The Italian Next Door. Anna Cleary
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As she slid into the seat next to his and he reached across to assist her in finding the seat buckle her heightened senses caught the faintest tang of clean, spicy masculinity. She secured the seat belt, taking care not to brush his fingers. Smoothly, casually.
‘Bene.’
Valentino’s eyes were drawn to a tiny flickering pulse disturbing the smooth skin of her temple. His fingers twitched with a sudden urge to reach out and stroke her, but he restrained the impulse.
He realised it was only natural she should feel some concern. What woman wouldn’t? He was a man, after all. Practically a wild animal. There would be no use in telling her he was the safest guy on the planet and upholder of the laws of one hundred and eighty-eight nations.
He considered various things he might say to reassure her, and discarded them all as being likely to be counterproductive.
Accelerating into the traffic stream, he worked at keeping the conversation at an easy flow. ‘Sorry about the change in plans. Bambini make their own rules, apparently.’ He indicated the dash clock. ‘Not much more than an hour to go now. Just enough time for us to introduce ourselves properly.’
Pia read reassurance in the smile he flashed her. He was making an effort, she realised. Either to ensure she felt comfortable, or to lull her into a false sense of security.
‘So tell me,’ he said in his velvet voice, ‘what do you plan to do in Positano?’
Stay calm and pleasant, Pia thought, eyeing his handsome jaw with its hint of shadow, his hands, casual on the wheel. No matter how smooth and polished, remember he’s one of the wolvish tribe. Keep him on an even keel. Don’t antagonise him.
Her hands clasped themselves in her lap. ‘See the sights. Soak up the beauty.’
‘Ah. You are on vacation?’
She nodded. ‘And you, Valentino—do you live in Positano or are you just visiting?’
Valentino hesitated. Too much information would inevitably lead to him divulging his job to her. As soon as he did that she’d make all sorts of false assumptions about him and close up. It had happened too many times before with potential playmates. Mention Interpol and they vanished over the horizon like smoke. Tracking and pursuing high-class criminals was a grim business, more painstaking than romantic, but it was time his organisation received a sexier press.
He lifted his hands in acknowledgement of her question. ‘My family home is there but I work—elsewhere.’
‘Oh?’
‘Sì.’ He engineered a quick diversion. ‘I think you will enjoy Positano. It’s very small, but you shouldn’t have any trouble finding entertainment. Are you adventurous, Pia?’
Pia looked quickly at him. His glance was searching, smiling with just the hint of a sexy challenge, and her heart lurched into a higher gear. Of course he’d have used the word deliberately. He was a man, wasn’t he?
‘No, I’m not,’ she said, pouring iced water on any attempt to flirt. ‘Not at all.’
‘No?’ He lifted his thick black brows. ‘That’s not what I would have thought.’ A smile flickered at the corners of his sexy mouth. A meditative, sophisticated smile.
What did that mean? Pia wondered. Had he somehow divined the old courageous, indestructible Pia she used to be? Were elements of her former carefree self peeping out like a tart’s petticoat, or was this merely a seduction technique?
‘You have travelled across the world all by yourself. I would think that took some courage.’ His dark eyes were all at once surprisingly kind and sincere, and Pia realised she’d misinterpreted his intention. ‘No?’
She allowed him a cautious smile and his eyes lit with a warmth that made her breath catch.
‘Oh, well … I guess.’
She gave a breezy shrug as though her journey had been nothing much, though the truth was she’d been a nervous wreck for the first three thousand miles. Lucky they’d flown into darkness and the plane’s blinds had been drawn.
‘It’s as well to be fit in Positano,’ he went on, ‘but you don’t need to be too adventurous to enjoy hiking the mountain trails or exploring the grottoes. You must find yourself a guide. If you go to the tourist office they will help you.’
Pia felt ashamed of her low suspicions.
It just went to show she should get over herself. She was far too jumpy and ready to think the worst of every man she met. Clearly, it was time to let go of her angst and start to take people as she found them. Men, as she found them. They couldn’t all be thinking of sex and violence all the time.
She sat back and allowed some of her tension to slacken a little. Here was a guy who’d been kind enough to come to her rescue, and all she could do was search for signs he was keen to jump her bones.
And not just any old plain guy, as it happened. The more she saw of him, the more convinced she was of his drop-dead gorgeousness. She stole another glance. He looked so relaxed, his long limbs comfortably disposed in the sleek auto. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves back a little and his arms were as lean and tanned as she’d imagined. Sinewy. His collar opening revealed more of his olive-toned skin, the strong bronzed column of his neck.
From an artistic viewpoint, the composition was fine. In fact, it was hard to take her eyes off him. The chiselled lines of his profile ravished her more with every slight movement of his head. Not, she reminded herself, that she was especially looking for chiselled. Or even looking.
Valentino felt her gaze flicker over him and his blood hummed with a buoyant little charge. The chemistry was fizzing. And Grazie a Dio for that smile. A smile on a mouth so luscious was almost as good as a kiss, though a kiss would be highly desirable. Suddenly he felt glad to be alive and free and a mere mortal man.
For the first time in ages his office at the bureau, the meetings with his team, the constant policing demands from forces around the world seemed a million miles away.
Added to that, the sun was shining, the car handling well, he was flying down the autostrada with a blonde and the thaw was under way.
If he could tempt her into that smile again, in no time at all the conversation would segue into some light and flirty repartee and Miss Pia Renfern would be ready for some real adventure.
‘Have your family always lived in Positano, Valentino?’ Pia said politely to break the silence.
‘For centuries, as far as we can count. My parents are no longer alive but my grandfather’s still there.’ He bathed her in a dark gleaming glance that seeped into her veins like old cognac. ‘Have yours always lived in Sydney?’
‘Not quite always. Some of us may have managed one or two centuries. I’m sorry about your parents.’
Mesmerised by the amber highlights in his brilliant dark eyes, she felt her instincts plunge into warring turmoil. Somehow, while her internal security centre had been all for raising the alarm barriers high and keeping him at a very safe distance, another part of her was at risk of gaining the upper