The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (62 page)

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 nur
tures?' 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.

C
ASSANDRA
stirred, and gradually became aware she wasn't alone in the bed. For her head lay pillowed against Diego's chest, a male leg rested across her own, and his arms loosely circled her body as he held her close.

Diego sensed the quickened heartbeat, the change in her breathing, and brushed his lips to her hair. Tousled silk, he mused, inhaling its fresh, clean smell. A man could take immense pleasure from waking each morning with a warm, willing woman in his arms.

Not just any woman…
this
woman.

‘You're awake.'

She heard his quiet drawl,
felt
the sound of it against her cheek, and offered a lazily voiced affirmative.

He trailed the tips of his fingers down the length of her spine, shaped the firm globe of her buttock, then he traced a path over her hip, settled briefly in the curve of her waist before shifting to her breast.

There was a part of her that knew she should protest. To slip so easily into intimacy meant she accepted the current situation…and she didn't.

Dear heaven. She bit back a gasp as he eased her
gently onto her back, then lowered his mouth to suckle at one tender peak.

Seconds later the breath hissed between her teeth as his hand trailed to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and began a teasing exploration.

She went up and over, then groaned out loud as another orgasmic wave chased the first with an intensity that took hold of her emotions and spun them out of control.

His arousal was a potent force, and just as she thought she'd scaled the heights he nudged her thighs apart, slid in, and took her higher than she'd ever been before, matching her climax with his own in a tumultuous fusion of the senses.

It took a while for their breathing to settle into its former rhythm, and they lay entwined together, spent as only two people could be in the aftermath of very good sex.

Make that incredible, off-the-planet sex, Cassandra amended as she closed her eyes and indulged her mind and body in an emotional replay.

It had, she mused indolently, been all about her pleasure. Soon, she'd seek to even the scales a little.

And she did, later, taking delight in testing his control…and breaking it.

Enjoy, Cassandra bade silently. For within a few hours she'd return to her apartment and a life from which Diego would fade.

Later, much later they rose from the bed, shared a shower, then, dressed, they descended the stairs to
the kitchen for a meal that was neither breakfast nor lunch but a combination of both.

Diego's cellphone buzzed as they lingered over coffee, and he checked the caller ID, then rose to his feet.

‘I'll have to take this.'

Cassandra lifted a hand, silently indicating he should do so, and she watched as he crossed the terrace.

French, she registered, barely discerning a word or two…and wondered how many languages he spoke.

Business, she determined, and let her gaze drift across the pool to the harbour beyond.

‘I have to meet with two business colleagues. Their scheduled stopover was cancelled and they took an earlier flight,' Diego relayed as he returned to the table. ‘I'll be an hour or two.' He drained the rest of his coffee, then leant down and took brief, hard possession of her mouth. ‘We need to talk.' His lips caressed hers with a soothing touch.

She wasn't capable of saying a word, and he uttered a husky imprecation.

‘Cassandra—'

The insistent sound of his cellphone brought forth a harsh expletive, and she saw the flex of muscle at his jaw as he sought civility. ‘Dammit.' He raked fingers through his hair.

‘It's OK.'

His eyes darkened. It was far from OK. Yet del
egation was out of the question. There were only two associates capable of handling the current negotiations, and neither were in the same state.

‘I should be able to tie this up within an hour or two.'

‘Go,' she managed quietly. ‘They,' whoever
they
were, ‘will be waiting for you.'

He shot her a piercing look, then turned and made his way through the house, collected his briefcase and keys and entered the garage.

Minutes later Cassandra stood to her feet, cleared the table, then dealt with dishes and tidied the kitchen.

Stay, or leave.

If she stayed, she'd be condoning an affair. And while she could live with that if mutual
love
was at its base, she found it untenable when the emotion was one-sided.

She wasn't an ‘it's OK as long as it lasts' girl. Nor could she view hitching up with a man for whatever she'd gain from the relationship.

No contest, she decided sadly as she made her way upstairs.

It didn't take long to pack, or to pen a note which she propped against the side-table in the foyer. Then she crossed to the phone and called for a cab.

The cat greeted her with an indignant sound and a swishing tail. The message light on her answering machine blinked, and she organised priorities by feeding the cat, then she tossed clothes into the
washing machine, fetched a cool drink, then she ran the machine.

Siobhan…‘Tying the knot in Rome next weekend. Need you there, darling, to hold my hand.'

Cameron…‘Flying home Tuesday. Let's do dinner Wednesday, OK?'

Alicia…‘Hope you're enjoying the ride. It won't last.'

Cassandra didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the latter. The ride, as Alicia called it, was over.

Keeping busy would help, and when the washing-machine cycle finished she put the clean clothes into the drier.

The contents of the refrigerator looked pathetic, and she caught up her car keys. Milk, bread, fresh fruit and salad headed her mental list, and she took the lift down to the basement car park, then drove to the nearest store.

There was a trendy café close by, and she ordered a latte, picked up a magazine, and leafed through the pages while she sipped her coffee.

It was almost five when she swept the car into the bricked apron adjacent to the apartment building's main entrance, automatically veering left to take the descending slope into the basement car park.

It was then she saw a familiar car parked in the visitors' area. As if there was any doubt, Diego's tall frame leaning indolently against the Aston Martin's rear panel merely confirmed it.

For a few heart-stopping seconds she forgot to
breathe, then she eased her car towards the security gate, retrieved her ID card and inserted it with shaking fingers and drove down to her allotted space, killed the engine, then reached for the door-clasp…only to have the door swing open before she had a chance to release it.

She tilted her head to look at him, and almost wished she hadn't, for his features appeared carved from stone.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘Did you think I wouldn't come after you?'

She felt at a distinct disadvantage seated in the car. By comparison he seemed to tower over her, and if they were going to get into a heated argument she needed to even the stakes a little.

With careful movements she slid from behind the wheel, then closed and locked the door before turning to face him. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Yes, you do.' His voice resembled pure silk, and she swallowed the sudden lump that rose in her throat.

‘Why didn't you stay?'

‘There was no reason to,' she managed. ‘We don't owe each other a thing.'

‘All obligations fulfilled,' Diego accorded with dangerous softness.

It almost killed her to say it. ‘Yes.'

‘No emotional involvement. Just good sex?'

She was breaking up, ready to shatter. ‘What do
you want from me?' It was a cry from the heart that held a degree of angry desperation.

‘I want you in my life.'

‘For how long, Diego?' she demanded. ‘Until either one of us wants it to end?' As it would. ‘Nothing lasts forever, and lust is a poor bedfellow for love.'

A car swept close by and slid into an adjacent space. She recognised the driver as a fellow tenant, and she met his concerned glance.

‘Everything OK, Cassandra?'

Diego hardly presented a complacent figure. She managed a reassuring smile. ‘Yes.'

The tenant cast Diego a doubtful look, glimpsed a sense of purpose in those dark eyes, and chose to move on.

‘Let's take this upstairs.'

If he touched her, she'd be lost. One thing would lead to another…

It was better to end it now. ‘No.'

Diego barely resisted the temptation to shake her. ‘Tell me what we share means nothing to you.'

She couldn't do it. Her eyes clouded, then darkened as she struggled to find something to say that wouldn't sound inane.

Some of the tension eased in his gut as he reached for her. He cupped her nape with one hand and drew her in against him with the other, then his mouth was on hers, moving like warm silk as he took possession.

When he lifted his head she could only look at him.

‘You're a piece of work,' he accorded quietly. ‘No woman has driven me as crazy as you have.' His lips curved into a warm smile. ‘A year of being held at a distance, when you've politely declined every invitation I extended. I've had to be content with brief, well-bred conversations whenever we attended the same social functions.'

Cassandra recalled each and every one of those occasions. The edgy onset of nerves the instant his familiar frame came into view; a recognition on some deep emotional level she was afraid to explore, fearing if she entered his space she'd never survive leaving it.

‘Marry me.'

Cassandra opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘What did you say?'

‘Marry me.'

She could only look at him in shocked silence.

‘Do you really want our children to learn their father proposed to their mother in a basement car park?' Diego queried gently.

This was a bad joke. ‘You can't be serious.'

‘As serious as it gets.'

‘Diego—'

‘I want to share the rest of your life,' he said gently. ‘I want to be the father of your children and grow old with you.'

There could be no doubt he meant every word. It
was there in the depth of his dark eyes, the heartfelt warmth of his voice, his touch.

Joy began a radiating spiral as it sang through her veins, piercingly sweet and gloriously sensual.

A faint smile lifted the edges of his mouth as he gave the concrete cavern a sweeping glance. ‘I'd planned on different surroundings from these.'

Cassandra's lips parted in a tremulously soft smile. ‘I don't need soft music, dimmed lights, fine food or wine.'

Diego brushed his fingers along the edge of her jaw, tilting her chin a little as he caressed the curve of her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Just the words,
querida
?'

She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of something wonderful. ‘Only if you mean them.'

‘You're the love I thought I'd never find,' he said gently. ‘I want,
need
you.
You
,' he emphasised gently. ‘For the rest of my life.'

For a moment she didn't seem capable of finding her voice. It overwhelmed her.
He
overwhelmed her. In an instinctive gesture she pressed her mouth against his palm.

‘I didn't want to like you,' Cassandra said shakily. ‘I especially didn't want to fall in love with you.' She'd fought him every inch of the way, hating him for forcing recognition their souls were twin halves of a whole.

‘Because of my so-called dangerous past?' he queried with teasing amusement.

‘It shaped and made you the man you've become.' Providing the tenacity, strength of will and integrity lacking in many men his equal.

He fastened his mouth on hers in a kiss that was so evocatively tender it melted her bones.

Minutes later Diego caught hold of her hand and began leading her towards the lift. ‘We need to get out of here.' His smile held the heat of passion over-layed with a tinge of humour. ‘Your place or mine?'

‘You're letting me make the decision?'

He paused to take a brief, hard kiss, tangled his tongue with hers, and felt the breath catch in her throat. ‘You have a sassy mouth.'

‘That's a compliment?'

Seconds later the lift doors opened and they entered the cubicle. ‘Foyer?' Diego queried as he indicated the panel. ‘Or your apartment?'

‘There's the cat—'

‘Not the foyer.'

The lift began its ascent towards her floor. ‘I need clothes,' Cassandra continued.

‘The cat will adjust.'

‘To what?'

‘Her new home.'

She looked at him, and melted. ‘I love you.'

‘Love me, love my cat?' he quizzed with amusement.

‘Uh-huh. She's with me.' The lift slid to a stop, and she preceded him into the lobby.

He took the keys from her hand and unlocked and entered the apartment, then he closed the door behind them.

‘I take it that's a
yes
?'

Her expression sobered as she looked at him. The love was there, for her, only her. She doubted anyone had ever seen him so vulnerable, and it moved her more than anything he could have said.

‘Yes,' she said simply.

He needed to show her just how much she meant to him…and he did, with such thoroughness the end of the day faded into night, and it was after midnight when they raided the fridge, made an omelette, toast, and washed them both down with coffee.

‘Groceries!' Cassandra exclaimed in despair. ‘I left them in my car.' She thought of spoiled milk and other comestibles, and shook her head.

‘Do you have any specific plans over the next few weeks?' Diego queried idly. She looked adorable, sparkling eyes, warm skin, and gloriously tumbled hair. He reached out a hand and pushed an errant swathe back behind her ear.