A Moment on the Lips. Kate Hardy

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style="font-size:15px;">      ‘No. You were my first choice. You know what you’re doing. I could learn a lot from you.’

      ‘But?’

      She sighed. ‘But it doesn’t help when you turn up looking like sex on legs. When you feed me ice cream from your spoon and give me smouldering looks.’

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you saying you want to do me, Princess?’

      God, yes. She shivered. ‘I don’t normally behave like this.’

      ‘No?’

      So he did know about London. She felt her face redden. ‘You provoked me.’

      ‘Not that much. You could’ve called a halt at any time.’

      Yes. Which was exactly what she’d planned to do. But the touch of his skin against hers had pushed everything out of her head. Besides, it hadn’t been completely one-sided. He’d started it. And if he was that uninterested, why was he touching her now? ‘Your hands are still on my bottom,’ she informed him. ‘And there are …’ She gave a delicate cough. ‘Other signs, shall we say.’

      ‘So there are.’ He sighed. ‘OK. I admit it. I have the hots for you. And, judging by last night, it’s mutual.’

      ‘We don’t even like each other. You think I’m a spoiled princess.’

      ‘You are. And, since we’re telling it like it is, you think I’m … ?’

      ‘A workaholic. Someone who wouldn’t know how to begin to have fun.’

      ‘A dull boy, hmm?’ He shrugged. ‘Bottom line, Princess, this isn’t going to work. You’re looking for someone to give you a good time. And I don’t have space in my life for someone who’s going to stamp her foot every time I’m late for dinner, or when I don’t want to go to a party because I have more important things to do with my time than listen to tedious people spouting their opinion about something they know nothing about, or talking drivel about trivial things.’

      ‘I don’t stamp my feet,’ she said, glowering at him.

      ‘Metaphorically, you’re doing it right now.’

      ‘So why did you agree to be my mentor?’ She still didn’t quite understand that.

      ‘Because I owe Gino.’

      ‘You owe Nonno? Why?’

      ‘He gave me a break when I was younger, taught me a few things about business. So helping you out of trouble is kind of payback.’

      She felt deflated. So he wasn’t doing this because he liked her.

      ‘You’re right. I don’t like you,’ he agreed—as if she’d said it out loud. Or maybe it was written all over her face. ‘I don’t like what you stand for. The way you were quite happy to take your allowance and swan off round the world, then almost never came back to see your grandparents.’

      ‘And how would you know anything about that?’

      ‘Because I saw the wistfulness in Gino’s face whenever he talked about you.’

      Her grandfather had talked to Dante about her?

      ‘He missed you.’

      Guilt flooded through her. She hadn’t been fair, but her grandparents had never complained. She didn’t have to give him any explanation for her behaviour; but on the other hand she didn’t want him to think she was completely selfish and spoiled. ‘I was eighteen, Dante. I knew there was a big wide world out there. I wanted to see it. I wanted to know what else there was outside Naples. So, yes, I travelled. I went to Rome, to Milan, to Paris. To Sydney and New York and LA.’

      ‘Style capitals.’ He didn’t look impressed.

      ‘Yes, I’ll give you that. The fashion drew me, at first. But then I went to London. To meet my mother’s family. To find out about that side of me. Wouldn’t you have been curious, in my shoes? Wouldn’t you have wanted to meet the side of the family you’d never met?’

      That rather depended on what the family was like, Dante thought. He didn’t want anything to do with his father’s family. He’d seen more than enough destruction in the first fourteen years of his life and he didn’t need to see any more. ‘Maybe,’ he said cagily.

      ‘And I didn’t desert my grandparents. I rang home three times a week. I sent pictures and emails.’

      ‘Which isn’t the same as being here.’ He paused. ‘What made you come back?’

      ‘Primarily, Nonno and Nonna’s golden wedding anniversary.’ She sighed. ‘And then I realised they were getting old. My English grandparents had other children and grandchildren to look after them, but Nonno and Nonna only had me. So I thought it was time to come home.’

      ‘And take over the family business.’

      She nodded. ‘Because I’m the last of the Toniellis. I have to step up to the plate.’

      It wasn’t what she wanted to do. He could see that. Yet she wasn’t ignoring her duty—and he approved of that.

      ‘What about your job in the art gallery?’

      ‘Amy retired—she was ill, and the gallery was too much of a burden. She sold it.’

      ‘Didn’t the new owner want to keep you on?’

      She blew out a breath. ‘Let’s just say we didn’t see eye to eye. So I guess it worked out for the best—I could leave and come back to Naples without letting anyone down.’

      ‘What was the problem?’

      ‘He treated me like an airhead. Which,’ she said, ‘I’m not. I could’ve done a degree.’

      He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Pushing paper around and partying for three years?’

      ‘No, a university education teaches you how to think.’ She frowned. ‘I take it you didn’t go to university.’

      ‘No. And I didn’t miss a thing. I learned a lot more from life.’

      ‘Didn’t your parents want you to go?’

      He didn’t want to talk about his parents. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘There’s more to life than studying.’

      ‘A minute ago, you were kissing me. Now, we’re sniping at each other.’ She shook her head, as if she didn’t have a clue how it had started. ‘Why are we fighting?’

      ‘Because you don’t understand where I’m coming from, and I don’t understand you. It’s like comparing … oh, apples and oranges. We’re too different.’ Though it didn’t stop him wanting her. And he hated the fact that she could make his control slip.

      ‘So what are we going to do about this?’ she asked.

      ‘About

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