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The phone rang.
Maybe it had been ringing for a while.
He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell anything except that he wanted the woman in his arms, as he could not remember ever wanting a woman before.
But the phone was persistent.
Brring. Brring. Brring.
Emily blinked. She looked at him like a woman awakening from a deep sleep.
“The telephone…”
“It will stop.”
He drew her to him. Ran one hand down her spine, Spread it over her bottom. Lifted her into him and she gasped; her head fell back when she felt his erect flesh press against her.
Brring. Brring. Brring.
Merda!
One last slow, amazing kiss. Then he slid his arm around her waist and drew her with him to the desk and depressed the speaker button.
“Yes,” he said, trying not to sound like a man who might kill the person on the other end of the line.
It was Jane Barnett.
Marco took a deep breath. “What is it, Jane? I am—I’m busy.”
“Sir. I just wanted to know how things are going.”
Marco nuzzled Emily’s hair away from her face. Her cheeks were a bright pink; her skin was hot against his lips.
“Things?” he said.
“Uh, yes, sir. I sent someone up to see you. That young woman who came about the piano job…”
“You mean, Ms. Madison.”
Emily’s eyes shot to his.
“Yes, sir. Is she there?”
“She is. And this is not the best time for this conversation, Jane. Ms. Madison and I are—are talking.”
Emily’s color deepened.
“Well, that’s good, then. You see, I’ve been trying to reach your PA but—”
“My PA seems to have, ah, abandoned ship, but Ms. Madison and I don’t require her services.”
Emily pulled away from his arm. He tugged her back to him. She shook her head, put her hand on his chest. Reluctantly, he let go of her.
“Well, I’m relieved to hear it. Would I be correct in assuming you and Ms. Madison have hit it off?”
“Jane,” Marco said sharply. “Surely this conversation—”
“I’m just so relieved, Mr. Santini. I know you asked me to hire Ms. Madison to play at that opening Wednesday, but she’s so perfect for what you really need…”
