Brazilian Nights. Sandra Marton

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СКАЧАТЬ Thailand. Katmandu. Wherever aging hippies go to die.” He did look at her then, flashed a quick smile. “Not that Anna’s an aging anything. I keep telling her she was born a few decades too late.”

      “Anna,” Gabriella said, and it truly was a word she’d never heard before. In the months they’d been together, she’d met his brothers once, purely by chance, but Dante had never talked about his family. Of course, neither had she. “It’s…it’s a lovely name.”

      “Old-fashioned, Anna says, but…”

      But what? Dante thought. Why was he talking about his sister? Was it because it was safer than doing what he really wanted to do, reaching for Gabriella, drawing her into his arms and kissing her until she wrapped her arms around his neck and begged him to finish what they had started a little while ago? No way. She was sick. He couldn’t take advantage of her and besides, it would only complicate things—as if they weren’t complicated enough.

      He moved the pitcher of water, the glass, the teapot, did a handful of absolutely unnecessary things and then he stepped back.

      “Okay,” he said brightly. “As I said, if you need anything…”

      “Thank you.”

      “Do you feel better?”

      “I’m fine.”

      The hell she was. Her face was almost the same shade of ivory as the pillow. The baby, at least, looked okay. He was sleeping, lashes dusting his cheeks, mouth pursed in a small bow.

      Cute.

      Dante frowned. Wrong. The baby didn’t look cute as much as he looked, well, like a miniature of a familiar face. A very familiar face…

      He swallowed hard. Turned his gaze on Gabriella.

      “Yeah. Well, we’ll see what the doctor has to say.”

      “Dante. I don’t need a—”

      “Yes. You do.”

      “I don’t. Honestly, Dante—”

      “Honestly, Gabriella,” he said, and then, because he damned well had to do it, he bent and kissed her, very lightly, on the mouth. “Ring the bell if you need me,” he said, and then he was gone.

      Gabriella glared at the closed door. Damn the man! Did he think he could give her orders? Kiss her into obedience? He had not changed at all. He still acted as if he owned the world.

      She had hated that about him.

      She had adored that about him.

      Until he’d come into her life, she’d never known you could be furious at a man and crazy about him at the same time, but how could anyone hold Dante’s macho arrogance against him? It was part of him and it was incredibly sexy. He’d shown it the first time he phoned to ask her out, except he hadn’t “asked” her anything. He’d said hello, reminded her they’d met at a party a few nights before, and then he’d told her he’d be by at eight to take her to dinner.

      “Did I miss something?” she’d said, even though she’d been hoping he would call. “I mean, exactly when did you ask me out?”

      “Why should I ask you for something we both want?” he’d said in a low, husky voice.

      Being sure of himself was part of who Dante Orsini was.

      The trouble was, he was sure of her, too. Sure that she was mesmerized by him. And she had been. For all her air of cool sophistication, she’d been his from the start.

      “I don’t want you seeing anyone but me,” he’d said, that very first night. She’d been in his arms by then. In his bed. In this bed. And he’d been deep, deep inside her. “You belong to me,” he’d added, his voice rough. “You’re mine. Do you understand that?”

      Yes, she’d said, yes, yes, yes.

      Gabriella blinked back the sudden threat of tears. Ridiculous. It had been fun. She had been faithful. So had Dante. He was, after all, a moral man. It was just that his interest in a woman never lasted all that long.

      As for what seemed to be happening now…it meant nothing. He was a virile male in his prime. And she—she was a woman who had not had sex in quite a while.

      All right.

      She had not had sex since the night before he’d gone away on business.

      The baby gave a little cry in his sleep. Gabriella drew him closer. She would get them out of here as fast as she could. A few phone calls would start the process. Then she’d thank Dante for all his help and say goodbye.

      Another knock at the door.

      Dante again. This time with a physician in tow. He introduced them, then left the room. If the doctor was surprised at finding a woman and an infant in Dante Orsini’s bed, he gave no sign, simply examined her and then Daniel, who reacted to the insult to his small person with earsplitting wails of protest.

      The doctor packed away his stethoscope.

      “You have a virus.”

      “I could have told you that,” Gabriella said grumpily.

      “The baby’s fine,” he said, ignoring her bad manners. “Has he ever had formula?”

      “Yes, but why? Will it be dangerous for me to nurse him while I’m sick?”

      “Not dangerous. Tiring. You need to rest. And to drink plenty of fluids. Let Mr. Orsini take care of things while you concentrate on getting better.”

      The doctor left. Dante reappeared. The ease with which he had taken over, making decisions for her, was, for some reason, infuriating. When he held out his hand and showed her the two capsules in his palm, she shook her head.

      “No.”

      “No, what?”

      “No, I’m not taking those things. Your doctor should know better than to prescribe antibiotics for a virus.”

      Dante rolled his eyes. “They’re Tylenol.”

      Of course they were. And they’d help ease the ache in her bones, in her head. Another decision she’d let Dante make…and what did it matter? It was only temporary.

      She took the capsules. Drank some water.

      “More,” Dante ordered.

      She glowered at him but she finished what was in the glass.

      “Thank you,” Dante said, straight-faced. He took the glass, put it on the night table. Then he scooped the baby from the improvised crib where the doctor had put him.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Lie back. Close your eyes. Get some rest.”

      “Listen here, Dante, I am not yours to command. I am not a child—”

      “Listen СКАЧАТЬ