cool on her hot face but her heart was still beating painfully hard. When she allowed her mind to rerun her conversation with Dante she wanted to die of embarrassment.

She could not continue to work for him now. It would be too awkward. It was bad enough that she had spent the past two months mooning over him like a lovesick teenager, but the realisation that he had known about her infatuation was so humiliating. First thing tomorrow she would hand him her resignation, she decided. And then she would phone Gaspard Clavier and discuss the possibility of working at his new restaurant in St Lucia.

Her mind was whirling as she took a long sip of her drink. Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps striding across the terrace, and she stiffened.

‘I’d go easy on the punch, if I were you. I overheard a waiter telling a guest that one of the ingredients is limoncello,’ Dante murmured.

That explained why her head had started to spin when she’d come outside into the fresh air, Rebekah thought ruefully. The Italian lemon liqueur had a high alcoholic content, but she hadn’t noticed it mixed into the fruit punch.

‘Well, as this is my fourth glass, I’m probably tipsy and you can have a good laugh when I make a fool of myself.’

The moonlight threw his chiselled features into sharp relief and accentuated the sensual curve of his mouth. Rebekah hated herself for the physical pang of longing that made her tremble. She tore her gaze from him. ‘Although, actually, I don’t need alcohol to make me act stupidly,’ she said miserably.

Dante frowned when he saw the faint quiver of her lower lip. ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded, catching hold of her shoulder to prevent her from walking away from him. ‘Are you angry because I admitted I find you attractive?’

It was not what Rebekah had expected him to say. She had been certain he would taunt her about her awareness of him.

‘I’m concerned it will make it difficult for me to carry on working for you,’ she mumbled.

‘I’m not a savage brute at the mercy of my hormones,’ he said drily. ‘I’m capable of controlling my libido.’ He lifted his hand and brushed her hair back from her cheek, his eyes narrowing speculatively on her flushed face. ‘Although it would help if you stopped looking at me like you’re doing at the moment.’

Was it the sudden sensual roughness of his tone that brought Rebekah’s skin out in goose-bumps or the hard glitter in his eyes that caused the ache inside her to intensify until it consumed her?

She bit her lip. ‘How am I looking at you?’ she whispered, and did not recognize the husky voice as her own.

‘Like you want me to kiss you.’ Dante gave a low laugh when she did not deny it. He stared into her incredible violet eyes, watched them darken as her pupils dilated and read the invitation she could not hide. But he also glimpsed a faint wariness that made him hesitate.

He recognized there had been an undercurrent of sexual awareness between them for weeks, long before she had taken his breath away by wearing an evening gown that revealed her hourglass figure. But he had determinedly ignored his attraction to her—partly because he preferred not to get involved with a member of his staff, but also because he had sensed a vulnerability in her that had made her off-limits. Yesterday, at the christening party, he had glimpsed an expression in her eyes that he could not forget. He suspected that she’d had her heart broken by the guy in Wales, but if she hoped he could fill an emotional void inside her she would be disappointed. Bitter experience had taught him that life was a lot simpler without emotions to screw it up.

But, as he’d watched her dancing tonight and noticed the attention she had received from other men, he had felt an unexpected surge of possessiveness that had prompted him to stride onto the dance floor and pull her into his arms. She had been on his mind all day and she had even disturbed his concentration while he had been in court representing a client. Now, as his gaze lingered on her soft pink lips, he could not control the rampant desire that surged through his veins.

She must be drunk, Rebekah thought wildly, because Dante could not be looking at her with raw sexual hunger blazing in his eyes, as if he wanted to ravish her mouth with his own. Dear heaven, how she longed to be ravished. But she must be sensible. She was always sensible.

‘Of course I don’t want you to kiss me … Oh!’ Her tremulous denial faded away as he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

His lips were firm and demanding, ruthlessly crushing her faint resistance with a mastery that made her tremble. He traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue before teasing her lips apart to dip between them, taking the kiss to another level that made her head spin and her body tremble.

It was the most erotic experience of Rebekah’s life and far exceeded the fantasies she’d had of being kissed by him. She had no thought of denying him. How could she when she was utterly captivated by the smouldering sensuality of his kiss? Instead, she responded to him helplessly, parting her lips so that he could plunder their sweetness. She heard him groan and mutter something in Italian beneath his breath. He slid his hand down to the base of her spine and pulled her hard against him, and the feel of his rock-solid arousal nudging her pelvis sent molten heat flooding through her veins.

Swept away by the sheer intensity of feelings Dante was arousing in her, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and clung to him, wishing that the magic would never end. But at last he eased the pressure of his mouth until it was a gossamer-light caress before he broke the kiss.

Rebekah stepped back from Dante and swayed unsteadily. He frowned, remembering she had been unaware that the fruit punch she’d been drinking all evening contained alcohol. He did not believe she was drunk, and he was convinced she had known what she was doing when she had responded so ardently to him. But once again he was struck by her vulnerability and he was not comfortable with the idea that he might have taken advantage of her while she was off her guard.

‘I need to take you home,’ he said roughly.

The sound of his voice should have brought Rebekah to her senses but she seemed to be in the grip of a wild madness that drove all sensible thoughts from her head. The fierce gleam in Dante’s eyes told her that the kiss they had just shared had not assuaged his desire. He wanted her, and the knowledge was empowering, liberating. For the first time since Gareth’s devastating betrayal she felt like an attractive woman instead of the grey shadow she had become.

Perhaps the full moon suspended like a huge silver disc above them really did have mystical properties. All she knew was that tonight she wanted to take back charge of her life. For weeks she had fantasised about making love with her gorgeous, sexy boss. Why not, for one night, turn the fantasy into reality?

‘When we get home, do you plan to kiss me again?’ she whispered.

The moment the words were out she was shocked that she had been so bold. Dante seemed equally surprised and his gravelly voice was thick with sexual tension.

‘Do you want me to?’

She stared at his hard-boned, beautiful face and her heart thundered.

‘Yes.’

Dante caught his breath as desire jack-knifed through him at Rebekah’s unguarded reply. He had told himself he must end this madness, but his chef, who he had thought of as prim and a little prudish, was excitingly unpredictable. She knew as well as he did that if he kissed her again the fire smouldering between them would ignite.

But, although Dante could not deny that he had earned his playboy reputation, he had a strict moral code of conduct. He always made it clear to the women he dated that sex was all he wanted, and he never slept with a woman if she did not accept his rules.

Did Rebekah even know the rules? he wondered. Before they went any further he needed to be certain she knew he would never want a long-term relationship.

‘You are full of surprises tonight, piccola,’ he murmured. ‘It makes me wonder how much limoncello was in the fruit punch.’

Rebekah bit her lip. Perhaps Dante was trying to be gentlemanly by suggesting that she was drunk and therefore not in full control of herself. His tone had been faintly condescending when he had called her piccola, which she knew meant ‘little one’ in Italian. But she was not an innocent girl. She was a mature woman who knew her own mind, and it was about time he understood that fact.

She stepped closer to him and tilted her head to meet his glittering gaze. ‘I don’t think the punch contained much alcohol. I’m perfectly aware of what I’m saying … and doing,’ she assured him huskily, and leaned forwards to press her mouth against his.

Her heart jolted when she felt his body’s immediate response. He allowed her to lead the kiss for a couple of seconds before he groaned and wrapped his arms around her, exerting his dominance by plundering her mouth with savage passion that left them both breathless.

‘In that case, let’s go home, mia bella,’ he said tautly, and took his phone from his jacket to call his driver.