‘Ms Wells, sir.’ The butler ushered her into the sitting room.
She stood as if poised for flight, just inside the door. Once more that shock of connection smacked him square in the chest. He rocked back on his feet.
Jerkily she lifted a hand to smooth her hair, then dropped it as she caught his scrutiny.
Tension, palpable and vibrating, strung out between their locked gazes.
Carys Wells looked out of place in the opulence of Melbourne’s most exclusive hotel suite. Unless, of course, she was here to provide a personal service to the occupant. Delivering a message or bringing room service.
Alessandro’s thoughts jagged on the sort of personal service he’d like her to provide.
It didn’t matter that he knew any number of more beautiful women. Clever, high achievers who combined chic style, business savvy and an eagerness to share his bed.
Something about Carys set her apart.
Her curves would horrify the perpetually dieting women he knew in Milano. Her dark hair was severely styled, if you could call scraping it back into a bun a style. Her make-up was discreet, and she wore a sensible navy suit that no woman of his acquaintance would be seen dead in.
Yet the way her face had lit with emotion earlier hinted at a more subtle attractiveness. And those legs…The sight of her shapely calves and trim ankles in high heels and dark stockings tugged at his long-dormant libido.
Alessandro’s hands flexed. He wanted to explore further, to discover if her legs were as sexy all the way up.
Instinct—or was it memory?—told him her legs were superb. Just as he knew he’d found pleasure in her neatly curved figure and her deliciously full lips.
Belatedly he dragged his gaze from the woman who’d lured him halfway around the world.
The way she sidetracked him was unprecedented. One way or another he had to get her out of his system.
‘Grazie, Robson. That’s all for tonight.’
The butler inclined his head. ‘There are refreshments on the sideboard should you require them, sir, madam.’ Not by so much as a flicker did he indicate he knew the woman before him to be a co-worker. Then he moved silently away towards the kitchen and the staff entrance.
‘Please—’ Alessandro gestured to the nearby lounge ‘—take a seat.’
For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to accept. Finally she walked across the antique carpet to sit in a cavernous wing chair. The glow of lamps lit her face, revealing a tension around her pursed lips he hadn’t noticed before. She looked tired.
Alessandro flicked a look at his watch. It was very late. He’d become accustomed to working long into the night, fuelled by caffeine and his own formidable drive.
Conscience niggled. He should have left this till tomorrow. But he’d been unable to ignore the edgy frustration that drove him relentlessly. He was so close he couldn’t rest till he had answers from her.
He’d already been stymied once. Alessandro had confronted her at the ball only to find he’d been robbed of composure and even the power of speech by a shocking blast of recognition. He’d frozen, the one thought in his atrophying mind to hold her and not let her go.
The completeness of that instant of vulnerability had stunned and shamed him. Never had he felt at such a loss. Not in business. Definitely not in his dealings with women.
Now he was himself once more. It would not happen again.
Alessandro Mattani did not do vulnerable.
He thrust aside the momentary doubt at his tactics and strode across to the sideboard.
‘Tea, coffee?’ he offered. ‘Wine?’
‘I don’t want anything.’ She sat straighter, her chin hitched high in unspoken defiance. That spark of rebellion brought colour to her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle.
Alessandro paused, watching fascinated as she transformed from drab to intriguing in an instant. Then he turned, poured himself a small measure of cognac, and took a seat opposite her.
All the while she watched him with those luminous eyes that had captivated him the moment he saw her.
What did she see? Was she cataloguing the differences in him? It surprised him to discover how much he wanted to read her thoughts. Know what she felt. Did she too experience this gnawing tension, like an ache between the ribs?
‘I see you’ve noticed my scar.’
The wash of colour along her cheekbones intensified, but she didn’t look away. Nor did she respond.
Alessandro wasn’t vain enough to worry about his marred face. Besides, it was his wealth and position as much as his looks to which women responded. They might say they wanted a man of charm or kindness, but he knew how fickle they were. Neither marriage vows nor ties of blood between mother and child could hold them when they found someone who offered more wealth and prestige.
That didn’t bother Alessandro. He had both in abundance. If ever he wanted a woman permanently he’d have his pick. Some time in the future. Not now.
He swirled the fine brandy in its glass, inhaling its mellow scent.
‘Am I so repulsive, then?’ He shot her a look that dared her to prevaricate.
Repulsive? Carys wished he were. Then maybe she could tear her gaze away. Her heart hammered. She struggled to hide her shortened breathing as she felt the tug of his potent masculine aura.
It had always been the same. But she’d prayed time and common sense would cure her of the fatal weakness.
She met his intense moss-green gaze, recognised the way his thick dark lashes shadowed his eyes. His eyelids dropped as if to hide his thoughts. The familiarity of that expression, as much as its banked heat, made her insides squirm in mixed delight and distress.
‘You got me here to talk about your looks?’ Carys had more sense than to answer his question.
To her horror she found him more attractive than ever. Even the scar leading from just beneath one straight black eyebrow up to his temple failed to detract from the beautiful spare lines of his leanly sculpted face.
She gripped her hands tight in her lap, alarmed to discover that, when it came to pure animal attraction, Alessandro still exerted a power she couldn’t deny.
Just as well she had more sense than to succumb to it. She was cured. Surely she was.
‘You keep staring at it.’ He lifted the brandy to his lips. Carys watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed and her pulse tripped crazily. She’d rarely seen him in formal clothes, but they only enhanced his magnetism.
Alessandro had been an enigma, suave and sophisticated, impossibly elegant even in the most casual clothes, even without clothes. But at the same time there’d been something earthy and all-male about him. Something innately stronger than the varnish of wealth and centuries of good breeding.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
Heat flared in her cheeks as Carys realised she was imagining him naked, long-limbed and strong. She tore her gaze away.
She might despise him, but she was still woman enough to respond to his sheer sex appeal.
‘Nothing. I was just thinking about how you’ve changed.’ It was only half a lie.
‘Have I altered so much?’ She sensed movement and turned her head to find him leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
She shrugged. ‘It’s been…’ Just in time she stopped herself. He didn’t need to know she recalled to the day how long it had been. ‘A while.