“I’m sorry,” he said, and she looked up again, met his gaze.
“For what?”
He shrugged. “For what happened in the car. I was … angry. I should not have kissed you like that.”
“I didn’t mind the kiss,” she said softly, dropping her gaze again as her blood fizzed in her veins at the memory of all that heat and passion. “Renzo, I …”
She stroked the kitten’s soft fur, unsure she could say the words she needed to say.
Renzo reached out and put his hand over hers, oh so lightly, and stroked the kitten with her for a moment. Then his hand dropped away, rested on the counter. “What is it, Faith?”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I shouldn’t have mentioned work. I know you wouldn’t—” She stopped, swallowed. “I know that you don’t expect me to sleep with you simply because I’m your PA.”
“No,” he said, “I don’t. If you sleep with me, Faith, it will be because you want to. Because you cannot imagine another day without giving in to this passion between us.”
“I don’t know what passion is,” she said hurriedly, before she lost her nerve. “I—I’ve never …” Her voice trailed off as her courage fizzled.
He tilted her chin up until she was looking at him, his blue gaze searching hers. “You have never what, Faith? Slept with someone you worked with?”
Her laugh was strangled. “No, that’s not it. I’ve never, um … slept … with anyone.”
He was utterly silent. The only sound in the room was the kitten purring and lapping milk. Her heart was thrumming hard, and a rush of heat climbed into her cheeks, bloomed between her breasts. She was hot, so hot, and she wanted to take off her robe and slip beneath a cool spray of water.
“You are untouched?”
Untouched. It was such a quaint word, and yet it was less shocking than the other word he could have used. Virgin.
Faith nodded.
Renzo slid a hand through his hair and swore softly. “You have stunned me, Faith Black, and I am not easily stunned.”
She tried to laugh it off. “I’m a preacher’s daughter. What did you expect?”
“Yes, but you’ve been away from home for, presumably, eight years now. In all this time, you did not find someone you wanted to be with?”
Not until now.
Faith sighed. She was in so much trouble here. And not just because she was alone with a man she desperately wanted. No, it was worse. Much worse. Because she was at least half in love with him already.
He was kinder than she’d expected, more considerate, and he cared about tiny, helpless animals. It was more than she’d thought he was capable of just two weeks ago when she’d watched him leave the office with Katie Palmer on his arm. He’d been so remote then, so perfect and untouchable and polished. Not at all the kind of man who would warm milk for a kitten in the middle of the night.
Faith bit down on the inside of her lip. She wasn’t really in love with him—but she could be if he kept doing things that made her heart tighten in her chest.
“It’s not that simple,” she said.
“I don’t see why not.”
She picked the kitten up again because it had finished drinking and was starting to wander. “Because it’s different for a woman.”
He reached out, stroked the kitten’s head. “Do you know how to tell if it is a boy or a girl?”
Faith carried the kitten over to the window where a shaft of moonlight pooled over the kitchen sink. “Looks like a girl,” she said after she held it up to the light, relieved that Renzo had decided to talk about something else.
“Ah, so Miss Viper it is. But that is not so pretty, is it?” he said, frowning.
“It is a bit much for such a little one,” Faith replied.
“We could call her Piccolo.”
“What does that mean?” He’d said that word to her earlier today, and she’d wondered then.
“Little one.”
It was certainly appropriate, at least for the kitten. But still not quite right. Faith frowned, thinking. And then it hit her. “I think she is a Lola.”
Renzo smiled. “Si, Lola is perfect. What do you recommend we do with her now that she has eaten?”
“She’ll need a place to sleep,” Faith said. “She’ll need something to burrow into, and a small space where she can’t get into trouble.”
“Then we will find something for her.”
They hunted through the kitchen until Renzo found an empty wine crate in the pantry. Then he retrieved a blanket from a closet and mounded it in the center. After they found another small box to make into a litter pan, Renzo helped her carry everything up to her room. They put Lola into a small walk-in closet off the bathroom and closed the door.
She mewed for a few moments while they stood there looking at each other in silence, hoping she would settle down. She did, and they crept from the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
Moonlight slanted through the long windows, illuminating Renzo’s form as he stood in the center of her room. His skin looked warm, silky, and she realized with a jolt that she ached to touch him. To press her lips to his skin and see if he tasted as delicious as he looked.
“A virgin shouldn’t look at a man the way you’re looking at me,” he said, an edge of strain in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, ducking her head in embarrassment.
He closed the distance between them until he was standing so close that his heat enveloped her and her body began to soften and melt. It was novel. Her nipples were tingling, tightening, her sex aching with renewed want. If he spread her robe and slipped her gown off, she would be incapable of protest.
She wanted him to do it, and she feared he would at the same time.
Renzo lifted his fingers to her cheek, skimmed lightly over her flesh. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “It seems as if I am filled with nothing but apologies tonight. But, Faith, I see now that it would be wrong to take you to my bed. If you were experienced …”
Disappointment filled her. And a thread of anger snagged through the disappointment, pulling the fabric of it taut. “I see,” she said primly, because she couldn’t make herself say anything else. How could she be angry when only a moment before she’d been afraid?
“You are angry,” he said. “I understand. But you’ve saved yourself for a reason, Faith, and you shouldn’t take that next step lightly.”
She hadn’t exactly saved herself so much as she’d had no opportunities. She hadn’t dated very much, because she didn’t trust men after Jason—and when she had dated, she’d inevitably broken the relationship off before they ever reached a point at which she might consider having sex. How did she know, if she got that far, that a man wouldn’t violate her trust again?
Maybe it was a good thing this was happening. Because she wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable embarrassment and broken heart when Renzo grew tired of her.
“You’re wrong,” she said coolly, because she refused to let him see that he’d hurt her. “I’m not angry. I’m just tired. I think you’ve misread the situation entirely. I was not inviting you into my bed at all.”
His hand dropped away. Somehow, she managed not to whimper. Not to beg him to touch her