She opened her eyes, looked straight into his—where a flicker of rue nestled. ‘Wow,’ he muttered. ‘I’m thinking that was the appetiser.’
She took a deep breath, stepped back, rested her weight on her hands on the bench behind her and tried to act completely cool—as if this sort of meltdown were nothing out of the ordinary. ‘I’m looking forward to the main course.’
His brows lifted. ‘While I’m looking forward to dessert.’
She flushed—she hadn’t meant… He caught her eye and winked. Her colour still burning, she turned away and adjusted her clothing. When she’d summoned the courage and calm to turn back, he’d done the same.
He concentrated on serving—quick and efficient. She just focused on breathing and standing upright. He looked across at her. ‘Are you OK?’
She nodded. ‘I think so.’
He shook his head. ‘Let’s eat, OK?’
The dinner was divine, the meat melt-in-the-mouth tender, the vegetables tangy with some sort of marinade, but her mind was spinning too fast for her to truly enjoy it.
He held his fork with his left hand, using his right to cover hers—curling his fingers around hers. It wasn’t a possessive grip, nor demanding in a sexual way. It was simple contact. Almost comfort. And she appreciated it, needing the connection. While there was to be nothing long-lasting between them, she needed to know there was some sort of caring.
‘Have you got a mobile?’
‘I picked up a prepay last week.’ To field calls from employment agencies she’d yet to sign up with. To stay in contact with her sister who was too busy to bother.
‘I’ll give you my number.’ He stood, pushed the plates away and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m not settling for a morsel this time. I’m having the whole banquet.’
Drugging kisses led to all-consuming passion, he carried her up the stairs to a room that was light and fresh and utterly impersonal.
She glanced, vision blurry. ‘This isn’t your room?’
‘My room’s a mess. I couldn’t let you see it with all my stuff all over the floor.’ And then he kissed her more, all over, confusing her thoughts, until she no longer cared about anything but having him inside her.
But after, as she lay loose-limbed and replete, she started to wonder what was going to happen next. She decided to test the waters. ‘I should get back to the hostel.’
He lay beside her, said nothing.
‘All my things are there,’ she couldn’t stop adding.
‘I’ll take you.’
She shouldn’t feel the thump of disappointment when she’d been prepared. But it walloped her in the stomach all the same. He didn’t want her to stay—not even the rest of the night. It really was just the fulfilment of an urge—scratching the itch and all that.
He left to change and she quickly pulled on her clothes, refusing to let emptiness eat away her satisfaction. Finding her way back down to the living area, she hardened her heart. This was her treat, remember? This was her chance to have and take what she wanted—and she had wanted. And she still wanted.
He was already waiting for her. In jeans and tee—she’d never seen him in jeans and, oh, yes, he was still her treat.
They drove back to the hostel in silence. Pulling up outside, he unclicked his seat belt.
‘Don’t come in,’ she said hurriedly, not wanting awkwardness to swallow the last remnants of pleasure.
He didn’t kiss her this time, just looked at her with shadowed, burning eyes that seemed to touch her skin just as if they were his lips anyway. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
THE more Luca thought about it, the more he didn’t like it. And he spent all day thinking about it. Emily couldn’t stay there, but the solution was no more tolerable—either way he was confronted with a situation he wasn’t comfortable with. But inevitably, as it had once already, desire won. He strode into the hostel common room wearing jeans and a shirt and a scowl. ‘Get your bag.’
‘Pardon?’ She was sitting cross-legged on a sofa, eating toast and reading the paper—at nine-thirty at night.
‘You shouldn’t be staying here. It’s not safe.’
‘Not safe?’
‘No,’ he asserted, feeling all the more grumpy. ‘Not safe. Full of transients and people you don’t know. I wouldn’t let my sister stay in a place like this on her own.’
‘Do you have a sister?’
‘No, but if I did, I wouldn’t let her stay here.’
‘You wouldn’t let her?’
He ignored the emphasis. ‘Come on, get your bag. You’re coming home with me.’
‘Do you have a brother?’
‘No. But again, if I did, I wouldn’t want him staying here. Not if I could convince him otherwise. It’s not right for a lone woman to stay here.’ He paced in a circle. ‘When you were with your sister it was different—just. But not now.’
She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. ‘And you don’t think moving in with some stranger is more risky?’
A flash of surprise checked him. ‘I’m not a stranger. And you know you have nothing to fear from me.’
He watched her think about it. Watched her sleepy, luminescent eyes widen.
‘Save your money and stay with me.’ He knew he almost had it won. He added some frills. ‘I’m your holiday fling, right? Why not let me provide the whole package—room, food and entertainment? Take your time to decide on a job and a flat. I don’t mind.’
‘Why, how generous you are, Luca,’ she drawled. ‘And what do you get out of it?’
‘What we’re both counting on.’ His house was his sanctuary. Quiet, relaxing—his and his alone. But for a few days he’d have to adjust. His body’s need was too strong—breaking through the boundaries he’d established years ago. And he couldn’t rest knowing she was alone in this hostel. Privacy and isolation could be restored—after.
‘You know I can’t say no.’
‘I was counting on that too.’
Did she really have nothing to fear? A little doubt niggled in the back of Emily’s brain. No strings, no commitment—wouldn’t living together make it harder to keep that distance? But she couldn’t resist his offer—and it was generous. Even though she was a with-it woman living in the twenty-first century and totally capable of safely staying in the hostel all by herself, she couldn’t help her instinctive, pleased response to his display of macho protectiveness. And while it might not be that risky, it was certainly reckless. Reckless was something Emily hadn’t ever been until that day in Verona. That hedonism, the holiday mood enveloped her now—bringing back the warmth of the Italian sun, the taste of bliss in his arms… Why couldn’t she extend that holiday, just for a little while longer? Didn’t, as he’d once said, she deserve it?
‘Your room, ma’am.’
He put her pack inside the door of the bedroom they’d lain in last night. The guest bedroom. So boundaries would be maintained—she wouldn’t actually be sleeping in his bed. She crossed the room and looked out of the window—last night she hadn’t been lucid enough to notice the view over the private gated gardens.
‘I’ll