Читать книгу Italian Maverick's Collection - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 48

CHAPTER TEN

JULES RAN THE brush through her damp hair, pulling the dark strands back in a single ponytail. The cool shower felt rejuvenating. She’d just sat down on the bedroom floor to make some more flowers when there was a knock at the door.

Her chest tightened. She wasn’t expecting anyone to come looking for her. She thought everyone was out and about doing their own thing.

She scrambled to her feet. The door was locked, so it wasn’t like anyone would just come walking in on her.

“Jules, are you in there?” Stefano’s deep tones vibrated through the door.

“Did you need something?”

“I have news. You know, it’s easier to talk when there isn’t a piece of wood standing between us.”

Jules pressed her hands to her cheeks. She hadn’t had a chance to do her makeup yet. She couldn’t have him seeing her like this—with her scars exposed. Her heart beat rapidly. She didn’t think she could stand to have him turn away in repulsion.

She stepped closer to the door. “Could we talk at lunch?”

There was a slight pause. “Is everything okay?”

What could be so important? She didn’t have a clue. She had to admit that she was quite curious to know what was so urgent.

“Jules?” The doorknob jiggled. “Jules, what’s going on? Why is your door locked?”

She sighed. He wasn’t going to just give up and go away. She’d already witnessed his stubborn streak at the florist. This time he might just break down the door to see for himself that she was okay.

This might be just what she needed to end the silly crush she had on him. Once he saw the scars on her face, he’d turn tail and run.

“Jules, come on. You’re starting to worry me.”

She sucked in a steadying breath, leveled her shoulders and released the lock on the door. With a twist of the knob, she pulled it open. Stefano stood there, all six-plus feet of him, with his forehead wrinkled with worry lines. He stepped into the room, and she backed up so he could enter the whole way.

“See, nothing to worry about.” She felt a little off center that he was actually worried about her. Aside from Lizzie, no one worried about her.

His gaze slid over her fuzzy black robe with purple polka dots. She suddenly wished it was a little longer. As it was, it barely reached midthigh, and the only thing beneath it was a lacy black bra and matching undies. Though she was modestly covered, she still felt fully exposed. She lowered her head, staring at her purple toenails.

“You aren’t dressed yet?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“I noticed. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about—”

“If this is about hiring help, I told you to forget it.”

“Actually, what I wanted to say is I know in the beginning I wasn’t a fan of helping with this wedding, but I want to help now. I want to do whatever it is that you need. Just give me a task, and I’ll get it done. Or at least I’ll try my best.”

Jules crossed her arms. “Do you mind if I ask what brought about this change of heart?”

He paused and stared at her. Was it her scars? Did he at last see her defects? That crescent moon scar that wrapped around the side of her left eye and the long scar that trailed down her jaw. They were so ugly.

She couldn’t stand him staring any longer. She felt as though she were under a spotlight. Pretending to be intent on picking up some of her flower-making supplies from the floor, she kept her back to him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“I should have put on my makeup, but I didn’t get to it yet.”

“Don’t.” When she turned a questioning look his way, he added, “Don’t put the makeup on.”

She straightened and turned to him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, I think you look beautiful without all of that stuff.”

He couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone could find her scarred face beautiful. She shook her head. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” He stepped closer to her. When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, his thumb moved beneath her chin and raised her face until she was looking directly at him. “You are beautiful.”

“But...but what about my scars?”

“The one by your eye is hardly noticeable. It’s your green eyes that draw my attention. The gold flecks in them catch the light just right. And your pert nose is just perfect. And then there’s your lips—they are quite fascinating. They look as though they are just ripe for kissing.”

The breath hitched in her throat. He was seducing her with his words. No one had ever done that before, and all she wanted him to do now was put some action behind his compliments.

Then in the next breath his hand pulled away from her chin, and he stepped back. “If that’s the only reason you wear all of that makeup, then don’t. You are much more beautiful without it. Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Maybe he wouldn’t. He’d just lead her on and then leave her wanting a kiss that wasn’t coming. How in the world was she ever going to concentrate on anything but him?

“I’ll consider it.” She’d been wearing makeup since she was a teen, hiding her scars.

“Are you still making flowers?” He glanced around at the array of papers on the floor.

“The shower gave me renewed energy, and I thought I might make some more before lunch.”

“I see your helper faded away.”

“Apricot wore herself out chasing the paper and then sliding across the floor. When she got bored of that I rolled a piece into a ball. She batted it everywhere until at last it went under the bed. Instead of going after it, she clawed her way up the bedspread and laid down.”

There in the middle of her bed, in a pink fuzzy blanket Jules had bundled up into a circle with a divot in the middle, was Apricot—belly up and sound asleep. The kitten was so sweet. She didn’t know how she’d ever leave her behind.

“Seems as if she couldn’t be happier.” He turned back to Jules. “You’re really good with her. Someday you’ll make a great mother.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

Deep inside she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that she could someday be a mom. Lizzie wasn’t the only one who’d dreamed of having her own family. But knowing she wasn’t cut out to raise children, Jules had turned her focus to social work. She thought she could care for the kids from a distance. Until she’d found out that she was unable to maintain a professional distance. Frustration knotted her stomach.

Stefano made himself comfortable on the floor and started to gather a stack of papers. “So how do you do this?”

“You really want to make a flower?” She surely hadn’t heard him correctly. There was nothing about this jean-clad, muscle-bound businessman that said he had a crafty bone in his body.

“Of course I do. I told you that I would do everything I could to help with this wedding. Speaking of which, I ordered those wedding favors.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “You wouldn’t believe all of the party favors they offer. I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered a few other things. Of course, you get final approval.”

Impressed with his new attitude toward the wedding, she sat down next to him. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see them.”

She went on to instruct him about making flowers by taking eight sheets of tissue paper and aligning them with the round paper cutter. For a while she gave him her undivided attention, but he was a quick learner. His flower wasn’t perfect, but it impressed her—he impressed her. It wasn’t just his flair for crafts, but his ability to put aside his misgivings about the wedding for his brother’s happiness.

“Not exactly like your flowers,” he said, surveying his rather limp effort.

“But not bad for your first try.” She gave him some pointers, and he tried again.

“That’s better.”

“Yes, it is.”

He turned to her. “Now that I have this flower stuff figured out, how about you tell me more about your decision not to have a family? I see the motherly instincts come out in you every time you gather that little bundle of fur in your hands.”

But Apricot was so easy. She wasn’t stressful. Jules didn’t have to worry about messing her up for the rest of her life.

Jules punched another set of papers. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“Yes, I do. If you’ll tell me.” He sat there holding a stack of deep purple papers in his hand, staring at her with such compassion in his eyes.

What did it matter now if she told him the bitter truth? He knew the answers already; he just hadn’t put it all together. But delving into those deep, dark memories made her heart pinch. It was a subject that she didn’t share with anyone. She’d learned how to push those painful memories to the far recesses of her mind.

So why did she feel the temptation to open up to Stefano? Why did she want him to understand her?

“It’s okay.” His voice was gentle and filled with understanding. “If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say anything. I won’t mention it again.”

He was letting her off the hook just like that, with no probing questions about her scars—no judgments. Stefano was a complex man. She had the feeling he had his own ghosts hanging in the closet.

Maybe he would understand her story.

Her mouth grew dry as she struggled to swallow. “My mother, she...she tried her best. But she was a very unhappy soul. When I was little, my father left us. She did her best to find work, but without much education, her choices were limited and minimum wage doesn’t pay for much. It was a tough life, and she took her frustrations out on me.”

The memories of her childhood came to her in snippets. Flashes of her mother crying. The sense of insecurity. Her stomach growling when she went to bed. Over the years, Jules had tried to forget the details, but some refused to fade away.

Still she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t end up like her mother. She wouldn’t trust her future to a man, only to have him pull the rug out from under her. She wouldn’t take her anger and frustration out on her child. And she wouldn’t just quit on life.

“I’d been removed from my mother’s care a few times. But I was always returned. Each time she promised that she’d get it right. But the last time...” Her voice drifted away as those dark memories resurfaced. “The last time she did this to me.” Jules pointed to her scars.

She couldn’t say any more. She didn’t want to dissolve into a tearful mess. Perhaps she’d kept the memories locked up for too long. Stefano’s presence had her letting down her defenses, leaving her vulnerable to the pain she’d neatly tucked away in the back of her heart.

She swallowed down the lump of emotions. “We should get these flowers done.”

Before she could reach for the papers, Stefano moved to her side. His hands reached out, cupping her shoulders. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No child should ever go through what you did.”

She glanced away, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

“But it still hurts. I know.”

Their gazes collided, sending her heart beating out of control. “You truly get it, don’t you?”

He nodded. “We didn’t have the same sort of childhood, but I know what it’s like to lose a parent and hope they’ll come back. And I know what it’s like to be forgotten by a parent.”

In that moment, she knew that she’d found someone else besides Lizzie who understood her and didn’t judge her by her past. The breath hitched in her throat as her focus slipped to his mouth—his very kissable mouth. She wondered what it’d be like to be held in his strong arms and to have his lips press to hers. Would his kiss be swift and passionate? Or would it be slow and tantalizing?

She didn’t have to wonder any longer as he pulled her close. Her hands grabbed hold of his broad shoulders to steady herself. When his head dipped toward her, her eyelids fluttered closed.

Her heart beat so loudly that it was all she could hear. Could Stefano hear it, too? Did he know how much she wanted him?

And then he was there, pressing his lips to hers. The hunger and need in his kiss answered her questions. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

He tasted of coffee. Caffeine might provide a jolt of energy, but it didn’t compare with the rush of adrenaline from Stefano’s kiss. A moan swelled in her throat. His touch was so much better than anything she’d conjured up in her imagination.

But this wasn’t right. Getting involved with Stefano would only complicate things. She had to stop before it went any further.

With every bit of willpower she could muster, she pressed her palms to his solid chest. The thump-thump of his heart vibrated through her fingers. Ignoring the delicious sensations that zinged up her arms, she pushed him away.

She looked at him, finding bewilderment in his eyes. Perhaps he, too, was caught off guard by the intensity of that amazing kiss.

“I...I should be going.” Stefano jumped to his feet.

He beat a path through the colorful paper to the door without even a glance back. Why was he acting as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough? Was she the only one to feel anything? No, she was certain that he’d felt it, too. Then she realized that it must have unnerved him, as well.

Just then Apricot stood up, stretched and gave off a little baby murr. She strolled across the bed to where Jules was leaning against it and rubbed her head against Jules’s hair, which was drying into an unruly mess of spiral curls.

Maybe opening up to him hadn’t been the wisest move. She’d have to be careful going forward and keep a safe distance. Because his kiss was much too tempting, and she might just forget that she wasn’t interested in starting up anything with him.