gaze. He realised that there was definitely a secret of some sort that connected Ellie to his godfather and that disturbed him because for the life of him he could not imagine any likely connection. Beppe, for one thing, had never travelled outside Italy and was very much a home bird. It occurred to him for the first time that perhaps he should have investigated the mother rather than the daughter, but unwisely he had overlooked that option because Ellie inspired greater curiosity.
‘You do care,’ Rio traded softly, moving slightly closer.
In a skittish move, Ellie backed up against the door of her room. ‘I’m a very private person,’ she stated in a stubborn refusal to admit even the smallest weakness, because Rio was 100 per cent shark and she knew the blood in the water would be hers if she gave so much as an inch.
‘Not always,’ Rio disagreed, suddenly right there in front of her, eating her alive with his black-lashed smouldering eyes. A lean brown forefinger trailed gently down the side of her hot face.
She felt every tiny second of that fleeting caress like a brand burning right through to the centre of her body. She wasn’t used to being touched, she told herself bracingly, should’ve been dating more, should’ve been less of a perfectionist, should’ve been less sensible. His eyes above hers flamed gold and she recalled a moment exactly like that on the dance floor in Dharia, and in a clumsy movement she tried to peel herself off the door into her room and safety but it was too late, way too late when Rio’s beautifully shaped mouth came crashing down on hers.
And that kiss was something between a car crash and a shot of adrenalin in her veins. Her body came alive with a great whoosh of physical response and her hands flew up into his hair, touching, shaping, clutching the springy strands. And she wanted him as a dehydrated woman wanted water, as if he were the only thing that stood between her and death. That ferocious, screaming shout of need that instantly controlled her absolutely terrified her. The spear of his tongue in her mouth electrified her beyond all thought and the flick against the roof of her mouth was pure licking temptation by a maestro of sensation. He knew how to kiss, he knew how to do all the stuff she didn’t and that drew her helplessly, that and the merciless craving making her heart beat too fast, making her body tremble and her legs weak.
‘Inferno, Ellie...’ Rio growled against her swollen mouth, rocking his hips ever so slightly against her.
And she could feel him through their clothing, long and hard and urgent with the same need that had already overwhelmed her and she shuddered, fighting for control against all the odds and without words, knowing that no, whatever happened, she just couldn’t do this with him.
But Rio, womaniser that he was, kissed her again and again; being Rio, he had upped his game. Slow and tormenting had become rawly passionate and demanding and every skin cell in her body lit up in neon as if she had met her perfect match. The pulsing damp heat between her thighs was coalescing into a generalised burning ache that tortured and tempted and screamed. The sound of a metal bucket scraping across tiles was almost deafening and Rio sprang back from her at the same instant that Ellie literally forced her hands down to his shoulders to push him away.
And for once, Rio didn’t have anything super smart to say, she noted with only the smallest amount of satisfaction because she had nothing to boast about either. Rio dealt her a scorchingly angry glance and swung away.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said grittily.
‘Not if I see you coming first,’ Ellie quipped weakly, ducking back into her room under the curious appraisal of the cleaner and closing the door on legs that felt as limp as cotton wool. But no, she was not going to do that thing she usually did when she did something wrong. She wasn’t going to dwell on it and go over it endlessly. She had made a mistake and it was already behind her and that was all the brooding Rio Benedetti deserved. No more self-loathing, no more regret, she told herself squarely. He was like a cup of poison that tasted sweet, created only to tempt and destroy. Paranoiac...much, she asked herself then.
THAT MORNING, ELLIE explored the village, bought a small gift for a colleague and walked in the glorious sunshine through the piazza to the café to take a seat. She was beginning to enjoy herself, starting to recognise that beating herself up about Rio was counterproductive because it kept him in the forefront of her mind. One kiss... What was a kiss? Nothing! Well, unless it made your knees go weak and threw your brain into la-la land—then it was a threat.
While she sipped her coffee, crossly policing her thoughts, she watched an opulent cream sports car park. The driver, who had a little dog with him, hailed several locals seated outside the café and his attention lingered on Ellie before he strode across the piazza to enter the shop there. The dog, however, a bouncy little Yorkshire terrier, hurtled straight across to Ellie and bounced up against her legs, craving attention.
The dog’s owner shouted what sounded like, ‘Bambi!’ in an exasperated voice but the dog wouldn’t budge from Ellie’s feet and, with an audible groan and a wave that promised his return, the young man went on ahead into the shop.
‘You’re not the most obedient dog,’ Ellie scolded softly a few minutes later as pleading little round eyes appealed to her from knee height. ‘No, you can’t get up on my lap. I’m not a doggy person—’
‘You could’ve fooled me,’ the owner remarked from beside her and she glanced up and laughed.
‘Well, I suspect your dog’s not very fussy,’ she teased.
‘Bambi belongs to my mother and I’m looking after the dog all week.’ He rolled his eyes in speaking suffering. ‘She hasn’t been trained and prefers women.’
‘But that’s not her fault,’ Ellie pointed out, scratching a blissed-out Bambi behind one flyaway ear.
‘I’m Bruno Nigrelli.’ He extended a friendly hand. ‘Join me for a glass of wine—’
‘A little early,’ Ellie began before she recalled that she was on holiday and not on duty. ‘No, that’s a good idea,’ she told him with a sudden smile. Loosen up, she told herself irritably.
Bruno stayed with her for about half an hour, making easy comfortable conversation, and it was so relaxing after the emotional angst of dealing with Rio, Ellie acknowledged ruefully. Bruno was a contracts lawyer based in Florence and he was currently staying at his mother’s home to look after it while she was away. When he asked her to dine with him the following evening, Ellie agreed. Polly’s voice was ringing loudly in her ears. ‘Attractive man—tick. Employed—tick. Good manners—tick. Stop looking for what’s wrong with every man you meet!’ Polly had told her that the reason she rarely dated was that she was far too fussy. But Ellie didn’t think that was fair because when it came to men, Polly had proved equally hard to impress.
The following morning, Ellie drove her little hire car to Beppe’s impressive palazzo. The huge gates stood wide in readiness for her arrival. She drove slowly through the elaborate gravelled gardens that fronted the big house and parked, climbing out, smoothing damp palms down over the casual white skirt she had teamed with a navy-and-white tee and canvas espadrilles. She walked up the shallow steps to the front door and a youthful manservant in a very correct black jacket opened it before she could even reach for the bell.
‘Ellie Dixon for Mr Sorrentino,’ she said helpfully.
‘Yes,’ he said gruffly in English. ‘He waits for you.’
Ellie
