up to tease her. For a few glorious moments they had been locked together. The touch of Marco’s hands was all power. She had felt them twice now. Once in gentleness, once with determination. They were so unforgettable they fired her blushes all over again. Trying to calm her emotional turmoil, Cheryl thought back to Nick Challenger. He’d been her one and only boyfriend, and the relationship had been disastrous.
As a distraction, her memory worked far too well. Her heart froze. The smile died on her lips. She shivered, hugging her arms around her body. Not that they could give her any protection against a man like Marco Rossi! Nick was only half his size, and she still carried the scars. Marco would make a much more formidable enemy. She didn’t want to put him to any sort of test.
His shoulders were wide and powerful, and two metres was such an awkward height. She already had a crick in her neck from looking up to him. As for his clothes—Cheryl looked them over carefully. His suit and open necked white shirt were obviously expensive. The cut was perfect. This man didn’t have any physical flaws to hide, and his tailor had concentrated on accentuating the tall masculinity of him. The materials used were the best quality linen and fine cotton, but it was all ruined now. Everything he wore was soaking wet, and dirty from his mercy dash.
Even Marco Rossi’s smile isn’t quite perfect, Cheryl realised. It might be white, it might be tempting, but there’s a tiny chip out of that front tooth, on the right…
‘How long will it take for your luggage to catch up with you, Signor Rossi?’ she said briskly, trying to divert her attention from his body to his situation.
‘I’ve told you—call me Marco.’
Cheryl smiled, and then wished she hadn’t. He smiled back, and the effect was electric. Luckily, another hurricane blast smashed against the house and the moment was broken. She glanced over her shoulder, terrified. Marco grimaced.
‘It will take my things some time to get here, judging by this weather.’
‘Then it’s just as well the rest of the staff showed me around before Vettor fell ill,’ Cheryl managed with a trace of her usual bright efficiency. At last there was something about this horrible day to smile about. ‘As we say in England, “it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good”. While you go and have a shower, Marco, I’ll sort you out some dry things. Finding my way around by torchlight might take some time, though!’
‘I’ll get my clothes, if you could find where Housekeeping store my towels. And don’t worry, you won’t need a torch. Listen—the generators have kicked in.’
He reached across to the nearest wall switch and snapped it on. A low-wattage bulb glowed bravely in the darkness.
‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’
Marco gave a very Italian shrug. ‘It’s always a good idea to have back-up when you live in the country.’
The increased light tempted Cheryl to run an appreciative gaze over him again. She chose exactly the wrong moment to do it. Marco sensed where she was looking, and turned his head. The glint in his eyes made her glance away sharply.
‘That’s very efficient of you, Marco.’ She tried to sound prim.
‘But of course! What else would you expect from a man with my reputation? And you can smile when you speak to me. It’s allowed!’ His response was light and teasing.
Cheryl didn’t know what to think. To hear his staff talk, Marco Rossi was deadly serious about everything. But from the moment he’d burst into this house she’d been swept up by a whirlwind. He’d been protective, determined, and now he was smiling at her again.
She decided not to risk returning his gaze. It brought back memories of his hands touching hers. Cheryl didn’t dare let herself be carried away like that, so she made herself stick to purely practical things.
But trying to talk about one thing while her mind was on something else proved to be a big mistake. ‘When I’ve found the towels, I’ll take your wet clothes off you, Marco.’
Then she gasped, suddenly aware of what she had said.
‘Oh, no! I didn’t mean—that is, when you’ve taken them off, I’ll— No, what I should have said was—’
A devilish look haunted Marco’s face as he watched her floundering. It spurred Cheryl into ever more desperate torrents of apology. She got more and more flustered, but Marco said nothing. He didn’t need to. When he’d had his fun, he stretched like a cat and smiled with equal assurance.
‘Non te la prendere, Cheryl!’ His beautiful accent caressed her into silence. ‘I’d say chill out, but you look like a girl who doesn’t know what that means. What a shame you didn’t leave your English reserve at the airport,’ he said with mocking severity. ‘Life in Italy is going to be tough if you’re always worrying about double meanings. As for this—’ he glanced down ruefully at his ruined suit ‘—it’s not a problem. I’ll sort it out. I’d never expect you to run around after me like that. In any case, it’s the middle of the night!’
To her surprise, his concern sounded genuine. There was no sarcasm in his voice at all. That confused Cheryl even more.
‘You’re a man who employs staff…surely you expect that sort of treatment as your right, Signor Rossi? I mean, Marco.’ She corrected herself as he lowered his dark brows in warning.
‘Not from you. I’m employing you as a nanny—nothing more.’ He was firm, but she couldn’t leave it at that.
‘I have to do something—you’re filthy, soaking wet, and you might have been killed coming across country as you did!’
As she gazed into the blue of Marco’s eyes Cheryl’s mind was filled with images of him powering through the storm. Those pictures superheated a secret place inside her. It was somewhere she had almost forgotten existed.
When he spoke, his teasing tone aroused her most primitive instincts to an even higher pitch.
‘It was worth it for the reception I got when you opened the door to me.’
There was that smile again. Coupled with his low, melodious voice, it plucked at feelings Cheryl hadn’t allowed herself for a very long time. It felt right, and urgent, and…
If I don’t do something fast I’m lost, she thought desperately. Marco Rossi had a way of looking at her that made her forget time and place. Once trapped in the mystery of his eyes, surely it would only be seconds before she was yielding to the kiss to end all kisses…
‘I have to keep my mind off this storm, Marco.’ She gulped. ‘Tell me which bathroom you’ll be using. I’ll bring some towels when I’ve discovered where they’re kept.’
Dodging past him, she tried to distract her body. His voice wandered out of the sickroom and into the corridor. ‘That sounds ideal. I’ll use the shower in my suite.’
He followed her, but in his own sweet time. Cheryl felt as though she was in the presence of some large, predatory feline who watched her every move. She closed the door to Vettor’s room, tense with expectation. Marco was standing so close behind her she could almost feel his soft, warm breath on her neck. She hesitated, alight with nerves. They were both waiting for something to happen.
Compelled
