AllFreeNovel
Share Us
able to deliver—if only to p
rove to herself and to Maceo that his assessment had been completely wrong. It had not been a shy in-love smile at all. Not at all. Because she wasn't in love with anyone.
She put her finger into her mouth, widened her eyes at the camera, and thought of Cesare, naked and luminous.
'Pertetto!' applauded Maceo.
She tilted her head coquettishly, looking as if she had just been told a delicious secret as she remembered the things he had whispered last night as he had thrust long and hard and deep inside her.
'Meravigliosa!' murmured Maceo.
Sorcha really started getting into it—tossing her head like a filly and meeting Maceo's enigmatic black eyes.
'Now you see why the models toss their heads...so? ' he observed wryly.
He shot roll after roll of film, and by the time he'd finished Sorcha felt exhausted. She picked up her bag and jacket. Maybe modelling wasn't quite as easy as it appeared on the surface.
'Ah, there is Cesare,' murmured Maceo sardonically as they walked out into the reception area. "With the sunny smile.'
Cesare was pacing the floor like a dark, caged tiger. He barely flicked her a glance, but directed his attention to Maceo.
"What the hell was that all about?' he questioned in Italian.
'Could you be a little more specific?' answered Maceo, in the same language.
'I asked you to take her photograph—not to try it on!'
'If I had been trying it on, then she'd be leaving with me' boasted Maceo. 'If you can't hang on to your women, di Arcangelo—then don't take it out on me.'
The two men stood glaring at one another, and Sorcha had had quite enough. She marched out of the foyer and left them to it. Let Cesare travel back on his own—she would get the train!
She was halfway down Marylebone High Street when she heard a distinctive voice calling out her name and the sound of footsteps behind her. When she turned round, there was Cesare—his dark face a picture of barely repressed rage.
"Where do you think you're going?' he demanded.
'To the station. I wasn't going to hang around while you and Maceo had your Italian conversation class—I'd already had an exhausting morning.'
His mouth twisted. 'Yes, I could see that.'
The undertone of accusation in his voice was unmistakable. 'And what's that supposed to mean?'
'Do you think I am blind, Sorcha?' he asked hotly. 'I saw what was going on between you and Maceo.'
'Going on?' she choked. 'You mean the flirting, which I assume he does as automatically as breathing with every woman he photographs?'
'I know what kind of a man he is!' he declared. 'And the reputation he has with women. He does not know that there is anything between us, so why wouldn't he make a pass at you?'
'But there is nothing between us!' she flared. And didn't part of her just long for him to reject that assumption?
But Cesare didn't seem remotely interested in defining relationships—he was not letting up on the subject which interested him far more. 'You are saying that you didn't find him attractive?'
Sorcha sighed. This was difficult—but keeping her own emotions in check to lessen the risk of getting hurt did not mean that she couldn't be in some way honest about the way she felt.
'Under different circumstances, I suppose I might have done/ she said carefully. His eyes narrowed. "What kind of circumstances?'
If she had been a child, she would have stamped her foot. 'Oh, you can be so dense, Cesare! I thought I'd made it clear to you that just because I wasn't a virgin when I slept with you it doesn't necessarily follow that no man is safe from my advances! I don't deal with a multitude of partners at the same time.' She stared at him. 'Do you?'
'No.' There was a long silence while he stared at her, and suddenly some of the
