Читать книгу Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 84

SO MANY sensations crashed through Faith at once: confusion, fear, lust, passion, joy. She wanted to slide her arms around his neck, arch into him and beg him to show her what no man ever had before.

And she wanted to shove away from him, put as much distance between them as possible. She wanted him to go. And she wanted him to stay.

His mouth on hers was firm, sensual, demanding. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, enticing her, entreating her. She was determined not to give in to the invitation, but he caressed her cheek and she gasped. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, stroked against hers.

It was, in its own way, heaven. Her heart hammered so hard in her ears that she could hear nothing else.

Faith made a sound, realized it was a moan. It was a needy sound from deep in her throat, the kind of sound that invited a man to continue, to take it further.

No! No, no, no. That was not at all what she wanted. She wanted it to stop—

And yet she made no move to stop it. In fact, she shivered in his embrace at the thought of more. The truth was that Renzo D’Angeli kissed like he’d been born to do so. His mouth moved over hers, fitted to hers, coaxed hers. And she gave, gave as much as she was able, gave more than she thought she could.

She meant to push him away, but she wound her arms around his neck instead, let the hot sensations roll over her. She was electric, incandescent, her body sparking and tightening in ways she’d not thought possible. This was what drew the women, then. This.

A moment later she tilted, and then the world was shifting as he pressed her back onto the couch, his hard strong body pressing into hers. Panic shot through her. It suddenly reminded her of another time, another place, when she was young and innocent and thought she was in love. Jason had pressed her onto her parents’ couch just like this, his body rubbing hers almost painfully, his hands grasping and groping beneath her dress.

Renzo did nothing of the sort, and yet Faith couldn’t get the images out of her head. The fear, the panic. A good girl wouldn’t do such a thing, Faith. A good girl keeps her body sacred until she enters into the bonds of matrimony.

It was her father talking, but she suddenly couldn’t make the sainted Reverend Winston go away. And she couldn’t allow that ugliness to ruin whatever beautiful feeling was crashing through her because of Renzo.

She put her hands on Renzo’s shoulders and pushed. He lifted his head, a question in his blue eyes, and Faith took the opportunity to scramble out from under him. She fell onto the floor in a tangle of fabric, then shoved herself upright and retreated across the room.

Renzo stood, his features dark and alarmed. “Faith?”

Faith wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m sorry, but that was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, so please just forget it happened.”

He looked stormy, and so sexy she wanted to weep. Had that gorgeous, gorgeous man really been kissing her? Little Faith Louise Winston of all damn people?

“Forget?” he asked dangerously. “I hardly think that is possible, Faith.”

“It was a mistake,” she said. “I work for you, and tomorrow I’ll be at the office like always, and you’ll be there doing what you always do, and it will be so awkward that I’ll want to scream. But I won’t. And you’ll find a new girlfriend soon, and then you can forget about kissing me.”

He shoved his hand through his hair, muttering in Italian, and then picked up his vodka and tonic and drained it. “Why would I want to forget it, Faith?”

“Because I’m nothing special,” she said. Good Lord, was the man dense?

“Don’t talk like that,” he commanded, his eyes flashing, and she laughed nervously.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m awful or anything. I am special, but in my world. Not in yours. You wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t dumped Katie Palmer today.”

“Katie Palmer has nothing to do with this,” he growled.

“But she does,” Faith said, hoping she sounded as cool and logical as she was trying so hard to be. She’d been kissing Lorenzo D’Angeli, motorcycle magnate, Grand Prix bad boy, right here in her humble little living room. If he weren’t still standing there in all his magnificently male glory, she’d think she was making the whole thing up. That the vodka and tonic she hadn’t even taken a sip of had gone to her head and made her hallucinate. “Katie Palmer is the kind of woman you prefer. All your girlfriends have looked like some version of her, you know.”

His gaze narrowed, but she tumbled on recklessly. “Tall, leggy, effortlessly beautiful, with long dark hair and perfect makeup and size zero bodies that could really probably use a hamburger or two a bit more often …” She cleared her throat, waved a hand down her body. “As you can see, I am none of those things. I’m short, curvy and not in the least bit effortlessly beautiful. And I like to eat. Pasta, hamburgers, the occasional French fry. No, you should really go find that Lissa woman and make her your next fling.”

He looked utterly furious. “Santo cielo, I am not arguing with you over this.” He took his phone from his pocket. “Perhaps you are correct. Lissa would certainly not argue with me when I wanted to kiss her.”

“Not many women would,” Faith said, stung in spite of everything she’d said to push him away.

“But you did.” He made a call to a taxi company while she stood there feeling miserable, her heart squeezing tight as she wondered if she’d made a mistake.

Of course she hadn’t. He was her boss!

“I need our relationship to be professional,” she said when he finished his call, as much to convince herself as him. “I like my job and I don’t want to feel uncomfortable there.”

Renzo waved a hand as if it were nothing. Which, to him, it probably was. Women came and went with alarming regularity in his life. What was one more?

Indeed, his fury with her seemed forgotten as he moved toward the door with only the barest trace of a limp. “It never happened, Faith. Thank you for the massage, and for the drink. I will see you in the office tomorrow.”

And then he walked out and left her standing there, her lips still tingling and her body aching with thwarted desire. Either she was the bravest woman in the world, or the biggest fool to send him away.

The problem was that she wasn’t quite sure which.

Renzo got into the office early the next morning. Faith had not yet arrived when he walked past her desk and into his office with the tall windows and custom decor. Low-slung Italian leather couches faced each other in front of his desk, and he dropped onto one of them to read the reports that were sitting on the table there.

The Viper was nearly ready to take to Italy. The thought should fill him with triumph, and yet it only made him worry about what else might go wrong. He’d taken a pain pill last night, and this morning he felt perfectly fine—but when was the next time his leg would give out? And what would his rivals do if they learned he was not at his best? Niccolo Gavretti was looking for a chance to cream him. If his biggest rival knew about his weakness, he would exploit it whenever and however possible.

And then there was Faith. Renzo rubbed his temples for a moment and then dropped the reports. Where had his world-renowned cool gone last night when he’d needed it? He’d succumbed to the temptation to kiss her because she’d bent over him and her scent had driven him insane. He’d wanted just a taste. One brief taste, to see if he was losing his mind in lusting after his PA, or if there was something more beneath that buttoned-up surface.

He could still remember the utter shock he’d felt when his mouth touched hers. The lightning bolt of excitement that had rocketed through him with the same force as a fast ride on a fast track. There was nothing more exhilarating than opening up the throttle and giving the bike gas.

But kissing Faith had compared to that feeling. He’d wanted her. His body had gone from zero to two hundred plus in a matter of seconds. Even thinking of it now made him hard.

He knew when a woman wanted him, and she definitely had. And he’d had every intention of taking advantage of the chemistry between them at that moment. He’d been unable to stop himself from pressing her back on the couch when she’d kissed him with such fervor.

She was hot and sweet and more innocent than she seemed. She’d kissed him with all the finesse of a rank amateur, and yet it had done nothing but heat his blood. He usually liked his women polished and experienced, but Faith had managed to make him forget his preferences.

He’d wanted her and damn the consequences of sleeping with his PA. Hell, he still wanted her. He’d told her the kiss was forgotten, but he had forgotten nothing.

There was a knock on his door and he glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock on the dot, which meant it was probably Faith arriving. “Enter,” he said, standing up and crossing to his desk.

The door slid open and Faith stood there in a boxy black suit, short heels, and with her hair scraped back on her head as always. “I wasn’t sure if you were here,” she said briskly. “Would you like coffee, Mr. D’Angeli?”

A trickle of annoyance filtered through him. “Si, that would be good, thank you.”

She turned away.

“Faith,” he called, and she stopped, pivoted to face him again.

“Yes sir?”

The formality grated on him, but he knew she did it to keep him at a distance. He wanted to tell her to take her hair down. To take off that ridiculous boxy jacket and unbutton her blouse to show some cleavage. To come over and wrap her arms around him so he could fit her body to his and kiss her thoroughly.

He would, of course, say none of those things. Another woman would smile and pout and do exactly what he wanted. But not Faith. If he said those things to her, she would slay him with a cold stare. And then she would walk out of his office and he’d be lucky if she ever came back.

“We’re leaving for Italy in a week. Please make arrangements.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment he thought she would refuse. He waited for it, wondered how he would command her to go once she’d turned him down. Because he wanted her there with him. Because, maledizione, he wanted her. She intrigued him like no one else with her hidden beauty and prickly demeanor.

And her secrets. He wanted to know her secrets. What had made sweet Faith turn her back on her family?

Color bloomed on her cheeks, brought life and sparkle to her glorious eyes. She hesitated for a long minute. “Yes sir,” she said. “I will.”

Faith had never been outside of the United States before. She had her passport, because it had been required when she’d started working for D’Angeli Motors, but she’d never actually thought she would have reason to use it.

Now, as she stood in her apartment and looked around to make sure she’d forgotten nothing, she could hardly believe she was going. Renzo hadn’t been able to tell her how long they would be gone, but he’d told her to continue to pay her rent here if it made her comfortable since she would be provided housing in Italy at no extra charge.

In his house. Faith gulped. She would be living in his house, a stone’s throw away from him, for twenty-four hours a day. Why had she agreed to go? How could she live with him, as an employee, and watch him go about his life as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them? He had already forgotten it, as he’d assured her he would, while she could think of little else.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that she imagined he would most certainly entertain women from time to time. In the same house she’d be living in. As an employee.

Faith made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a cry of distress. She’d meant to refuse to go. She’d meant to tell him that she couldn’t go to Italy and could she please have a transfer to another office, but she’d stood there and looked at his handsome face, at the mouth she’d been kissing only hours earlier, and felt all her resolve crumble into nothing.

She’d said yes, just like some besotted female. She was furious with herself over it. For hours, she’d debated going back in there and telling him no, telling him she’d made a mistake and she wanted to stay right here, thank you very much.

But she hadn’t. And now a car was waiting to take her to JFK for the flight to Italy. She took one last look around, and then locked the door behind her and headed down to the street. The driver had already taken her luggage down, so that when she emerged from the building, he popped out of the car and came around to open her door.

She slid into the plush interior of the black town car and belted herself in for the ride. It took nearly an hour in traffic to reach the airport, but once there she was ushered onto a huge Boeing business jet that belonged to D’Angeli Motors.

The interior was nothing like any plane she’d ever been on. She’d had no occasion to board the company’s international jet before, but now she gaped at the sumptuous interior. Renzo was a wealthy man indeed if he could afford all this. Rich wood grains, buttery leather chairs and couches, a bar, televisions and custom carpeting that had the D’Angeli Motors logo woven into it. It was all so stunning, and it only served to remind her of how ridiculous it was to think he’d actually wanted her the night of the party. She was not the sort of sophisticated woman who matched this lifestyle.

In fact, she’d been thinking of other plane trips she’d taken in the past and she’d dressed for comfort with the typical economy class seating in mind. She wore stretchy jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and tennis shoes she could slip on and off without untying. In her carry-on backpack, she had a couple of books, an ereader, a music player and headphones, along with a few power bars and a bottle of water. She even had a travel pillow, which seemed silly since she was positive this jet was probably equipped with real pillows and blankets.

A sophisticated woman would have arrived wearing the latest fashions and carrying matching luggage—Louis Vuitton, no doubt—instead of dressed like a refugee and carrying snacks.

She was embarrassed suddenly, and it made her uncomfortable. She knew what it was like to feel like an outsider, like an idiot, and though wearing the wrong clothing and failing to be sophisticated didn’t compare to what had happened before, the shame and anger were similar.

She felt stupid, useless, and she stood and clenched her fingers into fists, digging her nails into her palms. She’d left naive Faith Winston behind when she’d left home and changed her name, but that Faith sometimes crept up on her and made her feel as if she’d escaped nothing after all. As if she were still the preacher’s daughter who’d been so stupid as to send a scandalous picture to a boy.

“Ah, Faith,” Renzo said, and she looked up to see him standing just inside the entrance to the main cabin and smiling at her. She swallowed at the sight of him. His sharp blue eyes raked over her, appraising her—and no doubt found her lacking. He was dressed for comfort, too, she noted, but his jeans were designer labeled, and the soft cotton shirt he wore unbuttoned over a navy D’Angeli Motors T-shirt was probably hand woven by cloistered virgins or some such.

Because, if any man could afford such a thing, it would be Renzo.

He came forward and took her arm, leading her back toward the cabin he’d been in. “You look lovely,” he said in her ear as he stopped just short of the entry.

Fire leaped along her nerve endings. “No, not really,” she blurted, confusion and fear breaking through the surface of her calm.

His eyes dropped over her again. “And I say you do.” He gave her arm a squeeze and then led her into the room he’d come from.

Two men sat at a table, papers spread out across the surface, but they stood as she entered the room with Renzo. She recognized them as two of the engineers on the project. “You have met Bill and Sergio before, have you not?” Renzo said, gesturing to the two men.

“I’ve met them, yes,” she said, shaking hands with each man in turn. They were polite, but she was certain they were curious. Renzo had an entire staff at his Italian headquarters. Could he really not find a PA who kept his appointments straight?

Renzo put a hand on the small of her back. It was a possessive move, a familiar move, though it probably only looked gentlemanly to those observing. Faith could feel her color rising, and her gaze dropped away from the other men’s.

“Let me show you where you will be most comfortable,” Renzo said.

“Thank you,” Faith murmured. What else could she say? That his fingers were burning into her where they lightly rested on her? That her nerve endings were tingling with awareness? That for the past week she had thought of little else than that kiss they’d shared?

Renzo steered her toward another area of the plane that had a long couch built along one wall and a flat-screen television that rose up from a cabinet at the touch of a button.

“You may watch until we take off,” he said. “At that point, it will have to be turned off until we’re in the air.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, standing with her hands folded together while she waited for him to return to his engineers. There was a wall between this room and the office he’d been in, and she could no longer see the two men.

Renzo laughed softly. “Relax. No one is going to bite you, cara. Unless, of course, you wish it?”

Her heart turned over. His blue gaze glittered hotly, and for one brief moment she thought he might actually pull her into his arms. Shockingly, a part of her wanted him to do so.

But only for a moment, only until she got her senses back and realized what a mistake that would be.

He did not touch her, however, and she began to believe she’d imagined that look that had said he would devour her if she let him. He was toying with her.

“I think I’ll be fine without any biting,” she said, unable to sound like anything but a prim preacher’s daughter as she said it.

He laughed again. “You are a delight, Faith Black.” And then he skimmed a finger down her cheek. “But I assure you that you would like it very much if I bit you. I know just where and how to nibble for the most impact.”

Faith couldn’t breathe. Molten heat rolled through her, pooling between her thighs, making her ache with longing. How did he do it? How did he make her want to forget every last bit of good sense she had and slip between the sheets with him? They were only words, and yet when he spoke them, they were dangerous. Seductive.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” she told him, proud that she managed to speak without choking.

He loomed over her, six feet two inches of gorgeous Italian male who smelled delicious and radiated a lethal sex appeal that had her wanting to wrap herself around him and to hell with the consequences.

Renzo’s brow arched mockingly. “And you shouldn’t refuse to consider the possibilities.”

She had nothing to say to that. Renzo put his hands on her shoulders, then leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead before turning and leaving without another word.

Her entire body hummed with electricity as she sank onto the couch in a daze. For a whole week, she’d convinced herself that he’d forgotten about their kiss in her apartment, that he’d put it from his mind as inconsequential, that the heat and excitement she’d felt had only been her imagination.

I know just where and how to nibble for the most impact.

Faith shuddered at the images that statement brought to mind. It was a long flight to Rome, and she wasn’t going to sleep a wink.