He pulled his
hand from hers and picked up his glass, took a sip and stared at
her with eyes that had gone so cold she shivered.
“I was a child.
It is not something I care to discuss. As I said, we are talking
about you.”
She held his
stare and their eyes clashed. Okay, have it your way, she thought.
With a bravado she knew she didn’t possess, she shrugged.
“What would you
like to know?”
“Did you love
him?”
Thrown by the
blunt question, Bronte opened her mouth and then found herself
being totally honest.
“I don’t know.
At the time I must have thought so or I wouldn’t have said yes to
his proposal. He’s incredibly attractive and intelligent with the
fidelity of a tom-cat. He thought my family had money, which made
him a fool and me an even bigger one for believing in him. I
suppose it’s better to find out before we tied the knot rather than
after.”
She heaved in
an unsteady breath and sampled a sliver of lamb.
“He cheated on
you?”
His shocked
tone made her smile and feel marginally better.
“Apparently,
with the girl who is now his wife. I learned something very
interesting about myself too.”
His eyes never
left her face. “Which was?”
“I don’t
forgive betrayal.”
Nico ran his
tongue over his top teeth, picked up his glass and sat back.
“What did you
do?” A gleam entered his eye as a hot flush rose to her cheeks.
Licking her
lips, she stared at her plate.
“Well, he asked
for his ring back and the way he did it and the things he said, I
...” She took another breath.
“What did you
do, Bronte?”
Her eyes met
his – she spoke very fast,
“I sold my two
carat princess cut diamond set in white gold on eBay for ten
pounds.”
His shout of
laughter gave her a jolt. As did the soft kiss he pressed to the
back of her hand.
“Good
girl.”
She merely
shrugged and nibbled delicately on another piece of lamb.
“He got his own
back. He has a clever tongue and a sly charm. People think I
started Sweet Sensation because I’m destitute and have no other
skills to fall back on. They also believe I’m single and I don’t
date because he broke my heart and I’ll never get over him.”
“Hmm, so is
that why you went out on a date last night? To prove that you are
over him?”
Heat flared
into her cheeks.
“No. Apparently
Anthony’s sister approached Rosie.”
He took a sip
of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.
“Is Rosie the
type of friend that would say you were, and I quote, gagging for
it?”
With a shocked
gasp, she stared at him. Any guilt she might have felt that Nico
had hurt Anthony drained away.
“Of course not.
Is that what he said?”
He nodded. “He
is a man who cannot hold his liquor. You should have no trouble
from him.” That piercing look was back in his eyes. “Why are you
single and do not date?”
He had her
there. Of course there was no way she could tell him the truth.
That she had
too much emotional baggage to take into a relationship. That until
she knew who she was and where she came from and made some sort of
peace with it, how could she commit herself to a man?
Mind a complete
blank. She said the first thing that came into her head,
“I suppose I’m
looking not to get hurt. As I said, I will never marry.”
“I don’t
believe you.”
“Excuse
me?”
Nico merely
shrugged at her icy tone.
“You are not a
coward, you will love again. And you would make a wonderful
wife.”
She ignored the
weight pressing on her lungs at the wonderful wife comment and
forced herself to keep her tone light.
“To be honest,
I’m too busy to date. Work keeps me sane.”
“You make
wedding cakes and attend weddings. Yet you say you will never
marry.” He took another sip of his wine. “It makes no sense.” He
placed the glass on the table. She watched his fingers as they
found hers.
Nico appeared
to be genuinely interested.
But then her
track record in reading men was not one to be proud of was it? Her
fiancé’s scathing remarks about her lack of sexual experience and
the things he’d told her he needed from a ‘real’ woman still had
the ability to make her feel physically ill.
She wouldn’t
fall for the charming routine, not again.
“You have
smooth moves, Mr Ferranti.” Bronte removed her hand and clenched it
in her lap to stop the trembling. “My love life and how I live my
life is none of your business.”
“So, why
wedding cakes?” He persisted.
“It makes me
happy. I don’t suppose you would understand that.”
“You are not
happy?”
Frustrated with
him in more ways than one, Bronte took a breath and tried to
explain.
“It’s about
capturing the moment. You know, when they hold hands and cut the
cake and the look in his eyes for her. It’s special.”
He smiled in a
way that brought her back up.
“Ah, you are a
romantic. The trouble is these things never last.”
Stung, she
glared at him.
“There are no
guarantees in life.” She should know. “But I’m a part of the
celebration of their love, the promises and the dreams.”
He gave her a
level look.
“And you do not
want that for yourself?”
“I thought I
had it for myself.”
Something
bitter lodged in her throat. Fury buzzed in her ears. She threw her
napkin on the table. She’d had it all; the career, a close and
happy family and a wonderful man who was safe, she thought. The
road to their future all mapped out in front of them. Then the
horror of losing her parents; the rejection from the man who said
he loved her, the letter from her dead mother, the terrible
discovery that...
The unexpected
softness in his eyes as he watched her struggle to come to terms
with her demons was an appalling temptation. Bronte almost wanted
to tell him. This man was a complete stranger to her, so why did
she feel the need to unburden herself to him of all people? It must
be the wine she rationalised.
Trembling, she
rose. “I’m leaving.”
He moved fast
as she headed for the door, caught her and turned her into his
arms.
“I am sorry for
prying. I did not mean to upset you.” He muttered into her hair as
she closed her eyes.
No way was
Bronte going to let him cut through her defences. He was an expert
at seduction. She could sense it. She couldn’t think clearly when
he touched her.
Nico caught her
face between his hands, dark eyes searched her face and his thumb
rubbed her bottom lip.
Bronte almost
groaned, had to clench her jaw to remain calm.
“I am sorry,”
he said.
Bronte read the
truth and genuine regret in those grey eyes before she nodded and
he let her go.
“I’m going
home.”
“Let us go
dancing instead. What do you say?”
For the first
time in her life, Bronte honestly felt that she was simply not on
the same page as another human being. He’d kissed her as if she was
the most wonderful woman in the world and then stepped back. She’d
just unravelled in front of him. She’d barely been able to restrain
herself from spilling out grief, sadness and fear. And now he
wanted to go dancing? The man gave her emotional whiplash.
She swayed on
her feet while he watched her with a gentle intensity. Why did he
have to look so gorgeous? Those eyes, they hypnotised her and made
her forget everything but the need to be with him. She let out a
barely audible sigh and told herself she was a bloody fool.
“That would be
nice.”
There was nothing worse
than being confused.
Nico had been
the perfect host Bronte mused as he drove her home. Insisting on
dancing every dance and holding her close, just not too close. As
if he wanted to give her a bit of space to recover from her earlier
turmoil.
Yet she still
felt hurt. And why shouldn’t she? Yes, she’d been the one to put a
halt to their intimacy, but he hadn’t put up much of a fight, had
he? One minute he was all over her the next he held back. It wasn’t
every day she had an earth shattering kiss.
She slanted a
look at him.
His hard jaw
was firm, his attention fully focused on the road ahead. The
Bentley slid into her driveway and he brought it to a stop outside
her door and turned off the engine.
Fingers tapping
the steering wheel Nico didn’t look at her as they sat in
silence.
Bronte decided
to make an effort.
“Would you like
a coffee?” And hoped she didn’t sound pathetic and desperate.
He appeared not
to have heard her, his attention riveted straight ahead.
Okay, it was
better to find out that someone was moody ahead of time. She’d
simply draw a line under this evening and put it down to
experience.
Her hand
fumbled for the door handle as she struggled to keep her voice cool
and unconcerned.
“Well, thank
you for an interesting evening.”
She turned to
leave and his hand lay heavy on her shoulder.
“We need to
talk.” His deep voice was stiffly polite.
Frowning,
Bronte stared at him.
His face was
blank as he studied the steering wheel as if it held the answer to
world peace.
“I’m
listening,” she told him, nudging him along.
“I do not know
what to do about you.”
“You’ve lost
me.”
“I cannot
alienate Alexander. He is my friend. He will not approve if we have
a relationship and things are already tense between you.”
Irritation with
her brother and with Nico made her voice harsh.
“My brother
does not run my life. Although he’s doing his level best to
interfere in every single thing. If anything happens between us,
Nico, we should be adult enough to deal with it.” And she hoped to
God she could take her own advice.
“I am not like
you.” Clenching his jaw, he stared into the night.
She blinked,
trying to read his hard features.
“Okay.”
Then he turned
to her and took a huge breath.
“Unlike you, I
was not born with certain privileges. I have seen things that you
can never imagine. I am not a man who needs or wants a wife,
children or commitment. I am committed to myself and my business.
That is it.”
He took her
hand and furious grey eyes glared into hers.
Her brows
winged into her hairline.
“That’s
it?”
Studying her
hand, he frowned, his finger stroking the sensitive soft skin of
her palm. The move sent hot sizzles of awareness to every erogenous
zone in her body.
“You must
understand I cannot give you what you need.”
“And you’re the
expert on what I need?”
She removed her
hand from his. And read doubt, confusion in his dark eyes. Well,
that made two of them. What made him think she wanted anything more
than a fling?
“Nico, I don’t
see you as husband or even boyfriend material. Frankly, you would
be the last man I would choose as a life partner if I wanted one.
And you don’t have to do anything about me. I’ll decide if and when
I want to take a man, not just you, to my bed.”
She almost
laughed out loud at his expression. God, this conversation was so
liberating, she should have put her cards on the table years ago
and saved herself all the heartache. Why the indignant look of
outrage? He seemed to have been rendered speechless in fact, so she
ploughed on.
“I don’t want
complications either. Believe me, my life is complicated enough.”
She shrugged in a way she hoped would show him she was a woman of
the world and well used to dealing with this kind of situation.
Bronte gathered
her courage.
“I’m attracted
to you. Call it an itch if you like.”
She patted his
hand.
“An Itch?” He
stared at her hand in amazement.
And told
herself she must have imagined the fury in his voice.
On a roll now
and enjoying herself, Bronte sat back.
“Absolutely.
And if you would like to ....”
The rest of the
sentence was lost as his mouth punished hers.
This time there
was no softness no seduction.
Nico took, he
demanded and she was with him all the way.
When he raised
his head he looked as if he wanted to strangle her.
“Get out of the
car.” The tone was harsh and his accent stronger as he thrust open
the door.
He stalked
around to her side, hauled her out and marched her to the door.
Stunned, upset
and absolutely furious, Bronte twisted futilely in his strong
grip.
He was angry
because she agreed with him? Typical! One rule for the male and one
rule for the female.
“Let go of me!
You’re so typical of the type of man who expects the little woman
to be sitting panting by the phone waiting for him to call. Well
let me tell you I’m not one of those doormats you can wipe your
feet on. You’re being ridic...”
He held up a
finger.
She received
the warning in those dark eyes loud and clear and closed her mouth
with a snap almost giving herself lock-jaw.
Just who the
hell did he think he was?
Hot tears
blurred her vision.
She fumbled her
keys, dropping them in the porch.
With a harsh
expletive Nico picked them up and plunged the key into the
lock.
Heart
thundering in her ears Bronte felt torn between excitement and
terror as he thrust her through the door.
Nico kicked it
shut, threw the keys onto the hall table. A single lamp lit his
face. Sheer temper glittered in his eyes. Her wrap was torn from
her shoulders.