She hesitated. "Will you be all right?"
He nodded, then smiled. "You could leave your door ajar in case I get ambushed. I like the idea of your being available to hold me like you did out there by the fountain."
"I don't think you'll need me. I'm not as experienced as you at shooting bushwhackers out of the saddle." She turned away. "Goodnight."
She could feel his gaze on her back as she walked quickly down the hall and opened the door to her room. A moment later she was in bed, her head awhirl with a wild confusion of thoughts. Why had she committed herself? It was crazy. She was crazy. She had been swayed like a tree in the wind by sympathy, remembrance, and the sensuality he had evoked so effortlessly. She knew he'd had no intention of arousing her to this extent. He had just been himself, Gideon, and that had been enough. Even now, lying here in an emotional turmoil she was conscious of a nagging anxiety. Was he lying in his room across the hall unhappy and lonely again? Surely he had been joking about the possibility that he might need her to help him get through this time. Still, he hadn't closed his door on her, when there had been a chance she might need him.
She lay there for many minutes staring into the darkness, trying to make a decision. Then she abandoned all reasoning as totally useless. She had half known what she was going to do from the beginning anyway. Maybe Gideon was right, and following instincts was best.
She slipped out of bed and ran across the room. She opened the door and left it ajar in unspoken welcome, a gesture of friendship and support. Then she ran back across the room, jumped into bed, and pulled up the covers. It was done, and she felt immeasurably better. She closed her eyes and was asleep a short time later.
Gideon had left his own door open and was lying in bed, waiting. It was only a chance. It was really too soon for her to offer him that kind of trust, but maybe…
Then he heard the soft click of Serena's door opening and the slight rustle of the mattress as she returned to bed.
Gideon smiled into the darkness, turned over on his side, and shut his eyes. There was still a faint smile on his lips when he, too, fell deeply asleep.
"Somehow, I didn't expect a coffee plantation," Serena said as the driver of the limousine negotiated the gravel road leading to the large stone house on the top of the hill. "Ross said your largest hotel property was here on Santa Isabella and I guess I thought you'd live near your base of operations."
"I have a penthouse suite at the hotel and I stay there most of the time." Gideon waved to a khaki- clad man in one of the fields bordering the road. The dark-skinned man waved back, a brilliant white smile lighting his face. "That's Henry Delgado, my foreman. He runs the plantation for fifty percent of the profits, leaving me to be the gentleman farmer. It suits us both." He leaned back on the blue velour seat and stretched out his legs. "I was going to sell off the land and just keep the house and a few surrounding acres, but that could have disrupted the lives of the farmers who live on the property. So Henry and I came to our agreement."
"How long have you had the plantation?"
"Two years."
Her gaze flew back to his face.
He nodded slowly. "I decided I'd better try to have a home ready for you," he said softly. "The hotel is plush and modern, but it isn't a home. The detective's report said you preferred your lakeside cottage to an apartment in New York so I thought this would do as well." His eyes twinkled. "I even made sure it had a lake on the property fed by a real waterfall. It's completely private and I've ruled it out of bounds for anyone on the plantation. I'll show it to you this afternoon, if you like."
"That would be very nice," she murmured.
He frowned. "Now you've got to stop freezing up on me when I mention things like that. I bought this house for us, and I'm not going to pretend anything else."
"I don't know what to say. I can't imagine any man doing all this on the gamble that a woman he'd scarcely met might be the woman."
"You are the woman," he said simply. "It was no gamble."
She shook her head. "You're utterly impossible, do you know that?"
He grinned. "It's been mentioned a few times."
"I can imagine."
"You'll get accustomed to me." His voice lowered to a velvet softness. "I'll give you every opportunity to further your knowledge in every way possible."
Serena felt the heat ignite in her veins like tiny licking flames and she quickly looked away from him. The sensual emphasis was clear, but not presented aggressively. There was no reason for her sudden breathlessness. Gideon managed to keep her constantly off guard. There had been no hint of sexuality in his manner either this morning at breakfast or on the short flight from
Castellano to Santa Isbella. He had been charming, humorous, considerate, and almost avuncular. Yet now he was smiling at her with a sensuality that was as frank and bold as a red flag waving in the breeze. "I wish you wouldn't do that."
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I try to keep it down, but it slips out sometimes." He grimaced. "I know my wanting you makes you uneasy. I had no idea the brother-protector image I built to make you feel safe that night long ago would be reinforced every time you thought of me for the next ten years." His gaze slowly traveled over her from yellow silk blouse to white linen skirt, returning to linger on the thrust of her breasts against the silk of her blouse. He spoke very deliberately, in a tone too low for the driver to hear. "I'm still your protector, but not your brother. If I were your brother, my thoughts couldn't be more incestuous. At the moment, I'd like nothing better than to unbutton your blouse and take your breasts in my hands. I want to taste every part of your body. I want my fingers on you, around you. and in you. Every time I look at you my stomach knots and I get so aroused I'm hurting. If I weren't afraid you'd panic, I'd tell Ricardo to pull over and find a place in the bushes and do everything I've wanted to do to you for an eternity or so." He drew a harsh breath. "Do we understand each other now?"
She was staring at him, stunned by both the barrage of eroticism and its explosive effect on her. Heat was tingling in every vein, and her breasts, beneath his gaze, were swelling as if they were being stroked. She hurriedly glanced out the window. "Oh, yes, I understand."
She felt the warm solid weight of his hand on her knee and she inhaled sharply. She was trembling. She couldn't think, but was having no trouble feeling. Every nerve in her body seemed aflame and her muscles were turning as insubstantial as water. She kept her eyes fixed blindly on the passing scene outside the window as his hand gently rubbed her knee and then slowly pushed her skirt higher to skillfully massage her inner thigh with gentle fingertips. "No stockings," he murmured. "I thoroughly approve."
"It was hot." The words were barely audible and her gaze clung desperately to the passing coffee fields. She should stop him, but she didn't want to stop him. She wanted to sit here and let him touch her and be bathed in this sensual sorcery that was already bewitching her.
"Heat can be a terrible thing." He was widening her legs gently, and she suddenly felt terribly vulnerable. "It can rob you of breath." His fingers trailed further up her thigh. "It can make your muscles knot." His hand suddenly moved up to the apex of her thighs and settled there. She shuddered. She could feel the warm heaviness as if the scrap of material didn't exist. "It can cause you to hurt." He rubbed gently. "Can't it, Serena?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His hand was suddenly gone and he was pulling down her skirt. "Remember, every time I look at you I'm feeling that same heat." He added softly, "Just like you. You want me. Thank God for that."
"I'm a woman and I have the usual responses," Serena said. "You're a very attractive man."