Seducing His Enemy's Daughter. Annie West

doesn’t already have it.’ Her father would have given it to him in an instant, if he’d been able to find it. ‘Don’t tell me your dossier on the Sanderson family doesn’t include something so basic.’

      ‘I don’t have a dossier on your family.’

      ‘I thought you’d be a better liar, Donato.’

      Instead of taking offence he chuckled again, the sound like warm water lapping through her veins. Ella’s hand on the phone grew clammy and her bare nipples budded. Frowning, she snatched the sheet and dragged it up, anchoring it under her arms. As if that would protect her from whatever this magic was he wove around her.

      ‘I have a dossier on your father’s business and on his private...interests.’ Ella winced, not liking the sound of that. There were some things she didn’t need to know about her father. ‘And some information on your sister.’

      ‘You told me you didn’t set your investigators onto her!’

      ‘I didn’t need to. A quick trawl through the social pages was more than ample.’

      Ella hated the way he dismissed Fuzz as if she were nothing. Her sister might be flawed but she wasn’t as bad as all that. She just needed purpose, and freedom from their father’s influence.

      ‘Really?’ Her voice dripped disapproval.

      ‘It seemed a sensible precaution since your father suggested I marry her.’

       And now Fuzz was out of the picture that left Ella.

      Ella glanced around the bedroom with its Monet print on the wall and her pride and joy, the nineteen-twenties tub chair she’d rescued from a garage sale and reconditioned with the help of a night class. The wooden legs glowed with polish and the sage-green upholstery was restful as well as pretty.

      The idea of strangers nosing into her world, ordinary as it was, picking through the details of her life, set her teeth on edge.

      ‘I don’t make it into the social pages. How much have you found out about me?’

      ‘Not nearly enough.’ The skin at Ella’s nape drew tight at the sultry note in that deep voice.

      ‘Your investigators only work business hours? You disappoint me, Donato. I’d have thought they’d scurry to do the bidding of a man with your reputation even late last night.’

      ‘You’ve been doing some digging of your own.’ He didn’t sound fazed.

      ‘Don’t tell me you’re offended?’

      ‘On the contrary, I’m pleased. It proves that, despite your rather emphatic goodbye, you anticipated meeting me again.’

      Ella scowled. He was right. Why bother finding out about him if she’d cut him from her life? She’d had an insidious certainty it wasn’t so easy to get rid of Donato Salazar.

      No, it was more than that. She’d wanted to know everything she could about him. No man had ever made such an impact on her.

      ‘And as for hiring investigators to work through the night...’

      ‘Yes?’ She shifted uneasily. Was someone even now interviewing her neighbours or accessing her records?

      ‘You made it clear you believed that an unforgivable breach of privacy.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘So I’m not going to do it to you.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘You heard me, Ella. I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.’

      For a moment words eluded her. ‘Just like that? Because I said so?’

      ‘Just like that.’

      Ella’s pulse faltered then tripped to an unfamiliar beat. He was serious. Yet she couldn’t quite believe he’d renege on using the power his money could buy just because it offended her.

       Why would he do that?

      She shoved her hair back from her face. To her amazement her fingers were ever so slightly unsteady.

       What did he want from her?

      Surely he’d been lying last night, saying he wanted to know her. As for that nonsense about them marrying—

      ‘I want to know everything about you.’ His deep voice burred in her ear. ‘But I want to find out from you.’

      She’d known Donato Salazar was dangerous, but still she wasn’t prepared for the way he devastated her defences. It took precious seconds to find her voice. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.’

      ‘Nothing about you is disappointing, believe me, Ella.’ There it was again, that caress when he said her name. As if those two simple syllables were an endearment.

      ‘I meant—’ she set her jaw ‘—you’ll be disappointed because we’re not going to meet again.’

      He was silent and stupidly something like anxiety feathered through her. At the idea this was the last time she’d speak with him? Impossible!

      ‘Are you scared of me, Ella?’

      ‘Scared? No.’ Strangely enough, it was true. She was scared of what he made her feel, of the urgent, restless woman she’d become in the short time since they’d met. But not scared of him.

      ‘Not even after what you discovered in your research on me?’ The banter was gone from his voice. He sounded deadly serious.

      Deadly. Now there was a word. Last night she’d thought he looked dangerous. Then, at home, sitting with her computer, she’d discovered how right she’d been. How many people had she known personally who’d been to prison for assault?

      None.

      Was it naïve of her to believe that, despite his teenage criminal record, Donato Salazar wouldn’t hurt her?

      She’d been stunned to read about his crime and his prison term. At the same time it went some way to explaining the sense she’d had last night that he was a man apart from everyone else.

      As a nurse she’d worked with a huge range of people, from the frail aged to the bloodied survivors of brawls to the drug-addicted and downright dangerous. She was cautious, methodical, never taking unnecessary risks, especially doing home visits. But the only alarm she felt now was at her own avid response to Donato.

      ‘I’m not afraid of you because you’ve got a criminal record, Donato.’ In the intervening years he’d built a reputation for ruthlessness in business but there’d never been a hint he was anything but a model citizen. He’d been lauded for his work supporting inner-city youth centres and legislation to assist victims of abuse.

      ‘Then you’re unique.’ Was that bitterness she heard? She hitched herself higher against the pillows.

      ‘Are you saying I should be? That you’re violent?’

      ‘No.’ His voice was flat. ‘I’m not that person any more. I’ve learned to restrain my impulses. Instead I channel them into something more productive.’

      He said nothing for a moment and she wondered what was going through his mind. ‘So, you’re not frightened. But you are