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‘No. It is facing the truth. The Carella strength of mind in action—always getting what it wants.’
‘You’re a Carella,’ she pointed out, knowing he was right and that Sophia had been determined to have Santo all along. ‘Do you always get what you want?’
He smiled—a smile as predatory as the women he’d spoken of a few minutes before. ‘Always,’ he said softly, slanting a glance at her that—although mockingly teasing—was interested to see her reaction.
‘So it’s OK for you, but not for Sophia because she’s a woman?’ Cherry said, with more acidity than she was actually feeling. If what she’d read in his eyes was right then Vittorio Carella wanted her, impossible though it s
eemed for a man who could have any woman he desired with a click of his fingers. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t fallen at his feet in humble adoration that he was interested? she asked herself in the next moment. All those hopeful daughters of predacious Italian mammas had probably been schooled to worship the ground he walked on, and the sophisticated female socialites his wealth would bring him into contact with would have no qualms about stroking his male ego—among other things. She blushed hotly as though she’d spoken the last thought out loud.
‘It is OK for me because I am a grown man who can control his emotions and bring sense and reason into any situation,’ Vittorio stated with unshakable arrogance. ‘Sophia, as yet, cannot. She is capable of acting like a spoilt child on occasion.’
‘So you never let your heart rule your head?’ she said crisply. ‘I find that very sad.’
Vittorio pulled off the road into a square they were passing which was deserted in the hot afternoon sun now the siesta had begun, apart from the odd pigeon pecking around. Without a word he cut the engine and moved to take her into his arms, pulling her into him as he took her lips in a scorching kiss. Like the time at the pool the day before she didn’t even think about objecting, instead savouring his closeness, drinking in his elusive unique scent—a combination of freshly laundered clothes, the clean shampoo fragrance of his hair and the delicious aftershave he wore. His body was strong and solid, as intoxicating as the powerful aura of masculinity that surrounded him, and his body heat enveloped her so it felt as though they were the only people in the world.
As the kiss deepened her mouth opened willingly under his, her arms slipping up and around his shoulders. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she ran her fingers through the crisp dark hair at the base of his head and knew he was aroused. The knowledge ignited a desire more powerful than anything she’d felt before.
How long the kiss lasted she had no idea. The flames of hot pleasure were taking over time and reality and her nerve-endings were sensitised to screaming point. His hands were stroking her body, and although she knew she should stop this, her need of him was stronger than her will-power, stronger than reason.
It was the car horn blaring as Vittorio shifted position that broke the spell. He swore, softly and fluently, in his native tongue, before muttering, ‘This is ridiculous. I have not made love to a girl in a car since I was sixteen and borrowed my father’s Ferrari for the purpose. It was uncomfortable then and it’s uncomfortable now.’ He eyed her wryly. ‘This is what comes of letting one’s heart rule one’s head, mia piccola.’
Cherry stared at him, struggling to bring her whirling brain to order so she could match his cool amusement but it was beyond her. Necking in a car! She could just hear her mother’s voice.
Vittorio settled back in his own seat before taking her hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed the fleshy mound at the base of her palm, then let the tip of his tongue caress the delicate, sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.
She shivered. She couldn’t help it. But common sense was paramount as she tugged her fingers from his. ‘Don’t. Please don’t. I meant what I said yesterday. I’m not looking for a holiday romance.’
‘I am aware of that,’ Vittorio said softly, ‘but one kiss is not a romance, mia piccola.’
Well, that had told her, Cherry thought, with a stab of piercing hurt. Say it as it is, Vittorio, by all means.
Before she could say anything, he added, with shocking honesty, ‘That is not to say I do not want you in my bed, Cherry. I do. Very much. But even if you had not spelled it out for me I would have known you are not the type of woman who indulges in casual relationships.’
Why? Because she wasn’t beautiful enough? her poor self-esteem asked immediately. He thought she didn’t get many offers?
‘Some women can handle such intimacy and move on with no regrets when it is over. But you are not like that. This is why you have been fighting the sexual attraction between us which was there from that first moment on the road yesterday. You know this, as do I. It is useless to pretend.’
The presumption was beyond belief. It was also true, Cherry admitted silently, but she would rather walk barefoot on burning coals than admit it. ‘Actually, and I know this is going to come as a terrible shock,’ she said testily, ‘not every woman in the world would kill for your body.’
He smiled. The wretch smiled. And, from wanting him so badly she had been oblivious to anything but what his hands and mouth were doing to her, Cherry now wanted to kick him.
‘I’m fully aware of that,’ Vittorio drawled silkily, ‘but you want me, Cherry.’
In view of how she had just responded to him it was foolish to deny it, but she did so anyway. ‘In your dreams.’
To her utter chagrin, his smile widened. ‘I had you in my dreams last night, mia piccola, and although pleasant it is not like the real thing, si? But,’ he continued, his face settling into an expression of wide-eyed innocence—if a man like Vittorio could ever look innocent—‘you are here to help Sophia. I know this. And taking you into my bed would complicate matters for sure. Added to which, I can see you are not ready for such a step yet. Whether because of this Liam—’ the name was said with utter contempt ‘—or because you need to get to know me better first, it does not matter. Suffice to say I understand we need to take it slowly.’
Cherry stared helplessly into the smoky grey eyes holding hers. This was surreal. She’d told him she had no intention of starting anything but his magnificent arrogance made it like water off a duck’s back. Furthermore, he was making her feel silly and she didn’t like it.
‘There is no “it”,’ she said primly, and then wished she had bitten her tongue. She had sounded unbearably priggish to her own ears, and his chuckle confirmed he thought so too. The current of mutual attraction he’d spoken of flowed between them and charged the air with an electricity that was palpable—and, unfortunately, undeniable.
‘We will make the deal, si?’ he said suddenly, his voice soothing. ‘I will behave and treat you as I would my elderly grandmother while you assist Sophia with the preparations for her wedding. No lovemaking, no kisses, OK? But you will allow me to show you my beautiful country while you are here as you cannot work all the time on the wedding. I forbid it. We will be friends. Is this good?’
It was a darn sight better than grandmother and grandson, Cherry thought with a touch of dark amusement. Although how any red-blooded single woman could be friends with Vittorio was questionable. She knew it was beyond her. But as long as he didn’t know it she could probably act well enough to carry it off. Dubiously, she nodded.
He chuckled again. ‘Oh, Cherry, you have the Italian face—do you know this? All your emotions and thoughts are there to see.’
She didn’t like that. It made her feel vulnerable. To counteract the feeling, she said frostily, ‘You’re Italian, aren’t you? And I’d hardly say your emotions are easy to read. In fact you’re a closed book, if anything, so I hardly think that observation is valid.’
