Latin Lovers Untamed. Jane Porter

honesty, you’ve certainly developed a taste for ambiguity.”

      She blushed, swallowed, then acknowledged the truth in that. “What happened on the airstrip was a mistake.”

      “It might have been impulsive, but it wasn’t a mistake.”

      The caress in his voice was unmistakable. He stole her breath. Trapped her heart in his hands. She coughed, backed up a step. “But you said—”

      “I never said I wasn’t attracted to you. I said we couldn’t have an affair, not while you’re here.”

      “I don’t want an affair.”

      “You do want me.”

      She shook her head, horrifyingly aware of her needs and desires. She’d never discussed something so private before. “It was just the heat of the moment.”

      His eyes narrowed and swept her hips, her breasts, her face. “Daisy, we are the heat of the moment.”

      She felt herself grow hot, even more sensitive, acutely sensitive in her arms, legs, fingers. Her belly felt tight and heavy. Her blood raced. “I think I forgot something in my room.”

      “Don’t be a coward.” His husky voice followed her as she started to flee.

      Daisy froze, pressed her hands to her tummy, wondered how things had gotten so out of control. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a coward. I’ve never been a coward.”

      “Then don’t run away from me. We need to get this sorted out before it becomes a problem. There’s too much at stake. For both of us.”

      Her heart thumped harder. She didn’t understand her fear or her anxiety. “It won’t become a problem. I promise.”

      “You can’t make a promise like that.”

      “Why not?”

      “Come here. I’ll show you.”

      She turned, looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide. The corner of his mouth lifted, cynical and knowing. “I won’t touch you,” he taunted softly. “Just come, stand here. I’ll show you what I mean.”

      He gestured her forward, prompting her closer inch by inch until she stood an arm’s length away.

      The fine hair on her arms rose, skin prickling with awareness. She felt him, felt his heat and energy, and they were still two feet apart.

      Her heart, which had been pounding a moment ago, seemed to stop, change rhythm and start beating again, this time more slowly.

      “Feel that?” he asked, his voice deeper than before, huskier, with a sensual appreciation she couldn’t possibly ignore.

      She couldn’t admit it, and wouldn’t admit it to him, but yes, she did feel him. It was the most intense current, a connection she couldn’t explain.

      Energy, desire, hunger.

      In his arms she’d go places she’d never been. But in his arms she’d also lose control, and if she lost control terrible things might happen. Destruction. Chaos. The loss of the family farm.

      Daisy couldn’t risk it, no matter what she personally longed for.

      The sun had gone, and the blue sky had long deepened with shades of lavender and gold. Daisy’s fingers itched to touch his clean-shaven jaw, feel the muscles rippling beneath his shirt. But she didn’t. “No. I don’t feel anything.”

      His expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker in his eyes, but his gaze held her captive, pinned her in place. He might as well have called her a liar because it was there in his eyes, there in the twist of his lips.

      “Feel what?” Anabella asked, making a sudden appearance.

      Daisy took a jerky step and turned. Anabella was dressed in a slim red silk sheath that merged into a bright orange band at her feet. It was a stunning dress on her, a simple cut but of such vibrant color that the girl fairly exuded heat.

      “The heat,” Daisy choked.

      Anabella was oblivious to the undercurrents. “If you think this is hot, wait until January,” the girl answered, pouring herself a glass of juice. “January sizzles.”

      Sizzles, Daisy repeated silently, catching the lift of Dante’s eyebrows. She could just imagine life on the estancia then.

      They were called to dinner. Anabella and Dante appeared to have patched things up. They chatted during the meal and several times Anabella slipped into Spanish, but Dante would reply in English for Daisy’s sake.

      Anabella shared a story about something that happened at school, drawing soft laughter from Dante.

      Daisy furtively watched Dante as he listened to Anabella’s story.

      He really was lovely. She liked looking at him, listening to his voice, watching him interact with his sister. He was a benevolent big brother, part doting, part disciplinarian, but his love was tangible.

      Dante looked up, caught her staring, and his lips twisted. He touched a finger to his mouth, and she stared at his lips in fascination. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he kissed her. It was the most right feeling in the world.

      His mouth curved into a crooked smile, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. He couldn’t possibly sense her craving, could he?

      His lashes suddenly lowered but not before she saw the speculative gleam in his eyes. He knew, she thought, drawing a breath, he knew. And he’d have something to say about it later.

      Dinner over, Anabella asked to be excused to call a girlfriend in the city. Dante let her leave, and yet when Daisy asked to be excused, he refused.

      “We haven’t had coffee yet,” he answered. “It’s a nice evening, too. Let’s sit outside, where it’s cool.”

      Daisy didn’t want to follow him, didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but didn’t have a choice.

      He took a seat on a wood bench outside, a two-seater with no other chairs nearby.

      The maid appeared with a tray. She placed the tray on the bench next to Dante. Silently she poured the coffee before bowing her head and leaving.

      Dante held a cup to Daisy. “Yours.”

      She started to refuse the cup, not because coffee didn’t sound good but because she didn’t feel comfortable risking contact. Yet the moment she realized her fear, she was determined to conquer it.

      Daisy took the cup quickly, avoiding touching any part of him, and retreated to another bench.

      He took a sip of his coffee and watched her sit down before leaning forward, powerful thighs straining his trousers. “Daisy, you’re not as tough as you like to think.”

      His voice in the darkness sounded like honey, sweet rich, impossibly smooth. He’d snare her and she’d be trapped, stuck, caught in silken threads. Like the spider and the fly.

      She hated the wildness of her heart. “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

      She felt his smile. “Sometime in the morning, after I get you squared away with Señor Gutierrez. I’ll be taking Anabella with me.”

      “She doesn’t like it here much, does she?”

      “She likes social activity. There’s not much of that here.” He hesitated, and the silence stretched between them. Finally, “You’ll be all right here on your own?”

      Was that what he was worried about? “I’ll be fine. Unlike your sister, I’m not a city person. I prefer working and I like being out of doors.”

      “Your sister mentioned just before we left that you’d been to medical school.”

      “Veterinary medicine, yes.”

      “But