Liz Fielding – Italian Escape: Summer with the Millionaire / In the Italian's Sights / Flirting with Italian (страница 19)

‘Luckily there was plenty to do,’ he said, grinning across at his attentive companion. ‘I seem to have rather neglected things the past couple of days.’

‘All work and no play,’ she murmured with a provocative smile. ‘Speaking of which, have you finished?’ Minty was on her feet, the lines of her body visible through the thin fabric of her dress.

Luca nodded. ‘Delicious.’

She padded towards him on bare feet, leant over him and wound her arms around his neck. He could feel her breath on his cheek, the lemon scent of her shampoo and something warmer, earthier, distinctly Minty. A jolt of desire shot through him. ‘I hope you have a little appetite for pudding,’ she whispered. ‘Magdalena is out for the afternoon.’

He pulled her down onto his knee, enjoying the silk of her skin under his touch, the fineness of her bones. ‘It depends on the type of pudding,’ he said softly against her shoulder, feeling her shudder as his hand moved over the bare skin.

‘Only the wickedest type, of course,’ she breathed. ‘But not here. Come on; I want to show you my new dress.’

Luca allowed her to hop out of his lap and pull him up. He spun her round to face him. ‘A new dress doesn’t sound that appetising,’ he said, capturing her mouth with his. She sunk into the embrace for a dizzying second then stepped back.

‘Ah, but I went lingerie shopping as well...’ And, throwing a saucy smile over her shoulder, she sauntered back into the house. Luca watched her move, the swish of the long skirt around her legs, the movement of her hair bouncing with her stride, the provocative swish of her hips. He smiled appreciatively and followed her into the apartment.

New lingerie sounded enticing; stripping her of it even more so. He quickened his stride. There were still a couple of hours before the benefit started; he wanted to make sure they made full use of every single second.

* * *

It was a little ironic, Minty thought, that she was doing her best to shake off her socialite image, yet here she was, at the sort of benefit duty occasionally compelled her to attend back home. Swap the conversation into English and the Prosecco to champagne, and she could be back in London.

This should have been the last place she wanted to be, yet to be here with Luca felt right. Disturbingly so. She looked over to where he stood making polite conversation with one of his grandfather’s friends.

He looked completely relaxed, his glass held in one hand, polite interest on his face. Oh, he might claim to hate this part of his life—society galas, charity events, the great and the good all gathered together in a self-congratulatory way—but he suited it. Just as he suited the quiet life in the country, as he suited running his company quietly but decisively confident.

Maybe he was a chameleon, like her. But, no; Minty had stopped believing in a perfect match a long time ago. You changed yourself to suit the one you loved and hoped it was enough, or you kept going, spinning through a carousel of different partners to suit each stage in your life. Romantic? No. Practical? Yes.

She had vowed she was done with romance, had promised herself not to get pulled under again. But Luca, her gallant knight with the startling eyes, had the potential to pull her deeper than she had ever gone before. Minty suppressed a shiver despite the almost oppressive heat in the crowded old room.

As if he could read her thoughts, Luca caught her eye and raised his glass to her in a silent salute. Minty took a sip of her Prosecco and smiled back before turning back to her elegant companion, the wife of one of Luca’s cousins, to continue making polite conversation.

But, although she could smile, nod and make polite replies, her mind was far away. Back in Oschia by the stream; reliving the afternoon’s tryst at her apartment. She knew she and Luca had chemistry. It had been fiery when she was eighteen and clueless; now it was combustible.

She had to be careful that she didn’t get too caught up in the flames. She wasn’t very good at separating her heart and body—and she had never experienced this level of heat before.

Maybe, just maybe, he had been right to call a halt all those years ago. She couldn’t have handled him then, although it hurt to admit it. She had been far too naive, for all her veneer of sophistication.

To be honest, she wasn’t too sure she could handle it now. Not the sex—that she could definitely manage. It was more the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel: safe.

She was used to being desired, wanted. This was infinitely more dangerous.

Minty took a deep breath, trying to quell the sudden rush of panic. She shouldn’t worry about Luca; she was on her guard. They had a finite time and she had put a lock on her heart. This relationship—no, this fling—was all about the fun. She’d walked away from him before; she could do it again.

‘Ready to go?’ Minty jumped as Luca came up behind her, at the gentle brush of his hands on her bare shoulders. A shiver ran through her at his touch.

‘I’m the guest; I’m at your command,’ she replied, drawing the words out long and low, and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes dilate at her words.

‘Then I’m definitely ready to go,’ he said, his hands tightening momentarily on her shoulders. ‘I’ve talked business, you charmed my grandfather; I think we have fulfilled our duties admirably.’

Minty tossed her hair. ‘I told you grandfathers were my speciality.’

Luca bent over and kissed her neck. ‘I was rather hoping grandsons were,’ he said softly against her ear.

‘Depends on the grandson,’ she replied, and walked off towards the ballroom exit. She didn’t look back. Right here, right now she was sure of him, she knew he would be following her. She left the glittering room full of the cream of Florentine society and descended the old stone staircase to the grand foyer below, where they had left their coats.

‘If I hold your hand will I be acting like the perfect escort or overstepping our agreement to keep our private lives hidden?’ Luca asked as he helped Minty into her coat. She laughed; put like that, it did sound ridiculous.

‘We’re in Florence, so act away,’ she said and held her hand out to him and he took it. His hand was large, comforting. It would have felt safe if the skin-on-skin contact didn’t make her tingle everywhere.

‘Where to, my lady?’

‘Can we walk just for a bit?’ Minty asked. ‘One of my favourite Italian traditions is watching people promenade. It’s too cold in London and, on the rare occasion it’s not, watching people stagger drunkenly down the street isn’t quite the same thing. Look.’ She held up one of her wedge-heeled shoes. ‘I even have sensible footwear on.’

‘Seven inches of heel is not sensible, no matter how the heel is styled,’ Luca grumbled.

Minty shot him a limpid glance. ‘Typical male exaggeration. These heels are three inches at the most, but we’ll call it seven if it pleases you.’ She squealed as Luca swung her round, pulling her hard against him.

‘You seemed satisfied earlier.’

His mouth hovered temptingly above hers. Minty stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach it, but he moved it fractionally away, tantalisingly out of her reach. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, trying to look contrite. ‘You are of course magnificent in every way. A love machine of the highest order.’

Luca quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Seven inches doesn’t even begin to do justice,’ she continued, trying to look serious, her smirk threatening to break out any second. She made her eyes big, pleading. ‘Please say you forgive me?’

His mouth descended onto hers and for the next few moments all Minty was aware of was him. The bunch of his muscles under her roaming hands, the hardness of his mouth, the way he felt, smelt, overloaded all her senses. The sound of teasing voices brought her out of her sensual stupor. She pulled back.

‘Not in the street! You, at least, were brought up much better than that.’

‘We could go back to yours?’ he suggested, his eyes molten gold with desire.

Minty shook her head. ‘Magdalena will be back. Besides, you promised me a promenade, and a promenade is what I want.’

‘Then a promenade you shall have,’ Luca promised.

* * *

‘You don’t know this city at all,’ she accused Luca with a grin when he took them the wrong way for the third time.

‘Maybe I just want to get you alone in a dark alleyway,’ he suggested.

‘Good try. Come on, I told you it was this way.’

‘I never come here as a tourist,’ he explained. ‘I stay at the conte’s villa, which is outside the city. We are driven to parties and restaurants. Obviously I have been inside every museum, every church, every park, but I’ve never had the freedom to walk around like this.’

‘Not even with Francesca?’ Minty asked, wishing she’d not spoken the moment she’d done so. She sounded dangerously like a jealous girlfriend, which she wasn’t—jealous, or indeed a girlfriend.

He laughed. ‘Francesca? Wander round the streets without a purpose or someone to impress? No, she would have made me stay at that gala until the last moment, and then escort the conte home so she could be seen leaving with him.’