Читать книгу The Italian's Blackmailed Mistress - JACQUELINE BAIRD, Jacqueline Baird - Страница 7

MAXIMILIAN ANDREA QUINTANO—Max to his friends—walked out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of navy silk boxer shorts. Just the effort of bending to pull them on had made his head spin. He needed air and, walking out onto the balcony that ran the length of the suite, he willed the pain behind his eyes to vanish. It was his own fault. It had been his thirty-first birthday two days ago, and although Max owned a penthouse in Rome and a house in Venice, he had done what was expected of him and spent the day at the family estate in Tuscany with his father, stepmother, Lisa, and other family members.

But on his return to Rome yesterday, after he had taken his yearly medical exam for insurance purposes, he’d met up with his best friend Franco and a few others from his university days for lunch. The party that had ensued had ended up with Franco belatedly remembering his wife was expecting him home in Sicily. Max, due to fly there the next day anyway, had agreed to accompany Franco to the island to carry on the party there.

Finally, at four-thirty in the morning and feeling much the worse for wear, Max had got a taxi to the Quintano Hotel, the hotel he was scheduled to arrive at that same afternoon in place of his father.

Ever since Max’s grandfather had built his first hotel on the island, before relocating the family to Tuscany, it had become a tradition for the Quintano family to holiday at the Sicilian hotel during the month of August. For the last decade Max had rarely visited, leaving it to his brother Paulo and the rest of the family to carry on the tradition.

A deep frown suddenly creased Max’s broad brow as he thought of his older brother’s tragic death in a car accident just four months ago. When Paulo had enthusiastically entered the family business and become a top hotelier, Max had been given the freedom to pursue his own interests, and he knew he owed his brother a lot.

An adventurer at heart, Max had left university with a degree in geology, boundless energy and a rapier-sharp brain. He had headed to South America, where on his arrival, he’d acquired an emerald mine in a game of poker. Max had made the mine a success and started the MAQ Mining Corporation, which over the last nine years had expanded to include mines in Africa, Australia and Russia. The MAQ Corporation was now global, and Max was a multimillionaire in his own right. But, as he had been forcibly reminded a few months ago, all the money in the world could not solve every problem.

Deeply shocked and saddened by Paulo’s death, Max had offered to help his father in any way he could with the hotel business. His father had asked him if he would check the running of the hotel in Sicily and stay a while to keep the tradition going. The loss of Paulo was too fresh for Paulo’s widow Anna and their young daughters to go, so of course Max had agreed.

Max rubbed his aching temples with his fingertips. The way he felt at the moment he was glad he had agreed to his father’s request—he desperately needed the break. Dios! Never again, he vowed. By some miracle, when he’d arrived at the hotel just before dawn he had retained enough sense to instruct the night porter to keep his early arrival quiet. Nothing and no one was to disturb him….

Max stepped from the balcony into the sitting room. He needed coffee—black, strong and fast. He stopped dead.

For a moment he wondered if he was hallucinating.

A tall, feminine figure with a mass of flowers in her arms seemed to glide across the room towards him. Her hair was pale blond, and swept back into a long ponytail to reveal a face ethereal in its beauty. Her breasts he could only imagine, but her waist was emphasised by a black leather belt neatly holding a straight black skirt, which ended a few inches above her knees. The simple skirt revealed the seductive curve of her hips, and as for her legs… A sudden stirring in his groin said it all. She was gorgeous. ‘Ciao, bella ragazza,’ he husked.

Sent up by the hotel manager to deposit the flowers and check the suite before the arrival of its illustrious owner, Sophie Rutherford was startled by the sound of the deep, masculine voice. She jerked her head towards the open French doors, the flowers falling from her hands at the sight of the huge man standing before her.

Frozen in shock, she swept her green gaze over him. Thick black hair fell over a broad brow, and dark, heavy-lidded eyes were set in a square-jawed, ruggedly handsome face. His bronzed muscular body was wide shouldered, with a broad chest lightly dusted with black hair that arrowed down over a flat stomach and disappeared beneath his dark shorts. His legs were long and splayed. He looked like some great colossus, she thought fancifully, and her green eyes widened in awe at so much masculine power.

Then he stepped towards her…. ‘Oh, my God!’ she cried, suddenly remembering where she was and belatedly realising he had no right to be there. ‘Don’t move! I’m calling Security.’

The scream echoed though Max’s head like a razor on the bone. He closed his eyes for a second. The last thing he needed was someone calling the deity down on him. Then his less than sharp mind finally registered that her words had been spoken in English.

Max slowly opened his eyes, but before he could make a response she was disappearing out of the door. He heard the turn of the key in the lock behind her and could not believe it; the crazy girl had locked him in his own suite….

Shaking his head in amazement, he picked up the telephone and revealed his presence to Alex, the hotel manager. The he ordered some much needed coffee, and strode back into the bedroom to dress. Once he had shaved and dressed he returned to the sitting room, to find a maid cleaning away the flowers and Alex placing a coffee tray on the table. There was no mistaking the barely contained amusement in Alex’s eyes as he greeted his old friend.

‘Max, it’s good to see you. I guessed you were the undesirable giant about to rob the place,’ Alex said and he burst out laughing.

‘Very funny, Alex. It’s good to see you, too. Now, tell me, who the hell is the crazy girl?’ Max asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and downing it in one go, before collapsing onto one of the sofas.

‘Sophie Rutherford,’ Alex answered, joining Max on the sofa. ‘Her father, Nigel Rutherford, is the owner of the Elite Agency in London. They handle the arrangements for a lot of our European clients, and Nigel asked me if his daughter could work here for a couple of months during her university vacation to improve her language skills. She is studying Russian and Chinese, but she also has a good grasp of Italian, French and Spanish. I thought, given the international clientele we attract, she could be very useful. She has certainly proved her worth already in the month she has been here. She is happy to work anywhere, and nothing is too much trouble for her.’

‘If she is as good as you say, then I trust your judgement.’ Max grinned at the older man. ‘But my guess is the fact she is so beautiful might also have affected your decision,’ he mocked.

‘You would say that.’ Alex grinned back. ‘But, unlike you, it takes more than a pretty face to influence me—especially at my age.’

‘Liar,’ Max drawled, a knowing, sensual smile curving his hard mouth as the image of the young woman flashed up in his mind. ‘Any man with breath in his body can see she is gorgeous, and I for one would like to get to know her a whole lot better.’

‘Sophie is not for you, Max,’ Alex said suddenly serious. ‘She is only nineteen, and in the absence of her father she is under my protection. Much as I like you, I do not think she is your kind of woman. She is serious about her studies and not the type of girl to have an affair—she is more the marrying kind.’

Max could have been insulted, but he wasn’t. Alex was like an honorary uncle to him, and knew him well. As much as Max loved women, and they loved him, he had no intention of marrying for years—if ever. Since Paulo’s death his father had begun to hint that it was time he married, constantly reminding Max that if he didn’t there would be no male to carry on the great name of Quintano. But Max didn’t want to settle down. He wanted to travel the world, doing what he loved. And with more money than he knew what to do with, Max was quite happy for Paulo’s family to inherit their rightful share of his father’s estate—as they naturally would have done if Paulo had lived. The last thing Max felt he needed was a wife.

‘That’s a shame.’ His firm lips twisted wryly. ‘She is delectable. But have no fear, old man, I promise not to seduce her. Now, shall we get down to business?’

Later that afternoon Max walked through the semicircle of trees that fringed the secure hotel beach and scrambled over the rocky headland to the small cove he had first discovered as a boy. He loved to dive from the rocks, and it was here that he had first become interested in geology. Today, however, the only rocks that concerned him were the ones in his skull, and he knew a swim would clear his head and cool him down.

Just then, a flash of pale gold against the backdrop of dark stone captured his attention. His dark eyes narrowed intently as he realised it was the girl from this morning. As he watched she flicked the shimmering mass of her hair over one shoulder and stretched herself out on a towel.

Silently Max moved towards her, his body reacting with instant masculine enthusiasm as his dark gaze swept over her. The pink bikini she was wearing was quite modest, compared to some he had seen, but the figure it graced was the ultimate in feminine allure. Her eyes were closed, and her glorious hair lay in a silken stream over one high firm breast. He had been right about her legs—they were long, slender and very sexy—and her skin was as smooth as silk, with just the shimmer of a tan. Max couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he was instantly regretting his promise to Alex to leave her alone.

As he moved closer his shadow fell over her and she opened her eyes.

‘Sophie Rutherford, I believe?’ he drawled smoothly, and held out his hand. ‘I am Max Quintano.’ Max watched as she shot to her feet as though electrified. ‘This morning did not seem to be quite the right time to introduce myself. Please forgive me for any embarrassment I may have caused you.’ He smiled.

‘Sophie, yes…’ She blushed and took his hand. ‘It is nice to meet you, Mr Quintano, but I think it is I who should apologise to you, for locking you in your room.’

Max felt the slight tremble in her hand and looked into her gorgeous green eyes. There he saw embarrassment, but also the feminine interest she could not hide—and miraculously his hangover vanished. ‘Please, call me Max. There is no need to apologise—it was my fault—I must have startled you. Anyway, it is much too hot to argue, and as it happens you are occupying my favourite beach.’ He smiled again. ‘I wouldn’t want to chase you away—I have already done that once today—please stay and allow me to show you that my apology is genuine and I am not some giant burglar.’

Sophie pulled her suddenly tingling hand from his and almost groaned. ‘Did Alex tell you I said that? How embarrassing.’

Never before had she felt such instant and overwhelming attraction for a man. She had taken one look at him this morning and, shocked witless, had behaved like a terrified child.

Now, desperate to improve his impression of her, she added with a wry smile, ‘But, in my defence, you really are very tall.’

‘I’m six foot five—and there is no need for embarrassment, Sophie. I can assure you I am not in the least embarrassed by it. However, you do look rather red in the face—how about a swim to cool off?’ Max suggested. Not giving her time to answer, he added, ‘Race you to the water!’

Of course Sophie followed him. He hadn’t doubted for a moment that she would; women had chased him all his adult life.

Wading into the water, Max turned and splashed her, and saw her smile broaden to light up her whole face. He also saw the gleam of mischief in her eyes just before she bent down and splashed him back.

The horseplay that followed did nothing to cool Max’s suddenly rampant libido. Had she any idea that when she bent forward her lush breasts were bobbing up and down and almost out of her top? he wondered.

Eventually Max could stand it no longer, and he scooped her up into his arms. ‘Trying to splash me, are you? You’re going to pay for that, lady,’ he declared, and waded farther out until the water lapped at his thighs.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she cried, wrapping her arms firmly around Max’s neck, her green eyes sparkling with laughter.

‘There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have you in my arms, Sophie,’ Max teased, his dark gaze clashing with hers.

For a long moment their eyes locked, and the teasing stopped as desire, fierce and primitive, raced between them.

Sophie’s green eyes darkened as for the first time in her life she felt the sudden rush of sexual desire for a man. She was intensely aware of Max’s arm under her thighs, his other across her back and under her arm, the pressure of his long fingers splayed against the side of her breast. Her stomach churned and her pulse raced as the rest of the world seemed to stop. She simply stared into his eyes as though hypnotized, and the air between them grew heavy and shimmered with sexual tension.

Her gaze fell to his wide, firm mouth, and instinctively her lips parted as she imagined how his lips, his kiss, would feel.

The next second Sophie was under the water, swallowing what felt like half the ocean. Spluttering and gasping, she stood up and wiped the water from her eyes, to find Max watching her with a strange, almost regretful look on his face.

‘I think we both need to cool off a little. I’m going to swim to the headland—see you later, Sophie.’ And, like a sleek dolphin, Max dived out to sea, his strong brown arms cleaving the surface without so much as a ripple in the water.

Only later would she realise that a shark would have been a more appropriate metaphor….

Sophie watched him, helpless to do otherwise. Nothing in her nineteen years had prepared her for a man like Max Quintano.

After the death of her mother, when she was eleven, she had been sent to a girls’ boarding school by her father. By the time she had reached the age of thirteen she had sprouted up like a beanpole to five feet nine and had become terribly self-conscious. She’d had few friends, and had spent the school holidays at home in Surrey, with Meg the housekeeper, while her father had worked.

A late developer, only in the past year at university had she felt her confidence grow in leaps and bounds. She’d been delighted to discover that being tall was no deterrent to making friends of both sexes, and she had even dated a few boys.

But never had she felt anything like the stomach-flipping, spine-tingling excitement Max Quintano’s teasing smile and playful touch aroused in her.

A dreamy smile curved her wide mouth as she walked back up the beach and sat down on her towel, her besotted gaze focusing on his dark head, which was now a distant dot in the water. She could still feel the imprint of his arms as he had lifted her, the touch of his fingers against her breast on her heated skin…. Was this love or just fascination? she mused, unable to take her eyes off him.

Max turned in the water and struck back towards the shore, his tumescent flesh finally quietened by his strenuous swim. He had not had a woman since returning to Italy from Australia at the news of Paulo’s death. He had endured four months of celibacy and was certain that this was the reason for his extreme reaction to the lovely Sophie.

Holding her in his arms, he had known she wanted him to kiss her—and he had certainly been aching to taste her lips and a lot more. But he had done the right thing and had left her alone, as Alex had requested. Alex was right. She was too young.

Feeling quite self-righteous, Max strode out of the water and flicked the hair from his eyes. He could see that she was still there on the beach, and as he approached she sat up and smiled. All his good intentions vanished. He was going to be in Sicily for a while, so what was wrong with a little flirtation with a beautiful girl?

‘Come on, Sophie.’ He reached a hand out to her. ‘You have had too much sun. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.’ As she rose to her feet Max pressed a swift, soft kiss on the curve of her cheek. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, saw the sudden darkening of her incredible eyes his kiss had provoked, and before he made a complete fool of himself added, ‘I’ll show you the secret of the maze.’

As one week slipped into two Sophie didn’t know if she was on her head or her heels. She was hopelessly in love for the first time in her life. Just the sight of Max Quintano set her heart aflutter, and when he spoke to her she was breathless. He treated her with a teasing friendliness, but his casual invitations to join him for a swim or a walk when she was off duty were enough to send her into seventh heaven. Of course she agreed like an eager puppy, and though they were not really dates they were both an agony and an ecstasy to her foolish heart. Max was the perfect gentleman at all times, and as much as Sophie wanted him to he never progressed past a kiss on her cheek.

Two weeks after first meeting Max, Sophie walked out of her bedroom and into the sitting room of the chalet she shared with her friend Marnie, the head receptionist of the hotel. Sophie was sure that tonight would be the night all her dreams would be fulfilled. Max had asked her out to dinner at a restaurant in Palermo—at last, a proper date!

‘So what do you think, Marnie?’ Sophie asked as she made a quick twirl. She had bought the sophisticated green silk designer gown from the hotel boutique that afternoon, hoping to impress Max.

‘Let me guess—you are meeting Max Quintano?’ Marnie quipped.

‘Yes.’ Sophie beamed. ‘But do I look okay?’

‘You look stunning! Max will be knocked for six. But are you sure you know what you are doing?’ Marnie asked with a frown. ‘I’ve warned you before about Max and his women. I even showed you a magazine article, remember? I can understand how you feel, but he is a lot older than you, and a sophisticated, experienced man. You’re young, with your education to complete. Don’t throw it all away on a brief affair—because that is all it can ever be.’

Sophie stiffened. ‘I know, and I’ve heard all the rumours, but I’m sure those stories are vastly exaggerated.’

‘Believe what you like—teenagers usually do,’ Marnie said dryly. ‘All I am saying is be careful. Max is a multimillionaire with a matching lifestyle. He rarely stays here for more than the odd weekend. The only reason he is here now is to fill in for his father and his family after the death of his brother. But that is about to change, because I heard today the rest of the family are coming soon—and when they do, Max will not hang around for long.’

‘You don’t know that for sure,’ Sophie said, her heart plummeting in her breast at the thought of Max leaving.

‘No, I don’t. But Max and his father do not have the closest relationship in the world. I understand that although he gets on well with his extended family, the person he cares the most about is his stepsister, Gina. It’s well known that they have had an on-off relationship for years. Some say she tolerates his other women because she is dedicated to her career as a doctor and not interested in marriage. But rumour has it that Old Man Quintano told Max ages ago he would not countenance such a relationship. As far as he is concerned they are brother and sister, and anything else between them is unthinkable. But circumstances change, and Max is very much his own master, and if and when he does decide to marry I wouldn’t be surprised if Gina was his bride. So be warned, Sophie, and don’t do anything foolish.’

Sophie was saved from responding by the ringing of the doorbell, but her happiness of five minutes ago had vanished. However, it returned the moment she opened the door and saw Max, starkly handsome and elegantly clad in an immaculately tailored suit. His tall figure oozed sex appeal, and Sophie’s already pounding heart leapt in her breast.

Max turned a smiling face towards the open door and looked at Sophie. For a moment he was struck dumb. Her mass of blond hair was swept up in an intricate knot on top of her head. Her exquisite face was delicately made up to enhance her superb bone structure and fabulous green eyes. As for what she was wearing—the mid-thigh-length sheath of emerald-green silk outlined every feminine curve and lay straight across her high firm breasts. Damn it, he was getting aroused just looking at her.

‘You look amazing—and remarkably you’re ready,’ he said, thinking that she wasn’t the only one—he could have quite happily ravished her there and then.

‘Yes.’

She smiled at him and the breath left his body. Max had to remind himself once again that he had promised Alex he wouldn’t seduce her—but the trouble was, Sophie intrigued him on every level. She made him laugh, she was clever beyond her years and she was a great companion. As for her physical appearance—he only had to look at her to want her. He should never have asked her out tonight, he realised, because he did not trust himself to keep his hands off her.

Sophie sensed none of Max’s doubts, either during the short car ride or as he took her arm and led her into the restaurant—she was simply too excited.

Max ordered champagne, and when their glasses were filled he raised his and said, ‘To a beautiful girl and a beautiful night.’

Sophie’s face heated at his mention of night. Did he mean what she hoped he meant? Was he at last going to move their relationship to the next level? Kiss her and then make love to her? Yes, she decided as his deep, dark eyes smiled into hers and they touched glasses. With that simple exchange, the mood had been set for the evening.

Sophie let Max order for her, and as course followed course and the champagne flowed freely she fell ever deeper under his spell. They talked about everything and nothing, and Max punctuated their conversation with a smile or the touch of his hand on hers. He fed her morsels of food she had never tried before, watching her every reaction with amusement and something more. By the end of the meal Sophie knew she was totally in love with Max.

‘That was a perfect meal.’ She sighed happily as Max paid the bill.

Perfect food, maybe, Max thought. But pure torture for him. He was white-knuckled with the strain of keeping his hands off her. He must have been mad to think he could have just a mild flirtation with Sophie, and when he slipped an arm around her waist and led her out of the crowded restaurant it was nearly his undoing. She was tall, and when she leant into his side they were a perfect fit, her hip moving sexily against his thigh.

‘I am so glad you brought me here.’ She turned her head to smile up into his face. Her teeth were even and brilliant white against the light golden tan of her skin and he felt his body tighten another notch.

He was no masochist. This had to stop or he was in real danger of losing control—not something he ever did. Dropping his arm from her waist, Max opened the car door for her—but it did not stop his heart hammering in his chest. She looked so utterly exquisite and so damn naïve she hadn’t the sense to hide her feelings.

‘My pleasure,’ he said, and abruptly slammed the door.

By the time he slid behind the wheel and started the car he had his body under control. As he manoeuvred the vehicle along the winding road back to the hotel he glanced at Sophie and realised he had no right to be angry with her. It wasn’t her fault she had the looks and the body of a temptress and stopped men in their tracks, he thought dryly as he brought the car to a halt outside her chalet.

After their laughter and intimacy over the dinner table Sophie sensed Max’s mood had inexplicably changed, and when the engine stopped she glanced up at him and wondered what she had done wrong.

‘Home again,’ she said inanely, and blushed as she realised she was way out of his league in the sophistication stakes. But in the next moment he proved her wrong.

‘Ah, Sophie,’ he drawled huskily. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

She saw the sensual smile that curved his firm lips as he reached to slide his arm around her waist and pull her close to the hard wall of his chest. He growled something softly, something she did not understand, and then his mouth covered hers and she didn’t care.

It was as though a starburst exploded in her brain, sending shock waves to every nerve-ending in her body. He slid his tongue seductively between her softly parted lips, exploring the sweet, moist interior, and her hands involuntarily reached up to clasp around his neck. His kiss was more than she could ever have imagined, and Sophie closed her eyes and gave herself up to the wonder of his embrace. She felt his hand stroke up to cup her breast, and as his thumb grazed the silk-covered, suddenly taut peak, a fiery wave of desire scorched through her veins.

‘Dio! How I want you,’ Max groaned.

Sophie’s fingers were tangled in the sleek dark hair of his head, and her tongue—at first tentatively and then tenaciously—duelled with his as an ever-increasing hunger consumed her.

Max heard her moan when he finally lifted his head, and saw the passion in her dazzling green eyes. He knew she was his for the taking. He almost succumbed—after all, he was not made of stone, and denying his body was not something he was used to. But he had made a promise to Alex, so he had to rein in his carnal impulses.

Gently he pushed her back against the seat, and got out of the car, drawing in a few deep, steadying breaths as he walked around to open her door. ‘Come on, cara.’

Hazy-eyed, Sophie glanced at the hand Max held out. It took an enormous effort on her part to still the shaking in her own hand and take the help he was offering, and step out of the car.

She looked at the staff chalet and back at Max, her body still strumming with excitement, not sure what to do, what to say.

Sensing her uncertainty, Max curved an arm around her waist and led her to the door. Once there, he turned her in his arms and narrowed his dark eyes on her bemused face—he would make it easy for her.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Sophie. I won’t come in. I have some international calls to make—different time zones, you understand.’ He brushed his lips against her brow and said regretfully, ‘I am leaving tomorrow, but maybe we will dine out again the next time I am here?’

Max wanted her, but he had a growing suspicion that once with Sophie would never be enough. He didn’t believe in love, but he was astute enough to recognise that what he felt for Sophie and how he lost control around her could very easily become dangerous to his peace of mind.

‘Thank you—I would like that,’ she murmured.

Max saw the naked adoration and the hurt in her eyes, and much as he wanted Sophie he knew Alex was right—she wasn’t for him. He had watched her with the guests, the staff and with the children she quite happily looked after whenever she was asked. She was so caring and everyone adored her. Sophie deserved the very best, and he was far too much of a cynic to believe in love and happy ever after—whilst she was too young and too much of a romantic for the kind of affair he enjoyed. The timing wasn’t right. Maybe in a few years, when she had completed her studies, and if she was still single…who knew…?

‘Good night, sweet Sophie.’ Because he couldn’t resist touching her one last time, he lifted a finger and traced the outline of her lips, saw her smile. ‘That’s better. A young girl like you should always be smiling,’ he drawled softly, his dark eyes enigmatic on her beautiful face.

He opened the chalet door, and with a hand at her back urged her inside with a wry twist of his lips. She was temptation on legs, and far too responsive and eager for her own good—not every man had his self-control.

‘And be careful,’ Max warned her as frustration rose up in him. He spun on his heel and left. His decision was made. He would take a flying visit to Russia, to iron out a few problems with the manager of his Russian operation. As he recalled, the company’s receptionist, Nikita, was a very inventive lover. With the arrogant confidence of a wealthy man in his prime, he told himself the world was full of beautiful women more than willing to share his bed. He didn’t need Sophie, and he would dismiss her from his mind.

Sophie watched Max walk away, wishing he would at least look back and give her some sign that he cared. But it was in vain.

Later that night, when Marnie found her curled up on the sofa, red-eyed from weeping and looking miserable, she gave Sophie the benefit of her opinion.

‘What did you expect after one dinner date? An avowal of love? Cheer up, girl. Max Quintano can have any woman he wants and he knows it. You were a pleasant diversion while he was here.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows? If he returns he might take you out again, and if he does just remember what I told you before: a brief affair is the best any woman can hope for from him.’

Marnie’s words didn’t help, but at least they made Sophie face up to reality. Her first ever crush on a man and it had to be on Max Quintano—a much older, super-rich mining tycoon, and a womaniser by all accounts. Where had her brain been? He was as far out of her reach as the moon. Her mistake had been in mistaking a teenage crush for true love, she told herself flatly, and she had to get over it. At least she hadn’t slept with him….

But somehow that thought gave her no comfort at all.