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“You were talking to her over an hour ago, then you came out here. Where you’ve been, ever since, despite the fact there’s a place set for you at the table.”
Her frown showed consternation. “Yaya shouldn’t have asked for that. I don’t expect to be included in social events.”
“Is that a hard and fast rule?”
“It’s not one I’ve ever needed,” she muttered, returning her attention to the pages of the book. “Most of the time, the families I work with are very pleased for me to fly beneath the radar.”
His laugh was unplanned. It burst from him, showing disbelief. “You are not someone who would easily fly beneath any radar.”
The slightest hint of pink touched her cheeks. He felt a rush of pleasure – and power – a desire to see more of such a reaction. Genuine responses, responses that showed him - and reminded her - that she was a flesh and blood woman.
“Look, Rafaello,” she turned to face him, her eyes swimming with emotions he didn’t understand. “You don’t need to keep me company. I like being by myself, I really do. You don’t need to include me in family stuff. So whatever you’re doing out here, you can just…stop.”
“What if I don’t want to include you in family stuff?” He said quietly, his eyes roaming her face, never more determined than now to win someone over.
“But you keep –,”
“I didn’t invite you to lunch because I wanted you to spend time with my family.”
She was quiet, brooding, thoughtful.
“I wanted you to come to lunch so I could look at you. Because I like looking at you.”
She gasped, drawing in a sharp breath, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’.
“I wanted you to come to lunch so I could have an excuse to brush my hand against yours as I passed you a drink,” he reached for her book now, lifting it away and doing exactly as he’d said, brushing his fingertips over hers lightly, then letting them linger against her thigh.
The gasp turned into a slight moan, husky and almost silent.
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“But what I’d prefer is if you’d agree to come to dinner. With me. Later tonight.”
She bit down on her lower lip, totally lost, shaking her head once then pausing, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Meet me in the drive at nine,” he said quietly, leaning a little closer, wanting, more than anything, to kiss her hard on those soft, sweet lips.
“I can’t.” The words were dragged from her, and her eyes swept shut, as though pushing him away and blocking him out. “I really can’t.”
“You don’t want to?”
She blinked, staring at him with a host of emotions clouding her face. “I want to.” Her voice sounded different. Thick and emotional, unlike the cool measured way she usually spoke to him. “I can’t believe how much I want to, but I…it’s not possible.” She swallowed, the column of her throat moving gently.
“Why isn’t it?”
Her laugh lacked humour. “You’re persistent.”
“Yes.” She angled her face away but he reached out, taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “And I want you.”
Another gasp. This time, when her mouth opened, he shifted his thumb upwards, running it over her full, lower lip, teasing her with his touch. Her eyes swept shut and now it wasn’t in an attempt to block him out so much as to savour his touch.
“It’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not interested in a relationship.” The words were tremulous but there was a hint of her cool self returning, as though bit by bit she was reclaiming her icy control.
“Ever?”
