Recipe For Disaster. Nina Harrington

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around in her seat before Alex caught her open-mouthed staring at the top three buttons on his shirt, which were unfastened, revealing a hint of tanned skin with dark chest hair. Taunting her.

      If he dressed like this in January, August would be interesting.

      For some reason her breathing had become irregular and she suddenly felt remarkably warm.

      ‘Oh, Alex,’ she breathed in a low hiss of appreciation. ‘I owe you big time.’

      ‘This is so true, but what particular thing have I done now?’ Alex replied between mouthfuls of garlic bread.

      ‘You said there wouldn’t be a male stripper.’

      ‘Who? What?’ Alex looked up and whirled her head around like a meerkat before it froze in the same direction Bunty was focusing on.

      ‘Oh. I see what you mean.’ She coughed. ‘Girl, I don’t know who he is, but I think you have just found your challenge. What are you waiting for? He is all yours. Go get him.’

      It took Bunty a second to find her shoe and stagger to her feet a little unsteadily but in three strides she slipped behind the other diners. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that her friends were either too busy enjoying themselves to notice, or nudging one another and nodding towards the door.

      Little wonder.

      Alex or Fran had excelled themselves.

      Her Italian treat became more spectacular with each step.

      She could almost taste the testosterone he was breathing out in her direction. It was the kind of allure that had worked with cavemen and was still working just fine right now. Which was quite amazing considering it had been quite a while since anyone had fired up her inner cavewoman.

      It also made speech a little tricky so she licked her lips and flicked her hair out before hitting him with her best smile.

      ‘Did I hear you say that you are looking for Bernadette Brannigan?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Because you have definitely come to the right place.’

      His head lifted so that when she was within touching distance she had to look up into a pair of gorgeous caramel-brown eyes. ‘That’s me,’ she said and flicked up one hand coquettishly. ‘But my friends call me Bunty.’ Then she blinked and smiled. ‘What can I do for you?’

      ‘Miss Brannigan,’ he replied, and stretched out his hand to close his fingers around hers. It was only a momentary handshake but long enough for her to recognise soft office-boy skin above a sinewy muscular grip that made all of her girly brain cells go ping. ‘I am sorry to interrupt your meal. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?’

      Outside? Well, this was different. Bunty shot a glance back towards Alex, who was grinning like a loon and waving both hands from the wrist telling her to go.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Bunty simpered and waited until he had opened the door before stepping out onto the pavement and waiting for him to follow her.

      She whirled around too soon and had the pleasure of feeling the gentlest of touches on her arm.

      And he had stunning hands. She had always liked hands. Especially clever, clean, nimble hands. Even if these hands were at that moment drawing a wallet from a very professional-looking black briefcase.

      ‘Miss Brannigan, my name is Fabio Rossi of the law firm Rossi and Rossi of Milan. I have been instructed by my client to deliver this package to you in person.’

      Bunty stared at the black sealed wallet her hunk was holding out towards her, glanced up at the serious expression on his face and then back to the wallet.

      And just like that the effects of two hours of wine drinking and general merriment popped like an overstretched balloon and what was left of the rational part of her brain kicked right back in.

      Not a male stripper.

      Not a birthday present in the shape of a hunky Italian.

      He was a lawyer. From Milan.

      Nightmare!

      ‘You’re delivering paperwork? At this time of night? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’

      Bunty gestured with the flat of her hand back towards the noisy party that was still in full swing inside the restaurant. ‘As you can see this is my birthday party. And I am rather occupied at present.’

      ‘The instructions from our client were very clear. A Rossi lawyer was to deliver this package to Bernadette Caruso Brannigan by the end of the day.’

      ‘Your client?’ She blinked. ‘What client are you talking about? Please explain before my head explodes.’

      ‘Rossi and Rossi are the company lawyers for the Caruso family.’

      Bunty closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. Just when she thought this day could not get any worse.

      Luca. It had to be Luca.

      Nobody else in the Caruso family gave a damn about her birthday.

      He knew that she would be interested in the offer he had made earlier and was only too ready to wave a new contract in front of her nose before she had a chance to change her mind.

      Clever boy! But not when she was in the middle of her party.

      He held the wallet out towards her and she glared at it in disbelief for a full two seconds before snatching it out of his hand. She had embarrassed herself enough for one night. Time to end this debacle.

      ‘Right. Job done. You can go now. I can’t deal with you and any contract paperwork tonight. Thank you. Goodbye. Goodnight. Have a nice life.’

      He stepped forward so that he was totally inside her personal body space.

      ‘It’s not quite as simple as that, Miss Brannigan. I have to verify that you have both received and opened the package and read the contents before I can leave.’

      ‘You have to see me open the package before you go?’ Bunty snorted through her nose. ‘Are you joking me?’

      His brown eyes locked onto hers and held them like a rock. ‘Not at all. Those are my instructions. I’m not going anywhere.’

      At this distance all she could focus on were the thin pale tan lines radiating out from the corners of his dark caramel eyes and the no doubt designer amount of dark stubble above that full, sensuous upper lip. Dark brown stylishly cut short hair curled around his ears but his eyebrows were naturally thick and manly.

      A long, thin, tanned face, dominated by a strong narrow nose, classic cleft chin, fantastic cheekbones. So overall a full score on the male-model-businessman-lawyer look. Fabio was probably a big hit with the lady clients at the law firm he worked for.

      Inhaling was a mistake. He smelt of expensive male grooming products, which right at that moment were worth every penny. Her sensitive nose picked up citrus and musky notes above a tang of something that was very much Fabio Rossi.

      Then the right side of his mouth

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