Читать книгу Vettori's Damsel in Distress - Liz Fielding - Страница 2

In Italian, his voice was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever heard, but his perfect, lusciously accented English sent a shiver rippling down her spine that had nothing to do with the snow dripping from her hair. That was trickling between her breasts and turning to steam.

“I know exactly where I am, signor,” she said, looking into those lusciously dark eyes. To emphasize the point, she eased off the fine leather glove and tapped the piazza on the map with the tip of a crimson nail.

“No,” he repeated, and this time it wasn’t a question as, never taking his eyes from hers, he wrapped long fingers around her hand and moved her finger two inches to the right. “You are here.”

His hand was warm against her cold skin. On the surface everything was deceptively still, but inside, like a volcano on the point of blowing, she was liquid heat.

She fought the urge to swallow. “I am?”

Breathe, breathe…

Hoping she sounded a lot more in control than she was, she said, “One piazza looks very much like another on a map. Unfortunately, neither of them is where I was going.”

“And yet here you are.”

And yet here she was, falling into eyes as dark as the espresso in his cup.