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‘I didn’t mean that,’ she promised, sipping her wine. ‘It’s only that when you go to an aquarium you’re expecting to see myriad fish, so that even the most beautiful tropical fish or the fluffiest penguin fail to have much of an impact. But if I were walking along the Thames and a beautiful penguin happened to cross my path I’d be basically breathless.’
‘Speechless too, I should think, at finding a penguin in central London.’
She nodded, glad he hadn’t taken her metaphor the vital step further. Because he was that spectacular piece of wildlife which, when surrounded by men of his ilk, might have left her cold. But here, like this, in her tiny cottage on the outskirts of a small village, smiling at her as though he found her fascinating and unique, how could Amelia fail to be breathless, speechless and hopelessly attracted?
‘Have you lived here long?’ he asked and she relaxed further as the conversation moved onto far safer ground.
She looked around the lounge, her heart warming at the comfort and beauty of this little room.
‘I moved here straight out of University,’ she said with a small nod. ‘I thought I’d stay only a year or so, but then the cottage came on the market and, what can I say, it was love at first sight,’ she said, looking fondly around the small lounge, with its low ceiling and unevenly rendered walls.
‘I can see why,’ he drawled cynically and she laughed.
‘You sound just like my brother!’
Carlo had been just as scathing about the ‘relic’. ‘Why don’t you buy some land and build something bigger? You’re a diSalvo, cara, and this place isn’t fit for a mangy dog.’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh, only in so much as he didn’t really like Bumblebee Cottage. He’s far more into luxury and glamour.’
‘And you’re not?’ Antonio enquired.
‘What do you think?’ she asked with a lifted brow and a half-smile, gesturing around the room.
‘I think the house is charming,’ he supplied, leaning forward a little, and his ankle brushed hers, probably by accident, but the effect was the same as if it had been intentional. She sat up straighter, her eyes finding his, a plea and a question in them. ‘And so is the occupant,’ he added, and now the charge of electricity that flared between them was unmistakably mutual.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her eyes round like saucers. His foot brushed hers and now she knew it wasn’t an accident she told herself she should pull away. Remove her legs from his reach. Do something, anything, to show him she didn’t welcome his presumptuous advances.
But oh, how she welcomed them. How she welcomed him.
‘Thank you.’
It was hard to think straight in that moment. Her body was charged, her senses in complete disarray, and she was left wondering at the bizarre circumstances that had brought this billionaire tycoon to her door right at the moment when she’d been at risk of sinking into thoughts of loneliness and the pervasive emptiness that came with being alone.
‘Well, Antonio—’ his name made husky by her too-dry throat ‘—perhaps you should tell me why you’re here?’
* * *
He had come to Bumblebee Cottage expecting to hate her. She was a diSalvo; it was written in the stars that he would hate her. Only he didn’t.
And not only did he not hate her; he was actually enjoying himself. He was finding it hard to keep his mind to himself, to concentrate on business when she was smiling at h
im and joking with him, and when her huge blue eyes kept dropping to his chest, roaming over his breadth as though she were starving and he the only meal around for miles.
And what would she say when he told her the truth of their relationship? What would she say when he explained what he needed from her?
Would she understand? Or would she tell him to get the hell out? Then he’d have to enact plan B, and her smiles would disappear when she realised how close he’d brought her brother to breaking point. And how much he was enjoying that knowledge.
How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? Months. Many months. His father’s illness had been sudden and, between the company and Javier’s demise, Antonio had barely had time for the distraction of women.
Did that explain the undercurrent of desire that was swirling around them? Was that the reason he was reluctant to tell her why he’d come?
It was the last thing he’d planned for, but now that he sat opposite Amelia diSalvo he wanted to shelve business and his drive for revenge. Just for a moment. Just for a night.
A temporary delay, that was all, while he enjoyed her company. What was the harm in that?
‘Antonio?’ she prompted.
