Dante's Temporary Fiancée Read online

  “And why won’t your family throw more women your way?”

  “How can they, since you were my one true soul mate?” he pointed out with ruthless logic. “They can’t have it both ways. Either you were my once-in-a-lifetime Inferno match or The Inferno isn’t real. Somehow I suspect that rather than admit that the family legend doesn’t exist, they’ll decide that my one shot at Inferno happiness decided to dump me. I’ll then have no other choice but to continue my poor, lonely, miserable existence never having found matrimonial bliss. A tragedy, to be sure, but I’ll do my best to survive it.”

  Larkin shook her head in mock admiration. “A trouper to the end.”

  “I try.”

  She released her breath in a gusty sigh. “Mr. Dante—”

  “Rafe.”

  “Rafe. There’s something you should know about me. A couple of things, actually. First, I’m not a very good liar.”

  She opened her mouth to explain the second reason, one that would not just put a nail in the coffin of his job offer, but bury that coffin six feet down. He didn’t give her the opportunity, cutting her off with calm determination.

  “I noticed that about you earlier. I admire your honesty. In my opinion, it’s the perfect way to convince my relatives that we’re in the throes of The Inferno.”

  Her thoughts scattered like leaves before a brisk fall wind. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re going to try a little experiment. If it doesn’t work, we’ll forget my plan and I’ll find someone else. I’ll still offer you a job, just a more conventional one.” He eyed her with predatory intent. “But if my experiment works, you agree to my plan.”

  “Experiment?” she asked uneasily. “What sort of experiment?”

  “First, I want to set up a few parameters.”

  “Parameters.”

  How could Leigh ever have hoped to control a man like this? Through sex, of course. But somehow Larkin suspected that would work for only so long and solely within the confines of the bedroom. She didn’t need more than five minutes in Rafe’s company to figure out that much about him.

  “I’m a businessman, first and foremost. Before we move forward, I want to make sure we have a clear meeting of the minds.”

  Larkin struggled not to smile. “Why don’t you explain your parameters and then we’ll see what sort of agreement we can come to.”

  “First, I need to make it clear that this is a temporary relationship. When either of us is ready to put an end to it, it ends.”

  She gave it a moment’s consideration before shrugging. “I suppose that’s no different than a real engagement.”

  “Which is my next point. You don’t want to lie. I don’t want you to lie. So if we become engaged, from that moment forward it is real. The only difference will be that at the end of the engagement—and our engagement will end—I’ll see to it that you receive fair compensation for your time.”

  “The engagement will be real, but we preplan the ending.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I swear I’m not being deliberately obtuse, but I don’t see how those two are mutually compatible.”

  He hesitated, a painful emotion rippling behind his icy restraint. “I don’t do relationships well,” he confessed, “or so I’ve been told. I suspect you’ll discover that for yourself soon enough and be only too happy to end our involvement. Until then, it will be the same as any other engagement, right down to a ring on your finger and making plans for an eventual wedding day.” His mouth twisted. “I’d rather it be a far distant eventual wedding day that doesn’t involve actual dates and deposits.”

  Her sense of humor bubbled to the surface. “We don’t want to rush into anything. Not after your first experience. Better to have a long engagement and make sure.”

  “See? You already have your lines down pat.”

  A matching humor lit his face and even crept into his eyes. If she hadn’t been sitting, she didn’t doubt for a moment that her knees would have given out. He had to be one of the most stunning men she’d ever met. It didn’t seem fair to have all of that rugged beauty given to one man. From high, arching cheekbones to squared chin to a mouth perfectly shaped for kissing, it didn’t matter where she looked, it was all gorgeous. Even his hair was perfect, the deep brown offset by streaks of sunlit gold. But it was his eyes that fascinated her the most, the color a sharp jade-green that seemed to darken like a shadow-draped forest depending on his mood.

  “So how do we handle this?” she finally managed to ask. “Assuming I agree to your plan.”

  He frowned, and even that was appealing. “It may not work,” he admitted. “I think we can figure that out easily enough. But you’ll have to trust me.”

  She took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. “Okay. What do you have in mind?” she asked.

  “A simple test. If we don’t pass, we scrap the idea and I’ll find you a job within the organization. If it does work, we take the next step forward.”

  “What sort of test?” she asked warily.

  “Just this.”

  He stood and circled the coffee table between them. Reaching her side, he held out his hand. She stood as well and took the hand he offered. Her fingers slipped across his palm. Instantly, heat exploded between them, a stunning flash that seemed to burrow into flesh and bone with unbelievable swiftness. It didn’t hurt. Not precisely. It…melded. With a gasp of disbelief, Larkin yanked free of his touch.

  “What did you just do?” they asked in unison.

  Rafe took a step back and eyed her with sharp suspicion. “You felt that, too?”

  “Of course.” She rubbed her palm against her slacks, trying to make the sensation go away. Not that it worked. “What was it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She lifted her hand and stared at the palm. There weren’t any marks, though based on the explosion of heat she’d experienced, it should still be smoking. “That wasn’t…” She cleared her throat. “That couldn’t have been…”

  She could see the emphatic denial building in his expression. At the last instant he hesitated, an almost calculating glitter dawning in his eyes. “The Inferno?” he murmured. “What the hell. Why not?”

  She stared at him, stunned. “You’re joking, right?” she asked.

  “I don’t personally believe in it, no. But I’ve heard The Inferno described as something along the lines of what we just felt.”

  “That was your test?” she demanded. “To see if we felt The Inferno when we touched?”

  “No. Actually, I was going to kiss you.”

  She fell back another step, shocked as much by the statement as by the calm businesslike way he delivered it. “Why?”

  “There’s no point in becoming engaged if you aren’t physically attracted to me,” he explained. “My family would pick up on that in no time.”

  Larkin gazed down at her hand and scratched her thumbnail across the faint throb centered in the middle of her palm. “So whatever just happened when we touched is just an odd coincidence?”

  “I sure as hell hope so.”

  Huh. She lifted her head and looked at him. Their gazes clashed and the heat centered in her palm spread deeper. Hotter. Swept through her with each beat of her heart. A dangerous curiosity filled her and words tumbled from her mouth, words she’d never planned to speak. But somehow they popped out, hovering in the air between them.

  “I believe you were going to kiss me,” she prompted.

  He approached in two swift strides. She knew what he planned, could see the intent in the hard lines of his body and determined planes of his face. He gave her ample opportunity to escape. But somehow she couldn’t force herself to take the easy way out. Another personality quirk…or flaw, depending on the circumstances. Instead, she held perfectly still and allowed him to pull her into his arms.

  This was wrong on so many levels. Wrong because of Leigh. Wrong because it wasn’t real. Wrong because even while she wanted to deny it, desire built within her like a tide building before a storm
. Waves of it crashed over and through her until she couldn’t think straight and common sense fled. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and already she could feel the helpless give of her surrender.

  He leaned in and she waited breathlessly for his kiss, a kiss that didn’t come. “It feels real, doesn’t it?” The words washed over her like a balmy breeze, stirring the hair at her temples. “Maybe it is real. Maybe this engagement isn’t such a bad idea. We can figure out what all this means.”

  “All what?” she managed to ask.

  “All this…”

  The kiss when it came hit with all the force of a hurricane. She didn’t doubt he meant to keep it light and gentle. A tentative sampling. An initial probing. Instead, the instant he touched her, hunger slammed through her and she arched against him, winding her arms around his neck and hanging on for dear life.

  It didn’t surprise her in the least to discover he kissed even better than he looked. With a mouth like that, how could he not? His lips slanted across hers, hard enough to betray the edginess of his control, and yet with a passionate tenderness that had her parting for him and allowing him to sample her more fully.

  All the while, he molded her against his body, the taut, masculine planes a delicious contrast to her slighter, more rounded curves. His hands swept down her spine to the base. There he hesitated before cupping her backside and fitting her more tightly between his legs. She gasped at the sheer physicality of the sensation. The scent and taste of him filled her and she shuddered, overwhelmed by sensations she’d never fully realized or explored before.

  How was it possible that a simple kiss—or even a not-so-simple kiss—could have such a profound effect on her? She’d kissed any number of men. Had contemplated sleeping with a few of them. Had allowed them to touch her and had satisfied her curiosity by touching them in return. But they’d never affected her the way Rafe Dante did with just a single kiss.

  Is this how it had been for Leigh?

  The stray thought brought Larkin to her senses with painful swiftness. With an inarticulate murmur, she yanked free of Rafe’s arms and put half the distance of the room between them. Unable to help herself, she lifted trembling fingers to her lips. They were full and damp from his kisses and seemed to pulse in tempo with the odd beat centered in her palm. She stared at Rafe. If it hadn’t been for the rapid give and take of his breath, she’d have believed him unaffected.

  “I think we can safely say that we’re attracted to one another,” she informed him.

  “Hell, yes.”

  His voice sounded rougher than normal, low and edged with an emotion that was reflected in his eyes like green fire. He crossed to the wet bar and removed the stopper on a cut-glass decanter. Splashing some of the amber liquid into a tumbler, he glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Want some?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t dare. She’d always been a frank person. Alcohol tended to remove all caution and strip her of the ability to control her tongue. There was no telling what she’d say if she had a drink right now.

  He downed the liquor in a single swallow, then turned to face her. “That was…unexpected.”

  “Blame it on The Inferno,” she attempted to joke.

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  She stared at him, not quite certain of his mood. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by what had happened, or relieved. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn. Perhaps a little of all three. Annoyed because their reaction to one another was a complication and he’d been as close to losing control of the situation as she had. Possibly even more so, since she’d been the one to finally end their embrace. Relieved because that same attraction would allow him to execute his plan. As for not giving a damn…

  No. She was wrong about that. He might hide the fact he cared, bury it deep, but she was willing to bet the Dante passion ran hotter in him than all the others.

  She had a decision to make. She could turn around and walk out of the room and never return. She could tell him who she was and what she wanted. Or she could go along with his plan and see how matters developed. Every instinct warned her to get out while the going was good, or at the very least explain why this insane idea of his would never work. Maybe she’d have made the smart choice, the far less dangerous choice…if only he hadn’t kissed her.

  “I gather we just became engaged?” she asked lightly.

  He hesitated. “Something like that.”

  “And will your family believe that you’ve gone from a total nonbeliever to an Inferno fanatic after one simple kiss?”

  “Considering it happened just that way with each and every one of the Dante men in my family, yes.”

  “None of them believed?”

  Rafe shrugged. “My cousin Marco did. He’s probably the most romantic of all the Dantes.”

  “But not the rest of you.”

  “It isn’t logical,” he stated simply. “It’s far-fetched at best and bordering on ludicrous when you look at it from a serious, rational point of view.”

  “I think it’s sort of sweet.”

  His mouth curved upward. “Most women do.”

  A distinct awkwardness settled over her. “So, what now?”

  “Now I take you home. First thing in the morning we’ll get together and plan our strategy.”

  “Strategy.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Let me guess. You’re one of those organized, I-need-to-mold-the-world types, aren’t you?”

  “Somebody has to.” He released a sigh and returned his glass to the wet bar. “Let me guess. You’re one of those seat-of-the-pants, take-life-as-it-happens types, aren’t you?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “This might be a case of opposites attract.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll organize everything and you just go with the flow.”

  Her amusement grew. “Control is an illusion, you know.”

  He appeared every bit as amused. “Whatever you say. How about if I control us out of here and you let it happen?”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  Larkin gathered up her purse and circled the couch toward the door. Rafe joined her, his hand coming to rest on the base of her spine in a gesture that should have been casual. Instead, it was as though he’d given her another jolt of electricity. She stumbled and her purse dropped from her hand. Turning, she could only stare helplessly at him.

  “Larkin.” Her name escaped on a groan and then he pulled her into his arms again.

  How could something so wrong feel so right? She had no business making love to Leigh’s husband. None. But she couldn’t seem to resist, any more than she’d resisted his bizarre proposal. When he touched her, it all made perfect sense. Probably because she couldn’t think straight. All she could do was feel.

  He pulled her close, so close she could hear the thunder of his heart and the rapid give and take of his breath. Or maybe she wasn’t hearing his, but her own. He covered her face with kisses, swift and hungry, before finding her mouth and sinking inward. Oh, yes. This. This was what she craved. What she needed as desperately as sweet, life-sustaining air. Where before he’d controlled the kiss, now she took charge, giving him everything she possessed.

  She heard his voice. Heard raw, guttural words. Words of want and need. And then her world tipped upside down as he swung her into his arms and carried her back to the couch. She hit the cushions with a soft bounce before he came down on top of her, his body pressing her deeper into the silken material.

  “We just met,” she managed to gasp.

  He shifted against her, fitting them one to the other like two pieces of a puzzle. “Sometimes it’s like that.”

  “When? With who?”

  “Now. With us.”

  None of this made any sense. Rafe was supposed to be the rational one. The one in control. And yet, whatever had ignited between them had swept him away as completely as it had her. She wanted him with a bone-deep need that grew with each passing moment.

  He made short work of the vest of h
er uniform, slipping buttons from their holes with a speed and efficiency that took her breath away. Parting the edges, he tackled her blouse next, button after button, before yanking the crisp black cotton from her slacks and shoving it half off her shoulders.

  Rafe paused then, his hand hovering over the delicate bones of her shoulder, his dark skin tones at odds with her pale complexion. “My God,” he whispered. “You’re breathtaking.”

  No one had ever described her that way before. But seeing his stunned expression—seeing herself through his eyes—she felt beautiful. He traced the edges of her bra, a simple, durable black cotton, sculpting the curves of her breasts. She could feel her nipples peaking through the material. An intense heat shot through her, echoed in the throbbing of her palm and sinking deep into her feminine core. “Rafe…”

  It was her turn to touch. Her turn to explore. She cupped his face and gave in to the irresistible compulsion to trail her fingertips over those amazing planes and angles. To revel in the sheer masculine beauty of him. When she’d first seen him in the reception area, he’d appeared so self-contained, so remote. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself in this position. Who knew if the opportunity would ever present itself again? When they regained their sanity she wouldn’t be the least surprised if he instituted a “no touching” rule, especially when touching was so incredibly, gloriously dangerous.

  Unable to resist, she wove her fingers into his hair to anchor his head and then rose to seal his mouth with hers. He tasted beyond delicious and she couldn’t get enough of him. Not his touch. Not his kisses. Not the press and drag of his body over hers.

  Her hands darted to his shirt and she tugged at his tie, managing after a small struggle to rip it free from its anchor. Next she tackled the buttons that blocked her access to the rich expanse of flesh and muscle she yearned to caress. He groaned against her mouth, levering himself upward to give her better access. Her hands hovered over his belt buckle and the bulge that lay beneath.

  And that’s when they heard it.

  “Rafaelo?” A deep, gruff voice came from the far side of the office door, accompanied by a brisk knock. “Where are you, boy?”