"What did Lynette ever do to you?" Annette asked as Carlo pulled her into his arms for a slow dance.
He looked at her like she had to be kidding. "She leaked that you broke things off. She's the one that got the whole media storm going in the first place, doing that tabloid interview."
"No one else blamed her."
"In her jealousy, she made an already difficult situation worse."
"My parents believe she was just trying to get ahead of the story, to protect the family, but it backfired."
"Your parents wear blinders where that one is concerned."
Annette agreed, but didn't realize anyone else saw the truth.
"So, you're mad she did the interview? But I'm the one that didn't show up at the church." Why had she said that? Why bring up her own culpability?
Because therapy had only increased Annette's need to live honestly. She'd hated the subterfuge and subtle untruths that permeated her childhood hiding her adopted status like it was something to be ashamed of.
"I am aware." With that, Carlo pulled her in close, making talking difficult.
Unless she wanted to speak into his shirtfront. Annette didn't complain. Her body was responding as it always did to his nearness and it was all she could to not to melt into him. She inhaled his delicious masculine scent, knowing this was probably the last time she would ever do so. She had no idea why he'd asked her to dance after avoiding her all week, especially if, as it seemed, he didn't want to talk.
He still wore the cologne she'd picked out for him while they were dating. She wondered why. Did he like it that much? He had to overlook his antipathy toward the first person to have bought it for him every time he put it on. Or had he simply forgotten it was her?
What a demoralizing thought.
Soon any thought of cologne or gifts floated right out of her head as controlling her libido became her overriding concern. Desire bloomed deep in her belly and spread throughout her body so that everywhere they touched zinged with the electric current of need.
One song bled into another and rather than let her go, Carlo simply pulled her that much closer. Close enough that she could tell the dancing was having the same effect on him as it did on her.
"You want me," she whispered in shock.
He chuckled darkly, like he was laughing at himself. "We often want what is not good for us."
"We should…" she made a feeble attempt to step back.
He held her firmly. "Continue dancing, I agree."
He separated their bodies only when the music had shifted to something with a faster beat. Annette looked around them and realized he'd maneuvered them away from the crowded dance floor, toward the back of cavernous ballroom.
"We must have looked ridiculous dancing back here by ourselves." Not that Annette really cared about things like that.
"I doubt anyone even noticed."
Catching the glare of both her sister Lynette, and their mother, Annette had to disagree. Even Joyce was looking at them, but she was giving Annette the thumbs up and grinning.
Going on the principle that if she couldn't see them, her mom and oldest sister couldn't ruin the moment, Annette smiled back at Joyce and then turned so the only person she could see was Carlo.
"Why did you dance with me?" she asked baldly.
"Because I want you."
She stared. How was she supposed to respond to that? With honesty. She wasn't a naïve virgin, neither was he. "I want you too."
He passed her a black and gold keycard. "I have a suite here. Meet me there after Fantino and Joyce have had their sendoff."
Annette took the keycard automatically, but then immediately regretted doing so and tried to shove it back at him. "No. I can't. What about your girlfriend?"
"I do not have a girlfriend. I had a date."