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‘What exactly have you spoken about with my father?’ She kept her words firm, her fingers curled around the back of the chair as if the pine would anchor her, keep her thoughts focused and in control. Just moments ago she’d wondered what his kiss would be like, had revelled in the soft caress of his fingers like a star-struck teenager. What had she been thinking? ‘You had no right.’
‘I contacted him to ask if I could visit, to invite you to be at the launch. Your father knows it is what Seb wanted.’ He folded his arms across his broad chest and leant against a kitchen unit, his eyes never breaking contact with hers.
For the second time that morning her shoulders sagged in defeat. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes briefly. Hopefully, when she opened them he wouldn’t be watching so intently, so knowingly.
But it didn’t make any difference. Those bronze-flecked eyes, which strangely felt so familiar, now bored into her. Right into the very heart of her, as if probing for every secret she’d ever hidden.
She dropped her hands and gripped onto the back of the chair again. ‘You had no right to speak to my father. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what we’ve lost and I’m more than capable of deciding for myself if I want to see you or not or if I want to be involved in the launch.’
‘And do you?’ He raised his brows and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. The same lips she’d just imagined kissing her.
Did she what? Focus, Charlie. Her mind scrabbled to regain rational thought. She didn’t know what she wanted except not to allow this man, this prime specimen of raw maleness, to know how unsure and undecided she was.
‘I certainly didn’t want to see you.’ She raised her chin and injected calm control into her voice. ‘If you recall, I asked you to leave. I don’t want any part of the motor racing world any more.’
‘Is that why you’ve hidden yourself away in the depths of the English countryside?’
The curiosity in his voice was barely disguised and the question came rapidly on the heels of the confusion he’d caused just by being here. She found it difficult to think about such things, but this man’s presence was making it harder still.
‘I withdrew from the frenzy of the media out of respect for my brother. I’m not hiding,’ she said, aware of the curt tone of her voice. ‘I couldn’t continue to be on camera, promoting the team, not after Seb died.’
‘Do you think he’d want you to stay that way?’
As he leant against the kitchen unit, unable to help herself, her gaze flickered to his hips and strong thighs. A sizzle of sexual awareness shimmied over her. Why did she have to find this man, of all men, so undeniably attractive?
‘Meaning?’
‘The cottage is very nice, but a woman like you shouldn’t be ensconced here for ever.’
She looked back into his face, taking in the slant of his nose and the sensual curve of his lips. He looked directly into her eyes, almost knocking the breath from her body with the intensity.
Was he right? Would Seb want her to be involved? Then his last words finally registered in her mind. ‘What do you mean—a woman like me?’
He walked around the table, appearing confined within the small kitchen. A room she’d never thought of as so compact, not until Alessandro Roselli had walked into it. He stopped at the opposite side of the table and she was thankful to have something more substantial between them.
‘You live life in the fast lane—or did.’ His accent had turned into a sexy drawl and his eyes raked over her. Again she was conscious of her casual and slightly grubby clothes.
‘Well, now I don’t and I have no intention of going back to it. Nothing you—or my father—can say will change my mind.’
‘“Look after my little Charlie. She’d like you.”’ He spoke firmly and she knew exactly who he was quoting. Only Seb called her ‘little Charlie’.
He pulled out another chair and sat down. He was taking root, making it very clear he wasn’t leaving any time soon, but his words unsettled her. She could almost hear Seb saying them.
‘I don’t believe you.’ She folded her arms across her chest, trying to deflect his scrutiny, but she remembered the phone calls from Seb. He’d always tried to get her to date again, insisting that not all men were as heartless as her former fiancé. ‘He would never say that.’
Absently, he reached out and pulled last night’s local paper towards him. He looked as if he belonged in her home, in her kitchen. He looked comfortable.
