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‘Oh, I think you do,’ he offered drily. ‘Unexpected proximity coupled with a very powerful sexual chemistry. It’s a potent mix and don’t pretend you don’t knowthat, Nicola. What we do about it, of course,’ he added, after a moment’s pause, ‘is an entirely different matter.’
She stared at him blankly, as the meaning of his words sank in. Was he implying that they could have sex when they weren’t even in a relationship? Didn’t he realise he was dealing with the biggest prude in London? ‘We do nothing, of course,’ she informed him primly. And then, because his expression remained perplexed, she took pains to remind him. ‘We have a plan, remember?’
‘A plan?’ he echoed non-comprehendingly.
‘Didn’t you say something about putting cushions down the middle of the bed?’
Thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed. ‘And you really think that’s going to work?’
‘Why wouldn’t it work?’ she challenged. ‘If it’s what we both want.’
He seemed about to answer but maybe he thought better of it, because he firmed his lips as if he were trying very hard not to laugh and it took a moment before he had composed himself enough to speak. ‘Certo,cara—it will be exactly as you say,’ he murmured. ‘In which case, I’d better leave you to get settled in. This room is proving a little too...claustrophobic for my liking.’
She wondered if he’d forgotten his promise to show her around the estate before dinner, but maybe that was a good thing. ‘As you wish.’
‘I’m going downstairs to find my mother.’ And then, as if he was determined to reassert his authority, his blue eyes glittered with familiar command. ‘Make sure you’re ready for cocktails at seven.’
CHAPTER SIX
ALESSIORETURNEDFROMhis meeting with his mother, walking into their room with his dark features set and brooding, and Nicola looked up at him with some alarm. Now what? she wondered.
‘Is everything okay?’ she ventured.
‘Everything is fine,’ he gritted back repressively, his drawled voice growing mocking as he began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I don’t know your views on voyeurism, Nicola, but I’m about to get changed, so...’
The thought of him stripping off his clothes was enough to send Nicola scuttling outside into the early evening sunset, where she settled herself on a wicker bench and willed the racing of her heart to subside. But the magnificent landscape didn’t really register and neither did the book whose pages remained unturned, despite the glowing reviews on the front cover, no doubt courtesy of the author’s friends. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between the two of them earlier, and kept wishing she could forget it.
But she couldn’t.
Round and round in her head it played—an endless spool of provocation and frustration. Alessio had kissed her and she had responded in a way which had spooked her. Because it had been more than a simple kiss, even she knew that. It had felt as though he had flicked a switch—cracking open the stony darkness inside her and flooding her body with heat and desire. She had melted beneath his touch and prayed for him to carry on.
‘Nicola?’
He was walking out onto the terrace to find her and Nicola’s breath dried in her throat as she saw him in formal tailoring for the very first time. Hugging the contours of his powerful frame, the suit mirrored the blackness of his hair and against the white shirt his skin glowed like burnished metal. But something about his appearance was different—his golden dark beauty somehow compromised. It was as if a shadow had fallen over him. His eyes were cold, his mouth hard and unsmiling—and an instinctive part of her wanted to ask him what the matter was and then reach out and comfort him. But that wasn’t why she was here, she reminded herself grimly—though his next words took her by surprise, even though they were delivered in something of a growl.
‘You look...’ He paused. ‘Good,’ he finished abruptly.
‘Do I?’
Alessio nodded, the insecurity in her eyes making him realise this wasn’t the disingenuous query of a woman who was regularly showered with compliments. But then, who would ever have imagined that Nicola Bennett could look like this? Not him and possibly not her either. High-end fashion suited her and the flower-sprinkled green gown hugged the soft curve of her breasts and hips. She looked like a meadow, he thought with sudden longing. Fresh and beautiful. Her long hair had been transmuted into fiery gold by the sunset behind her and it tumbled down to a surprisingly tiny waist.
Suddenly he wanted to bury his lips in those silken strands and to continue the lovemaking he had so reluctantly terminated. But he closed his mind to the unwanted trajectory of his erotic thoughts because her Cinderella-like transformation was not the purpose behind this visit. She was supposed to be a diversion, not a distraction. So what was happening? How come she was making him feel like...?
He shook his head with self-directed impatience.
Like an untried teenager and an experienced man all at once. That kiss had been heady. She had invoked a powerful and intoxicating hunger which had rolled over him like a heavy wave, until he had called a halt to it. And he had never done that before. Never stopped a session of sex just as it was getting started, not when he had wanted it so much. His tongue slid out to ease the dryness of his lips. Lust and restraint—another potent combination.
‘Come on,’ he said curtly. ‘Let’s go.’
She followed him down the sweeping staircase towards the garden, where he could hear the murmur of voices, and out onto the terrace. Only his two siblings were there, surveying their luxurious surroundings with an air of proprietorial satisfaction. The relationship between the three of them had always been non-existent at best and hostile at worst, but Alessio reminded himself that he was here to please his mother.
Yet he frowned as he recalled Rosetta’s fretful demeanour during their meeting when, although free from the watchful presence of her husband, she had been unable to relax. He remembered the way her gaze had darted repeatedly towards the door and her refusal to disclose what was troubling her, no matter how gently he had persisted with his questions. But she was an adult, he reminded himself—and he could not help her unless she asked for help.
‘Come and meet the others,’ he said, touching his fingers to Nicola’s arm, dipping his head to speak quietly into her ear. ‘This probably won’t be the friendliest of encounters, but I’m confident you’ll be able to deal with it.’
But Nicola was finding it difficult to subdue her sudden clamour of nerves—despite Alessio’s supposedly reassuring words, or the touch of his fingers to her elbow. The seeking gazes of the striking couple who stood drinking champagne in the dying sunlight were making her feel inadequate because they were everything she was not—and that pressed all sorts of buttons.
Both younger than Alessio, the man’s upright posture was reminiscent of his aristocratic father, while the woman was tall and rangy with an expensive mane of streaked hair, which complemented her golden dress and diamonds. With their perfectly even tans suggesting a lifetime of leisure, they looked glossy and...well, justrich, really, with an air of wealth and privilege which went more than skin-deep. Alessio possessed it, too—but she didn’t. No matter how many fancy clothes she was given, or how many articles on social etiquette she studied, inside she would still be the same Nicky Bennett. That insecure little girl with holes in her socks.
