Marco smiled along with everyone else. Dominic was happy, because a win for the Moretti team kept them ahead of Ferrari and Audi, which was really all Dom cared about.
Marco rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he wasn’t as joy-filled as he should be. He needed to get away from Keke and the rest of the crowd.
He started to leave when he saw the familiar brown hair that he’d been searching for at each race since Melbourne. Virginia.
She was here. And he was going to get some damned answers about where she’d been and who she really was.
Fans swarmed around him as he made his way over to her. He didn’t have time for smiles or photos, but he made himself take the time. His popularity was one of the things that was important to the success of Moretti Motors. He signaled Carlos, his security guard.
“Keep that woman here,” he said, pointing to Virginia.
“Yes, sir,” Carlos said, and went to Virginia’s side. She arched one eyebrow at him and he guessed that she didn’t like that he was keeping her from leaving. Too bad.
He took his time flirting with the women fans who were always waiting for him. They liked to pose with him and have their pictures taken. Today while Virginia was waiting, he said no to no one.
Why was she back? he wondered as the last of the fans moved away. He signaled to Carlos to bring Virginia to him. She didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to give her any further ground. He was in charge, and it was about time she figured that out.
She slowly walked toward him, hips swaying with each step, drawing his eyes to her body. He was intimately familiar with her curves and longed to touch her again. When she was within arm’s reach, he took her wrist in his hand and pulled her to him.
She gasped as her body came into contact with his. He was hot and sweaty from the race and he was pumped with adrenaline and something else. Something he didn’t want to define.
“Hello, Marco.”
“Bongiorno, Virginia.”
“You raced well today,” she said.
She was nervous. And that pleased him. She should be leery of him. He’d never hurt her physically, but he was angry with her and he wanted her to know it.
He cupped her jaw gently and tilted her head back. “I want answers.”
“I’ll give them to you,” she said. Her eyes were wet as he lowered his head, taking her mouth with his.
This was no gentle seduction. He meant to be masterful, to remind her that he wasn’t a man to be toyed with. That his passion—and hers—belonged to him.
He forced her lips wide and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. She clung to his shoulders, her fingers gripping him tightly.
He heard a small sigh escape her and he softened his embrace—wrapped one arm around her and hugged her to him. God, he wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’d missed her.
“Come with me,” he said. The track wasn’t the place for this kind of reunion. She nodded, speechless, and he led her to the motor home he used as a dressing room and place to relax at the races.
He had a million questions to ask, but touching and caressing her made him want to take her. He needed to establish his dominance over her. She’d left him, and while it was true that one-night stands weren’t out of the ordinary for him, he’d always been the one to leave.
“Why did you leave the way you did?”
She folded her arms. Her short, emerald-green designer dress brought out the creaminess of her skin. He tried not to notice.
“I…I didn’t want to wait around for you to tell me to leave.”
“Why do you believe I would have done that?”
“Marco, I know the type of man you are.”
“What kind of man am I?” he asked, curious to know what she thought she knew about him.
“You have a reputation of living fast and large on the track and off. And I knew, just as I know now, that a simple girl from Long Island has little chance of slowing you down for long.”
There was a certain amount of truth to that. But he suspected that wasn’t the only reason she’d left. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that there was more to Virginia than met the eye.
“I have never hurried a woman out of my bed.”
“It wasn’t you.”
She lowered her gaze to the side and walked around the living-room area of the luxury motor home. She paused to look at the picture of his family on the wall. From over her shoulder, he saw his family all posed in front of the main Moretti Motors plant in Milan.
“Then what made you leave?”
“It was me,” she said, turning to face him. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave gracefully if you were awake and I had to walk away from you. So I skulked out while you were sleeping.”
“Why are you back?”
She took a deep breath and walked over to him. She brushed her fingers over her bottom lip, which was swollen from his earlier kiss.
“I’m back because I missed you, Marco. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He didn’t admit that he’d missed her, as well. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. I have to shower and change, then we will go for an early dinner.”
He walked away from her before she could answer. She was here, and he was suddenly determined that she would never leave him again.
Five
Marco’s attitude made it difficult for Virginia to do anything but follow him. He’d showered and changed in the motor home and then come out smelling wonderfully masculine, and she felt very much like a school girl enamored with a boy. Though there was nothing boyish about Marco. He was all man.
A man who was determined to set the rules of their…“relationship” didn’t seem the right word to describe what was between them. But he was definitely letting her know that he was in charge.
Whereas in Melbourne he’d wooed her, this time he simply took charge. And as they drove through Barcelona, she admitted to herself that she secretly liked the forcefulness of Marco.
To lessen some of his impact on her, she gazed out the window. Barcelona was a beautiful city. Very Mediterranean in feel. Whenever she traveled outside of the United States…as if she was a world traveler, she thought. But both times, she had left her home country, she noticed how different the world was. She loved the architecture of the old buildings. She loved the streets lined with people walking from place to place. And she loved the way that Marco fit into this world. This was his place, and she felt very much the intruder tonight.
But then she’d always felt like an intruder, and being in beautiful Barcelona wasn’t helping.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She didn’t want to tell him what she was really thinking. She cast around her mind for something to say and remembered that Picasso painting in the museum where Elena had cornered her.
“About a painting I saw earlier at the Picasso museum.”
“Which one?”
“The Embrace. Are you familiar with it?”
“I am. My mother is an art history teacher.”