Читать книгу Modern Romance January Books 5-8 - Heidi Rice - Страница 13

‘YOU’VE LIED YOUR head off your whole life?’ Rafe didn’t believe her. But he was drawn in by the shadows flickering in her eyes. ‘Why so many lies?’

‘For protection, as you suggested. But it still does damage and I refuse to lie any more.’ She squared her shoulders and smiled. But it wasn’t the bubbly smile he’d seen earlier when she’d been amongst the roses and he wondered if she was actually serious.

‘I’m like you,’ she said. ‘Upfront about what I want out of my life. What I will accept, and what I won’t.’

‘What makes you think I’m upfront about what I want from my life?’ How did she think she knew anything about him?

‘You’re decisive and take action to get what you want. The fact that I’m sitting in your car right now is a perfect example of your determination.’

Good point. He was used to getting his way, though honestly he’d not been certain she’d agree to attend the party with him. Even now he wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped away once they arrived at the palazzo. He’d have to keep her occupied.

‘But if this is the “new you”, then you’re getting what you want as well,’ he teased.

He’d been absurdly satisfied when she’d said yes, but it had been his first victory of a less than stellar day and he’d take it.

‘Once I’d had the time to process your...invitation, I realised it could be an interesting experience.’ She nodded primly, but the effect was ruined when an effervescent smile lit up her face. ‘Not one I’m likely to repeat.’

True, though why the fact should give him a twinge, he didn’t know. He’d been feeling off all day. He’d deliberately not visited the Villa Rosetta until the refurbishment was complete, but while he could appreciate its beauty and value, there’d not been the pleasure of getting what he’d wanted for so long.

Fool. What had he expected? The decades-old promise that the villa represented had never been fulfilled and never could be. His father, Roland, was long since dead. And that finality left an unusual melancholy just beneath his skin.

So not Rafe. He never wasted time looking backwards, he pushed forward, making headway against the resistance he was accustomed to. He pushed harder than anyone because he’d always had to. Illegitimate, unwanted heir that he was. Securing the villa should have been a pinnacle moment but it was larger than he’d realised. Its vastness screamed out for more people to be living in it. For the family he’d never had.

Fool. He wasn’t eight years old and full of fairy-tale dreams for a loving family now.

The woman wandering about the grounds had been a welcome distraction. He’d watched from the villa, initially outraged at her blithe trespassing. But he’d grown increasingly intrigued as she’d strolled through the roses with that smile lighting up her face.

‘The fireworks are supposed to be spectacular,’ she said as she waited for him to start the car. ‘You’re promising me all the fireworks, right?’

He glanced at her profile—had she really meant that as innocently as it had sounded? She turned to look at him fully, her expression limpid. The longer he looked at her, the deeper the colour ran in her cheeks. He was fascinated by the hint of vulnerability in her reaction.

‘What?’ she suddenly snapped. ‘Do I have something on my nose?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Are you flirting with me?’

‘What? No!’ That colour in her cheeks ran crimson now. ‘Hurry up and drive. I want to see the fireworks. I’ve been looking forward to them all day.’

Warmth flowed through his veins. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you were flirting with me.’

Her mouth opened, then closed, then her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re shocking, you know that?’ She stared straight ahead as if to ignore him. But then suddenly turned to snap at him again. ‘Does everyone flirt with you?’

‘Mostly.’ Still grinning, he finally started the engine, enjoying the crazy whim that had led him to take a total stranger to the most exclusive party on the European continent.

Her eyes had hit him the second he’d been able to see again after wiping all that water from his own. Large and framed with long lashes, they were caramel-coloured and captivated him completely. When he added her flawless, lightly tanned skin, providing a perfect backdrop for those wide eyes and lovely curving lips, it made for pretty. Her long hair was tied back in a bun but had hints of blonde and brown in the loose tendrils that curled about her sweetheart-shaped face...

Yes, it all added up to his new definition of gorgeous. She was on the shorter side, with curves in the places he appreciated most. That worn denim skirt had stopped just at her knees and shown smooth-looking legs, while her blouse had been floral. He’d liked the way the buttons had strained to contain her breasts. He’d imagined popping them open one by one. But in the end it had been the melted caramel colour of her eyes—all sweet warmth—that he’d kept returning to. There was a lightness in them that he found unusual, enchanting, sweet.

Rafe did not do sweet. Rafe did sophisticated. It was safer to play with women who knew the rules of the one-night-only game. But fresh, half-wet, funny Grace intrigued him. Temptation had been irresistible and reckless.

So now here she was alongside him, wearing a killer dress that emphasised every one of those bountiful curves. He wanted to kiss down that deep scooped neckline and feel her lean closer for more. His muscles tensed.

Well, he had been celibate for six weeks—virtually a marathon for him and the longest stretch in his adult life. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the winding road. Grace was not a one-night-stand prospect. She wasn’t the type. When she’d said this was the most adventurous night of her life so far, she’d meant it.

A small army of models was arriving at the villa tomorrow. There’d be more than one to frolic with afterwards if he still wanted to. Frankly, though, the speculation didn’t excite him.

He glanced at Grace again and wished he had that hose once more. If that dress were wet, it’d turn translucent and he’d know for certain that she wore nothing beneath it. He suspected so, he could almost see the outline of her nipples. He shifted in his seat and touched his foot harder on the accelerator, irritated with his sudden descent into basic thinking. Was he suddenly some hormonal teen? The sooner they got to the party, the sooner he could get a grip on himself.

Palazzo Chiara was lit up like a fairy-tale castle. He pulled up by the waiting valet and scooted around to help Grace out before she tripped on the stones or something equally unfortunate. But his half-sarcastic gallantry was rewarded when he saw the look on her face as she gazed at the palazzo.

‘You like it?’ He couldn’t help smiling at her reaction.

‘It’s huge.’

‘The Villa Rosetta is big.’ He puffed out his chest.

Her eyes kindled with amusement. ‘You’re defensive about size? I never would have suspected you’d be so insecure.’

‘I told you I needed armour tonight.’ He winked. ‘You think it’s better than the Villa Rosetta?’

‘Nothing is better than Alex’s roses,’ she declared loyally. ‘This place is too huge. It’s beautiful, but it’s not a home. The Villa Rosetta is a home—you can sense the love in it.’

Her genuine words touched a raw spot and he refrained from replying by guiding her into the reception hall. A liveried waiter stepped forward with a gleaming silver tray laden with tall champagne flutes.

‘You’re sure you don’t want a drink?’ Rafe teased her.

She shook her head. He passed on the offer as well and walked her further into the room so she could appreciate the gold and marble interior. Her breathy gasps delighted him and he kept walking, aware of heads turning. He carefully avoided eye contact with a couple of the models due at the villa tomorrow. He didn’t want to be interrupted yet. Grace’s face was fascinatingly mobile and it was impossible for her to hide her reactions. Captivated, he pointed out more of the various features—from the tumbling crystal chandeliers to the sparkling waterfall in the centre of the room. But she saw some of the people looking their way and definitely recognised some.

‘Famous people,’ she noted quietly. ‘Rich people.’

‘Rich and famous people.’ He nodded.

‘A Venn diagram of the upper echelon.’ She nodded. ‘And just one outside the circle.’

‘Is that one feeling self-conscious?’

‘Absolutely. But she’s absolutely determined to get over herself.’

He laughed, liking her frankness.

‘Pleasure to see you here, Rafe.’ Toby Winters, a party-hard aristocratic banker with a vast holiday estate on the lake, interrupted them loudly. ‘I heard work on Villa Rosetta is complete. Welcome to the neighbourhood.’

‘Thank you,’ he said calmly. ‘Julia, lovely to see you.’

Julia, Toby’s wife, was too busy looking Grace over to bother answering. Besides, Toby had intervened again.

‘You’re racking up quite the portfolio,’ Toby said. ‘I envy your energy.’

Rafe smiled but tuned into the conversation that was occurring about a foot lower than his eye level, where Julia was interrogating his fish-out-of-water guest.

‘I’m only here because he made me come,’ Grace said.

Oh, Lord. Did she have any idea how that husky comment was going to be interpreted?

Grace had offered Julia a disarming smile, but Julia wouldn’t disarm in any way.

‘He made you?’ Julia’s eyebrows might have risen had her forehead not been fixed in place by the poison she’d injected beneath her skin.

‘I’m working for him.’ Grace blushed. ‘C-currently... Just for...’ She trailed off.

Rafe gritted his teeth to stay serious.

‘You work for Rafe?’ Julia asked archly.

Grace, in her oblivious innocence, nodded.

‘Yes.’ Julia raked Grace over from head to toe with a frigid glare. ‘I can see exactly in what capacity you work for him.’

Because Grace didn’t look like a PA or a secretary or a housekeeper or even a gardener. Julia grabbed her husband’s arm and all but dragged him away. Grace turned shocked eyes on Rafe, her pretty skin now stained scarlet.

‘She thinks I’m...’

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. And she was blushing again. Rafe threw his head back and laughed. She was stunned at Julia’s interpretation. That meant she was even more naive and innocent than he’d already suspected. In her skirt and floral shirt she’d looked sweetly gorgeous. In the killer white dress she looked both voluptuous and shy and it made for a mouth-watering combination. But he wanted to ease her embarrassment now. So he opted to tease.

‘A paid escort?’ He nodded. ‘I believe so. You were the one who answered the question.’

‘It’s this dress.’ She put her hand up to hide that glorious cleavage. ‘I told you it was indecent.’ She paused as a thought struck her and she blinked rapidly. ‘Why would they think you would require the services of a paid escort?’

The compliment hidden in there was so unguarded it made it all the more touching. Something was seriously wrong with him. He could not be going crazy with lust for some random woman he’d found wandering in his garden...

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he answered idly. ‘You weren’t exactly keen on being my date. I had to pressure you to come.’

And, yes, he’d meant her to catch that lame double entendre that Julia had already picked up on. He’d like nothing more than to make Grace come.

She flushed even more beautifully. ‘Because I don’t know you. Anyway, you didn’t ask me because you wanted to date me. You wanted to pay me back for ruining your suit.’

‘Did I?’

She stared up at him, her eyes melting. ‘Stop it. You’re an appalling flirt. It’s like you can’t help yourself.’

Right now it seemed he couldn’t. ‘Who says I’m flirting?’

Rafe watched Grace roll her eyes with outlandish expressiveness and then she glanced past him. ‘I’m hungry. Isn’t there any food?’

‘People are here to be seen, not to scoff.’

‘Heaven forbid they be seen munching.’ She looked about some more before a small pout of disappointment drew his attention to her lips. ‘I think I’ll have a drink after all.’

He signalled a passing waiter and lifted a flute of champagne off the tray for her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘One won’t hurt me.’

More people came over—offering congratulations and conversation, soliciting his attention and seeking to satisfy their own curiosity. Grace was oddly quiet as he chatted, offering only a nod as he introduced her to them as his friend. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting how swiftly the champagne was disappearing from her glass. She was sipping to stop herself from speaking, he just knew it. And the sparkle in her eyes was growing brighter by the second. Turning abruptly, he excused them both from the company and walked her towards the open doorway for some fresh air.

‘They all want something from you.’ Grace drained the last drop from the crystal flute. ‘Honestly, they were all over you like some hideous disease. Every last one, sucking up.’

He was the one wanting to suck up. He couldn’t take his eyes from her mouth and he really needed to get a grip. ‘Everybody wants something from me. Attention. Money,’ he said dryly. Everything always came back to money. And he was under no illusion that if he had none, those people wouldn’t come within fifty feet of him.

‘I don’t want either of those things,’ she said cheerfully.

No, it seemed she might not. But maybe he could make her change her mind on the attention front.

‘Let’s go look at the lake. It must be fireworks time soon.’ She walked out the wide-flung doors but came to an abrupt halt on the patio. ‘Who’s that guy?’ she whispered loudly, nodding her head in the direction of a tall, grey-haired man icily glaring at Rafe from further along the marble patio.

Rafe met the man’s stare for a second, then deliberately turned away. ‘No one important.’

Maurice Butler would never again have any importance in his life.

‘Yeah, right.’ She smothered a laugh. ‘If looks could kill, you’d both be dead.’

‘He’s a business acquaintance,’ he lied.

‘Really?’ She shot him a look. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Look at the lanterns.’ He pointed in the opposite direction.

He wanted to be alone with Grace, all his attention on her and her attention only on him.

‘But he’s coming over. He looks like he wants to talk to you.’

‘Well, I don’t wish to talk to him.’ Rafe firmly took her hand and walked her down to the lakefront.

‘It’s beautiful.’

The lights were reflected in her eyes and flickered across her face. She was so pretty. Sinful whispers swirled in his head, all the things he’d do to her, with her, for her. All the things he probably shouldn’t.

‘You’re using me to avoid talking to anyone else,’ she noted as they walked to the water’s edge.

‘Yes. It’s working well.’

‘Why did you bother coming at all if you didn’t want to talk to them?’

‘To be seen.’

‘Because?’

‘Because I’m here and they can’t ignore that fact.’

‘You have history with these people? With that man?’

He hesitated for a moment, but what did it matter if she knew? ‘That man you just asked about is my nephew. I heard he wanted to buy the villa. Unfortunately for him, I was the successful bidder.’

‘Your nephew?’ She turned around to stare again at the man still standing on the patio just outside the wide-open doors. He knew she was processing the vast age difference. Maurice was thirty-two years older than he.

‘You wanted to beat him more than you actually wanted the home?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

‘No, I wanted the villa.’ He turned to look out at the water so he didn’t have to see anyone from the family who’d made his life hell. ‘I always wanted the villa.’

He didn’t know why he’d admitted that to her—he presented it to everyone as the requisite luxury Italian holiday home string to his property portfolio.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Childhood dream,’ he muttered dryly. Thing was, it was true. He’d wanted it all his life. But it seemed the joke was on him. Walking into that villa this afternoon, he’d only felt emptier than ever.

‘But you also enjoyed stealing it from under your nephew’s nose,’ she added shrewdly.

Rafe smiled bitterly. He had, of course. Blocking Maurice’s interest in the villa had been a bonus point in the transaction.

‘You’re clearly not close.’

‘Clearly not.’ He straightened, determined to dismiss this conversation.

The fact that the villa had come with a pretty nymph in the garden was the one highlight of the day. He wasn’t squandering the possibilities by getting bogged down in the past now. ‘I didn’t bring you along to have you pry into my personal life,’ he said lazily, slipping back into Lothario mode. ‘Entertain me another way.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re one arrogant ass, you know that?’

He did, actually. But he wasn’t used to his dates calling him on it—at least, not quite so soon in his acquaintance. And never with amusement—it was with anger that they’d hurl that insult at him. Frankly, right now he was using his vast experience of arrogance to keep her burgeoning curiosity at bay. He hadn’t brought her along to talk to him about those things but to look at and to laugh with and, yes, possibly explore the sensual promise he’d felt flare between them from the second they’d met. But he liked that she called him on it.

Struggling with conflicting emotions, he took a hurried couple of paces to catch up to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ He caught her hand in his and fell into step. ‘That was rude. I was uncomfortable talking about him. I don’t want to talk about him.’

‘That’s totally fair enough. But you could have just said that and I’d have respected it.’

‘Would you?’ he asked pointedly.

She looked at him for a moment and then grinned sheepishly. ‘I am hopelessly curious about people, so probably not.’

He grinned back, refreshed again by her candour. ‘You’re this curious about everyone?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘People fascinate me.’

That response was stupidly flattening, because he knew it was the truth. That was why she knew the gardener’s life story, why she knew the history of the village. Grace James was one of those rare people who was genuinely nice. Interested in other people, in their stories and their lives. But why be so interested—what was lacking in her own life?

‘People find you fascinating too,’ he said.

She laughed at that. ‘No. No, they don’t. And don’t feel you have to flatter me by arguing the point. Oh, look!’

He followed the direction of her deliberate distraction. Sure enough, she was watching other people again. He frowned at the scene going on at the edge of the palazzo’s private beach. A proposal no less. The fool was on bended knee, there was a trio of musicians and inevitably there was a guy with a camera filming the whole thing. Thankfully it only took a few moments.

Rafe watched Grace as she watched the happy couple kiss.

‘Public proposals are so vain,’ he muttered.

‘You’re calling them out for being vain?’ She laughed mischievously and sent him a look from beneath her thick lashes. ‘I think it’s romantic. With all those lights on the water, and the warm breeze and the full moon and the music...it’s perfect. They’ll never forget it.’

‘Of course they won’t, because it’s all been filmed for posterity. No doubt an edited clip will be uploaded onto the Internet before the night is over.’ He shook his head. ‘Such moments should be private. Not for show.’

‘Why, Rafael.’ She turned to face him, her eyes and skin illuminated by the soft warm glow of a hundred floating lanterns. ‘You’re a romantic.’

‘I’m what?’ he asked, startled.

‘A romantic,’ she marvelled triumphantly.

‘No.’ He tapped her on the nose with his finger. ‘I meant making a mistake like that should definitely be kept private.’

‘A mistake?’

‘Marriage,’ he growled.

‘Of course you’re against marriage. It would narrow the field too much for you.’

‘That’s right,’ he agreed wickedly. ‘Life’s too short to settle down and be with just one person for ever. How boring.’

‘Oh, that’s right, you’re easily bored. You’re a billionaire with a feeble imagination.’

‘Trust me, my imagination is all good.’

She shook her head and turned back to the couple. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s boring at all.’

‘You’re the romantic,’ he said. Of course she was. ‘You know it never works out,’ he said softly.

She looked back at him with amused speculation in her eyes. ‘Are you talking of your own relationships?’

‘Anyone’s. Everyone’s.’

‘So, let me guess...’ She studied him impishly. ‘You’re never getting married. Never having children.’

‘Absolutely not.’ He half laughed.

‘Because your parents weren’t happily married?’

‘My parents weren’t married at all,’ he said simply.

‘And you think that’s scandalous in today’s world?’ She grinned. ‘What do you think having unmarried parents means?’

‘That I’m a bastard.’ He winked at her. ‘You have officially been warned.’

‘You do know that lots of kids are born out of wedlock and lots of people divorce.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the stats. But his family situation had some extra spice that hadn’t stilled the gossips’ tongues. ‘My father was over seventy when I was born. I have nephews almost twice my age. My half-siblings were not impressed when my mother and I came along.’ And he shouldn’t be talking about this.

‘They made life tough for you both?’

Tougher than this pretty nymph could ever imagine. It wasn’t just the age gap between his parents but the education, background, social status...everything and everyone had made life tough. Especially for his mother. What they’d done to her he’d never forget, or forgive.

‘Did your parents love each other?’ she asked softly.

And there it was, that romantic nature of hers. The truth would crush all her idealistic dreams. ‘You think that love could possibly make a difference?’ He forced a laugh.

‘So handsome yet so cynical.’ She sighed. ‘Such a shame.’

He leaned closer, playing up so he could forget the past. ‘Handsome is a win, though, right?’

‘A very small one,’ she said, flattening him again.

But he’d seen the gleam in her eyes.

‘Not that small.’ He couldn’t resist any more and put his hands on her waist. ‘You’re going to deny we have chemistry?’

‘It’s probably because we’re polar opposites.’

That she didn’t deny it surprised him all over again. He’d been expecting playful outrage and a pout. Instead, he just got a steadying hand on his chest and an assessing look.

‘You’re crazy good looking,’ she said, her gaze narrowing on him. ‘Like, not-of-this-earth good looking. And confident. So I’m guessing you know what you’re doing when it comes to women. And I know I’m nothing like the women you usually bring along to these things. Given how much you like women, you probably would try anything once. For the novelty factor.’

‘Are you suggesting I’m not discerning?’ He couldn’t decide whether to be pleased by her compliment about his looks or insulted by her assumption that he lacked pickiness when it came to women. But then he realised it wasn’t only him she was insulting. ‘And don’t denigrate yourself.’

She looked up at him, that impish light flickering in her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m not. But let’s be honest, I’m not your type. Everyone here knows it. That’s why they’re staring.’

He didn’t like the thought that he was predictable enough to have a ‘type’, even though he knew he did. ‘That’s not why they’re staring.’

They were staring because she was a breath of fresh air—basically barefoot in those flimsy sandals, with her white dress gleaming in the light and her skin glowing in the radiance of all those lanterns. She was stunning. He—like the rest of them—couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She, however, didn’t appear to suffer the same problem when it came to him.

‘There’s a boat coming.’ She craned her neck to peer past his shoulder. ‘Everyone is walking over. Do you know who’s on board?’

He didn’t know, didn’t care. Just wanted her eyes on him again.

‘This party is non-stop drama,’ she said. ‘Are your “elite” events always like this?’

‘Don’t you go to parties very often?’

‘Usually I’m serving the food.’

She was a waitress? That fitted with the travelling. She certainly wasn’t a local with that softened English accent. Yet it surprised him. She had an unworldliness about her, as if her optimism and hopefulness hadn’t yet been crushed by the harsh realities of life. Most travellers he’d met had a few street smarts and sharper edges. Maybe she was new to it all. His body tightened inappropriately again.

‘What are we going to do about it?’ he muttered harshly, unable to hold back his runaway thoughts.

‘About what?’

Astounded, he turned her back to face him. ‘This chemistry.’

‘Nothing.’ She turned back to watch the launch arrive. ‘Do you think it’s someone famous?’

He didn’t give a damn if it was the Queen of England. He just wanted her attention back on him. ‘I don’t think this is something we can do nothing about.’

‘Of course we can.’ She laughed, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

‘You’re not in the least curious?’

She finally focused on him properly. ‘I’m sure you could make me feel amazing.’ That giveaway colour washed over her light golden tan again. ‘I’m sure you could make me want anything and everything. But I’m also positive you’d be bad news.’

‘Bad news?’ How could anything so explosive be bad news? ‘Do you take everything so seriously?’

‘Do you take everything so flippantly?’

‘Not everything. No. But life is for living.’ He tugged her closer. ‘You should live a little.’

She smiled at that. ‘That was a lame attempt at persuasion. I think you can do better.’

‘Lame?’ Was she critiquing his flirting skills? What had she said, that he was ‘appalling’?

‘You should stop trying to tempt me,’ she said with disarming solemnity.

‘Okay,’ he lied. It wasn’t okay.

That guileless look in her eyes was undermined by the knowing curve of her smile. ‘I don’t want to play games, Mr Vitale.’

He’d never met a woman who didn’t want to play games. ‘You calling me Mr Vitale is playing games.’

She drew a sharp breath. ‘Okay. Honestly? I don’t want to get hurt.’

‘I don’t hurt women.’

She sent him another look.

‘I don’t ever want to hurt women,’ he clarified. ‘I would never want to hurt you.’

He felt her shiver as he took her hand.

‘You’re cramping my style,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘Step away, the nice guys aren’t going to approach when you’re circling me like a shark.’

‘There aren’t any nice guys here.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Not any?’

‘None. They’re all sharks. They all want the same thing I do.’

‘And what’s that?’

The lanterns cast a light glow on her fine features. She looked luminous and delicate and she’d melt against him in a delicious bundle of soft heat. One kiss wouldn’t end the world, would it?

She suddenly stepped backwards. ‘That would be a mistake.’

She turned to watch the crowds greet whoever had arrived on that launch.

She was very focused on watching what other people were doing. On not looking at him. Was that her way of trying to keep this chemistry sealed? Didn’t she realise that trying to bottle it would only cause a bigger explosion once the pressure grew too great? Smiling, he gently shook her.

‘What?’ She finally looked at him.

‘Most women don’t spend a date with me looking out for other men.’

‘Am I not paying you enough attention?’ She widened her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he growled. That apology had been the most insincere thing to fall from her lips tonight. ‘You’re deliberately avoiding looking at me. I wonder why.’

‘You have to wonder?’ she scoffed. ‘This isn’t a date. This is coercion.’

‘You don’t know what coercion is.’ He laughed. ‘I didn’t have to bully you so very much.’

She buttoned her lips and a small frown pleated that space between her eyebrows. ‘I wanted to see the fireworks.’

He laughed again.

‘It’s the truth.’

‘I’m sure it is.’ He framed her face in his hands so he could look into her eyes the way he’d wanted to from the moment he’d first seen her.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked in the gentlest whisper.

‘Getting closer.’

‘Why?’

‘Fireworks.’ He leaned close enough to feel her sweet breath on his face. ‘This still isn’t coercion, by the way. This is seduction.’

‘Is it?’ She shook her head ever so slightly. ‘You’re very...tall,’ she muttered weakly. ‘And strong. You picked me up—’

‘Easily, and the caveman in me enjoyed that. But I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re a silver-tongued devil with decades of experience at making women feel good.’

‘Decades? How old do you think I am?’

‘In terms of experience you’re ancient, whereas I’m a mere babe in the woods.’

‘Are you? Why’s that?’ He watched her pupils dilate, filling with her secrets.

She didn’t answer.

‘Caramellina,’ he murmured again, lost in the warm depths of her gaze and the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers. ‘You even smell sweet.’ An intoxicating combination of roses and vanilla.

He stared into her luminous eyes for a long time and for every moment of it she met his gaze. They stood, stilled in that silent connection until he saw it—that sensual curiosity that he felt, revealed and reflected in her. More than curiosity, it was a pull that could no longer be ignored. Her lips parted and the smallest of sighs escaped her.

‘Oh, all right, then, do your worst,’ she breathed.

He chuckled. ‘I think you mean my best.’

‘Whatever, just get it over with.’

Her breathing was a little quick and he paused.

‘I wouldn’t want to bother someone unwilling.’ He softened his hold on her.

‘I’m not unwilling.’ She almost ground her teeth.

He half laughed again. ‘No?’

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Just kiss me already.’

He brushed his lips over hers as gently as he was able to, desperately trying to go slowly because she was flighty. He’d pull out every trick he knew to tempt her closer, so she wouldn’t startle and step back. He wanted this too much.

She felt like a fragile flower and he didn’t want to crush her. But then her soft lips parted and she let him in. With his first real taste the attempt to go slowly became strained. Then he felt her tongue shyly seeking, and her arms slid up his back.

His chest tightened and he abandoned all idea of going slowly. Any kind of strategy burned as pure instinct blew his brain out. The kiss was hungry and hot and hard in the thud of a heartbeat. To his immense pleasure, she rose more to meet him, her soft curves pressing against him as a sultry moan escaped her. It felt like the first drink after a long thirst, like finding an oasis after months in the desert. She was lush and sweet and so responsive he lost his head completely.

He swept his hands over her body, feeling for himself that, yes, there was no bra beneath that tight, white sheath, neither was there any underwear at all. Desire stabbed so hard he hauled her closer still, deepening the kiss to a completely carnal one. He wanted more of it—more of the softness in her embrace, more of her ardent response, more of her sweet, sultry heat. He wanted everything.

He was so taken aback by the way she melted that all he could do was pull her closer until they were sealed from lips to hips in a passionate, never-ending force of hunger. Finesse and skill and seduction be damned. This was too elemental for that. She was too elemental—with unexpected depths and desire.

At the sound of thunderclaps overhead they broke apart. Breathing hard, he glanced up at the explosion of colour raining across the sky.

Damn fireworks.

Grace released a long breath and then he heard her delighted gust of laughter.

‘It’s so beautiful.’

He kept hold of her hands. He wanted her back in his arms, but her hands would have to do because he refused to curtail her enjoyment of this. He watched the colours above reflected in her eyes and skin and waited for the sky to go silent again. Finally, blessedly, it did.

‘Show’s over,’ he said, his voice husky.

‘I guess it’s time to go home,’ she agreed quietly.

As he led her to his car he kept hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb over hers. He didn’t want this warmth to literally slip through his fingers. In that bleak emptiness this afternoon he’d never have imagined his evening would end with such a sweet, insatiable lover in his bed.

‘That was spectacular.’ She sighed contentedly and snuggled lower in the passenger seat.

He quite agreed.

‘I really liked the massive one at the end. It was like a kaleidoscope of colours.’

His hands tightened on the wheel. Was she talking about the actual fireworks? Not the kiss they’d shared? He half choked at being levelled with a casual comment. He’d have to straighten out her priorities. He had far better fireworks than those on the agenda for her.

She quietened as he cruised along the winding lakefront road towards Bellezzo and the Villa Rosetta beyond. The warm breeze tempered the thudding desire roaring through his system. He had no desire to race. Anticipation feathered across his skin like hot silk. He’d take his time and treat her to absolute, exquisite torture. For the first time in weeks he felt invigorated.

‘You’re coming back to the villa with me, aren’t you, Grace?’ he asked softly. But he got no response.

He glanced at her and then braked in surprise. ‘Grace? Grace?’

In the moonlight she was unbearably beautiful. And she simply had to come back with him now given he had no idea where in the village she was staying.

‘Grace?’

It seemed he wasn’t about to get a sensible answer out of her either. Because the maddening, unpredictable minx had fallen fast asleep.