Kitabı oku: «His Forbidden Conquest», sayfa 5

When she’d just been on the verge of confessing something interesting? Right now, she had his full attention. ‘Tell me what you were going to say, Princess.’

‘No.’

Her face was so expressive that he could guess exactly what was going through her head. And maybe this would take her mind off her worries. It certainly took his mind off everything else, when he was with her. He moved closer. ‘You have to resort to what?’

‘Nothing.’

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet, before whispering in her ear, ‘Carenza Tonielli, are you trying to tell me that some nights you think of me and you touch yourself?’

If she’d blushed before, that was nothing compared to now. Her face was like a beacon.

Except what had started out as teasing had suddenly turned into something else. Something that made it hard for him to breathe. It felt as if someone had just dumped him on top of Vesuvius.

‘Show me,’ he said.

She looked horrified. ‘I can’t do that in front of you!’

Oh, yes, she could—and he’d enjoy every single second of it. ‘Then pretend I’m not here.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Show me.’ It was a request, not a command. Tempting her, the way she tempted him.

‘No.’

But her voice was deeper. Huskier. Filled with the same desire he felt.

Right now, he was pretty sure they both needed this.

He took her hand, drew her middle finger into his mouth and sucked hard. Her pupils dilated and it looked as if she, too, were having problems breathing.

But he could guess why she’d gone shy on him. This was his office. Anyone could walk in. And this was something for his eyes only.

‘Let me make it easier for you,’ he said. He strode over to lock his office door and draw the blinds.

She bit her lip. ‘I know you know about …’

Her wild past. In a different country. Where nothing would get back to her grandparents. ‘Yes,’ he said softly.

‘But I’ve never …’ She shook her head.

And suddenly he knew why she was holding back. ‘You’re not a tart, Caz,’ he said, keeping his voice gentle. ‘You’re a beautiful, incredibly sexy woman, and I love the fact that you’re so responsive to me.’

‘You think I’m so uninhibited, I’d put on a show for you.’ She looked close to tears.

‘No.’ He drew her close. ‘It’s a guy thing. I love the idea that you touch yourself and think of me when I’m not with you. And right now I’m as turned on as hell.’ He shifted so that she could feel the evidence for herself. ‘I’ve got all these pictures in my head. Except they’re not enough. Not when you’re here with me. I want to see you for myself.’

He brushed a kiss against her mouth. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ve had to resort to my own right hand, too.’

‘You touch yourself and think of me?’ she whispered.

‘Yeah.’ His voice sounded rusty as he confessed to her. ‘Since you ask, in the shower, this morning.’ He paused. ‘And not just this morning, either.’

She looked shocked for a moment—and then more than a little pleased.

‘See? You’re thinking the same thing, now.’

‘I … Yes,’ she admitted.

‘This is just between you and me.’ He caught her lower lip between his. ‘I want you naked. And, yeah, I want you uninhibited. Not because I think you’re easy, but because I think you’re the most sensual woman I’ve ever met. And nobody’s ever turned me on as much as you do.’

She said nothing, but she made no protest when he peeled off her strappy top and dropped it on the floor next to her. Or when he unzipped her jeans and pushed the soft denim over her hips, easing her jeans down until they pooled at her feet. Wearing only her bra and knickers, she stood before him.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, and stole another kiss. ‘So will you show me what happens when you imagine me touching you?’

She closed her eyes. For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse—and then she slid one hand between her legs. Slowly, almost shyly, she leaned back against his desk and began to stroke herself.

Dante lasted a minute, if that, before dropping to his knees in front of her, ripping off the lacy confection of her knickers—because they were in the way and he couldn’t wait to take them off properly—and copying the movements of her hand with his tongue.

She whimpered and slid her hands into his hair, urging him on.

He teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, until he felt her knees buckle slightly. He pushed a finger inside her, gratified when she rocked her pelvis against him to draw him deeper. And then he teased her clitoris a bit more, feeling her tighten round him with every stroke of his tongue. When he felt her shudder, he drew her clitoris into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

‘Dante.’ His name was a tortured whisper—and he felt the convulsions rip through her. He waited until the aftershocks had died down, then straightened up.

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said, her tone waspish.

Probably because he was still fully clothed and she was wearing one tiny bit of lace, and she was embarrassed to have lost her control completely under his touch. He grinned. ‘Of course I’m pleased with myself. You just came in my mouth.’

‘Dante!’ Again, her face turned beetroot.

He laughed. ‘I love this side of you, Caz—when you try to be a bad girl.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What do you mean, try?’

‘Because you’re not a bad girl.’

‘Even though—’

‘Forget about London. It doesn’t matter. It’s not who you are.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘And you’re so gorgeous, you drive me a little bit crazy.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘I’ve never asked anyone to do what I just asked you to do.’

It sent a thrill through Carenza, to discover that she could distract this incredibly focused man enough to make him act out of character.

And he clearly wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

She licked her lower lip. ‘Once a week isn’t enough.’

‘I know. It’s not enough for me, either.’ He gave her a hard, intense look. ‘But I still can’t offer you a relationship.’

‘I get that. I’m not going to start stamping my foot or demanding things.’

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘I bought something today. Something I think you’ll like.’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I’m not sure if I dare ask.’

‘You gave me a challenge, last week.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yeah.’ He gave her the most sinful smile. ‘Come upstairs with me.’

‘No way am I walking out of your office practically naked.’ She scooped up her clothes, intending to pull them on again—and then she realised what she’d been too carried away to notice before. ‘You ripped my knickers, Dante.’ And now they were completely unwearable.

‘Um, yeah. Sorry.’ Though he didn’t exactly look repentant. ‘I got impatient.’

‘Which means I have to spend the rest of the evening with no underwear.’

‘That works for me, Princess.’ He brushed a swift kiss against her mouth. ‘But I’ll buy you some new knickers to replace them, OK?’

She closed her eyes. ‘You’re really, really good at embarrassing me. And you don’t have to buy me underwear.’

‘Don’t be embarrassed. I enjoyed every second of what we just did.’ He moved closer. ‘Feel what you did to me.’

She could. And breathing was a problem again. ‘Uh.’

‘And I love it when I can silence you like that.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Come on.’

She dressed swiftly; he unlocked his office door, then locked it again behind them before letting them into his flat and leading her into his kitchen.

‘Close your eyes, Princess,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m asking you to.’ He gave her a lazy smile. ‘This is going to be fun. I promise. Trust me.’

Did she trust him? Well—yes. Otherwise that encounter in his office just now wouldn’t have happened. She knew he wasn’t going to gossip about her or make her feel bad. When she was with him, she didn’t have to worry about anything.

She closed her eyes; a moment later, she could feel something brushing against her lower lip.

‘Keep your eyes closed,’ he whispered. ‘Open your mouth.’

She couldn’t help doing what he asked.

‘Now bite.’

Her mouth was flooded with the taste of gianduja, the rich mixture of ground hazelnuts and cocoa butter that she’d loved since childhood.

‘Good?’ he asked, his voice husky.

‘Very.’

‘Better than sex, you said.’

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

‘I think I’m going to enjoy making you take that back.’ This time, his smile was positively wolfish.

It took him less than ten minutes to have her babbling that yes—oh, God, yes—sex with him was better than chocolate. And then he made her admit it all over again.

‘Good. Just so we’re clear on that,’ he said, when her third climax of the evening had died away.

He disappeared, then returned with two mugs of coffee. ‘Right. Time to tackle the SWOT analysis.’

‘Uh.’ She swallowed hard. ‘How the hell do you expect me to concentrate on business, when you just wiped every single thought out of my head?’

‘That’s what the coffee’s for, Princess.’

She blew out a breath. ‘You amaze me.’

He kissed her swiftly. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Even though I think it was a backhanded one. Now, focus. I want to see those notes.’

As before, Dante took Carenza home on the bike and refused to come in for coffee, saying that he had things to sort out.

But, the next day, she was gratified to discover an email from him in her inbox.

How about a mentoring session on Wednesdays as well?

He didn’t mean just mentoring, she knew that. Not after what had happened between them last night. And the fact that he wanted to see her, too … Dante had made his position clear enough, the previous night. I still can’t offer you a relationship. But Carenza had a feeling that he was definitely protesting too much. His head might be able to come up with a dozen or more reasons why he shouldn’t have a relationship with her, but his body told her another story. And maybe she could teach him that you didn’t always have to listen to your head. That there was nothing wrong with letting yourself get close to someone—that it was OK to be attracted to someone and to act on that attraction. And it was OK to lose control. Twice, now, she’d stripped for him while he’d been fully clothed and in full control throughout. It was time she evened up the balance.

Maybe, she thought, she could mentor him. Teach him to let go and have some fun.

Maybe.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BY WEDNESDAY, Carenza wasn’t any further forward with the sales figures. ‘I can’t get them to work,’ she told Dante over a pizza that evening. ‘Though I’m not stupid.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you’re not.’

‘I really can’t understand why they’re down. All I can tell you is that they’re slowing, year on year. Signor Mancuso says it’s because we’re in a recession.’

‘Right. And the definition of profit is?’

‘Sales minus costs.’

‘Exactly. So if you can’t increase your sales to increase your profits, then you need to cut your costs,’ he said.

‘Are you suggesting I should get rid of some of the staff?’ She sucked in a breath. ‘I can’t do that, Dante. How are they going to pay their bills if they don’t have their job any more?’

‘Staff aren’t your only costs,’ he pointed out. ‘And remember that your staff are assets, too. You need to look at your variable costs.’

‘The ones that change with the volume of sales,’ she said.

He smiled. ‘You’ve been paying attention. Good. So what can you tell me about your raw materials?’

‘We’ve been making ice cream in Naples for more than a hundred years—and we’ve always used organic produce.

Only the best. We’ve used the same suppliers for years and years and years,’ Carenza said. ‘Nonno says if you don’t use the best, you can’t produce the best.’

‘Years and years and years, hmm? That sounds like a rut to me. You always need to audit your suppliers every so often and check that they’re still giving you the best value for money,’ Dante said. ‘Just because they’ve been the best in the past, it doesn’t mean they’re the best now. New people come along with new ideas and new technologies, and things change.’

‘So I sack my suppliers, even though we go way back?’ She bit her lip. ‘That feels a bit—well, ruthless.’

‘I’m not saying you have to replace them. I’m saying you need to audit them and find out if they can do you a better deal than they’re offering now. It’s standard business practice. The way your figures are going,’ he said softly, ‘you’ll be out of business within a year. And that means you’ll have to let all your staff go.’

‘But surely it’s just the recession, and everything will be OK once the economy’s back to normal?’

‘You’re in the same market as I am. Not a competitor, because you’re in a different segment,’ he reminded her, ‘but my restaurants aren’t facing the same problems you are, so it’s not just the recession. Look at your costs, Princess. Are there other organic suppliers that can give you better deals?’

‘So I just ring them up and say, hi, I’m Carenza Tonielli, give me a quote?’

‘Yup.’ He looked at her. ‘Tell me who you use now. I’ll ask them for a quote—and then you can compare that to what they offer you. That and the competitor quotes will help you drive their price down to a more reasonable level, if you want to keep using them.’

‘But they have to make money, too.’

‘Agreed—but, right now, my guess is they’re making a little too much out of you. Time to get some balance back.’

‘Thank you, Dante. I really do appreciate your help.’

He shrugged. ‘Prego, Princess.’

She was sure he called her that purely to annoy her. Though in a strange kind of way it was becoming an endearment. There wasn’t an edge to his voice any more when he called her ‘Princess’. There was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but something she hoped might just grow.

For pudding, she’d organised something special.

‘Is this another of your experiments?’ he asked as she delved in the freezer.

She laughed. ‘Yes. But you’ll like this one. I promise it’s not parmesan. Though I bet that parmesan ice cream would do well in a trendy London restaurant.’

‘Where they care more about the presentation than the taste?’ He grimaced. ‘This is Naples, Princess. That means substance over style.’

She fished a spoon out of the drawer, and unclipped the lid from the plastic tub.

‘Chocolate,’ he said as soon as he saw the ice cream.

‘Better-than-sex chocolate,’ she corrected, feeding him a spoonful.

‘Nope. It’s good, but it’s not that good.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘Or maybe we should take this to bed, so I can compare them side by side …’

‘You are not getting gianduja ice cream all over my sheets,’ she said. ‘I’ll never get the marks out.’

He laughed. ‘You’re such a princess. Do you even do your own laundry?’

Her answer was to drop a spoonful of ice cream down the neck of his shirt.

‘Oh, now that was a severely bad move, Princess.’

It took him thirty seconds to get them both naked on her kitchen floor.

Ten more to smear her with ice cream.

And rather a lot longer to lick it off. By the time he’d finished, Carenza was sated and smiling.

‘I think we’ve established that the ice cream—good as it is—is still second best. You can’t bill it as “better than sex” ice cream on your menu,’ he teased.

‘Uh. Let me get some brain cells back before I have to answer you,’ she groaned. ‘And I’m still sticky.’

‘You started it,’ he pointed out.

And she’d enjoyed every second of it. She loved it when Dante stopped being serious and became her teasing, exuberant lover. And she wanted more of this. Much more. ‘I need a shower.’ She licked a smear of ice cream from his abdomen. ‘So do you.’

‘Is that an offer?’

‘Might be.’ She gave him her sexiest pout. ‘Interested?’

His answer was to pick her up and carry her to the shower. She’d run out of hot water by the time they’d finished, but she didn’t care. The smile on her face felt a mile wide.

Wrapped in towels to keep off the chill, they lounged on her bed. And there was a softness in Dante’s eyes that tempted Carenza to try to get him to open up to her. To start her private reverse mentoring.

‘So what does a restaurateur do for fun,’ she asked, ‘given that he doesn’t own a games console or TV?’

He grimaced. ‘Most TV is pretty mindless—and I hate that reality stuff. Who wants to watch that tedious rubbish?’

‘Not all TV’s like that,’ she said. ‘There are documentaries. Comedies.’ She paused. ‘Do you like films?

He shrugged. ‘My business takes up most of my time.’

‘All work and no play,’ she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

‘Are you calling me dull, Princess?’

‘No, you’re not dull.’ He had far too much energy to be dull. ‘But maybe,’ she said carefully, ‘you’re missing out on things.’

‘So what do you do for fun?’ he asked.

Was he being polite, or was he really interested? She wasn’t sure. ‘I haven’t really had a chance to go out much since I’ve been back in Naples. But in London I used go to the cinema a lot,’ she said. ‘And I’d have a glass of wine afterwards with my friends so we could talk about the film.’

‘Serious arty discussions, hmm?’ His expression told her that he thought it was more likely that she was discussing the hunkiness of the male leads with her girly friends.

She folded her arms. ‘If you call me an airhead again, I’ll … I’ll …’

‘Yes?’ He looked interested.

She subsided. ‘Sometimes, Dante, you’re so difficult.’

‘And you’re not?’ he asked dryly.

‘Not as difficult as you are, no.’

‘So you like talking about films.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Next you’re going to tell me you’re in a book group.’

‘No, I’m not. But I do like reading.’ She paused. ‘You?’

‘I read the business news. Usually online.’

She was still no closer to finding out how he let off steam. ‘OK, I give up. What do you do for fun?’

‘Sometimes I go out on the bike.’

‘And that’s it?’

He leaned closer. ‘And sometimes I have sex with a gorgeous blonde. Fairly incredible sex, actually.’

She could feel her face going beetroot, and he spread his hands and laughed. ‘Hey. Don’t complain. You asked.’

‘So I’m your main leisure activity?’

‘At the moment, I guess so.’

She frowned. ‘You don’t ever go dancing?’

‘Do I look like a man who dances?’

He looked like the kind of man who’d dance an incredibly sexy tango, one that would leave her wet and panting for him. Not that she was going to tell him that. ‘Let’s give it a try. Will you go out with me on Saturday night?’

‘Dancing? Sorry, Princess, not my scene.’

‘How do you know? You’ve never been dancing with me. It’ll be fun.’ She tipped her head to one side and gave him her most winsome smile. ‘Come with me.’

‘I’d rather not.’ He pulled a face. ‘I hate dancing.’

She sighed. ‘You’re the one who says we don’t understand each other. If you come with me, see what I do for fun, then maybe you’ll understand a bit better what makes me tick.’

‘I understand you already.’

‘No, you don’t. You just think you do. The same as I know that whenever I think I’ve worked you out, I’m going to find out there’s yet another layer.’

‘Now you’re calling me an onion?’

‘No. Just complex.’ She kissed him lightly. ‘Come with me, Dante. We’ll have a good time. If you really hate it, we don’t have to stay.’ She gave him her sexiest pout. ‘Don’t you want to get hot and sweaty with me?’

‘I can think of better ways,’ he said.

‘Trust me, it’ll be a lot more fun than you think.’ She licked her lower lip. ‘I guarantee you’ll like my dress. And my shoes.’ She could see in his face that he was looking for excuses. ‘Saturday night is mentor night,’ she reminded him. ‘Only, this time, I’ll be mentoring you.’

He frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

‘I’m mentoring you in having fun. In understanding me. In what makes me tick.’

Dante thought about it. He didn’t need to know what made her tick. That was nothing to do with the mentoring arrangement—or the fact they still couldn’t be in the same room as each other for long without needing to rip each other’s clothes off. But he still didn’t want any emotional involvement. Still couldn’t handle it.

‘Please, Dante. I’ve been working really hard. I’d like an evening off.’ She paused. ‘And you work harder than I do.’

He shrugged at the implication. ‘I don’t need time off.’ ‘Just an hour. That’s all,’ she said. ‘Please?’ It was hard to resist the appeal in those blue, blue eyes. He sighed. ‘This is against my better judgement,’ he said, ‘but OK. Not this Saturday—next week.’

It was a compromise. And she’d take it. ‘Thank you.’ She slid her arms round him and held him close. ‘I promise you won’t regret it.’

‘So how did you get on with the figures?’ Dante asked on the Saturday night.

‘I’m still waiting for some of the quotes. But I did look at the variable costs.’ She paused. ‘And something’s wrong there.’

‘Come and sit down, and we’ll take a look at it.’ He drew another chair round to his side of the desk.

‘If I’m selling less ice cream, that means I don’t have to make so much of it in the first place, so I should be using fewer ingredients—right?’

‘That should be how it works, yes.’

‘But I’m not. If anything, according to the invoices, I’m using more.’

He frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

She nodded. ‘And I can’t see a reason for it. I don’t want to worry Nonno in case it sets off his angina. I guess I should ask Emilio Mancuso, seeing as he’s been manager for the last five years.’ She sighed. ‘The last time I asked him something, he told me not to worry my pretty little head about it.’

‘What an idiot.’ Dante gave her a wry smile. ‘Did you accidentally-on-purpose stand on his foot—in your sharpest heels?’

‘I wanted to,’ she admitted, ‘but I resisted the impulse. I can see why he doesn’t like me. He’s been running everything for five years, then I waltz in from London and take over, when I know next to nothing about the business. It’s kind of a slap in the face to him, and I need to take his feelings into consideration when I deal with him.’

‘Understanding your staff always helps.’ Dante raised an eyebrow. ‘But he doesn’t know you at all, does he?’

She frowned. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because if he did, he’d realise you’re here to stay. So he should be working with you and making himself your right-hand man, instead of putting obstacles in your way. Mentoring you to make sure all the work he’s put in isn’t all undone.’

She grimaced. ‘I already told you, I couldn’t ask him to be my mentor.’

‘Because you don’t trust him?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him. Whether it’s the fact he resents me for swanning in, or I resent him for being there for my grandparents when I should’ve been there … I don’t know. And I feel so bad saying that.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do, Dante. And I hate that.’

‘Bide your time,’ he said. ‘Don’t rush into anything. Gather all your facts, first, look at them, and then you can make an informed decision. But don’t rush it.’