The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

      Did she think he was oblivious to the way her pulse quickened whenever he moved close? Or feel the thud of her heart? The soft warmth colouring her skin, or the way her eyes went dark an instant before his mouth found hers?

      ‘It’s over, and Alicia needs to move on.’

      A chill slithered down her spine. As she would have to move on come Monday? What was she thinking, for heaven’s sake? She couldn’t wait for the weekend to be over so she could get on with her life.

      A life in which Diego didn’t figure at all.

      Now, why did that thought leave her feeling strangely bereft?

      ‘Let’s walk along the beach,’ Cassandra suggested as they stood to their feet. She had the sudden need to feel the golden sand beneath her feet, the sun on her skin, and the peace and tranquillity offered by a lazy outgoing tide.

      The ocean lay a block distant, and within minutes she slid off her sandals and padded down to the damp, packed sand at the water’s edge.

      They wandered in companionable silence, admiring the long, gentle curve stretching down towards Kirra. Tall, high-rise apartment buildings in varying height and colour dotted the foreshore, and there was a fine haze permeating the air.

      Children played in the shallows while parents stood guard, and in the distance seagulls hovered, seemingly weightless, before drifting slowly down onto the sand to dig their beaks in in search of a tasty morsel.

      It was a peaceful scene which changed and grew more crowded as they neared Surfer’s Paradise.

      ‘Feel like exploring the shops?’ Diego ventured, and Cassandra inclined her head.

      ‘Brave of you. That’s tantamount to giving a woman carte blanche.’

      ‘Perhaps I feel in an indulgent mood.’

      ‘Who would refuse?’ she queried lightly, and changed direction, pausing as they reached the board-walk to brush sand from her feet before slipping on her sandals.

      It became a delightful afternoon as they strolled along an avenue housing several designer boutiques before venturing down another where Cassandra paused to examine some fun T-shirts.

      She selected one and took it to the salesgirl, whereupon Diego extracted his wallet and passed over a bill.

      ‘No.’ Cassandra waved his hand aside, and shot him an angry glance as he insisted, to the amusement of the salesgirl, who doubtless thought Cassandra a graceless fool. ‘Thank you, but no,’ she reiterated firmly as she forcibly placed her own bill into the salesgirl’s hand.

      She was the first woman who’d knocked back his offer to pay, and her fierce independence amused him. There had been a time when he’d had to watch every cent and look to handouts for clothing and food. Nor was he particularly proud he’d resorted to sleight-of-hand on occasion. Very few knew he now donated large sums of money each year to shelters for the homeless, and funded activity centres for underprivileged children.

      ‘Let’s take a break and linger over a latte,’ Diego suggested as they emerged from the shop.

      ‘Can’t hack the pace, huh?’ Cassandra teased as she tucked her fingers through the plastic carry-bag containing her purchase.

      There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on that powerful body, and she wondered what he did to keep fit.

      A gym? Perhaps a personal trainer?

      They took a cab back to the Palazzo as dusk began to fall, and on entering the penthouse Cassandra headed for the bedroom, where she gathered up a change of clothes and made for the en suite.

      There was a necessity to shampoo the salt-mist from her hair, and she combined it with a leisurely shower, then she emerged from the glass stall, grabbed a bath-towel and she had just secured it sarong-style when Diego walked naked into the en suite.

      Oh, my, was all that came immediately to mind. Superb musculature, olive skin, a light smattering of dark, curly hair on his chest. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, slim hips…

      She forced her appraisal to halt there, unable to let it travel lower for fear of how it would affect her composure.

      It was difficult to meet his gaze, and she didn’t even try. Instead she moved past him and entered the bedroom, sure of his faint husky chuckle as she closed the door behind her.

      There was a certain degree of satisfaction in witnessing her discomfort. In truth, it delighted him to know she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him, and there was pleasure in the knowledge her experience with men was limited.

      His body reacted at the thought of the night ahead. Her scent, the taste of her skin…por Dios, how it felt to be inside her.

      He hadn’t felt quite this sense of anticipation for a woman since his early teens when raging hormones made little distinction between one girl or another.

      Now there was desire and passion for one woman, only one. Cassandra.

      If he had his way, he’d towel himself dry, go into the bedroom and initiate a night-long seduction she’d never forget.

      Soon, he promised himself as he turned the water dial from hot to cold. But first, they’d dine at the restaurant downstairs overlooking the pool. Fine wine, good food.

      Cassandra put the finishing touches to her make-up, then she caught up an evening purse and preceded Diego from the apartment.

      The classic black gown with its lace overlay was suitable for any occasion. The very reason she’d packed it, together with black stiletto-heeled pumps. A long black lace scarf wound loosely at her neck was a stunning complement, and she wore minimum jewellery, diamond ear-studs and a diamond tennis bracelet.

      With her hair twisted into an elegant knot atop her head, she looked the cool, confident young woman. Who was to know inside she was a mass of nerves?

      Act, a tiny voice prompted. You can do it, you’re good at it. Practised social graces. Taught in the very best of private schools.

      The restaurant was well-patronised, and the maître d’ presided with friendly formality as he saw them seated.

      Wine? One glass, which she sipped throughout the meal, and, although they conversed, she had little recollection of the discussion.

      For there was only the man, and the sexual aura he projected. It was a powerful aphrodisiac…primitive, lethal.

      She had only to look at his hands to recall the magic they created as they stroked her skin. And his mouth…the passion it evoked in her was to die for, almost literally.

      For she did die a little with each orgasm as he led her towards a tumultuous climax and joined her at the peak, held her there, before toppling them both in glorious free-fall.

      The mere thought sent the blood racing through her veins, the quickened thud of her heartbeat audible to her ears as she waited for the moment Diego would settle the bill.

      How long had the meal lasted? Two hours, three? She had little recollection of the passage of time.

      The apartment was dark when they returned, and Cassandra crossed to the wall of glass to admire the night-scape.

      The water resembled a dark mass, dappled by threads of reflected light. Bright neon flashed on buildings across the Broadwater, and there were distant stars dotting an indigo sky.

      She sensed rather than heard Diego stand behind her, and she made no protest as he cupped each shoulder and drew her back against him.

      His lips caressed the delicate hollows at the edge of her neck, and sensation curled deep within, radiating in a sweet, heated circle through her body until she felt achingly alive.

      Diego slid a hand down to grasp hers, and he led her down to the bedroom. He dimmed the lights down low, then slowly removed each article of her clothing until she stood naked before him. With care he lifted both hands to her hair