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She must have had a lot of practice in hiding her feelings, he thought, watching her lips curve into a smile of such sweetness that he almost forgot she was faking.
‘You can let me go now,’ she said quietly, her smile fading as Fedele disappeared.
‘Why? He’ll be back in a minute with lunch.’
He pulled her closer, tipping her onto his lap and drawing her against his chest. The sudden intimacy between them reminded him vividly of what had happened in her bedroom.
‘Don’t be scared, cara...’ His heart was suddenly hammering inside his chest. ‘This is just business...’
‘I’m not scared,’ she said hotly.
But she was scared. He could feel it in the way she was holding herself. Not scared of him, but of her response to him. Of this tingling insistent thread of need between them.
‘Good,’ he said softly. ‘Because, as you so rightly pointed out, we need to convince everyone this is real—and that’s not going to happen if we’re sitting on opposite sides of the room. We need to practise making it look real.’
He stared down into her eyes.
‘We need to act as if we can’t keep our hands off one another. As if we want each other so badly it’s like a craving. As if, even though it doesn’t make sense, and it’s never happened to us before and it’s driving us crazy, we can’t stop ourselves...’
That pretty much described how he’d been feeling ever since they’d met. How he was feeling right now, in fact. His blood was pounding in his ears and his body was painfully hard. He felt as though he was combusting inside.
Instinctively he lowered his face, sliding his hand into her hair.
‘Vicè, stop—’
Stop? He hadn’t even started!
Longing and fierce urgency rose up inside him, and as her fingers twitched against his chest it took every atom of willpower he had to stop himself from pressing his mouth to hers.
With an effort, he leaned back, smoothing all shades of desire from his voice. ‘So, are we going to Portofino, or not?’
There was a beat of silence, and then she nodded.
He kept his face still. ‘I think ten days should be about right for a honeymoon. Or are you thinking longer...?’
‘No.’
She shook her head, and he felt his stomach flip over at the sudden hoarseness in her voice.
‘Ten days sounds perfect.’
Yes, it did, he thought, his body tensing as she slid off his lap.
Ten days.
And if he had his way every minute of all those days would be spent in bed...
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS LATE afternoon by the time they arrived in Genoa. At the airport Vicè picked up his car—a surprisingly modest black convertible—and they drove south.
It wasn’t just the modesty of his car that was surprising, Imma thought as they left the city’s outskirts. Vicè was actually a good driver.
He was certainly nothing like her father. Cesare drove as he lived. Rushing forward aggressively and raging when he was forced to slow down or, worse still, stop.
Vicè drove with the same smooth, fluid grace as he did everything else.
She glanced over at him. They had barely spoken since setting off, but maybe that was a good thing. Every time they talked she seemed to start the conversation feeling in control but end it feeling he had the upper hand.
