in him flared. Her mouth opened to him and she tasted sweet like the sun-ripened berries she’d sampled back in the village. He’d never tasted anything so delectable in his life. He doubted he’d ever experience a moment like this again.
There was something so special about Kayla. It was as though no matter what he did, she could see the real him. But could she see his scars, the ones that kept him from letting people get too close?
Her hands slid up over his shoulders and wrapped around the back of his neck. Her touch sent waves of excitement down his spine. He wanted her. He needed her. But his heart and mind were still guarded.
If he let her get any closer, she’d learn of his shame—of his ultimate pain—and then she’d pity him. Pity was not something that he could tolerate. He was Angelo Amatucci. A self-made man. He needed no one’s sympathy. He needed no one.
Anxious to rebuild that wall between them, he braced his hands on her hips and pushed her back. Her eyes fluttered open and confusion showed in them.
“We should head back to the hotel. I...I have work to do.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Oh. Okay.”
He retraced their steps. “I have a conference call this afternoon.”
Kayla fell in step beside him. He should say something. Explain somehow. But he didn’t know what to say because that kiss left him utterly confused by the rush of emotions she’d evoked in him. Somehow, some way, she’d sneaked past his well-placed barriers and with each smile, each touch, she was getting to him. That wasn’t part of his plan.
Unable to decide what to do about his undeniable attraction to his assistant, he turned his attention to something much less stressful—the village. For the first time, he saw its charms. Kayla had opened his eyes to everything he’d blocked out, from the amazing artisans, to the detailed architecture, to the warm and friendly people. He had so much to work with now. The pitch would be amazing if he could pull it all together, even though he was still unsure about the wedding aspect.
Still, Monte Calanetti had some of the best food in the world. It was sure to impress even the royal couple. And to be truthful, he was quite anxious to try Raffaele’s restaurant—if the rumors were anything to go by, it was out of this world.
Although his desire to go to dinner had more to do with Kayla than the food. He hungered for more of her melodious laugh and her contagious smiles. Though he shouldn’t, he’d come to really enjoy her company.
As productive as they were, working as a team, he was enjoying getting to know her on a personal level. After all, it wasn’t as if this thing, whatever you wanted to call it, would carry over to New York. He’d make sure of it. But what would it hurt to enjoy the moment?
ANGELO SWIPED HIS key card and opened the suite door for Kayla. When she brushed past him, he noticed the softest scent of wildflowers. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the light fragrance as he followed her into the room, wishing he could hold on to her delicate scent just a little longer.
When she stopped short, he bumped into her. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. She turned in his arms and gazed up at him with those big luminous green eyes. His heart pounded in his chest.
“Wasn’t the afternoon wonderful?”
Was it his imagination or was her voice soft and sultry? And was she looking at him differently? Or was it that he wanted her so much that he was projecting his lusty thoughts upon her?
He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Yes, it was a really nice day.”
“Thank you so much for spending the day with me. I promise to pay you back.” She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned forward.
She was going to repeat their kiss. His heart pounded. His brain told him that it shouldn’t happen, but his body had other thoughts. He started to lean forward—
Buzz. Buzz. His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the spell.
He pulled back. After retrieving the phone from his pocket, he checked the screen. “It’s the conference call. I have to take it. Can we talk later?”
He moved to his room to take the call in private. He actually welcomed the interruption. It gave him time to figure out how to handle this change of dynamics with Kayla.
The phone call dragged on much longer than he’d anticipated. When he finally disconnected the call, he found Kayla was still in the suite working on her laptop.
He cleared his throat and she glanced up, but her gaze didn’t quite reach his. “Sorry about the interruption.”
“No problem.” Her voice didn’t hold its normal lilt. She lifted her reading glasses and rested them on her head.
As much as he’d like to pretend that the kiss hadn’t happened, he couldn’t. It was already affecting their working relationship and that was not acceptable. “I need to apologize. That kiss...back at the tree, it shouldn’t have happened. You must understand that it can’t happen again.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I was wrong about this. Maybe it’d be better if you flew back to New York.”
“What?” She jumped to her feet. Her heated gaze was most definitely meeting his now.
“This isn’t going to work between us.” He glanced away, knowing he’d created this problem. “We can’t keep our hands off each other. How are we supposed to concentrate on all of the work we have to get done?”
She stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. “You’re not firing me. I won’t let you—”
“Wait. Who said anything about firing you?” He wrapped his hand around her finger, fighting off the urge to wrap his lips around it. “Certainly not me. You are very talented. Do you honestly think that I’d sack you over a kiss or two—kisses that I initiated?”
“Then what?” She pulled her finger from his hold as though she’d read his errant thought. “You don’t think you can keep your hands to yourself around me?”
“Yes... I mean, no.” He absolutely hated this feeling of being out of control—of his emotions or whatever you called it ruling over his common sense. “You confuse me.”
“How so?” Her gaze narrowed in on him. When he didn’t answer her, she persisted. “Tell me. I want to know.”
He sighed. “It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.”
“What is this really about? It has to be about more than just a kiss.”
His gaze lifted and met hers head-on. How could she understand him so well? No other woman had ever seen the real him—they’d always been more interested in having a good time. But then again, he’d gone out of his way to hook up with women who didn’t have serious, long-term plans where he was concerned.
His
