Читать книгу One Night In… - Кейт Хьюит, Оливия Гейтс - Страница 41

‘MAKE yourself at home. I need to go and have a quick word with the captain, if you’ll excuse me.’

Stepping out of the tender on to the deck of a yacht, Anna glanced round at her sleek surroundings and tried desperately to look as if she were the sort of person who had been making herself at home on luxury super-yachts all her life.

‘No problem. Where do I go?’

He gestured up a flight of steel steps. ‘Why don’t you go up to the top deck? I’ll join you there in a moment.’

So this was Angelo Emiliani’s natural habitat, she thought dazedly as she reached the top of the stairs and emerged into a breathtaking space. The deck stretched away from her in both directions—one end housing a seating area with huge white cushions and a steel-topped bar, while at the other a softly lit spa pool glowed azure-blue in the darkness.

She wandered over to the pool and sat on its tiled edge, trailing her fingers in the water. She’d expected it to be cool, but it was warm. Blood-warm. She withdrew her hand sharply and stood up again, scared of the sudden image she had of herself and Angelo in its silky embrace.

God, her senses were on such high alert she’d be getting turned on by her own shadow in a minute. It was as if her brain had been rewired, so that every thought brought her back on to the same tormenting loop of desire. She looked out across the dark stretch of water to the shore. On the beach the party continued, the bass thud of the music drifting across to her, the glow of the fire illuminating the pine forests on the cliff top and throwing the silhouettes of the dancers into dark relief.

They seemed a million miles away, like strangers rather than the people she lived with and had come to regard as a substitute family.

She’d got to know Gavin and the rest of the group when they had camped on the edge of the parkland at Ifford while they’d carried out a protest against a proposed motorway extension nearby. She had been at home recovering from the operation on her ankle at the time, facing a future without dancing. But it was the truth she had found out just before the operation—when the doctors had been investigating a possible genetic cause of the bone weakness from which she suffered—that had shattered her the most. That was why she had been ready to rebel against everything she had been brought up to stand for. Because all of it had been based on a shameful lie.

GreenPlanet had offered her an escape, a purpose and a very convenient way to get back at her father. But she could see now that it had never offered her anything deeper. At the time that had been enough.

Angelo stood at the top of the stairs, watching her for a moment. She was leaning on the deck rail, her face turned towards the bright point on the beach where the party was still in full swing. In the soft glow cast by the discreet lighting on deck he could see a wistfulness in her expression.

Taking a bottle of champagne from the chiller, he walked quietly towards her.

‘Are you wishing you were still at the party?’

Startled, she spun round, a hand pressed to her chest as a small cry escaped her. ‘I didn’t hear you!’

He smiled, tearing the foil off the bottle. ‘I know. You looked …’ he paused, choosing the word carefully ‘… sad. I wondered if you were wishing you were back on the shore with your friends.’

She met his gaze steadily. ‘No. I’m not. I’m glad I’m here.’

Her honesty surprised him. And excited him. He’d expected more of a show of resistance, though from the white-heat that had almost devoured them both back there on the beach he had known it would only be token. That was what most of the girls he knew would have done—made a great show of being uncertain or shy, and then stormed off in high drama when he wasn’t interested enough to play along with persuading them.

‘It was a good party,’ he said gravely, easing the cork out of the bottle with his thumbs. Feeling the release of pressure as it came free and a plume of froth spilled over his hand. Coveting it.

‘Yes.’ It was little more than a harsh whisper.

He paused.

‘Great dancing.’

He watched her close her eyes. Heard her drag in a ragged breath.

‘Yes.’

Benedetto Gesù, this thing could easily spin out of control if he wasn’t careful. His hand was perfectly steady as he poured the champagne into two slim flutes, but he was all too aware of the painful ache in his groin and cursed himself for it. Last night he’d had an actress in his bed whose blonde perfection had earned her the tabloid title ‘cinematic icon’ and had found himself struggling to go through the motions. So why, when faced with this rebellious stranger, was he suddenly like a walking advertisement for Viagra?

He handed the glass to her. For a moment neither of them spoke. She held his gaze bravely, though he could see that she was shaking violently.

‘You’re cold.’

Her chin lifted a fraction but her gaze didn’t waver. ‘No, I’m not cold.’ She drew in a desperate breath.

I’m burning.

How could he stand there looking so bloody relaxed? she thought in anguish. What was it that Fliss had called him? The Ice Prince. It was a singularly appropriate name—obviously thought up by someone who had felt the polar chill of his detachment in the same way she was feeling it now. The passion that had threatened to engulf them both on the beach still raged within her, but he had obviously had second thoughts.

And then she felt him gently take the glass from her hand and put it down on a low table.

Her heart leapt and her stomach tightened.

‘Bedtime, I think.’

His hand stroked down the length of her arm, sending an explosion of tiny sparks along her nerve-endings. Lacing his fingers though hers, he turned and she had no choice but to follow him, back down the steps up which she had come, down on to a lower deck with a huge dining table set out before a wide sliding glass screen. In the doorway he hesitated, looking down at her. The amusement and mockery that she had come to recognize in his blue eyes had gone, leaving in its place a brooding darkness that made her want to scream with longing.

‘This way.’

His long brown fingers were still loosely entwined with hers and, looking hazily down at them, she allowed herself a dizzying moment of fantasy about the pleasure they were about to bring her. He stopped outside a polished wooden door in a discreetly lit corridor and held it open for her.

Walking over to the bed, she felt a lifetime of anticipation flutter like a cloud of butterflies in her stomach. This was what she had longed for. This, had she but known it at the time, was the logical conclusion of all those girlhood wedding fantasies. She sat primly on the edge of the huge bed—or as primly as she could, given that she was wearing only the briefest bikini top, behind which her nipples were all too clearly visible—and forced herself to look up at Angelo. It was a little like looking into the sun.

He was dazzling.

Tall, broad, effortlessly and stomach-meltingly gorgeous, he stood in front of her, towering over her. But his face was emotionless. With a thrill of dark excitement she wondered if he was going to ask her to strip.

‘You should have everything you need. The bathroom is through there. Just pick up the phone if you need anything and one of the crew will bring it to you.’

Anna felt as if the world were tilting beneath her as the full horror of his words hit her. A whimper of shame and panic rose in her throat and she concentrated every ounce of self-control she possessed on swallowing it.

How could I have got it so wrong? How could I have made such a pitiful fool of myself?

It was pride that enabled her to raise her head and look him in the eye. Muster a small brittle smile. Say a polite, hollow thank you.

But when the door finally shut behind him she threw herself on to the bed and, seizing a pillow, howled out her fury and humiliation into the muffling layers of finest Siberian goose down.

Walking away wasn’t easy, but returning to the upper deck, Angelo grimly congratulated himself.

Whatever he had felt on the beach, she was business, not pleasure.

He wasn’t a man who was overly troubled by conscience. Life had not showered a steady stream of blessings upon him, so he worked on the principle that if he wanted something he had to get it himself. That had made him ruthless.

Reckless.

With money. With rules. With people.

And tonight he had wanted her, but something had stopped him. Some sort of hitherto undiscovered sense of chivalry, which had prevented him from taking her just because he could.

Sometimes he wondered if the nuns in the orphanage still prayed for his immortal soul. Maybe, finally, their prayers were being heard. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope that he wouldn’t be consigned to eternal damnation after all.

He gave a short bitter laugh.

Or maybe he just wanted to make her wait. Who knew how long it might take to get the sale of the château completed? It wouldn’t do to rush things. The longer he kept her on a slow-burn, the better.

And the more satisfying.

In Anna’s dream she was a child again, sitting on her mother’s knee and being rocked.

She looked up into her mother’s eyes, those blue-green eyes she remembered so well, and then a really odd thing happened. They were her mother’s eyes, but they were also Angelo Emiliani’s eyes, and something about that bothered her. She felt safe, protected, loved, but unaccountably uneasy.

When she woke up the rocking continued. For a moment she lay there, as fragments of the events of yesterday and last night came back to her. She sat up with a start.

The boat was moving.

Throwing herself out of bed, she stood up and looked wildly around her. The view through the window showed nothing but sea and sky. She made a sharp exhalation of fury and had reached the door of the cabin before she stopped.

She was still stark naked.

She was in the middle of the ocean and the only items of clothing she had with her were a bikini and a pair of hotpants. Oh, and a sequinned evening scarf—which would no doubt make all the difference should formal dress be required. Collapsing back on to the bed, she pulled the covers up over her head and let out a howl of rage and frustration.

‘Ah, so you’re awake.’

In the darkness beneath the covers she felt her eyes widen in horror and for a second she froze, hoping she’d imagined that dry, mocking voice. But then the covers were drawn back and she found herself staring up into those wicked eyes.

In the clear light of morning his beauty came as a fresh shock. Naked to the waist and wearing only a pair of long shorts, his blond hair was tousled and untidy. He looked more like a carefree golden surfer-boy than a billionaire businessman.

Which was horribly unfair.

Snatching the covers up to cover her breasts, she sat up and glared at him. ‘What the hell is going on?’

That cool, unruffled smile. ‘I brought you coffee.’

‘I don’t want coffee!’

‘I believe the polite response is “thank you very much”. I can assure you, you’re very privileged. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but I looked in on you earlier and you were rather … exposed. My crew can cope with most things, but a naked eco-warrior might just prove too much, even for them.’

It almost had for him. Lying on top of the cream sheets with her pink hair tumbling over her face and the diamond stud in her navel rising and falling with every sleepy breath, she had looked wild but unbelievably sweet. Like a panther cub. He had to keep reminding himself that if he wasn’t careful she could do real damage.

Anna took a deep steadying breath and pulled the sheet more tightly around her. Making a huge effort to keep her voice level, she looked up at him.

‘Look, Angelo … Last night was …’ Oh, God, don’t blush. Don’t behave like a pathetic, inexperienced kid. Don’t give it away. ‘A huge mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.’

‘So why did you?’

He had set the coffee down on the bedside table and was looking at the newspaper he’d had tucked beneath his arm. He looked totally absorbed, as if what she was saying was a minor distraction.

‘I didn’t have much choice,’ she hissed, thoroughly nettled by his obvious unconcern.

He looked up at her with a slight puzzled inclination of his eyebrows. It was almost as though he’d forgotten she was there for a second. ‘Sorry? That wasn’t how I remember it. I think I asked you if you wanted to go back to your “friends” on the beach—’ he looked back down at the newspaper with a faint smile ‘—and you said no.’

‘I didn’t know then that a cruise around the Med was on the itinerary.’

‘I see. A quick screw. That’s all you had in mind, was it?’ He glanced back up at her. ‘I’m hurt.’

He didn’t look hurt. He look supremely unconcerned, hugely pleased with himself. And immensely bloody gorgeous.

Anna gritted her teeth. ‘We didn’t have sex.’

‘No. But you wanted to.’

Oh, God, the bastard.

Tugging the sheet, she wound it around herself and got up. Sitting in bed she felt at far too much of a disadvantage to be having this conversation. Standing up, she raked a hand through her hair and made a huge effort to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

‘Look, I didn’t have anything in mind. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. I don’t know—maybe I drank more than I thought. I was upset and—’

‘Upset about what?’

She shook her head. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said hastily. ‘What matters now is that I have to get back. I have stuff that I need to do.’

Rubbing a hand through his already dishevelled hair, he strode towards the door. Anna squeezed her eyes shut as he passed within a few feet of her, unable to trust herself not to reach out and touch the body that had haunted her dreams all night. At the door he paused and looked at her with great seriousness.

‘How good are you at swimming?’

‘Very good.’

He nodded gravely. ‘It’s probably about ten kilometres back to shore. Just as well you brought your bikini.’

Anna gave a howl of rage, picked up a book and hurled it in the direction of his head. It missed and she reached for another, but he was too quick for her. The next thing she knew, he was beside her and had caught her wrist in a steely grip.

‘Enough.’

She let herself relax completely for a moment, until she felt his fingers slacken slightly, then seized her chance and gave an almighty lunge to break free.

‘Not enough. Not nearly enough.’

Her only thought was to put as much distance between them as possible, but the bed was in the way. Clasping the sheet to her, she leapt on to it and stood, legs apart, chest heaving, looking down at him.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, now you come to mention it …’

In one swift movement he had reached out and swept her legs from beneath her so that she tumbled down on to the soft cushion of pillows. High on adrenalin, she struggled upright, but he was already on top of her, pinning her arms above her head with one strong hand as easily as if she had been a child. Above her, only inches away from her face, his chest curved. If she lifted her head she could probably brush his nipple with her lips. Her breath was coming in huge, shaky gasps, but the rise and fall of his chest was as steady as ever.

Frantically she thrashed beneath him, desperately trying to ignore the treacherous, tell-tale stickiness at the top of her thighs, praying he wouldn’t notice that she was virtually at the point of orgasm.

Their eyes met and locked. Neither of them spoke and the only sound was the ragged gasp of Anna’s breathing.

His eyes glittered down into hers, narrow and knowing. Slowly, lazily he reached out with his free hand and trailed a leisurely finger along her collar-bone. She was no longer holding the sheet—all it would take would be one flick of his wrist and she’d be naked and exposed to his glittering gaze.

‘If you were hoping to persuade me to take you back to shore, this is hardly the best way to go about it.’

Her eyes flashed fire and fury at him.

‘Why? Would you prefer it if I begged?’ she spat.

He laughed huskily and released her wrists. ‘Amore mio, that would be equally alluring, and therefore equally counter-productive.’

She rolled out from beneath him, not trusting herself to spend one more second in such close proximity with his long golden body. ‘I’m not hoping to persuade you of anything. I’m demanding that you take me back. Today.’

‘Or else?’

‘Or else I’ll call the police.’

‘You have your mobile?’

‘You know I haven’t’

She had nothing, and he knew it. Not a change of clothes, not a toothbrush, and certainly not a mobile. Furiously she swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, yanking the sheet from under him and wrapping it around herself again.

He sighed and stood up.

‘So I guess you’ll be wanting me to lend you my satellite phone, which is a bit much considering you intend to use it to have me arrested for … well, what? Kidnapping you? Forcing myself upon you against your will?’

She blushed. ‘No.’

If only.

Unhurriedly he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in spiky golden tufts that only served to accentuate his perfect bone structure. Turning towards the door, he said, ‘In that case, may I just suggest you come along for the ride? You never know, you might learn something.’

She tossed her head and threw him a disdainful look. ‘What could I possibly learn from you?’

He paused and half turned back, studying her silently for a moment with his head tilted to one side.

‘We’re heading for a property I finished work on last year. It’s been bought by a certain celebrity with a bit of an environmental conscience and developed to be as environmentally friendly as possible. I’d like to show it to you. Maybe you’ll learn not to believe everything that’s been written about me. Maybe you’ll find I’m not the devil incarnate after all.’

‘I doubt it,’ she spat. But he had already gone and she was speaking to a closed door.