‘Of course not.’ He liked her low, confident voice, so totally unlike the high-pitched giggles of the women by the pool, already shedding their inhibitions. ‘Are you in the habit of...disturbing people?’ Her tone wasn’t arch with flirtation but serious, as if trying to fathom him.
That made two of them.
He shrugged, noting the way her gaze darted to his shoulders. Had he ever met a woman so primed and physically aware of him?
It made him want to take what he desired straight up, then worry about deciphering her later.
He took a step closer and she stilled. Even her breath seemed to stop. Her nostrils dilated. Did she breathe in his scent just as he found himself discovering she smelled of...sweet peas? The perfume of an old-fashioned garden.
Memory blindsided him. Of a garden in sunshine. Of his mother’s all too rare laugh and Jack’s patient tone as he taught them the difference between weeds and the precious vegetable seedlings.
How long since he’d thought of that?
It belonged in another lifetime.
‘Donato?’
He stiffened, registering her hand, lifted as if reaching for him. Then it dropped to her side. He didn’t know if he felt relief or regret.
He wanted to touch her, badly. But not here. Once they touched there would be no holding back.
* * *
‘Some people find me disturbing.’
It would be comforting to believe he had this impact on everyone. Yet to Ella her response seemed utterly personal, as if something linked the pair of them.
‘Why is that?’
Those jet eyebrows shot up. What? Surely not everyone was bowled over by those dark, fallen-angel looks? There must be some, heterosexual men and the blind, who were unaffected.
‘What do you know about me?’
She shrugged. ‘Just that my father wants to do business with you. Ergo you’re rich and powerful.’ She snapped her mouth shut before adding something uncomplimentary. She’d already shot her mouth off when she should have been smoothing the way for the news that her sister wouldn’t be playing happy families.
It was remarkable how he’d provoked her into lashing out. Her profession required discretion.
‘I know you’re from Melbourne, visiting Sydney for a major project.’
‘That’s all?’ His look penetrated, as if peering past the gloss of her sister’s clothes and jewellery to the plain, no-frills woman beneath. Her traitorous body heated and she had to lock her knees.
‘That’s all.’ She’d had no time for an Internet search. She’d barely had time after meeting her father to find suitable clothes to wear.
‘You take so little interest in your father’s business?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate. What her father did was no longer any concern of hers. Except when it threatened Rob and Fuzz. ‘That is—’
His raised hand silenced her. ‘Don’t explain. It’s refreshing to meet someone honest enough to admit they’re only interested in money, rather than how it’s made.’
‘You’ve got me wrong.’ He made her sound like a leech.
‘Have I? How?’
Belatedly she shook her head, caution stirring. ‘Never mind. It’s not relevant.’
They’d never meet again. It was a sign of weakness to worry about what he thought of her. Besides, she baulked at Donato Salazar knowing anything about her. Knowledge was power and he looked the sort to wield his power mercilessly.
‘And what is relevant?’
‘The reason you’re here tonight. Felicity.’
‘I came here expecting to meet her.’ His gaze drifted over the crowd on the upper terraces.
‘She’s unavailable. She couldn’t be here.’
‘So your father mentioned.’
Ella wondered what else her father had said. She’d bet her whole savings account he hadn’t admitted Fuzz had done a runner to north Queensland rather than face this man.
The idea of Fuzz anywhere without cold champagne on tap, working spa baths and an adoring audience was unbelievable. Yet Rob said they were camped in a couple of rooms at the old motel, making do with a primus stove and cold showers while the renovations were underway.
For the first time Fuzz was in love. Matthew, Rob’s friend, now business partner, was decent, honest and hard-working, a rarity in her family’s social circle. It gave Ella hope that Fuzz had fallen for him rather than the smarmy powerbrokers she’d dated before. Matthew’s decision to turn the rundown motel he’d inherited into an upmarket resort had been the catalyst Rob and Fuzz needed to break from Sydney and their father.
‘So you’re standing in for your sister.’ Donato’s dark voice trawled like pure alcohol in Ella’s veins, making her blood tingle. ‘What could be more pleasant?’
His expression changed, lines deepening, gaze piercing. He looked...predatory.
Instantly heat bloomed.
‘Not in the way you think!’ Ella blurted.
‘You know my thoughts?’ Again that rise of slashing ebony eyebrows. It made him look like a haughty Spanish grandee of old.
‘Of course not.’ How did he throw her off balance so easily? She’d spent years learning to keep her thoughts to herself and her emotions under control. She always had both feet on the ground.
Yet around Donato Salazar she felt different.
He looked intent and assessing and his stare sent anxiety spidering across her flesh, drawing it tight. Ella wasn’t used to such close masculine attention. Not from men like him. She felt out of her depth and that made her bristle. She decided to change the subject.
‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself tonight. My father’s parties are renowned.’
A shrill cry split the air, followed by a splash in the pool. There was laughter then another splash.
‘So I gather.’ His expression didn’t change but there was steel in his tone that told her he had no time for party games. ‘But I’m here to become acquainted with your family. With you, Ella.’
There it was again, that tremor of excitement as he said her name. Ella rubbed her hands up her bare arms to smooth sudden goose bumps. Too late she saw her mistake, when his gaze zeroed in on the movement. It wasn’t cold. The night was balmy. He knew she was reacting to him.
Ella shouldn’t have let pride tempt her into raiding her sister’s wardrobe. Years as the frump of the family, the one with puppy fat and boring brown hair instead of glorious golden locks, had made her determined to look good. Now, wedged into her sister’s dress, perched in glittery shoes, she craved her sensible trousers and flats.
She turned to lean on the waist-high terrace wall, pretending to look at the harbour view.
Donato stood over a metre away. Yet she felt him as if they touched. How was it possible?
‘I didn’t know until tonight that your father had three children. I’d only heard of two.’
That was no surprise. Reg Sanderson never boasted about his boring middle child as he did about his clever son or gorgeous older daughter. Until tonight