until Alessandro Roselli had walked into it. He stopped at the opposite side of the table and she was thankful to have something more substantial between them.
‘You live life in the fast lane—or did.’ His accent had turned into a sexy drawl and his eyes raked over her. Again she was conscious of her casual and slightly grubby clothes.
‘Well, now I don’t and I have no intention of going back to it. Nothing you—or my father—can say will change my mind.’
‘“Look after my little Charlie. She’d like you.”’ He spoke firmly and she knew exactly who he was quoting. Only Seb called her ‘little Charlie’.
He pulled out another chair and sat down. He was taking root, making it very clear he wasn’t leaving any time soon, but his words unsettled her. She could almost hear Seb saying them.
‘I don’t believe you.’ She folded her arms across her chest, trying to deflect his scrutiny, but she remembered the phone calls from Seb. He’d always tried to get her to date again, insisting that not all men were as heartless as her former fiancé. ‘He would never say that.’
Absently, he reached out and pulled last night’s local paper towards him. He looked as if he belonged in her home, in her kitchen. He looked comfortable.
‘It is true, cara.’
‘Charlotte to you.’ Her previous thoughts linked in too easily with his term of endearment and it unnerved her. She wished she’d never invited him to use ‘Charlie’.
‘Charlotte...’ he said, so slowly, so sexily he caressed each syllable. Heat speared through her body. She stood rigid, trying to ignore the heavy pulse of desire scorching through her. What the heck was the matter with her?
Maybe she’d been out of the fast lane, as he’d called it, for too long. Should she believe him, that Seb had wanted her involved? Not that she’d ever admit it to him, but those words could well have been spoken by her brother.
‘What exactly did my father say?’ She had to divert his attention. She couldn’t stand here any longer whilst his gaze ravished her. It was too unnerving.
He looked up at her, the paper forgotten, and the heat level within her rose higher still. She swallowed hard. Her brother had been right. She did like him, but purely on a primal level. It was just lust, nothing more. Something she would get over and she could do without that particular complication at the moment.
‘He said,’ he taunted her, his brows lifting a little too suggestively, ‘that it was time you got back in the driving seat.’
His words hung heavy in the air. Words which were true. Hadn’t her father said exactly that to her only a few weeks ago?
‘I wasn’t aware there was more to you than the glamorous façade you’ve always displayed on camera—that you’d been taught to drive high-powered cars.’ He watched her intently and she had the distinct impression he was trying to irritate her, push her into accepting that her brother had wanted her to be involved.
She thought of her job promoting Seb’s team, following them to every racetrack in the world and being interviewed by the press. It was a jet set lifestyle, one she’d enjoyed and had been good at. She’d got there by working her way up from the very bottom and had learnt all there was to know about cars and driving. Despite the glamorous image she portrayed to the world whilst on camera, she’d always felt safer, less exposed when she was doing what she really loved. Working on the cars and driving them—something her mother had been set against.
Was it time to stop hiding away and be part of that life again? She pondered the question, aware of his gaze on her, watching and taking in every move.
‘You’d be surprised,’ she flirted, shocking herself by doing so. What was she doing? She never flirted. It only ever caused trouble. She knew that better than most and had seen it many times in her line of work. Light-hearted flirting always led to more. Her mother had fallen victim to it, leaving her and Seb as teenagers whilst she pursued her latest love interest.
He raised a brow, his eyes sparking with sexy mischief, doing untold things to her pulse rate. It had to stop. She couldn’t stand here any longer beneath his scrutiny. She’d melt.
‘I hope I get to find out.’ His voice was almost a drawl, making her stomach clench.
‘Coffee?’ Diversion tactics were certainly required and coffee was the first thing to come to her mind.
* * *
‘Sì, grazie.’ The effect she was having made him slip automatically into Italian. Coffee was the last thing he wanted. Even a good cup of espresso wouldn’t distract him from the fire in his body.
She looked at him, her tongue sliding unconsciously over her lips, and he almost groaned with the effort of staying seated at the table when all he could do was watch her. Desiring a woman dressed in elegant evening wear was normal, but the way he wanted this casual and rumpled version of Charlie was totally new and unexpected. It was also extremely inconvenient.
He watched as she moved around the kitchen, taking in her curves as she turned her back to him to prepare the coffee. He liked the way her jeans clung to her thighs, accentuating the shape of her bottom. Her scruffy T-shirt couldn’t quite hide the indent of her waist, just as it hadn’t hidden the swell of her breasts from his hungry eyes moments ago.
She turned and passed over a mug of instant coffee, then sat at the table. Inwardly he grimaced. Not what he was used to, but if it meant he had time to convince her to at least be present at the launch then he would have to put up with it.
He took a sip, watching as she blew gently on hers, almost mesmerised by her lips. He had to rein in his libido. She was an attractive woman and in any other circumstances he would have wanted more—much more, at least long enough for the fire of lust to burn lower. But he had to remember she was Sebastian’s sister and, out of respect for his friend’s memory, she was off limits. He shouldn’t have allowed his attraction to show, shouldn’t have lit the fuse of attraction.
‘Back to business,’ he said tersely and put down his mug.
‘I wasn’t aware it was business,’ she said lightly. A little too lightly, giving away that she was battling with emotions, that she was stalling him. ‘I thought this was all about salving your conscience, freeing you of guilt.’
He did feel guilt over Seb’s death—who wouldn’t in the circumstances?—but it wasn’t what drove him, what had made him come here. He’d come because of the promise he’d made. ‘It is business, Charlotte. I want you to be at the launch of the car. Seb always wanted you there. He knew how good you were with the media.’
‘He never said anything to me about being at the launch.’ She put her mug down, pushing it away slightly, as if she too had no intention of drinking it.
He was about to say how much Seb had missed her. How he’d looked forward to her going to Italy. Anything to persuade her, when her next words jolted him with the raw pain entwined in them.
‘But I suppose he didn’t know he was going to die.’
He nodded, fighting his conscience and sensing she was coming to the right decision by herself. He just needed to give her a little more time. ‘Sadly, that is true.’
‘When
