The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

baby, she thought bitterly. Following the conversation with her mother, she had been swamped by memories of the past. Seeing the Portmans’ baby today had been so painful. She had coped by keeping busy with the party preparations and helping the waiters serve the food, but when James had suggested she might like to hold adorable little Alexander she’d had to hurry away before her tenuous hold on her composure shattered.

      She had still been in a highly emotional state when Alicia Benson had walked into the kitchen and burst into tears as she confided that Dante had led her to believe their relationship was serious. Of course she had been sympathetic to Alicia, Rebekah assured herself. She knew what it felt like to have your dreams dashed and your heart broken.

      She began to stack the dishwasher with the pots and pans she had used to prepare Thai-style coconut chicken, her movements automatic while her mind dwelled, as it so often did, on Dante. His cavalier attitude to relationships made her infatuation with him even less comprehensible, she thought ruefully. She assumed that one day she would come to terms with everything that had happened with Gareth and want another relationship, but it would take her a long time to trust a man enough that she would risk her emotional well-being and she certainly would not consider becoming involved with a womaniser like Dante.

      The sound of footsteps striding down the hall made her stiffen and she lifted her chin with a touch of defiance as the kitchen door swung open and he walked in. She had been perfectly within her rights to remind him that her duties did not include coping with the fallout from his fast-changing love life, she assured herself. It was important to establish boundaries, and if he did not like them then maybe it would be better if she handed him her resignation.

      She shot him a lightning glance and saw that he had removed his tie and undone the top few shirt buttons to reveal his tanned throat. The musky scent of his aftershave teased her senses and, to her disgust, her heart-rate quickened.

      ‘Miss Benson has gone and won’t be back,’ he informed her curtly.

      Not now he had made it clear to Alicia that the tears she was able to turn on when it suited her left him completely unmoved, Dante thought. He had done nothing to feel guilty about. There had never been any question that he would want more than a casual fling with her. Far more troubling was Rebekah’s attitude. He had no wish to lose an excellent cook but he would not tolerate her interference in his private life.

      He ran a hand through his hair and stared exasperatedly at her. ‘What the hell was all that about?’

      The sensible thing to do would be to apologise for poking her nose into matters that did not concern her, but the gremlin inside Rebekah had other ideas. The phone call from her mother had triggered memories of the day Gareth had called off the wedding. She still remembered the gut-wrenching shock she’d felt when he had admitted that he had been secretly sleeping with Claire for months. Was it too much to ask for men to be honest and truthful with women? she thought bitterly.

      ‘I won’t apologise for feeling sorry for your girlfriend,’ she said stiffly. ‘I realise you don’t give a damn about the feelings of the women you have affairs with. But I think it was despicable of you to lead Miss Benson on and make out that you wanted a serious relationship with her.’

      Dante uttered an oath, instinctively reverting to his first language to express his anger. ‘I did not lead her on. I made it clear from the start, as I always do, that I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. I don’t know what rubbish Alicia spouted to you, but if she told you I had promised to make a commitment to her then she was lying.’

      Rebekah did not know why she was so certain Dante was speaking the truth but he had spoken so forcefully and she felt instinctively that he was not a liar. She tore her eyes from him and became very busy tidying up her recipe notes that were strewn over the worktop. ‘I see. Well, it’s nothing to do with me. I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she mumbled.

      ‘You’re right—you shouldn’t. I pay you to cook for me, not give me a sermon on morality.’ Dante was furious, but he was also intrigued as he watched the rosy-pink flush spread across Rebekah’s cheeks. ‘Why do you care who I sleep with, anyway?’

      ‘I don’t. I have absolutely no interest in your bedtime activities.’

      ‘No?’ Dante’s eyes narrowed speculatively on her face. He could feel the vibes of tension emanating from her and his curiosity was aroused. He knew very little about her, he realised. She had told him a few basic facts, such as that she had grown up on her family’s farm in North Wales and had trained as a chef at a hotel in a town with an unpronounceable name. But he knew nothing about her personal life. He’d seen no evidence that she had a boyfriend, yet why would a young and attractive woman choose to be single?

      ‘Maybe you’re jealous,’ he suggested idly. He was still annoyed with her, and had made the comment with the deliberate intention of riling her. But her reaction surprised him.

      ‘Of course I’m not jealous,’ she snapped. ‘What a ridiculous idea. I want more from a relationship than to be a rich man’s plaything.’

      ‘I don’t get any complaints from my playthings,’ Dante drawled. He knew he was being unfair to tease her, but he could not deny a certain satisfaction as he watched the rosy flush on her face deepen to scarlet. He wondered if she was a prude. She certainly dressed like a woman determined to quash any hint of her sensuality.

      Occasionally he had found himself imagining unbuttoning her, literally, and removing her shapeless chef’s jacket.

      With a derisive shake of his head, he dismissed his inappropriate thoughts. He leaned his hip against the kitchen table and crossed his arms over his chest while he debated how he was going to deal with the situation that had arisen between them. He did not want to terminate her employment, but she would have to understand that he had every right to live his life the way he chose.

      ‘I don’t want to know about your love life.’ Rebekah shoved her recipes back into their folder, praying Dante would not notice that her hands were trembling. She sensed he was still angry and she felt sick inside as she waited for him to dismiss her from her job.

      ‘Then in future don’t pass judgement on how I choose to live my life,’ he growled.

      Dante stared at her stiff shoulders and felt a sudden urge to pull the pins from her hair and release it from its tight knot on top of her head. He sighed, his temper cooling as quickly as it had flared.

      ‘I’m going to forget what happened tonight on the understanding that you won’t interfere in my personal affairs again. You said you had prepared a meal for two?’

      Relief swept through Rebekah when she realised that Dante did not seem about to sack her. ‘Yes, but I can freeze the spare portion.’

      ‘I have a better idea. You can join me for dinner.’ The steely glint in his eyes warned her against arguing with him. ‘This is a good opportunity for us to get to know one another. I’ve been involved in a difficult divorce case in recent weeks and haven’t taken the time to check if you’ve settled in. Now is your chance to tell me if you have any problems.’

CHAPTER TWO

      WHAT would Dante’s response be, Rebekah wondered, if she revealed that the only problem she had was when he strolled into the breakfast room at weekends, wearing nothing more than a black robe? On weekdays he was always dressed in one of his superbly tailored suits, and quickly gulped down coffee and toast as he skimmed through case notes. But on weekends he enjoyed a cooked breakfast and spent a leisurely hour reading the newspapers.

      The first morning that she had been faced with his half-naked body, his hair damp from the shower and his jaw covered in dark stubble that added to his sex appeal, her heart had slammed against her ribs. Even now, the memory of his long tanned legs, and the mass of crisp dark chest hairs revealed when the front of his robe gaped slightly, evoked a molten sensation in the pit of her stomach.

      She dared not look at him