Back In The Brazilian's Bed. Susan Stephens
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‘They said they knew me.’
‘I’m sure they do,’ she agreed. ‘Please, excuse me if I’m interrupting your congregation in the act of worship.’
He laughed again—a wolf laugh, sharp and faintly threatening. ‘You are jealous. Why fight it, Karina?’
‘May I suggest we move on?’ she said coolly.
Another few yards on and a girl dancing on a float called out to Dante. All the men were agog as they stared at her. She was beautiful. Wearing feathers and sparkles and not much more, it was no wonder Dante was so spoiled when every woman laid it on a plate for him.
Including her, Karina remembered, firming her jaw as Dante swung his arm around her shoulders.
‘Sorry,’ he said again, with a smile that could melt the stoniest of hearts.
She resisted the temptation to melt at his feet. ‘Please, don’t worry about me. There are plenty of distractions here that prevent me watching you baste your ego.’
‘Ah, Karina,’ he growled softly, ‘have you forgotten that I’m your honoured client?’
‘I have forgotten nothing. We signed a contract,’ she reminded him crisply, ‘so I’ve got your business.’
‘So you don’t need to try?’ Dante suggested with an amused look.
‘Where business is concerned, I can assure you of my full attention. Where anything else is concerned?’ She shrugged.
That was the end of that conversation as they were forced into silence by one of the samba bands marching past. The rhythm was infectious, making it impossible to remain tense. Everyone around them had started dancing. The performers and their supporters had put so much effort into the parade even she allowed herself to respond to their energy. It occurred to her as she started dancing that at one time she would have been up there on a float, dancing along with the best of them.
‘This is good, Karina.’
Her glance flashed up to Dante.
‘Watch and learn, because this is exactly what I want you to re-create on my ranch.’
‘Carnival?’ She stared up at him in surprise.
She couldn’t help noticing how attractive Dante looked when his lips pressed down in wry agreement. ‘I’m not asking for too much, am I?’ he probed.
He was asking for the world—and he knew it. Carnival took a year to plan, and she had a matter of weeks.
‘After all, I’m paying for the best.’
He shrugged again as he said this, and his tone of voice had changed from coaxing to rather more calculating as he added, ‘I’m paying for the best, so I expect the best.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, relaxing into this return to business, even as she wondered if it could possibly last. ‘The impossible I can do.’
‘Miracles might take a little longer?’ he suggested. ‘You will have to work fast.’
There was no leeway in that statement, and she prided herself on always doing the best job faster than anyone else. Dante had turned away to throw a roll of banknotes onto a passing float, reminding her that all the performers were collecting money for charity. People who often had very little themselves worked hard all year to raise money during the parade, which was what made carnival so special. Locating all the cash she had, she tossed it onto the float. She would never lose sight of what this city had done for her. Working here had saved her. The vitality and the energy of Rio de Janeiro had lifted her, giving her barely enough time to brood or think back.
Until now. Dante would never change, she reflected as another group of dancing girls gathered around him. They were all exquisitely dressed and very beautiful, while Dante appeared like a dark pagan god in their midst. She had never felt more like a dowdy grey sparrow as she waited for him outside the circle of girls. If only she’d taken time to change out of her formal business suit, though something told her that more than the suit would have to go if she was going to do business successfully with Dante. She would have to find some of her missing joie de vivre—and stand up to him at every twist and turn.
She gave a start when he turned to look at her. Angling her chin, she made as if to leave. She couldn’t find it in her heart to blame the girls for loving Dante when his ridiculously handsome image appeared on every Thunderbolt poster in the city, and he looked even better in the flesh, but she was determined to get on with this research project, rather than indulge his slightest whim.
How was her determination to appear disinterested in Dante as anything other than a client going so far?
Not so well. Dante Baracca was back in her life, whether she wanted him there or not, and now it was up to her to harness the tornado and make it co-operate with her vision of how carnival could be adapted to suit the confines of a ranch.
‘I’ll make sure we enjoy some quality time together so we can have a proper chat about my plans,’ Dante reassured her when he returned to her side.
‘My plans will take a little time to formulate,’ she responded mildly. Dante had a samba girl hanging from each arm. She made no comment when he shooed the girls away.
‘We will discuss my plans shortly,’ he said.
‘I’m prepared to consider your suggestions,’ she said, and emphasised, ‘Unless it’s your way to pay a dog and bark yourself?’
His mouth curved in a grin. ‘This new business partnership should be interesting.’
‘Exactly as my brother predicted,’ she confirmed, turning away.
‘Your brother?’
‘Shall we get on? Time is short. We should head for the main square,’ she reminded him.
Dante drew her into a doorway as the previous year’s samba queen danced past. The noise from the accompanying drums was like thunder, and for a few seconds she was glad to lose herself in someone else’s moment, but then the girl stopped to put on a special dance for Dante. A leopard never changed its spots, she mused wryly as Dante tucked a roll of notes into the waistband of the girl’s thong.
‘Turning into a prude, Karina?’
‘Miss Prim?’ she threw back at him. She shrugged and smiled as the girl with the flawless body danced on her way. ‘You do what you like. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Such a shame,’ Dante murmured, his dark glittering eyes staring deep into hers. ‘I rather thought you might keep me in line.’
‘I think you’d enjoy that too much.’
His lips pressed down. ‘You never used to be such a killjoy.’
And he was the reason she’d changed, she thought.
No sooner had she dispensed with this latest salvo from Dante than a good-looking guy stopped in front of her and started dancing. Her first impulse was to smile and move on, but then it occurred to her that if Dante could flirt and tease without restriction, why couldn’t she?
She was about to find out, Karina guessed. Judging by the look on Dante’s face, what was good for the goose definitely wasn’t good for the gander. Then another woman—who, having recognised him, began to dance in front of him—distracted Dante, and with a look in her direction he brought the woman into his arms. Retaliation was one thing, but she had no intention of cosying up to her own partner, and had to content herself with covertly watching Dante prove just how good a man could look when he had been born with the rhythm of Brazil in his veins.
This was carnival where anything was possible. Yes. Dance with the devil and you would get burned, she added silently when Dante brushed against her. She knew he was teasing her deliberately, he always had, but she refused to respond and danced on, though Dante made her partner look like a beardless boy.