And he would…soon.
If Rigo’s hands should slip lower…
Katie gulped. She was relieved that he was nowhere near her scars, of course, but he was almost cupping her bottom, which had set off a chain reaction in parts of her he mustn’t know about. But how could she hide her response to him? She didn’t have the experience to know. She arched her back. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to feel those big, strong hands holding her. She wanted to read all the subliminal messages that could pass between a man and a woman through the merest adjustment of a finger…
As the sultry beat of the slow, Latin American dance thrilled through her Katie found herself angling her buttocks ever more towards Rigo’s controlling hands. It was a signal as old as time and one he couldn’t help but read.
She exhaled raggedly as he confirmed this by adjusting the position of his hands once again. His fingertips were dangerously close now and, rather than feeling alarm, she felt small and safe, and violently aroused. She had never done anything as bold as this before, but here in the wholesome surroundings of the simple pizzeria, hidden in a mass of dancing couples, she felt free from the usual constraints. Gazing up, she met with eyes as dark and watchful as the night. Lower still she saw the sardonic smile playing around the corners of Rigo’s mouth, and realised he knew.
He knew.
She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, when what she really wanted to do was whisper, make love to me. But, other than in her wildest and most erotic fantasy, she would never find the courage to do that.
His senses were on fire. For the first time in his life he didn’t want a dance to end. The sexual chemistry between them had surprised him. He had enjoyed teasing Katie Bannister, the girl he thought of as Signorina Prim, but now his thoughts were taking the direct route to seduction. He wasn’t alone in feeling the power of this erotic spell. The other couples on the dance floor were drawn to them like moths to immolate on erotic flame. Even the musicians were swept up in this inferno of desire and, with a key change like a sigh, had reinforced the mood.
But he didn’t do one-night stands, or complications. Usually.
‘You’re quite a surprise to me,’ he murmured, feeling her tremble as his breath brushed her ear.
‘I wasn’t always so dull…’
He wasn’t going to argue about Katie’s interpretation of dull. Sensing there was more to come, he remained silent.
‘I trained to be an opera singer once.’
‘Did you?’ He couldn’t have been more surprised and pulled back to stare into her eyes. ‘What went wrong?’
He knew at once he shouldn’t have asked. He hadn’t meant to spoil the evening for her. Drawing her back into his arms, he held her gently and securely until she relaxed.
She’d tell him if she wanted to tell him, he reasoned. But the revelation had intrigued him. There was obviously so much more to uncover in this woman who favoured dull brown suits—perhaps an artistic diva waiting to break out. But as far as he was concerned, she must remain a shy, brown mouse who was under his protection while she was in Rome. Katie Bannister might be many things, but she was not a seductress—and even if in this sultry setting she appeared to be, it was up to him to keep things light between them and send her home as innocent as the day she had arrived in Italy.’ Reluctantly he disentangled himself from her arms. ‘Andiamo, piccolo topo—’
‘I am not your little mouse,’ she slurred.
And then he realised that three glasses of wine was probably her annual quota back home and she had drunk Gino’s firewater as if it were cordial—which almost certainly accounted for her openness about her opera training too.
‘You must learn to call me Signorina Bannister,’ she insisted, drawing her taupe brows together in her approximation of a fierce stare.
‘Bene,’ he said, happy to indulge her—at least on that one point.
‘It’s much better if we keep it…’ She frowned as she searched for the right word.
‘Formal between us?’ he suggested. ‘I think it’s time I took you home now,’ he said firmly, holding her away from him at arm’s length.
Rigo’s sudden change of mood from sexy to serious was so unexpected Katie blanked for a moment. Only when she finally managed to refocus did she wonder how she had ever wasted a moment thinking Rigo Ruggiero uncomplicated and fun. He was a playboy who lived every moment for the pleasure it brought him before moving on to the next distraction. Gino’s genuine warmth and the restaurateur’s homely restaurant must have clouded her thinking.
OK, that and the wine.
Common sense should have warned her Rigo was not the youth who had pitched up in Rome hoping to make his fortune. Rigo enjoyed these nostalgic visits but that didn’t mean he was the same uncomplicated youth he’d been then.
As he frogmarched her back to the table she faced the ugly truth. She was as naïve as she had ever been and Rigo was the same playboy for whom the main attraction on tonight’s menu of amusement had been an impressionable out-of-towner. He’d played the game for a while, but had soon tired of her lack of sophistication. She felt bad, because she never put herself in the way of rejection, knowing the outcome was a foregone conclusion. And the one time she had…
Katie smiled as she thanked Gino for her shawl. Rigo was already standing by the door, waiting for her. He couldn’t wait to bring the evening to a close. It was up to her to pull herself together and leave with enough pride to be able to deal with him on a professional level tomorrow morning.
Taking a shower in cold reality was the swiftest antidote to male pride he knew. ‘As he held the restaurant door for Katie her cool gaze assured him—don’t worry, you won’t get the chance. Tipping her chin, she walked proudly past him into the night. Even that amused him. Most women with one eye on his fortune tried harder. Katie wasn’t that sort. In her eyes he was a man who preferred racing his sports car to keeping an appointment. Shallow? He was barely puddle-deep. Yes, all this he could see in Katie Bannister’s cool, topaz-coloured gaze.
He only had to raise his hand and a limousine drew up in front of them at the kerb. ‘Your chariot awaits, signorina. I plan ahead,’ he said when she looked at him in surprise. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added when her gaze flickered with alarm. ‘I’ll see you safely back to your hotel.’
He let his driver help her into the car, which appeared to reassure her. He took his seat in the back, ensuring he kept a good space between them. She didn’t risk further conversation; neither did he. It seemed the most sensible course of action after the fire they’d ignited at Gino’s. He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised by the way time had flown. ‘If you’d like to make our meeting a little later—’
‘Not at all,’ she interrupted in a way that drew his attention to her lips. She had beautifully formed plump pink lips. The thought of pressing his mouth against them while his tongue teased them apart stirred him. He could imagine how she would taste, and how it would feel when she wound her arms around his neck. ‘In that case, I suggest we have lunch immediately afterwards—’
‘Immediately after our meeting tomorrow I’ll be on a plane home, Signor Ruggiero.’
He awarded her more than one brownie point for that swift riposte. ‘I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Rigo?’
She didn’t answer, and as she turned away to stare out of the window he found the chill between them erotic. He liked a challenge. And, even if he had decided to take her home and treat her chastity with the respect it deserved, he was a man.
She spoiled the mood by asking for her hair clip.
He shrugged and gave it to her, and then had to watch as she scraped her hair back as tightly and as primly as it would go. She only relaxed when she had completed the transformation from lovely young woman to maiden aunt.
But the obvious had always bored him, which was why Katie Bannister intrigued him. So much passion so tightly controlled could only end one way. And remembering her visit to his favourite shop—wha
t a contrast that style of underwear would be to her precisely ordered hair. When did she intend on wearing it? Was she wearing it? What had provoked Signorina Prim into that walk on the wild side? And what would persuade her to take another walk on the wild side with him?
As if sensing the path his thoughts were taking, she looked at him shyly, but, shy or not, that look plainly said he shouldn’t imagine everything had been put on this earth for his amusement.
‘In another thirty-six hours,’ she said, and with rather too much relish, he thought, ‘I’ll be back at my desk in Yorkshire—’
‘In that case we’ll have to work quickly,’ he said.
She flashed him a concerned glance.
‘I’ll take you to the airport immediately after the reading of the will.’
He felt sure she would refuse this offer, but instead she said, ‘Thank you, Signor Ruggiero, that will save me taking a cab.’
Katie was on tenterhooks until they reached the hotel. She couldn’t wait to bury her head under a pillow and wish the night away so it could be morning and she could gabble out the contents of the will and go home to her dull, quiet, safe life. To her disappointment, for the remainder of the journey home Rigo had no trouble keeping things on a business footing and didn’t speak to her at all. By the time they reached the hotel she was tied up in knots.
He escorted her across the lobby and even insisted on pressing the elevator button. When the lift doors slid open he kept his finger on that button as he said, ‘Goodnight, Signorina Bannister. I hope you sleep well. And don’t worry about calling a cab in the morning—I will send a car for you.’
She said thank you for the evening and then got into the lift. She wished, hoped, prayed, Rigo would step in after her. Of course, he didn’t. Something she had every cause to be grateful for, Katie reasoned sensibly as the elevator door closed.
After that everything felt flat and a restless night followed. There was only one face in her dreams, which explained why her eyes were red the next morning. Her face was washed-out too, and as for her hair…
Better not to dwell on that disaster, she decided, scraping it back neatly into the customary bun before securing the severe style with the whole of a packet of hair grips.
Job done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, the image hadn’t changed. She was the same ordinary person. The next task was automatic. Angling her head to stare at her naked back in the mirror, she checked her scars. Nothing had changed there either. They were still as livid, the sight of them just as stomach-churning.
What had she expected? Did she think she could wish them away?
Impatient with herself for this moment of weakness, she turned away to dress in modest brown. There was only one thing out of sync in this neat brown package, she concluded after slipping on her sensible brown court shoes, and that was some rather striking underwear, purchased from a luxury boutique in Rome. Well, if she waited for a suitable opportunity to wear it the moths would have a feast.
Before leaving the room she slicked on some lip gloss. Mashing her lips together experimentally, she decided to wipe it off again. Did she want to draw attention? As no other delaying tactics sprang to mind, she drew in a deep, steadying breath and picked up her bag.
CHAPTER TEN
HE SETTLED his shades in place. Zapping the lock, he swung into the car. Resting the phone in its nest, he was still talking, grim-faced and tight-lipped as he pulled away from the kerb outside the imposing hospital building. ‘Yes, of course, do everything you can—whatever it takes—and please keep me informed.’
He stopped and drew breath as he cut the line. Now it was business as usual. This was his life—swinging from the charity that meant so much to him to the business that sustained it. The only difference today was that he was going to be late again for a meeting with Katie Bannister.
It couldn’t be helped and he wouldn’t explain the delay. He didn’t want the world knowing what he did in his private time and only a very few individuals knew he was behind the charitable foundation. His only concern was ensuring confidentiality for anyone helped by the foundation. Today it had provided life-saving surgery; tomorrow he might be taking a teenager around the track in his sports car. Whatever was required he made time for—and sometimes Antonia suffered; he knew that and felt bad about it, but there were never enough hours in a day.
Antonia knew nothing about this other life. She was too young. He would never put the burden of silence on her shoulders.
Resting his unshaven chin on his arm, he waited for a gap in the traffic. Before he could placate Antonia he must meet with Signorina Prim, and learn what last thought Carlo had sent his way. Katie Bannister would be cooling her sensible heels at the penthouse, feeling justly affronted because he was late by more than an hour.
In spite of the rush-hour traffic he made it back in record time. Leaving the sports car where it was sure to be clamped and in all probability towed away, he raced into the building. He stabbed impatiently at the elevator button and barged inside the steel cage before the doors were properly open. Throwing himself back against the wall, he watched the floor numbers changing—more slowly, surely, than they had ever changed before.
Edgy didn’t even begin to describe his condition. Impatience steaming out of every pore. He used the few seconds remaining to compartmentalise his thinking. He couldn’t take so much anger and concern into this meeting—it wasn’t fair to Katie. She didn’t know about his day, or the fact that Carlo was trying to stab him one last time from the grave—how could she?
He liked her. She was a quiet little mouse, but the way she stood up to him suggested there was a spine of steel in there somewhere—who wouldn’t like that? Maybe if things had been different…
But things weren’t different and the elevator had just reached his floor.
She found it hard to believe Rigo would be late again. Surely, not even he could be this inconsiderate—this rude? It proved how little he thought of her professionally; in every way. She was an inconvenience and nothing more. Staring down at the busy main road framed by exquisite palaces and gardens, Katie tried to make herself believe it didn’t matter Rigo was late again. Why should she care? This was business. Lots of clients were late for business meetings—some even forgot about them entirely. Why should this be any different?
Because this appointment was with Rigo.
Because of the ache in her heart.
Because she wanted him to treat her better than the average client would treat her, and because she had allowed herself to commit the cardinal sin of becoming emotionally involved with a client—a one-sided arrangement that left her feeling daft and stupid. As she continued to beat herself up her attention was drawn to one of the large Roman car-towing vehicles. No doubt someone else’s day was about to be spoiled—
‘Katie.’
She whirled around as Rigo’s husky voice broke the silence.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He strode towards her. Having burst in like a whirlwind, he spread his arms wide in a gesture of regret. ‘Please accept my apologies.’
She took him in at a glance—the unshaven face, the rumpled clothes, the less than brilliant eyes. A horrible thought occurred to her, making her feel sick inside. Had he come here straight from someone’s bed?
And why should she care? Was his sex life her business now?
But she did care. She cared a great deal too much. ‘Rigo,’ she said, extending a cool hand in greeting. ‘I had almost given you up.’
‘You’ve been well looked after, I hope?’ He glanced around and relaxed when he saw her coffee.
‘I’ve been looked after very well, thank you, and while I was waiting—’
‘Yes?’
His eyes were warmer now. ‘I took down some messages for you.’
‘Bene…good.’
She crossed to the desk to pick up the notes she had made. ‘One was from the PA you just sacked,’ she said, turning. ‘Signorina Partilora was most disappoi
nted that you weren’t here for her to deliver her message to you in person. Perhaps you’d like me to read it to you—’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘That’s OK. I can imagine…’
‘If you’re sure?’ Her eyes glinted.
‘Signorina Bannister,’ Rigo growled, ‘if I am any judge, I cannot imagine that such words would ever cross your lips.’
Then I might surprise you, Katie thought, flashing her innocent look. ‘I think it’s safe to say Signorina Partilora will not be working for you again,’ she told him mildly.
Rigo laughed. ‘What a relief. I have your cast-iron guarantee on that, do I?’
He was close enough to touch and her senses were ignited by his delicious man scent. If she could bottle that warm, clean, spicy aroma she’d make a fortune, Katie concluded. And then she would be able to walk away from a job she had no passion for.
‘The will?’ Rigo prompted.
‘Yes, of course.’ Her eyes stung with tears as she walked to the desk.
Because this was the end, Katie realised. It was the end of her Roman fantasy and the end of her fantasy life with Rigo—except she had no life with Rigo and she’d be going home after this.
Instead of sitting across from her Rigo came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. His touch was electric. Had he seen her eyes fill with tears? She couldn’t bear the humiliation.
‘I understand why you are upset and short tempered,’ he said, keeping his hands in place, ‘and you have every right to be angry with me. Please be assured my delay was necessary.’
She let her breath out slowly as he lifted his hands away and walked to the other side of the desk. She found it even harder to control her feelings when Rigo was nice to her, and now her nose was having a seizure, while her throat felt as if someone was standing on it. ‘Shall we start?’ she managed hoarsely.
Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim Page 8