She leaned back against the pillows and her eyes closed as he continued to massage her breast. ‘You have a house there, don’t you?’ she breathed. ‘In Tuscany.’
‘Not for much longer. That’s why I’m going. I’m selling it.’ The pressure on her breast increased as his voice hardened. ‘And you can keep me company. I have to take an earlier flight via Paris to do some business but you could always fly out separately.’ He paused. ‘Doesn’t the idea tempt you, Darcy?’
His words filtered into her distracted mind as he continued to tease her exquisitely aroused nipple and her lashes fluttered open. His black eyes were as hard as shards of jet but that didn’t affect the magic he was creating with the slow movement of his fingers as she tried to concentrate on his question.
Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. Of course a few days away with him tempted her—but it wasn’t the thought of flying to Tuscany which was making her heart race like a champion stallion. He tempted her. Would it be so wrong to grab a last session of loving with him—but in a very different environment? Because although his apartment was unimaginably big, it had its limitations. Despite the pool in the basement, the heated roof terrace and huge screening room, she was starting to feel like part of the fixtures and fittings. Couldn’t she go out to Italy and, in the anonymous setting of a foreign country, pretend to be his real girlfriend for a change? Someone he really cared about—rather than just someone whose panties he wanted to rip off every time he saw her.
‘I guess it does tempt me,’ she said. ‘A little.’
‘Not the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever had,’ he commented. ‘But I take it that’s a yes?’
‘It’s a yes,’ she agreed, relaxing back into the feathery bank of pillows as he turned his attention to her other aching breast.
‘Good.’ There was a pause and the circular movement of his fingers halted. ‘But first you’re going to have to let me buy you some new clothes.’
Her eyes snapped open and she froze—automatically pushing his hand away. ‘When will you get it into your thick skull that I’m not interested in your money, Renzo?’
‘I think I’m getting the general idea,’ he said drily. ‘And although your independence is admirable, I find it a little misguided. Why not just accept gracefully? I like giving presents and most women like receiving them.’
‘It’s a very kind thought and thank you all the same,’ she said stiffly, ‘but I don’t want them.’
‘This isn’t a question of want, more a case of need and I’m afraid that this time I’m going to have to insist,’ he said smoothly. ‘I have a certain...position to maintain in Italy and, as the woman accompanying me, you’ll naturally be the focus of attention. I’d hate you to feel you were being judged negatively because you don’t have the right clothes.’
‘Just as you’re judging me right now, you mean?’ she snapped.
He shook his head, his lips curving into a slow smile and his deep voice dipping. ‘You must have realised by now that I prefer you wearing nothing at all, since nothing looks better than your pale and perfect skin. But although it’s one of my biggest fantasies, I really don’t think we can have you walking around the Tuscan hills stark naked, do you? I’m just looking out for you, Darcy. Buy yourself a few pretty things. Some dresses you can wear in the evenings. It isn’t a big deal.’
She opened her mouth to say that it was a big deal to her but he had risen to his feet and his shadow was falling over her so that she was bathed in darkness as she lay there. She looked up into lash-shuttered eyes which gleamed like ebony and her heart gave a funny twist as she thought about how much she was going to miss him. How was she going to return to a life which was empty of her powerful Italian lover? ‘What are you doing?’ she croaked as he began to unzip his jeans.
‘Oh, come on. Use your imagination,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going to persuade you to take my money.’
RENZO LOOKED AT his watch and gave a click of impatience. Where the hell was she? She knew he detested lateness, just as she knew he ran his diary like clockwork. In the exclusive lounge at Florence airport he crossed one long leg over the other, aware that the movement had caused the heads of several women instinctively to turn, but he paid them no attention for there was only one woman currently on his mind—and not in a good way.
The flight he had instructed Darcy to catch—in fact, to purchase a first-class ticket for—had discharged its passengers twenty minutes earlier and she had not been among their number. His eyes had narrowed as he’d stared at the hordes of people streaming through the arrivals section, fully expecting to see her eagerly pushing her way through to see him, her pale face alight with excitement and her curvy body resplendent in fine new clothes—but there had been no sight of her. A member of staff had dealt with his irritation and was currently checking the flight list while he was forced to consider the unbelievable...that she might have changed her mind about joining him in Italy.
He frowned. Had her reluctance to take the cash he had insisted she accept gone deeper than he’d imagined? He’d thought she was simply making a gesture—hiding the natural greed which ran through the veins of pretty much every woman—but perhaps he had misjudged her. Perhaps she really was deeply offended by his suggestion that she buy herself some decent clothes.
Or maybe she’d just taken the money and done a runner, not intending to come here and meet him at all.
Renzo’s mouth hardened, because wasn’t there a rogue thought flickering inside his head which almost wished that to be the case? Wouldn’t he have welcomed a sound reason to despise her, instead of this simmering resentment that she was preparing to take her leave of him? That she had been the one to make a decision which was usually his province. He glanced again at his wristwatch. And how ironic that the woman to call time on a relationship should be a busty little red-headed waitress he’d picked up in a cocktail bar rather than one of the many more eligible women he’d dated.
He hadn’t even been intending to go out the night he’d met her. He’d just planned to have a quick drink with a group of bankers he’d known from way back who had been visiting from Argentina and wanted to see some London nightlife. Renzo didn’t particularly like nightclubs and remembered the stir the six men had made as they’d walked into the crowded Starlight Room at the Granchester Hotel, where they’d ordered champagne and decided which of the women sipping cocktails they should ask to dance. But Renzo hadn’t been interested in the svelte women who had been smiling invitingly in his direction. His attention had been caught by the curviest little firecracker he’d ever seen. She’d looked as if she had been poured into the black satin dress which had skimmed her rounded hips, but it had been her breasts which had caused the breath to dry in his throat. Madonna, che bella! What breasts! Luscious and quivering, they had a deep cleavage he wanted to run his tongue over and that first sight of them was something he would remember for as long as he lived.
He had ended up dancing with no one, mainly because he’d been too busy watching her and his erection had been too painful for him to move without embarrassment. He’d ordered drinks only from her, and wondered afterwards if she noticed he left them all. Each time he’d summoned her over to his table he could sense the almost palpable electricity which sizzled in the air—he’d certainly never felt such a powerful attraction towards a total stranger before. He’d expected her to make some acknowledgement of the silent chemistry which pulsed between them, but she hadn’t. In fact the way her eyelids had half shielded her huge green eyes and the cautious looks she’d