CASSANDRA drifted through the veils of sleep into wakefulness, aware from the room’s shadowed light that night had become morning. Early morning, unless she was mistaken.
Her body tuned into numerous bruises and made her painfully aware that any sudden movement on her part was not going to be a good idea.
The bed, this room…they weren’t her own. Then she remembered…and wished she hadn’t.
She turned her head slowly and encountered Diego’s dark gaze. He lay on his side, facing her, his body indolently at ease as he appraised her features.
An improvement on last night, he perceived, lifting a hand to brush a swathe of hair back from her cheek.
His eyes narrowed at the thin line inches long at the base of her throat. It would heal, and after a while the scar would fade.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘A verbal post-mortem?’ She tried for flippancy, and failed miserably. ‘The facts are in the official report.’
Facts he’d read, assimilated, and dealt with. ‘You didn’t follow the book.’ He still went cold at the thought of what could have happened.
‘Concern for my welfare, Diego?’
‘That surprises you?’
It seeded a germ of hope. She attempted a light shrug, and didn’t quite pull it off. ‘Banking, gem merchants and jewellers are high-risk industries for robbery.’
So they were. But employees were drilled to respond passively, not attack or act with aggression.
‘You scared the hell out of me.’ He traced the outline of her mouth with a gentle finger. ‘Next time don’t be a hero, hmm?’
Cassandra didn’t answer. No one in their right mind wanted a next time.
‘What would you have done in a similar situation?’
Diego’s eyes narrowed. He’d known the streets in his teens, lived on them for a while, worked them. Taken risks that brought him too close to the law, but never close enough to be caught. He’d carried a knife, but never a gun, studied and practised oriental techniques of combat and self-defence. Techniques that could kill a man with a well-aimed blow from the hand or foot.
In answer to her question, he would have judged the odds and taken a calculated risk. As she had done.
‘If you dare tell me it’s OK for a man, but not a woman,’ Cassandra said with quiet vehemence, ‘I’ll have to hit you.’
His eyes darkened and assumed a musing gleam. ‘Now, that could prove interesting.’
She could only win if he allowed her to, she perceived, aware there were few, if any, capable of besting him in any arena.
There was much more beneath the surface than he permitted anyone to see. No one, not even the most diligent member of the media, had uncovered much of his past. It made her wonder if the shadows shielded something that didn’t bear close scrutiny…and what there had been to mould him into the person he’d become.
‘Hungry?’
For food or you? Both, she could have said and almost did. Except the former had priority, and was a much safer option than the latter.
Besides, she retained too vivid a memory of what they’d shared together in this bed.
‘Shower, then breakfast.’ Decisive words followed by smooth action as she slipped out of bed and crossed to the en suite.
Cassandra set the water temperature to warm, then she stepped into the glass and marble stall, caught up the shampoo and began with her hair.
There was a need to thoroughly cleanse her skin of her abductor’s touch. She hated the memory of his hands, his almost manic expression, and the sound of his voice. It could have been worse, much worse, and she trembled at the thought. Delayed reaction, she determined, and vigorously massaged shampoo into her scalp.
‘Let me help you with that.’
She stilled, locked into speechless immobility for a few electric-filled seconds, then she released the pent-up breath she’d unconsciously held. ‘I can manage.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Diego drawled, as he began a series of slow, soothing, circular movements.
His gaze narrowed as he took in her bruised rib-cage, the deep bluish marks on her arms. He wanted to touch his mouth to each one, and he would…soon. But for now he was content to simply care for her.
Dear heaven, Cassandra breathed silently. To stand here like this was sheer bliss…magical. She closed her eyes and let the strength of his fingers ease the tension from her scalp, the base of her neck, then work out the kinks at her shoulders.
He had the touch, the skill to render her body boneless, and an appreciative sound sighed from her lips as he caught up the soap and began smoothing it gently over the surface of her skin.
When he was done, he caught her close and cradled her slender frame against his own, then nuzzled the curve at her neck.
Diego felt her body tremble, and he trailed his mouth to hers in a gentle exploration that brought warm tears to her eyes.
Did he see them, taste them? she wondered, wanting only to wrap her arms round him and sink in. The temptation was so great, it took all her strength to resist deepening the kiss.
With considerable reluctance she dragged her mouth from his and rested her cheek against his chest.
It felt good, so good to be here with him like this. To take the comfort he offered, savour it and feel secure.
Cassandra felt him shift slightly, and the cascading water stilled.
‘Food, hmm?’ He slid open the door, snatched a towel and began rubbing the moisture from her body before tending to his own.
It took scant minutes to utilise toiletries and clean her teeth before she escaped into the bedroom, where she retrieved jeans and a loose shirt from her bag, then, dressed, she caught up a brush and restored order to her hair.
Diego emerged as she applied pins to secure its length, and her gaze strayed to his reflected image, mesmerised by the smooth flex of sinew and muscle as he donned black jeans and a polo shirt.
She tamped down the warmth flooding her veins, the core of need spiralling deep inside. Crazy, she acknowledged. She was merely susceptible to circumstance…and knew she lied.
He turned slightly and his gaze locked with hers. For a brief moment everything else faded from the periphery of her vision, and there was only the man and a heightened degree of electric tension in the room.
It felt as if her soul was being fused with his, like twin halves accepting recognition and magnetically drawn to become one entity.
Mesmeric, primitive, incandescent.
She forgot to breathe, and she stood still, like an image caught frozen in time and captured on celluloid.
Then the spell broke, and she was the first to move, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she turned towards the door.
Had Diego felt it, too? Or was she merely being fanciful?
Coffee. She needed it hot, strong, black and sweet.
Cassandra took the stairs and made her way towards the kitchen, aware Diego followed only a step behind her.
‘Go sit down on the terrace. I’ll fix breakfast.’
Soon the aroma of freshly made coffee permeated the air, the contents in the skillet sizzled, and minutes later he placed two plates onto the table.
The morning sun held the promise of warmth, the air was still, and the view out over the infinity pool to the harbour provided a sense of tranquillity.
Cassandra ate well, much to her surprise. She hadn’t expected to do the meal justice, and she pushed her empty plate to one side with a sense of disbelief.
‘More coffee?’ It was a token query as Diego refilled her cup, then his own.
She felt at peace, calm after the previous afternoon’s excitement.
‘I’ll call a cab.’
His expression remained unchanged, but there was a sense of something dangerous hovering beneath the surface. ‘To go where?’
His tone was deceptively mild…too mild, she perceived. ‘My apartment.’ Where else?
He replaced his empty cup down onto its saucer with care. ‘No.’
‘What do you mean…no?’
‘It’s a simple word,’ Diego drawled. ‘One not difficult to understand.’
She looked at him carefully. ‘I don’t want to fight with you.’
‘Wise choice.’
‘But—’
‘There has to be a but?’
It was time to take a deep breath…except her ribs hurt too much, and she had to be content with shallow. ‘Thank you for—’ She paused fractionally. For what? Taking care of her, bringing her here…caring. Oh, hell, she had to keep it together! ‘Looking after me,’ she concluded. ‘It was very kind.’
He was silent for a few measurable seconds, and his eyes narrowed, masking a hardness that was at variance with the softness of his voice. ‘Are you done?’
‘Yes.’ She waited a beat. ‘For now.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
He was something else. All hard, muscular planes, and leashed strength as he leaned back in his chair, looking as if he owned the world…and her.
Total power, she accorded silently, and was determined not to be swayed by his sense of purpose.
Cassandra discarded her coffee and rose to her feet, then began stacking empty plates onto a tray, only to have it taken from her hands.
Without a further word she moved from the room and made her way upstairs.
It didn’t take much to scoop her belongings into the holdall Diego had thrust them in the previous evening, and minutes later she picked up the bedroom extension, punched in the digits for a cab company, and was in the process of giving instructions when Diego entered the room.
Without a word he crossed to where she stood and cut the connection.
An action which sparked indignant anger as she turned to face him. ‘How dare you?’
‘Easily.’
‘You have no right—’
He held up a hand. ‘Last night you discharged yourself from hospital against medical advice. Your brother is in Melbourne, and unless I’m mistaken he’s unaware of yesterday’s escapade. You live alone.’ His eyes were dark and held a latent anger that most would shrink from. ‘Want me to go on?’
‘I don’t need a self-appointed guardian.’
‘Like it or not, you’ve got one…for another twenty-four hours at least.’
Her chin tilted. ‘You can’t force me to stay.’
‘It’s here, or hospital readmission,’ Diego said succinctly. ‘Choose.’
She considered punching him, then discarded the idea on the grounds it would inevitably hurt her more than it would him. ‘You’re a dictatorial tyrant,’ she said at last.
‘I’ve been called worse.’
He wasn’t going to budge. She could see it in his stance, the muscle bunching at his jaw.
‘Who said you get to make the rules?’ It was a cry from the heart, rendered in anger.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
‘I need to feed my cat.’ She threw one hand in the air to emphasise the point, then winced as pain shot through her body. ‘Dammit.’
Diego swung between an inclination to shake or kiss her, considered the former followed by the latter, then went with rationale. ‘So, we’ll go feed him.’
‘She,’ Cassandra corrected. ‘The cat’s a she.’
He collected his keys and moved towards the door, then paused, turning slightly to look at her when she hadn’t shifted position. ‘You need to think about it?’
She wanted to throw something at him, and would have if there had been something close at hand. Instead she opted for capitulation…reluctantly.
Silence won over recrimination during the short drive to her apartment building, and she cast Diego a hard glance as he slid from behind the wheel.
‘You don’t have to come up with me.’ What did he think she might do? Lock herself in? A speculative gleam lit her eyes…now, there was a thought!
He didn’t answer as he joined her at the security area immediately adjacent to the entrance, and she restrained from uttering an audible sigh as he walked at her side to the bank of lifts.
A deeply wounded miaow greeted her the moment she unlocked her apartment door, and the cat butted its head against her leg in welcome.
Bite him, Cassandra silently instructed as Diego leant down and fondled the cat’s ears.
The cat purred in affectionate response, and ignored her.
Great. Three years of food, a bed to sleep on and unconditional love…for all that I get ignored? There was no accounting for feline taste.
It took only minutes to put down food and fresh water, and Cassandra spared Diego a level look. ‘I’m fine. Really.’
One eyebrow rose. ‘So…go now and leave me alone?’ He examined her features, assessing the pale cheeks, the dark blue eyes. ‘We’ve done this already.’
So they had, but she felt akin to a runaway train that couldn’t stop. ‘I’m sure you have a social engagement lined up for this evening.’ It was, after all, Saturday. ‘I’d hate to be the reason you cancelled. Or cause problems with your latest—’ she paused momentarily ‘—date.’
‘Are you through?’
‘I don’t want to be with you.’
He didn’t move, but she had the impression he shifted stance. How did he do that? Go from apparent relaxation mode to menacing alert?
‘Afraid, Cassandra?’
Yes, she wanted to cry out. Not of you. Myself. For every resolve I make away from you disintegrates into nothing whenever you’re near. And I can’t, won’t allow myself to fall to pieces over you.
Too late, a silent imp taunted. You’re already an emotional wreck.
Every reason for her to walk away now. If only he would leave.
‘Of yourself…or me?’ Diego queried quietly.
Her chin tilted. ‘Both.’
His mouth curved into a soft smile. ‘Ah, honesty.’ His gaze swept the room. ‘If there’s nothing else you need to do, we’ll leave.’
Her lips parted in protest, only to close again as he pressed a finger against them.
‘No argument, hmm?’
On reflection it was a restful day.
Within minutes of returning to Point Piper, Diego excused himself on the pretext of work and entered the study, leaving Cassandra to amuse herself as she pleased.
She made a few calls from her cellphone, then she browsed through a few glossy magazines. Lunch was a light meal of chicken and salad eaten alfresco, and afterwards she slotted a DVD into the player and watched a movie.
Work took Diego’s attention, leaving her with little option but to spend time alone. Restless, she ventured outdoors and wandered the grounds, admiring the garden.
Flowers were in bud, providing a colourful array in sculpted beds. Topiary clipped with expert precision, and a jacaranda tree in bloom, its fallen petals providing a carpet of lavender beneath spreading branches.
She reached the pool area, and she ascended the few terracotta-tiled steps to the terrace, crossed to a comfortable lounge setting beneath a shaded umbrella and sank into a seat.
The pool sparkled and shimmered beneath the sun’s warmth, its infinity design providing the illusion its surface melded with the harbour beyond. Subtle shades of blue…pool, harbour, sky.
A sense of peace reigned as she took in the magnificent panoramic view. The city with its tall buildings of concrete and glass, the distinctive lines of the Opera House, the harbour bridge. Not to mention various craft skimming the waters and numerous mansions dotting the numerous coves.
Beautiful position, magnificent home.
And the man who owned it?
Cassandra closed her eyes against his powerful image. Four weeks ago he’d been a man she politely avoided.
Now… Dear heaven, she didn’t want to think about now. Or what she was going to do about it. Hell, what could she do about it?
Loving someone didn’t always end with happy-ever-after. And she wasn’t the type to flit from one partner to another, enjoying the ride for however long it happened to last.
Tomorrow she’d return to her apartment, and her life as she knew it to be. Whenever her path crossed socially with Diego’s, she’d greet him politely and move on. As she had during the past year.
Chance would be a fine thing, she alluded with unaccustomed cynicism. How could she do polite with a man with whom she’d shared every intimacy?
And fallen in love.
The to-the-ends-of-the-earth, the depth-of-the-soul kind.
Maybe she should take a leave of absence from the jewellery workshop and book a trip somewhere. A change of place, new faces.
Cassandra must have dozed, for she came awake at the sound of her name and a light touch on her shoulder.
‘You fell asleep.’ Diego didn’t add that he’d kept watch over her for the past hour, reluctant to disturb her until the air cooled and the sun’s warmth began to fade.
He was close, much too close. She could sense the clean smell of his clothes, the faint musky tones of his cologne. For a wild moment she had the overwhelming urge to reach up and pull his head down to hers, then angle her mouth in against his in a kiss that would rock them both.
Except such an action would lead to something she doubted she could handle…and walk away from.
His eyes darkened, almost as if he could read her thoughts, then he touched gentle fingers to her mouth and traced its curve.
‘There’s steak to go with salad. Go freshen up and we’ll eat, hmm?’
Ten minutes later she sat opposite him, sampling succulent, melt-in-your-mouth beef fillet, together with crisp fresh salad and crunchy bread rolls.
‘You can cook,’ she complimented, and met his musing smile.
‘That’s an advantage?’
‘For a man, definitely,’ Cassandra conceded.
‘Why, in this era when women maintain careers equal to those of men?’
‘Do men think hearth and home, food, in quite the same way a woman does?’ she countered.
‘The man works to provide, while the woman nurtures?’ He took a sip of wine. ‘A delineation defining the sexes?’
‘Equality in the workplace,’ she broached with a tinge of humour. ‘But outside of it, men and women are from two different planets.’
‘And not meant to cohabit?’
‘Physically,’ she agreed. ‘The emotional aspect needs work.’
‘Vive la difference, hmm?’
It proved to be a leisurely meal, and afterwards they viewed a movie on DVD. When the credits rolled she rose to her feet and bade him a polite goodnight.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t slip into the bed she’d shared with him last night, she determined as she ascended the stairs to the upper level.
It took only minutes to collect her nightwear and toiletries and enter another bedroom. There were fresh sheets and blankets in the linen box at the foot of the bed, and she quickly made up the bed, undressed, then slid beneath the covers.
She was about to snap off the bedside light when the door opened and Diego entered the room.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘My question, I think,’ he drawled as he crossed to the bed and threw back the covers. ‘You want to walk, or do I get to carry you?’
‘I’m not sleeping in your bed.’
‘It’s where you’ll spend the night.’
Cassandra could feel the anger simmer beneath the surface of her control. Soon, it would threaten to erupt. ‘Sex as payment for you taking on the role of nursemaid?’ She regretted the words the instant they left her lips.
‘Would you care to run that by me again?’ His voice sent icy shivers scudding down the length of her spine.
‘Not really.’
Without a further word Diego turned and walked from the room, quietly closing the door behind him. An action that was far more effective than if he’d slammed it.
Dammit, what was the matter with her?
Subconsciously she knew the answer. Fear…on every level.
Ultimately, for losing something she’d never had…the love of a man. Not just any man. Diego del Santo.
Cassandra lay in the softly lit room, staring at the walls surrounding her, and faced the knowledge that life without him would amount to no life at all.
Her eyes ached with unshed tears, and she cursed herself for allowing her emotions free rein.
She had no idea how long it was before she fell into an uneasy sleep where dark figures chased her fleeing form.
At some stage she came sharply awake, immensely relieved to have escaped from a nightmarish dream. Until memory returned, and with it the knowledge she was alone in a bed in Diego’s home…and why.
She closed her eyes in an effort to dispel his image, and failed miserably as she accorded herself all kinds of fool.
The admission didn’t sit well, and after several long minutes she slid from the bed and crossed to the en suite.
There was a glass on the vanity top, and she part-filled it with water, then lifted the glass to her lips, only to have it slip from her fingers, hit the vanity top and fall to the tiled floor, where it shattered into countless shards.
It was an accident, and she cursed the stupid tears welling in her eyes as she sank down onto her haunches and collected the largest pieces of glass.
There was a box of tissues on the vanity top, and she reached for them, tore out several sheets and began gathering up the mess.
It became the catalyst that unleashed her withheld emotions, and the tears overflowed to run in warm rivulets down each cheek, clouding her vision.
‘What the hell—?’
Cassandra was so intent on the task at hand she didn’t hear Diego enter the room, and her fingers shook at the sound of his voice.
‘I dropped a glass.’ As if it wasn’t self-explanatory.
He took one look at her attempt to gather the shards together, and the breath locked in his throat. ‘Don’t move.’ The instruction was terse. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
He made it in three, and that was only because he had to discard one broom cupboard and search in another for a brush and pan.
In one fluid movement he lifted her high and lowered her down onto the bedroom carpet, then he completed the clean-up with deft efficiency.
Cassandra could only stand and watch, mesmerised by the sight of him in hastily pulled-on jeans, the breadth of his shoulders and the flex of muscle and sinew.
He made her ache in places where she had little or no control, and she turned away, wanting only for him to leave before she lost what was left of her composure.
‘Use one of the other bathrooms until morning just in case there are any splinters I might have missed.’
She had difficulty summoning her voice. ‘Thanks.’ She made a helpless gesture with one hand. ‘I’m sorry the noise disturbed you.’
Did she have any idea how appealing she looked? Bare legs, a cotton nightshirt with a hem that reached mid-thigh, and her hair loose and tousled?
No other woman had affected him quite the way she did. He wanted to reach beneath the nightshirt, fasten his hands on warm flesh and skim them over her skin. Touch, and be touched in return in a prelude that could only have one end.
‘Are you OK?’
How did she answer that? She’d never be OK where he was concerned. ‘I’m fine.’ An automatic response, and one that took first prize in the fabrication stakes.
‘I’ll get rid of this.’
The pan, brush and broken glass. She nodded, aware he crossed to the door, and she registered the moment he left the room.
She should get into bed, douse the light and try to get some sleep. Instead she sank down onto the edge of the mattress and buried her head in her hands.
Reaction could be a fickle thing, and she let the tears fall. Silently, wondering if their release would ease the heartache made worse by having crossed verbal swords with the one man who’d come to mean so much to her in such a short time.
It was crazy to swing like a pendulum between one emotion and another. The sooner she returned to her apartment and moved on with her life, the better.
She wanted what she had before Diego del Santo tore her equilibrium to shreds and scattered her emotional heart every which way.
Oh, dammit, why did love have to hurt so much?
With a sense of frustration she rubbed her cheeks and smoothed the hair back from her face. It was then she saw Diego’s tall frame in the open doorway.
If there was anything that undid a man, Diego acknowledged, it was a woman’s tears. He’d witnessed many in his time. Some reflecting genuine grief; others merely a manipulative act.
None had the effect on him to quite the degree as evidence of this woman’s distress did.
There were occasions when words healed, but now wasn’t the time.
In silence he crossed the room and gathered her into his arms, stilling her protest by the simple expediency of placing the palm of one hand over her mouth.
It took a matter of seconds to reach the master suite, and he released her carefully down onto her feet.
Without a word he skimmed the nightshirt over her head and tossed it onto the carpet, then followed it with his jeans.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ As a protest it failed, utterly.
His eyes were dark, so dark she thought she might drown in them, as he captured her arms and slid his hands up to cup her face.
‘This is the one place where everything between us makes sense,’ he drawled as his head lowered down to hers.
She felt the warmth of his breath a second before his mouth took possession of hers in a kiss that liquefied her bones.
A faint moan rose and died in her throat as he took her deep, so deep she lost track of where and who she was as emotion ruled, transcending anything they’d previously shared.
Somehow they were no longer standing, and she gasped as Diego’s mouth left hers and began a slow descent, savouring the sensitive hollow at the edge of her neck before trailing a path over the line at the base of her throat where her captor had pierced her skin with the tip of his knife.
With the utmost care Diego caressed each bruise, as if to erase the uncaring brutality of the man who’d inflicted them.
The surface of her skin became highly sensitised, and her pulse raced to a quickened beat, thudding in unison with his own. She could feel it beneath her touch, the slide of her fingers.
What followed became a leisurely, sweet loving, so incredibly tender Cassandra was unable to prevent the warm trickle of tears, and when at last he entered her she cried out, exulting in the feel of him as warm, moist tissues expanded to accept his length.
Sensation spiralled to new heights, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deep, thrilling to each thrust as he slowly withdrew, only to plunge again and again in the rhythm of two lovers in perfect unison in their ascent to the brink of ecstasy.
Diego held her there, teetering on the edge, before tipping them both over in a sensual free-fall that left them slick with sweat and gasping for breath.
The aftermath became a gentle play of the senses, with the soft trail of fingertips, the light touch of lips.