A Taste Of Italy: Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife. Fiona McArthur

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A Taste Of Italy: Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife - Fiona McArthur

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she could carry on a conversation and be so focused on his mouth. She risked a glance. ‘She’s a recent widow.’ Yep, they still looked good.

      Leon concentrated on Louisa, whom he could see behind the dancers, the little woman who’d made his son so welcome, and thankfully the tension eased. He wasn’t sure where it came from but he’d felt the sudden rise between them. ‘My brother told me of her loss. And that is why he asked we stay there. It is no hardship.’

      He kept his eyes on his brother and his wife across the floor. In fact, even this wedding had become no hardship. It was surprising how resigned he’d become to his brother’s fate. And in a few short hours, partly because no one could doubt the true bond between the newlyweds, and partly because all of the people he’d met here tonight had exuded such warmth and generosity towards him and his son.

      Except this woman.

      The thought made him smile for some reason, as if the challenge for supremacy between them had taken on a new urgency. He fought the errant concept away. No. Perhaps it had been too long since he had set aside time to share intimacy with a woman. The chance of a brief liaison with this Tamara was tantalising but remote. Too much was happening.

      And she would be the last to welcome him. The thought made him smile again. He’d somehow offended her, and he searched his memory for that ridiculous saying he’d heard today—he’d got up her nose. And such a delightful nose it was. He smiled again. She was not showing a warm or generous side to him at all but he perceived she had one, which in fact was lucky, because he became more intrigued every minute he spent with her.

      Tammy saw him smile at the thought of Louisa. So he did have a soft spot for elderly widows. The idea dangerously thawed a little more of her reserve and she reached for another unwanted biscuit to distract her concentration from this handsome, brooding man beside her.

      She felt his attention and when she glanced at him there was a sudden darkening of his eyes that arrowed that sharp sensation of hunger right back through her midsection. She felt the wave of heat between them like a furnace door opening.

      ‘Not again,’ he murmured. And then more strongly, ‘If you delicately consume another biscotti I will not be responsible for my actions.’ His voice was very quiet, and she realised they were alone at the table—in fact, alone at their side of the dance floor. The children shrieked with laughter in the distance just in view, Emma and Gianni were across talking to Louisa, and suddenly she couldn’t look away from him. Her stomach kicked again. She got the message.

      She wasn’t sure what to do now with the biscuit she didn’t want, but blowed if she’d let him know he’d rocked her.

      Did she look away and nonchalantly put it down or did she pull the tiger’s tail? There was no choice really.

      Unhurriedly, with great deliberation, Emma raised the shard of almond to her mouth. With her eyes on his she parted her lips with seductive exaggeration and slid it slowly in, and chewed. It was hard to swallow with a dry mouth but she did. Choking would have ruined the impact. To drive home her point she calmly licked the sugar from her finger. One raised eyebrow left him in no doubt of her message. Don’t dare me.

      Leon stood, took the arm that reached towards him—surely she hadn’t asked her fingers to do that—and Tammy found herself whisked back into the shadows with her hand in his. In an instant she was in his arms and his body felt warm and inflexible against hers. It had all happened so fast she doubted anyone had noticed she’d been abducted.

      His eyes glittered in the low light. ‘You do not follow orders well, I think.’ She barely heard him over the thumping in her chest as he stared down at her, and there was something primal about the tree branch casting shadows across his face. ‘This night has been filled with intriguing moments. I cannot allow it to conclude without this.’ He bent his dark head towards her with such intent she froze as he brushed her neck with his lips. She shivered and all the hair on her arms whooshed into an upright position on little mountains of goose flesh.

      ‘Your scent has been driving me wild all night.’ His words hummed against her ear and thrummed down her throat as his lips travelled the sensitive skin around her jaw. She’d never felt exposed and vulnerable and yet starving for more.

      His mouth took flight across her cheek like a hot moth that dusted both eyes before homing in on her mouth. Every nerve in her skin seemed to lean his way for attention, drawn to the light like a kamikaze insect, and she shuddered at the delicious sensations his whispered caress invoked.

      Somehow her arms had wound themselves round his neck and she could feel the sinew and muscle in his shoulders, rock hard beneath her fingers. He had the power to snap her in two and they both knew it.

      Then his mouth found hers, her stomach jolted and she swayed against him suddenly weak at the knees like an old-fashioned heroine. She’d never believed this would happen to her. A swoon from a man kissing her. It was ridiculous, and crazy, and…

      ‘It was a funny wedding,’ Jack said as he drove home with his mother.

      ‘Funny in what way?’ Tammy said extremely absently as she turned along the sweeping driveway out of the lakeside complex. When Leon had kissed her Tammy realised what she’d been missing for too many years. She’d kissed a few men, more to reassure herself she could get a man to the point, but never been enamoured enough to want to repeat the experience.

      With Leonardo Bonmarito she’d wanted to do more than repeat it. She wanted next verse. Next chapter. The whole darn book and she knew where that could leave her. She prayed he hadn’t realised because she’d managed to step back before she’d dragged the buttons from his shirt. But only just. So she’d stepped away further, called her son and left fairly quickly after that.

      ‘Just different.’ The childish voice beside her reminded her why she’d stepped away. ‘And that kid’s different too.’

      ‘Paulo? I imagine they’d be saying the same thing about you if you turned up at a wedding in Italy.’

      She glanced at Jack. Her miniature man in the house, whom she adored but had no blinkers about. ‘Which reminds me, you were impolite to push into that dance with Grace and Paulo.’

      He looked away from her and squirmed a little. ‘She didn’t want to dance with him.’

      ‘That’s not what I saw.’

      Jack sniffed and avoided his mother’s glance. ‘She danced with him later anyway,’ he muttered.

      Tammy dimmed her lights for a passing car. ‘I wouldn’t like to think you were rude or acting the bully to a visitor, Jack.’

      ‘I don’t like him.’ More muttering.

      Tammy frowned. Jealous brat. ‘Even more reason to be nice to him.’

      Jack sniffed again. ‘Like you were nice to his father?’

      Now where had that come from? Thank goodness it was dark and he couldn’t see the pink flooding her neck. Little ankle biter. She certainly wasn’t going there. Of course the children hadn’t seen. ‘Yes.’ She took the easy way out. ‘Did you all have fun playing spotlight?’

      She caught the movement of his shoulder beside her as he shrugged. ‘He was scared half the time.’

      The dark cloud of uneasiness slid new tendrils through her mind. Tammy glanced at her son and then back

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