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‘He isn’t paid to mind,’ he drawled arrogantly. ‘He’s paid very handsomely to do exactly what I tell him to do.’
Salvatore watched as she worried her bottom lip again, a gesture which left her mouth looking so unbelievably kissable that he wondered if it was done for precisely that effect. He was used to instant acquiescence—especially from women—but Lina Vitale kept him waiting for an answer and the novelty of that was more than a little exciting.
‘Okay,’ she said eventually, pushing a thick handful of hair back from her face. ‘Why not?’
Why not? Salvatore frowned. She obviously didn’t realise that he wasn’t usually given to handing out invitations to waifs and strays and that a little gratitude might have been welcome. He pushed back his chair. He couldn’t work her out. Not only that—but he still hadn’t quite worked out his own motives for inviting her. Was he intending to seduce her? To peel off those over-long denim shorts and the almost puritanical cotton shirt to see what voluptuous delights lay beneath?
His mouth hardened. No. He had never been into one-night stands and even if he were he certainly wouldn’t choose a woman from a tiny mountain village who would probably read too much into it. He was being kind, that was all. Hadn’t she praised him for such kindness earlier?
So stop being such a cynical bastard and make the poor woman’s day.
‘Come on, then. Let’s go,’ he said abruptly, rising to his feet and causing a woman on a nearby table to completely miss her mouth as she prepared to take a drink of wine.
As Lina had suspected, Salvatore’s chauffeur looked distinctly unimpressed at being presented with her helmet and told to drive her scooter. But he didn’t protest. His bulky body dwarfed the small fifty cc machine, but by then Salvatore was opening the passenger door of the limousine and Lina was climbing inside. And, oh, it was gorgeous. It smelt of leather and wealth, and the powerful engine made less noise than her hairdryer as Salvatore drove along familiar roads before turning onto a hidden track on the opposite side of the mountain.
And this, Lina quickly realised, was a completely different world from the one she usually inhabited. A quietly wealthy part of the island, where rich tourists parted with huge amounts of money in order to be able to live the Sicilian dream—or rather, their version of that dream. But it was difficult to concentrate on the scenic beauty of these new surroundings. Difficult to look anywhere other than at the powerful thrust of Salvatore’s thighs.
‘Comfortable?’ he questioned obliquely.
‘Very,’ she lied.
The shades he had donned made him seem even more sexy and inaccessible than before. Because he is inaccessible, she reminded herself fiercely. He’s a hunky billionaire who’s got a whole different life on the other side of the world. But none of those thoughts seemed to have any effect on her escalating excitement. It didn’t stop her breasts from hardening, or lessen the imperceptible tension which seemed to be building between them within the confined space of the car. Soon, it had reached such a pitch that Lina felt as if she’d forgotten how to breathe normally, and as a pair of ornate iron gates swung silently open she reached into her rucksack and surreptitiously turned off her phone, determined that nobody was going to disturb this day, least of all her mother. Because this was a one-off. She knew that. She wasn’t going to entertain any unrealistic expectations or try to second-guess what was about to happen, she was simply going to enjoy every second of it.
‘Madonna mia!’ she breathed, unguarded pleasure slipping from her lips as the gates closed behind them. ‘Is this for real?’
A faint smile touched the edges of his lips. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Yes, I like it.’ Alighting from the car, she stood in the courtyard and stared up at an imposing house, surrounded by tall palm trees which soared up into the bright blueness of the sky. Dotted around the place were antique terracotta pots containing bright flowers and in the distance she could see the dark glitter of a swimming pool.
A housekeeper appeared from within
the shadowed entrance of the house—a sharp-eyed woman wearing black who failed to return her nervous smile of greeting. But Lina heaved a silent sigh of relief because at least she didn’t recognise the woman as being from Caltarina. How difficult would that have been?
‘Carla, could you please arrange to have coffee sent down to the pool?’ Salvatore’s voice was smooth and entitled, before turning to Lina. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you where you can change.’
Lina followed him through the grounds, telling herself she should be enjoying every aspect of this lovely garden, but it wasn’t flowers or shrubs she wanted to look at, and it wasn’t the exotic cacti or carefully positioned statues which were dominating her attention. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Salvatore’s broad shoulders where the thick black waves of his hair were curving decadently over his collar and making her wonder what it would be like to trickle her fingers through them. She stared at the fluid thrust of his hips as he walked along the path with a confident stealth which radiated power and strength.
At last they came to a vast infinity pool—its water as dark as sapphires—with panoramic views over the green and golden countryside. But even that knockout view didn’t have any impact on her sudden overwhelming sense of self-consciousness at being in such an intimate situation with a man she didn’t really know.
And yet she wasn’t scared. On some fundamental level she totally trusted him—and how crazy was that?
‘You can get changed in there,’ he said, pointing to a small building which resembled a Swiss chalet. ‘I’m going up to the house to put on something cooler.’
Lina was relieved when he left, giving her time to compose herself, her relief short-lived when she consulted the full-length mirror and realised how frightful she looked. Hot and bothered and... She unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her denim shorts and gave a silent groan as she slithered out of panties which felt uncomfortably...wet.
And you know why that is, don’t you? mocked a taunting voice in her head. You might be a virgin who has never experienced a scintilla of desire but that doesn’t mean you can’t recognise it when it comes your way.
Digging around in her rucksack, she located her swimsuit and pulled it on over her increasingly sticky body, before stepping back to look at the result. Only now the mirror revealed a much too curvy body unflatteringly covered in a plain navy swimsuit and Lina’s heart plummeted. What was she even doing here?
Slipping from the chalet, she was thankful that Salvatore hadn’t returned, though she could see that a tray of coffee had been left on one of the tables. But she wasn’t going to hang around for refreshments. She would have a quick swim, get changed and then drive her scooter back home. Go back to where she belonged and forget all her foolish fantasies.
Curling her toes over the edge of the pool, she dived deep into the sapphire waters and a restorative underwater length of the deliciously cool water calmed her fractious nerves a little. Rising up to the surface, she shook her head like a wet puppy, blinking against the sunlight to see Salvatore standing on the side of the pool, and she could feel the painful tightening of her nipples because he was wearing nothing but a pair of bathing trunks.
Exasperation flooded over her. Of course he was wearing bathing trunks! Did she think he was about to go swimming in the black suit he’d worn for the funeral? So stop staring at him, she urged herself furiously. Do some more swimming and then get the hell out of here, back to where you belong.
But she couldn’t.
All she seemed capable of doing was treading water and staring up at him, because he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. His sculpted body gleamed olive in the bright sunshine and his dark, hair-roughened legs were planted firmly on the side of the pool as he stared right back. Lina licked her lips and tasted chlorine but barely noticed it because she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from him. His broad chest tapered down to a pair of narrow hips and the black Lycra of his bathers was clinging with disturbingly graphic definition to...to...
