The Sicilian's Innocent Mistress. Кэрол Мортимер

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The Sicilian's Innocent Mistress - Кэрол Мортимер Mills & Boon Modern

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could feel the heat creeping into her body as the intimacy in Luc Gambrelli’s voice moved across and into her. She was aware of the way her breasts had swelled, their nipples hard and tingling, of the heat moving between her thighs.

      Not exactly what she had planned to happen when she’d decided to call this man’s bluff!

      ‘And while I am kissing you,’ Luc Gambrelli continued in that low, sensuous voice, ‘I would like to thread my fingers into your beautiful hair, to feel its silky softness, to tangle it about my fingers as we deepen the kiss. And then I would like to release one of my hands to run the zip of your dress slowly down your spine, touching you as I do so, caressing the smoothness of your bare skin as I allow the gown to drop to the floor. Underneath the gown you would be wearing nothing but a pair of silk panties—black, I think,’ he added, as he looked over her with slow consideration, ‘and sheer flesh-coloured stockings—’

      ‘Are you trying to shock me, Mr Gambrelli?’ Darci cut in quickly, hopefully hiding her inner discomfort at the fact that he had guessed exactly what she was—or rather, wasn’t!—wearing beneath her gown.

      No doubt, experienced lover that he was, Luc Gambrelli was more than capable of undressing a woman with just his eyes, she acknowledged hardly.

      ‘Am I succeeding?’ he enquired, those dark eyes glinting with a devilish humour.

      Something else Darci hadn’t been prepared for…

      She had expected Luc Gambrelli to be as good-looking as sin. And he was.

      She had expected him to be arrogant. And he was most definitely that.

      But what she hadn’t expected was that he would also have a wicked—and very appealing—sense of humour!

      ‘Not in the least,’ she assured him with calm dismissal, as she took another sip of her champagne.

      ‘Good—because I haven’t got to the best part yet,’ he murmured assuredly, laughter glinting in those dark eyes. ‘Once I had you out of your dress I would kneel at your feet, paying homage to your beautiful breasts with my lips and tongue on the way down, and then I would slowly slide off your silk panties—’

      ‘I’m sure it’s fascinating to hear your fantasies, Mr Gambrelli.’ Her scathing tone told him she considered it the opposite. ‘But then they are just fantasies, aren’t they?’

      ‘For the moment,’ he agreed, and once again his gaze fixed caressingly on the full pout of her mouth.

      Darci knew exactly the effect her looks had on men of all ages—how her height, her unruly red hair and voluptuous breasts prevented most men from taking her seriously. She had been fighting against that prejudice all her life, but especially during her years of training to be a doctor. In fact, she was still fighting it with the male staff at the hospital where she worked. And with some of the patients, too—young men considering her easy bait for their teasing, and most older men reluctant to let an attractive young female doctor care for them at all.

      The fact that Luc Gambrelli had taken one look at her and decided not to take her seriously, either, only made her see red!

      She was more determined than ever that he needed to be taught a salutary lesson—and that was never to underestimate a woman scorned or, in this case, never to underestimate the friend of a woman scorned!

      ‘As you said earlier, Luc, this is hardly the place for this sort of conversation,’ she dismissed, with a lightness she was far from feeling. Her breasts ached—her nipples actually throbbed!—and there was a dampness between her thighs from just listening to this man talk about making love to her.

      ‘Where would you consider the right place to be?’ he encouraged naughtily.

      Nowhere, as far as this mesmerising man was concerned!

      ‘Fascinating as this conversation has been, Luc, I think it’s probably time I rejoined Grant,’ she replied smartly. ‘I—What do you think you’re doing?’ She frowned as Luc Gambrelli reached out and grasped her bare arm, his long fingers dark against her much paler skin.

      Yes, what was he doing? Luc wondered impatiently.

      Darci Wilde was beautiful, yes. Desirable. Intelligent, too. Certainly quick-witted enough to hold his interest. But wasn’t this an interest, raw as he still was from Wolf and Cesare’s defection to the married state, that Luc was trying to avoid at all costs?

      But Darci was so incredibly beautiful, and he was already aroused just from talking about making love to her deliciously sensual body…

      ‘I wonder if you would care to have dinner with me one evening?’ he asked smoothly, not at all sure of the wisdom of seeing this woman again, but aware that his caution stood little chance of winning out when his body throbbed with a need to know her better.

      An urgent need.

      A need that at the moment far outweighed those feelings of caution.

      Darci looked up at Luc Gambrelli for several long minutes, torn between the satisfaction of having this man invite her out after all, and the fact that, now she had actually spent some time in Luc Gambrelli’s company, she appreciated that Kerry’s warning of yesterday had some merit.

      Not that there had ever been any real chance of her actually falling for Luc Gambrelli—not after the way he had treated Mellie. But at the same time Darci had to acknowledge that he really was much more lethally attractive in the flesh. His unusual colouring and undeniable good looks were mesmerising, his every movement was one of elegantly leashed power, and that wicked sense of humour was definitely more appealing than it should be.

      His description of how he wanted to make love to her hadn’t been in the least calming, either!

      ‘Perhaps if I were to assure you, despite what I have just described, that you won’t be on the menu…?’ He mocked her lengthy silence.

      Darci’s mouth tightened at the challenge. ‘Perhaps I should assure you that you won’t be, either!’ she came back acidly.

      Those dark eyes warmed appreciatively. ‘Tomorrow evening, then? Say eight o’clock?’

      ‘I’m busy tomorrow evening,’ she took great satisfaction in telling him.

      It was the truth, after all; she had a late shift at the hospital tomorrow. But even if she hadn’t, she would have made an excuse not to meet him tomorrow evening. If only to show him she was less than eager to see him again.

      The fact that the warmth had faded slightly from those dark eyes, his lips thinning, more than justified her refusal.

      No doubt he was used to a more enthusiastic response to his invitations.

      No doubt most women would have put off any previous engagement in order to have dinner with him tomorrow or any other evening he suggested.

      Well, as Luc Gambrelli was going to learn, Darci wasn’t most women.

      And in his case forewarned had definitely been forearmed!

      She had no doubt, despite her own reluctance when it came to relationships, that she would have been totally bowled

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