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It was—sitting on a tray on the low table in front of the sofa in the reception area of the suite. Connie went and sat down, giving a sigh of relief. Making a face, she bent to take her high heels off as Dante took his place on the sofa, ensuring he was not sitting too close to her. That would be risky.
‘Oh, gosh, that feels so much better!’ Connie exclaimed with a groan, flexing her stockinged feet.
They were narrow and elegant, Dante noted absently. Something else he’d never noticed about her yet was now burningly conscious of.
Like the way she’s relaxing back against the cushions, her beautiful dress moulding her figure, rounding her breasts...
He dragged his gaze to the coffee tray, pouring for them both. Behind his smile as he handed her a cup his thoughts were teeming. The low pulse in his body was tangible. He needed to get a grip on his libido—not indulge it.
This is happening too suddenly.
He told himself to speak, find an innocuous subject, avert his eyes from the way her curves were on display, the way she was lazily, almost sensuously, flexing her feet and rotating her ankles while taking sips of her own coffee.
Does she have any idea of the impact she’s having on me?
She was unconscious of it, he was sure. And that only made it all the more potent.
‘So, did you buy any other fabulous outfits this afternoon?’ he asked conversationally, hoping it would divert him.
‘No, just this one,’ she answered.
‘Well, why not buy some more?’ he suggested. ‘London may not be Milan, but it’s got plenty to offer fashion-wise. Let’s go shopping tomorrow.’
She stirred her coffee, dropping her eyes. ‘I ought to go home tomorrow,’ she said quietly.
‘Why?’ said Dante. It was a blunt question, but it was asked instinctively. He didn’t want her leaving him. Not now.
Not now that my eyes are opened to her. Now that things are changing between us. Now that I’ve realised I want them to change—and want her to want it too...
She went on drinking her coffee. Dante got the impression she was doing it to avoid looking at him.
‘Well, I’ve been away for a long time,’ she said at last. ‘I ought to check on the cottage.’
‘It can wait another day, can’t it?’ he replied. ‘How about if we go shopping tomorrow,’ he went on, ‘then I drive us down to the cottage the day after?’
Her glance went to him then. ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that, Dante. I can take the train, no problem.’
‘I’d like to,’ he insisted. ‘And anyway—’
He broke off and she looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face.
He set down his coffee cup. ‘Connie, I mentioned earlier about you broadening your horizons. I’ve had an idea. While you’re thinking about what you might want to do next, how about having a break away completely?’
He took a breath, held her eyes. The sense that she was hiding something came to him again, though she was looking at him straight on.
‘Why not come back to Italy with me?’
He made it sound like a casual suggestion, though there was nothing casual at all in what he was asking her. He knew perfectly well what the reason was.
‘You saw nothing of it when you came after our wedding, but now—well, I can show you Milan, and Lombardy—show you all of Italy, if you’d like that?’
He was conscious of a growing enthusiasm in himself. Taking her back to Italy with him was exactly what he wanted to do!
He pressed his argument. ‘You’ve been largely confined to the West Country, but now you can spread your wings if you want to.’
‘Do...do you mean it, Dante?’ Connie’s voice sounded hesitant.
He met her gaze—it was questioning and uncertain. Met it full-on.
