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He’d convinced himself as he’d waited for her after the show that it was an anomaly, months of abstinence combined with the shock of seeing the “new” Anna. After the intensity of his reaction when she’d fallen into his arms, he’d been even more determined to see her; not just for old times’ sake, but to see her in ordinary clothes, face scrubbed free of makeup, so his brain could let a certain part of his anatomy know she wasn’t that stunning.
Bad idea.
Very bad, because Anna was even more beautiful without the dressings of couture. A lean face with sharp angles softened by wide lips and her gentle multicolored gaze presented an alluring contrast.
The last time he’d seen her, she’d been growing into the gangly limbs that had propelled her and her wild imagination through the vineyards year after year as he’d tried to keep up. Back then, she’d had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Now she stood just a few inches shorter than his own six-foot-two. The black jacket over a white T-shirt and slim jeans she wore should have looked casual. But the damned clothes drew his eye to the curves of her breasts and her long, long legs.
“I’m well.”
Her abrupt answer snapped him out of his inappropriate perusal.
“Quite a different environment than Granada.” He nodded toward the sparkling waters of the fountain.
“I bet you’re used to glamorous destinations like this.”
He frowned. She’d surprised him by not taking the coin he’d offered. The old Anna would have clutched it to her chest, closed her eyes, murmured a wish and tossed it into the fountain with glee. The rejection, small as it was, unsettled him.
Now you know what it feels like.
The nasty whisper inside his head deepened his frown. He had no reason to feel guilty about what had transpired between him and Anna the last time they’d spoken. None.
“I do travel a lot, yes. But apparently you have, too. Diego mentioned you’ve been living in Paris?”
Her lips softened a fraction. “It’s been fun.”
The distance in her voice was very un-Anna-like. He also didn’t like that she didn’t take the bait, acknowledge that she’d been at Adrian and Everleigh’s party. He’d seen her from the balcony, felt a prickle of awareness and looked up just in time to see her run away. Surprisingly, it had hurt. Growing up, and especially after Alejandro had been banished to England, Anna had been his best friend.
“Sorry I landed on your lap.”
He waved the apology aside. “Not a planned event, I’m sure.”
“No. What are you doing here?” she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“One of my hotels is just a few blocks over. I know the owner of the Hotel dell’Orchidea. He offered me a ticket to tonight’s event.” The lie rolled off his tongue. “I wasn’t expecting to see you on the runway.”
She huffed. “I wasn’t, either. My friend Kess is the producer of the show. A model got sick this afternoon, and I wanted Kess’s first show to be a success.” She glanced down at her feet, one hand drifting up to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to my uncle recently, but I was let go from my job in Granada earlier this year.”
“He mentioned it.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “Yeah. Embarrassing for the girl who wanted to make a career in fashion.”
He frowned. “From what your uncle said, the company was bought out and downsized your office. Nothing about your talent.”
“I guess.” She looked up but not at him. Her gaze drifted back to the fountain, her expression one of defeat. “I know that, logically. Stupid that it still kicked my pride.”
Her dejected tone negated her agreement and thrust him back to the little girl who had appeared in the grand foyer of Casa de Cabrera seventeen years ago, newly orphaned, eyes downcast, and a pink suitcase clutched in her tiny hand like a lifeline.
He followed her line of sight to the fountain.
“Tell me what you see.”
She glanced at him, a little V forming between her brows. “What?”
“I’m curious what you’re seeing as a first-time visitor. Whenever I’m in Rome, I pass by the Trevi Fountain multiple times a day.” He turned and pointed to the sandstone-colored towers of the Hotel de Cabrera standing proudly against the sky just beyond the plaza. “After a while, you get used to it.” He stepped toward her. Satisfaction wound its way through him as he noted the flare in her gaze, the quick intake of breath.
What kind of a bastard did that make him? To reject her years ago, yet still thrill at the confirmation that she wasn’t immune to him, at least physically? After the horrific night that had almost resulted in death, he’d tried to make amends and resume the mantle of the good son he’d worn so well during his teenage years, even if his parents didn’t know what had happened.
His brothers did. They knew every sordid detail, which was why, after that night, he’d kept them at arm’s length. He loved his brothers, respected them, appreciated their discretion and, when he’d needed it most, their support. But their knowing what he’d done, taking care of his mistakes and making sure that nothing was leaked by the hospital or the police, had made him withdraw.
