caught her lower lip between his teeth. ‘What’s the matter, Princess?’ he whispered against her mouth.
She felt like a tart. ‘You know,’ she whispered back.
‘Mind-reading isn’t one of my skills, I’m afraid.’ There was an amused glitter in his eyes. ‘You’ll have to be a little more specific.’
He really wasn’t going to let her get away with this, was he? She’d just have to try to brazen it out. ‘It’s just a bit awkward. You’re fully dressed—and I’m …’ Practically naked.
‘You look pretty good to me, right now.’ He stole a kiss. ‘But you have a point. This isn’t what mentoring is supposed to be about.’ He removed his hand from her knickers, restored order to her skirt and slid the straps of her top back up her arms.
She grabbed her jacket and shoved it on—even though she knew that it was pretty much closing the stable door after the horse had bolted.
He knew it, too. Because he was smiling.
She glared at him. ‘Don’t you laugh at me.’
‘I’m not.’ His smile broadened. ‘OK. I admit, I’m laughing at you just a little bit. Putting on that jacket isn’t going to stop me remembering what you look like without it, Princess.’
It wasn’t doing anything to stop her remembering what it felt like to be practically naked in his arms, either. Or how he’d just stroked her to a quicker climax than she’d ever achieved in her entire life.
‘I’ll wear something frumpy, next time,’ she muttered. ‘And then we’ll both be able to concentrate.’
‘Sure.’ Though his expression was saying something else entirely. Don’t bet on it.
What the hell had she just started?
‘My office. Eight o’clock tomorrow night,’ he said. ‘Your email address?’
She had just enough brain cells working to let her scribble it down on a piece of paper.
‘Good. I’ll email you some things to work on before then.’
And then he was gone. Making her feel more like a tart than ever. He’d thought she was propositioning him, when she hadn’t been. And then … she’d thrown herself at him. Practically stripped for him. So much for thinking she could prove him wrong about her. She’d just reinforced every single prejudice he had about her.
Talk about a mistake. She hadn’t learned a thing. Dante Romano wasn’t even her type. She normally went for refined, arty, intellectual types. Not brooding men whose thought processes were so far away from her own that she didn’t have a clue what was going on in their heads.
OK, so he was drop-dead gorgeous. But that still didn’t mean she should’ve thrown herself at him like that. And the fact that she hadn’t dated anyone over the past year was no excuse at all.
She covered her face in her hands. Tomorrow, she’d have a cold shower before she went to his office. A very long cold shower. And maybe she’d be able to keep this damned attraction under control long enough to get him to take her seriously and save her grandfather’s business.
CHAPTER THREE
DANTE scowled at his computer.
His concentration was shot to pieces, and it was all Carenza Tonielli’s fault.
Well, maybe not all hers. He could’ve said no.
And he definitely shouldn’t have said that about her clothes being distracting. Because knowing exactly what she looked like under them—and what her skin felt like against his mouth—was a damn sight more distracting than what he’d imagined.
For pity’s sake. He didn’t have time for this. And he didn’t want to get involved with a high-maintenance woman who’d demand his time and his complete attention, and have hissy fits all over the place when she didn’t get her own way.
What had just happened between them definitely wasn’t going to be repeated.
And he wasn’t going to let himself wonder about how it would be to sink into her warm, sweet depths. To feel her body tightening round his. To …
‘Oh, just get on with it and focus,’ he told himself sharply, and opened up his email.
He dealt with the first three messages as economically as he could. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Carenza.
And it really annoyed him that he’d lost control like that, instead of keeping things businesslike.
OK. Obviously he needed to get this over with so he could get her out of his head. He opened a new email.
Tomorrow, bring your USP and competitor analysis.
That was better. To the point, businesslike—and mentorlike.
Right. Now he could go back to his business. Focused, the way he always was.
And then his computer beeped.
The email was from Carenza.
USP???
He rolled his eyes and hit the reply button.
Unique selling proposition. What makes you different from the competition.
He thought about it after he’d sent it. Clearly she wouldn’t have a clue about competitor analysis, either. He added another email.
Change of plan. I’ll pick you up at 4 p.m. tomorrow and do the first competitor analysis with you as a blueprint.
A very humble reply arrived:
Thank you very much.
Strictly speaking, he already had enough on his plate.
Franchising Dante’s was going to take all his time, and then some. Carenza Tonielli and sorting out the gelati business were distractions he really didn’t need.
But he felt he owed Gino, for giving him that first break.
He pushed away the thought that it wasn’t the only reason he’d agreed to mentor her, and sent her another email.
Dress like a tourist. See you at 4.
Dress like a tourist. Which meant … what? Carenza wondered, the following morning. Last night, he’d said he wanted her to dress like a frump.
Just before his hand had been in her knickers.
At her instigation. Even though she’d intended to stop well before then.
This was bad. Really bad. She needed to clear things up before she could face him again. And she couldn’t possibly ring him. It was too, too embarrassing to speak about. She took refuge in the distance of an email.
About last night … I don’t normally do that sort of thing.
