Kitabı oku: «Modern Romance March 2019 5-8», sayfa 10

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IVO HAD STOPPED by his grandfather’s office on his way to the nursery. He’d made some tentative enquiries today. If yesterday had taught him anything it was that he was going to have to bring some people in on the secret.

And therein lay the problem: it was a secret.

* * *

Her evening meal arrived at the same time as the previous evening. She had just lifted the dome when the door opened. Ivo took the cover from her hand and put it back down over the food.

‘That looks terrible.’

She pulled in a taut breath before she lifted her gaze to the man who stood there looking out-of-this-world attractive.

The sight of him in a beautifully cut pale grey business suit, the formality softened by the open collar of his white shirt, was a signal for her hormones to go wild.

She swallowed, but found there was no moisture in her mouth. Instead she ran her tongue nervously over her dry lips. ‘It looks delicious.’

He picked up the wine bottle and looked at the label. ‘I think we can do better than this.’

‘I’m not drinking.’ She really didn’t need her inhibitions loosening; she needed them shoring up. ‘Help yourself.’

‘I’m driving.’

‘Don’t let me keep you,’ she said, feeling pretty stupid for assuming he was here to keep her company.

He pulled out a chair and straddled it. ‘We’re eating out.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ she flared back.

‘Humour me.’

‘Jamie...’

‘They tell me his temperature is down and he’s looking much better.’ He arched an interrogative sable brow. ‘Is that not right?’

‘He needs a familiar face...he...’ The impact of his male aura was so strong that she was only just seeing the tension in his face evident in the fine muscles around his jaw and the lines etched around his sensual, sculpted mouth.

‘He what?’ he prompted.

‘I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving him at the moment.’

‘Has it occurred to you that poor Jamie might need a break from you?’

She fought the urge to respond to his smile.

‘Look, you’ve been here a few days now and you’ve seen nothing but the inside of the nursery. If there’s a problem we’ll only be five minutes away. Come on, you’re going stir crazy, admit it.’

‘Jamie still looks very pale.’

‘So do you.’

The hungry intensity of his scrutiny made her stomach flip. She lifted a self-conscious hand to her face. If he thought this was pale he should have seen her before she’d put the blusher on, but then he had—he’d seen her in the night.

‘But—’

He surged to his feet, all restless energy and testosterone making her feel dizzy. He looked, she decided, like a man with a lot on his mind.

‘No buts, it’s all arranged. Nanny Emily will take first shift and Olivia will sleep in the nursery. You need a night off.’

‘But I’m not dressed.’ And she had the start of a tension headache—lack of sleep, probably.

Lack of something!

Sadly, she was dressed.

He watched as she smoothed down the fabric of the slip dress over her thighs with a telling nervy, jerky motion, while calculating which would be the quickest way to remove it. Slide the straps over her shoulders and tug, or over her head in one smooth motion?

Both images were pleasurable enough to send a roar of heat through his bloodstream. So strong that it took all his willpower not to reach out for her there and then.

‘If we don’t spend any time at all together Salvatore is going to start smelling a rat,’ he lied. ‘I already told him we had a date night.’ He pushed away the memory of his grandfather’s bewildered question, Flora who?

She gave a defeated sigh. ‘Oh, all right, then.’ She got to her feet at the same time as him. ‘But I need my bag.’

He stood waiting, the display of foot-tapping a bit over the top considering it had taken her barely five minutes to pick up her bag and a light wrap and swop her flat ballet pumps for a pair of sandals with heels.

‘I looked in on Jamie,’ she said, hating that she felt the need to justify herself as she panted to keep up with the long-legged pace he set as he led her out into the courtyard and over to a long, low-slung, power-statement convertible.

‘This is yours, I think.’ She held out her hand.

He looked at the cufflink but there was nothing to read in his expression. ‘Thanks. I stopped by last night to look in on the baby. You were asleep.’

She wanted to ask him if she’d only dreamt being in his arms, dreamt his heartbeat, but she couldn’t risk the answer being yes, and looking like a total idiot who dreamt of him—even if it was a fairly accurate assessment.

The top of the car was down as they drove down the winding road from the Castello to the small town beside the sea.

It seemed to Flora that the farther they got from the Castello, the more relaxed Ivo became. The tension left his shoulders, even the lines bracketing his mouth relaxed.

His next comment confirmed her observation.

‘That place...’ He glanced at the reflection in the rear-view mirror. ‘It’s oppressive.’

It seemed a strange way for anyone to speak about their home. ‘It’s very beautiful, but if somewhere has bad associations, I suppose—’

‘My father killed himself in his flat in Rome, if that is what you mean by bad associations, and I do not live in the past.’ He was living in the present. The problem was the present was not a very uplifting place to be; witnessing the disintegration of his grandfather was agonising. ‘I simply have no taste for living in a museum.’

The drive had taken only minutes. They were already passing under a massive stone arch and into the town, at which point the feeling of freedom and wind in her hair vanished. They slowed to a snail’s pace.

‘They’ve pedestrianised the old town, which is good, but it’s kind of moved the problem out here,’ Ivo explained above the cacophony of car horns.

This part looked pretty old to Flora. He slammed on the brakes and threw out a curse as a scooter cut across them. The driver looked back and grinned. ‘I’ll park here and we’ll walk in. It’s only a few minutes, even in those heels.’

‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

‘I was meant to, then?’

She slung him a look and he chuckled softly as he turned off the road and pulled the car onto a cobbled area and went round to open the passenger door for her. She managed a graceful exit, even though he was looking at her legs.

‘Yes, very good shoes.’

Flora made a snorting sound.

‘It’s this way. I think you’ll like it. It’s right on the water and the seafood is excellent.’

They walked down the cobbled streets that became narrower as they got nearer the waterfront. The place was buzzing with a mixture of holidaymakers and locals, the atmosphere relaxed, almost festive.

‘This is really lovely but are you sure us...this...? It wasn’t part of our arrangement. Things are getting a bit, well, blurred.’ She gnawed nervously on her lower lip, gave an awkward little grimace and lifted her eyes with appeal to his. ‘Don’t you think?’

‘Are you regretting sleeping with me?’

Her eyes flew wide. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Then I don’t see a problem.’

He stood aside and let her enter the restaurant ahead of him, then as he joined her he placed his hand lightly in the small of her back.

The restaurant owner appeared almost immediately, greeting Ivo by name.

Ivo in turn introduced Flora, then the man personally led them past the diners inside to a table beside the water.

A romantic spot, or it would have been but for the tables joined together to accommodate a large family group who were having a celebratory dinner.

The manager said something to Ivo, who translated for her benefit.

‘It’s the grandmother’s eightieth birthday. He asked if you’d prefer a quieter spot?’

‘I’m fine...if you are?’

‘You all right with the noise?’ Ivo asked as the table began to clap the arrival of a large birthday cake laden with candles.

Before she could assure him she was fine, that she loved the atmosphere of the place, a toy car landed in the dish of olives in the centre of the table, splashing Ivo with oil.

She didn’t know what she expected his reaction to be but laughter wasn’t it. One of the adults at the table had got to his feet but Ivo was quicker. He picked the car up and, wiping it on a napkin, he walked across to the table.

She watched, her expression growing wistful as he handed it to a toddler in a high chair and said something to the adults that sent up a roar of laughter. He was so good with children.

It was no struggle to see him with his own one day, a brood to carry on his family name and a wife he could be proud of.

For some reason she felt her eyes fill.

Some reason? Really, Flora, who are you kidding?

Her heart ached because she would never be that woman, but Ivo was born to be a father.

‘You want to move?’ he asked softly when he returned to the table and retook his place.

Flora blinked hard. ‘No, I’m fine, unless you—’

She was interrupted by a loud shout from a man across the restaurant. ‘Little brat! This is a disgrace! Hey, don’t you people know how to control your kids? People are here to escape their kids... Never heard of a babysitter, mate? You... Hey, you... I want to see the manager! Don’t you know who I am?’

She could see the look of contempt on Ivo’s face and was sure that it was an expression mirrored around the place.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ Ivo murmured.

‘What have you to be sorry about?’ she asked. ‘Anyway, he’s a Brit—maybe I should be the one apologising. I think he’s trying to impress his lady friend. You know, he reminds me of someone I used to know,’ she confided, lowering her voice to a confidential murmur.

‘Who?’

She gave a shame-faced grimace. ‘Callum. He always liked to be the centre of attention, too.’

* * *

Ivo didn’t seek attention but he commanded it. She felt a stab of disbelief when she remembered comparing the two men in her head.

She must have been blind!

Her eyes went to the strong, beautiful man sitting across from her and the idea of falling in love with someone you had only known for a matter of days no longer seemed something to laugh at.

It was no joke.

It was real.

It was a fact.

She felt weirdly light-headed as she embraced the sense of relief, along with the pain she’d been avoiding.

She suddenly felt more alive than she had done in an age. She had so much to give, she knew that—the sadness was he didn’t want to take, not her heart anyway. But she’d give him what he did want, which, for the moment at least, was her body.

Afterwards, she’d deal with the hurt.

Her glance lifted from the glass of wine she was clutching to where Ivo sat across the table. She wanted to say, Let’s leave. Take me to bed, love me.

She was framing the bold words in her head but when she saw his face, her resolve faltered and faded.

The contempt she’d seen stamped into the aristocratic angles and planes was still there but the overwhelming impression now, as he looked past her and into the main dining area, was chilling hauteur that, as she watched, tipped over into anger as the tipsy tourist launched into the second act of his tirade, his voice drowning out the clearly pacifying responses of the manager, who was attempting to calm the situation.

One of the children at the table started crying and Ivo, mouth compressed, eyes like ice, put his glass down and glanced over at Flora.

‘If you’ll excuse me, this won’t take a moment.’

‘No!’ Without thinking she reached across the table and grabbed his sleeve. ‘Don’t go, please, leave it. Let someone else.’ Of course, she knew that Ivo wasn’t the person who let someone else.

He was the someone else.

He smiled into her worried face. ‘It’s fine. I’m not going to ask him to step outside.’ Unless absolutely necessary.

She watched as Ivo approached the table, somehow managing to look urbane and darkly menacing at the same time.

She couldn’t hear what he said to make the tourist go quiet but whatever it was didn’t stop the wife taking a selfie of herself with Ivo.

Ivo received several nods of approving gratitude as he walked back to the table.

Leaning down, he caught Flora’s hand, brought it up to his lips. She was caught unawares; the tingle from the contact went all the way down to her curling toes. The hypnotic tug of his dark eyes was utterly irresistible, and she sat transfixed by a wave of lustful sheer longing.

‘What did you say to him?’

‘I told him we were newly engaged and were enjoying a private dinner. A private, quiet dinner.’

Their glances connected. The pupils of his dark eyes had expanded dramatically, and she could hear his laboured breaths—or were they her own?

Flora felt the well of love inside her expand until she could barely breathe; the noise of the rest of the room faded out.

It was Ivo who broke the spell.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he growled.

She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t; she just nodded.

They both stood up. Ivo peeled notes from a money clip in his pocket and laid them on the table, grabbed her hand and together they walked out.

‘You paid and we didn’t eat.’ She realised as they reached the car.

His dark eyes flickered her way. ‘You want to go back?’

‘No, I want you to make love to me.’

Without a word he walked around the car to her side, put one hand behind her head; the other he curved over her bottom and pulled her tight into his body, sealing them at hip level before he covered her mouth with his.

When he lifted his head, he pinned her with a stare like hot smoke. ‘That’s what I want too. I hope you noticed.’

She gulped. ‘I noticed.’

* * *

‘I should go.’ Head pressed into the pillow, one hand curved above her head, she studied the dark intense features of the man lying beside her. She reached out and touched the rough shadow on his jaw; there were places on her body that were red from the abrasive contact with the stubbly growth.

The first time they had literally fallen into one another, ripping off clothes in a frenzy of desire, the coupling had been equally raw and her climax, when it had come, so intense that she’d thought she’d faint.

Then later it had been much slower, slow and sensual. He had explored every inch of her body and encouraged reciprocation. Encouraged experimentation. Learning what pleased him had only increased her own pleasure.

‘Go?’

The fingers moving in sweeping arabesques up the warm, still slightly damp skin of her back stopped for a moment, and then continued their nerve-tingling progress.

‘Why?’ he asked, lifting a skein of bright hair from her cheek so that he could see her face.

‘Because you’ve already said you have an early flight and the doctor is dropping by first thing to see Jamie.’ And hopefully pronounce him fighting fit.

‘Stay a little longer...?’

She sighed—who could resist?—and curled into him, pressing a kiss to his stubble-roughened cheek. ‘I really thought that the other diners were going to cheer you tonight.’

He gave a grunt and stroked her hair.

‘What did you really say to him?’

‘I don’t remember.’ His hand stilled. ‘Did he hurt you, your ex?’

She lifted her head and raised herself up on one elbow to look down at him. ‘That was a bit out of the blue.’

‘You said the loser in the restaurant reminded you of him...’

She settled back down, pressing her face into his chest. ‘He dumped me because I can’t have children. It seems he wanted a real woman.’

He responded to her little sigh with a low growl and flipped her over onto her back before settling over her. ‘You are a very real woman...’ Pinning her arms above her head with one hand, he curled a hand around the side of her face and kissed her hard and long, as if he could drain the pain from her.

She closed her eyes as he slid down, pressing his face into her neck as his body came to rest heavy and hot on her. She loved the musky smell of his warm, damp skin, the weight of him pushing into her. She wanted to hold onto the memory of this moment.

They lay there for a while, she wasn’t sure how long, when she sensed the tension building in him.

‘I would have come to the funeral, you know, but I didn’t know. Not that Bruno was dead, not about Jamie. I would have known, if...’

Lying very still, hardly daring to breathe, Flora silently willed him to go on.

‘Bruno reached out to me. He wanted to meet up. I think he wanted to tell me about the pregnancy, Jamie, but I refused.’

She felt a deep sigh shudder through his body.

‘I was punishing him, you see, because when he left he said he’d come back for me and he didn’t, but it turns out he did.’ His bitter laugh was muffled in her hair.

‘You didn’t know,’ she soothed, aching for the pain she heard in his voice, the fact that he was beating himself up for something that wasn’t his fault. ‘I miss Bruno too, and Sami.’ She felt the tears she couldn’t stop seep out from her closed eyelids; after a moment, so did Ivo.

* * *

His arms slid around her as he pulled her onto her side so that they were lying facing one another. The sound of her sobs made him feel as though his heart were being dragged out of his chest. It was unbearable. He lay there holding her, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life and conscious that none of this felt like safe, meaningless sex.

The next time she said she should go to her own bed, he didn’t object.