A Sicilian Husband. Kate Walker. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Kate Walker
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474063814
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I’m hungry. And I would prefer to have company while I eat rather than spend the rest of the evening alone. I have a table booked for two. It would seem a waste not to use it, when you are looking for company too.’

      Something about that ‘looking for company’ snagged on a raw edge in Terrie’s mind, making her hesitate sharply. But even as she was rethinking hastily he leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes, fixing her with the hypnotic force of his deep, dark gaze.

      ‘Per piacere,’ he said softly, huskily. ‘Please have dinner with me.’

      She should say that she was having dinner with her friends—with the rest of the conference. She was going to say exactly that. She actually opened her mouth to form the words, only to hear herself say exactly the opposite.

      ‘Yes,’ she managed a touch breathlessly. ‘Thank you.’

      If he had put one foot wrong in his reaction… If he had so much as looked in the least bit self-satisfied or triumphant, then she would have retracted immediately. She would have rushed to her feet, told him that no, she’d changed her mind, she was already booked for this evening. She would have rejoined Claire and Anna and eaten the buffet meal that came as part of the conference package. And, although she would have probably always regretted not accepting his invitation, she would have told herself that it was safer this way—that she wasn’t putting herself at any sort of risk.

      But Giovanni Cardella did nothing of the sort.

      Instead he simply reached out one long, elegant hand. The bronzed fingers touched hers where they lay on the polished wood table-top, rested lightly, warmly, briefly—just for a moment—and then lifted and moved to pick up his glass once again.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said, lifting it to his lips and draining the last of his wine. ‘Shall we go through to the restaurant?’

      And as she nodded silently Terrie admitted to herself that it had been the brevity of that touch that had been her undoing. Delicate and swift, it had been like the feel of a butterfly alighting and then flying away again. And it had left her feeling lost and unsatisfied. It had just been enough to awaken those electric feelings that had fizzed over her skin. Awaken them and then leave them—and she wanted more. Much, much more.

      She didn’t know whether it was those feelings, or simply coincidence, but as she got up from her chair to follow him she caught her foot on something and stumbled awkwardly.

      At once Gio was at her side, hands coming out to support her, powerful arms taking her full weight with only the faintest tensing of muscle to reveal any effort. And as he held her close, her cloud-coloured eyes flew to his and locked with ebony darkness.

      ‘Careful!’ The single word shivered over her skin.

      Would he kiss her now? Terrie wondered, the question flaring so swiftly in her mind, burning so fiercely that she felt sure that Gio must see it in her eyes and recognise her need in an instant. And it was that need that stunned her, shaking her rigid because she had never felt anything like it before in her life.

      Oh, she had been attracted to men, obviously, in her past. She had even come close to wondering if she was in love. But nothing had lasted. Nothing had taken root and settled and flowered into something greater, something stronger, something…

      Something permanent?

      Just the thought shocked her rigid.

      No, she had to be kidding. Had to be fooling herself. Jumping in feet first where someone wiser and more thoughtful would hold well back. Feelings like that didn’t just hit home and set in the space of a couple of seconds. They took time to grow, to develop and become a vital part of you. They came with knowledge and understanding and she knew little enough about this Giovanni Cardella—and understood less.

      ‘Th-thank you.’

      She didn’t know if it was the stumble or the realisation of what she was feeling that put the tremor into her voice. She only knew that she needed to touch him—really touch him! Feel that smooth olive skin without the barrier of his jacket or hers in between.

      And so she lifted her hand, raising it to his face. And let her fingers rest against his cheek, lying along the hard line of his jaw, supremely sensitive to the warmth of his flesh, the power of bone, the faint roughness where the hairs of his beard lay just below the surface of his skin.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said again, amazed that this time her voice sounded stronger when inside her stomach the nerves were twisting themselves into tight, painful knots, squeezing harder and harder with each breath she took.

      ‘Di niente. No problem.’

      His hand touched hers again, pressing it softly against his cheek. Then his fingers closed around hers, lifting them, turning them so that he was looking straight down on to the delicate tips, the oval-shaped, shell-pink painted nails.

      ‘No problem,’ he murmured again, but with a very different intonation this time. One that Terrie struggled to interpret.

      But, even as she was reaching mentally for the indecipherable note in his voice, he moved again, and this time he blew her thought process right out of focus. He lifted the hand he held; lowered his head towards it. And when his mouth and her fingers met he pressed a long, lingering kiss first on their tips and then, slowly and sensually, all the way to the back of her hand.

      ‘Gio…’

      His name was just a sigh from her lips, faint as a breath, and she was stunned and bewildered to find that sudden tears stung her eyes. Tears of confusion and delight. Of almost fearful sensitivity to each and every movement that this man made.

      Did he know what he was doing to her? Did he realise that, when she was used to the fumbling, clumsy, grabbing advances of men closer to her own twenty-four years, his gentleness, his gallantry—his courtship—were infinitely more seductive than any more passionate approach?

      A moment before, she had longed for his kiss. The image of him taking her mouth in passion had flared in her mind like the blaze of lightning. But he had kissed her hand, and the delicacy of the gesture, the gentleness of his touch, had had so much more power over her feelings than any more overt approach.

      ‘I’d love to have dinner with you,’ she managed, needing to say something to show him a touch of what she was feeling, and yet afraid to let him in fully. To reveal just how deeply he had affected her.

      His smile was swift, flashing on and off with the speed of a neon sign.

      ‘I thought we’d already agreed on that.’

      This was going exactly the way he wanted it, Gio reflected as he took her arm to lead her out of the bar and towards the ornate glass doors into the restaurant. At least now Terrie—Terrie! What sort of a name was that for a woman? Now that Terrie had stopped pretending that she needed to be persuaded to spend time with him, they both understood what the evening was all about.

      She had wanted him to kiss her a moment ago. It had shown in her face. But a kiss was not what he had in mind. At least not a kiss on the mouth. The only woman he had kissed on the lips since Lucia had been Megan. Gio let a brief, fleeting smile cross his lips at the thought of his new and hugely pregnant sister-in-law. She had brought some much-needed warmth into his half-brother’s life and, he admitted, into his own. Megan he would kiss and hug willingly. And his mother. No one else.

      And certainly not this woman. Not some passing stranger he had picked up in a bar purely at the prompting of his most basic masculine urgings. A one-night stand was all it was. All it could ever be. And Teresa understood that. For a moment there he had had his doubts, but the way she had accepted his invitation to dinner, the carefully staged stumble so that he would be forced to take her in his arms, had reassured him of the facts. She knew exactly what was going on; how to play this game.

      It should be plain sailing from now on. A meal. Some social chat. A touch of flattery, some light flirtation across a candlelit table. A shared bottle of wine—a nightcap…

      And they would share that nightcap in