Matteo considered her question. Up until a few moments ago he might have agreed with her, but there was something about the girl with the spiky black hair which was making him reconsider his original assessment. It was, he thought, a novel situation and he was a man whose appetites had been jaded enough over the years to be entertained by the novel. And Keira whatever-her-name-was certainly wasn’t your average woman. She wasn’t behaving as most women would have done in the circumstances. She had suggested playing a game as if she actually meant it, without any purring emphasis on the word playing, leaving him in no doubt how she intended the ‘game’ to progress—with him thrusting into her eager body. People called him arrogant, but he preferred to think of himself as a realist. He’d never been guilty of under-assessing his own attributes—and one of those was his ability to make the opposite sex melt, without even trying.
He focussed his gaze on her, mildly amused by the competitive look in her eyes which suggested that her question had been genuine. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Let’s play games.’
Picking up the tray, she went downstairs, reappearing after a little while with a stack of board games, along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
‘There’s no need to be snobby about the vintage,’ she said, noticing his expression as he frowningly assessed the label on the bottle. ‘It was very sweet of Mary to offer us a festive drink and I’m having a glass even if you aren’t. I’m not driving anywhere tonight and I don’t want to offend her, not when she’s been so kind.’
Feeling surprisingly chastened, Matteo took the bottle and opened it, pouring them each a glass and forcing himself to drink most of his in a single draught as he lowered himself into the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever sat in.
‘Ready?’ she questioned as she sat cross-legged on the bed, with a blanket placed discreetly over her thighs as she faced him.
‘I guess,’ he growled.
They played Monopoly, which naturally he won—but then, he’d spent all his adult life trading property and had learnt early that there was no commodity more precious than land. But he was surprised when she suggested a quick game of poker and even more surprised by her skill with the cards.
Matteo wondered afterwards if he’d been distracted by knowing her legs were bare beneath the blanket. Or if he’d just spent too long gazing at her curling black lashes, which remarkably didn’t carry a trace of mascara. Because wasn’t the truth that he was finding his pocket-sized driver more fascinating with every moment which passed? She was certainly managing to keep her face poker-straight as she gazed at her cards and inexplicably he found himself longing to kiss those unsmiling lips.
He swallowed. Was she aware that her coolness towards him was fanning a sexual awareness which was growing fiercer by the second? He didn’t know—all he did know was that by the time they’d drunk most of the bottle of wine, she had beaten him hands-down and it was an unfamiliar experience.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Who taught you to play like that?’
She shrugged. ‘Before I became a driver, I worked as a car mechanic—mostly with men,’ she added airily. ‘And they liked to play cards when the workshop was quiet.’
‘You worked as a car mechanic?’
‘You sound surprised.’
‘I am surprised. You don’t look strong enough to take a car to pieces.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
‘They certainly can.’ He picked up the bottle and emptied out the last of the wine, noticing her fingers tremble as he handed her the glass. She must be feeling it too, he thought grimly—that almost tangible buzz of electricity when his hand brushed against hers. He crossed one leg over the other to hide the hard throb of his erection as he tried—and failed—to think of something which didn’t involve his lips and her body.
‘Mr Valenti,’ she said suddenly.
‘Matteo,’ he instructed silkily. ‘I thought we agreed we should be on first-name terms, given the somewhat unusual circumstances.’
‘Yes, we did, but I...
Keira’s words tailed away as he fixed her with a questioning look, not quite sure how to express her thoughts. The alcohol had made her feel more daring than usual—something which she’d fully exploited during that game of cards. She’d known it probably wasn’t the most sensible thing to defeat Matteo Valenti and yet something had made her want to show him she wasn’t as useless as he seemed to think she was. But she was now aware of her bravado slipping away. Just as she was aware of the tension which had been building in the cramped bedroom ever since she’d emerged from the bathroom.
Her breasts were aching and her inside-out panties were wet. Did he realise that? Perhaps he was used to women reacting that way around him but she wasn’t one of those women. She’d been called frigid by men before, when really she’d been scared—scared of doing what her mother had always warned her against. But it had never been a problem before, because close contact with the opposite sex had always left her cold and the one time she’d ended up in bed with a man he had been snoring in a drunken stupor almost before his head had hit the pillow. So how was Matteo managing to make her feel like this—as if every pore were screaming for him to touch her?
She swallowed. ‘We haven’t discussed what we’re going to do about sleeping arrangements.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Well, it looks as if we’ve got to share a bed—so obviously we’ve got to come to some sort of compromise.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘And I was thinking we might sleep top and tail.’
‘Top and tail?’ he repeated.
‘You know.’
‘Obviously I don’t,’ he said impatiently. ‘Or I wouldn’t have asked.’
Awkwardly, she wriggled her shoulders. ‘It’s easy. I sleep with my head at one end of the bed and you sleep with yours at the other. We used to do it when I was in the Girl Guides. Sometimes people even put pillows between them, so they can keep to their side and there’s no encroaching on the other person’s space.’ She forged on but it wasn’t easy when he was staring at her with a growing look of incredulity. ‘Unless you’re prepared to spend the night in that armchair?’
Matteo became aware of the hardness of the overstuffed seat which made him feel as if he were sitting on spirals of iron. ‘You honestly think I’m going to spend the night sitting in this damned chair?’
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘You want me to take the chair?’
‘And keep me awake all night while you shift around trying to get comfortable? No. I do not. I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen, cara mia. We’re going to share that bed as the nice lady suggested. But don’t worry, I will break the habit of a lifetime by not sleeping naked and you can keep the sweater on. Capisci? And you can rest assured that you’ll be safe from my intentions because I don’t find you in the least bit attractive.’
Which wasn’t exactly true—but why make a grim situation even worse than it already was?
He stood up and as he began to undo the belt of his trousers, he saw her lips fall open. ‘Better
