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“Dare I flatter myself that you have come back to Milan to see me?” He couldn’t help the iciness in his tone. The frigid bite of it. Maybe he didn’t want to help himself. “You know where the Cassara offices are located, do you not? And last I checked you knew where my residence was located as well. Surely either choice would be more appropriate than stalking me in the shadow of the Duomo.”
“I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Cassara. Not stalking you.”
“Have we reverted, then, to Mr. Cassara? Fascinating. I had my mouth between your legs,cara. Surely that buys a man some measure of intimacy.”
“I didn’t want to presume.”
She sounded prim, but there was heat on her cheeks. And the oddest notion occurred to him, then. Could it be that his favorite ice queen was less cool and unbothered than she looked? How...delightful.
He didn’t really want to think too hard abouthowdelightful he found it. Because that brought him right back to snide commentary from a dead man.
“I told you what name to use,” he said quietly now, his gaze on hers while the night they’d shared played in his head. “You may sob it again, if you wish. If that makes you more comfortable.”
“I need a moment of your time, that’s all,” she said. Almost formally. But then there was that heat on her cheeks again, brighter than before, and he wondered what images she played in her head. “Not your name.”
Cristiano lifted his hands and spread them wide, in keeping with a casualness he in no way felt. “I have nothing but time, naturally. I am a man of leisure, capable at any moment of playing tourist in my own city.”
She blinked at that, her cheeks reddened further, and he got the distinct impression that she’d expected him to put up a fight. That she was braced for it.
“You’re not the only one interested in another taste, Julienne,” he said, feeling magnanimous. Because she was here, finally. Because it wasn’t yet another ghost to haunt him and distract him, whether he believed in ghosts or not. It was her, this time. It was finallyher.“I tried to find you in Manhattan, but you’d moved.”
She coughed, as if to cover a sound of shock. “You came to Manhattan?”
He arched a brow. “I often have business in Manhattan. As you are well aware.”
But there was a different, softer light in her gaze. “Yes, right. You didn’t make a special trip. I understand.” She smiled at him and he didn’t know how he kept his hands off her. “It was my sister’s turn, you see.”
“Her turn?”
A fresh flush made her cheeks glow. “I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in this story.”
“Her turn to do what?” Cristiano inquired silkily. “I trust it will not involve any Monte Carlo reenactments.”
“God. No.” She seemed to hear her own vehemence then, and looked away, that belligerent chin of hers firming. “Ever since you rescued us that night, we followed my path through the Cassara Corporation because it was the fastest way to meet our goals. To repay you and reclaim our lives. But once I resigned, it was time to follow Fleurette’s path. It’s only fair.”
“Why must you choose? Why can’t you both do as you like instead of hiding away so theatrically?”
It was only after he asked the question, out here as the moody spring night drew close, that Cristiano thought to question why on earth it was he was standing about having random conversations with this woman. When he’d spent six months dreaming of all the other things he could do with her. With her mouth. With every square inch of her delectable body. With that heat he could feel between them even now. Even though they weren’t touching.
“That was the deal we made ten years ago,” Julienne said, stoutly. “And I didn’t imagine anyone would be looking for me after my resignation or I would have left my forwarding details, with no theater whatsoever. We’re in Seattle now.”
“Seattle.”He pronounced the name of the American city as if it might bite. “That is off to the west, is it not?”
“The Pacific Northwest, actually.”
“You will forgive me if I do not spend a great amount of time tramping about the primeval forests of the American northwest, Pacific or otherwise,” Cristiano said, his voice going edgy despite his best efforts. “As I traffic neither in legacy technology nor flannel shirts.”
“I don’t recall asking you for a review of Seattle’s charms,” Julienne said, with a smile he realized was fixed. “I’m merely telling you that we moved. And time passed.”
“That is what time does.” His jaw was tight. And impatience beat in him, hard and hot. “Have you turned up in thepiazzato tell me bedtime stories,cara? If I’m a good boy, will you provide me with warm milk and a pat on the head? You will understand if I decline the kind offer, I hope.”
He watched her straighten her shoulders. Then that chin of hers tipped up. “My sister wants me to have nothing to do with you or Cassara chocolates ever again. She claims she is the practical one, you understand, but it’s actually because she cannot bear to think about where we came from. If she could, I think she would wipe Monaco from the map entirely. To say nothing of that hill town where we were born.”
“I find the emotional travails of your sister at least as interesting as the story of your domestic arrangements. In case you wondered.”
“She argued strenuously against my coming here.”
“Had you reached out to me, I would have offered a counterargument.” Because she kept talking, and all he could concentrate on was her mouth.
