Читать книгу The Vineyards Of Calanetti - Rebecca Winters - Страница 12

Oh, she was tempted to tell him. To admit that she’d loved him too much to risk the success he was working so hard to achieve. But that glimmer in his eyes scared her silly. Her Mic had been proud but sweet. This Mic was strong. Sophisticated. If she told him she’d worried that she and her troubles would drag him down, God knows how he’d react. Would he see her sacrifice for what it had been? Or would he see her act of love as a slur against his manhood? The great Michele Patruno could make kings putty with his fine food, but he couldn’t support the woman he loved?

She rose from her seat. “It’s over now. Water under the bridge. No point in talking about it.”

He sat back, bracing his arms on the chairs on either side of him, looking so sexy and male she could have swooned. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d simply remind me that you didn’t love me.”

Her face reddened. Why hadn’t she just said that? “Why make me repeat it?”

“Why not? If it’s a simple fact, it should be easy to say.”

“After eight years, it shouldn’t matter.”

“After eight years, you shouldn’t stumble over it.”

She shook her head, furious with him for pushing. “Don’t criticize me for not wanting to say something that was hard enough the first time.”

He rose in a movement so swift and fluid she didn’t realize what he was about to do until he caught her wrist. They stood so close she could almost feel his chest rising and falling and the heat coming from his muscled body.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Criticizing you?”

She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

He shifted a millimeter closer. Everything feminine in her trembled with longing. Reality combined with memories and she had fight not to fall into his arms and beg for another chance. But she’d lost her chance with the Mic she’d loved, and this Mic—Oh, this Mic—might be a little too much for her.

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just curious. Interested.”

The shimmer that came to his blue eyes scared her silly. Eight years of working in some of Europe’s finest restaurants, meeting some of the world’s most sophisticated people, showed in the way he looked at her, the way he moved, the things he said. This was not her Mic.

“Well, I’m not interested in you.”

“Really?” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that skimmed across her skin and raised goose flesh. “I can see in your eyes that that’s a lie.”

“You flatter yourself.”

He laughed, but his head began to lower. “Then you won’t mind a little test.”

Her breath shivered. Her heart stalled. He was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. She was interested and she was curious. She knew nothing could ever come of this. He’d hate her if she told him her real reasons for letting him leave. But she wanted one more kiss. One more taste of the man she hadn’t been able to forget in eight long years.