Her Italian Boss

by Lynne Graham

  A choking sound emerged from Natalie’s throat. As hard as she tried to avoid looking at Rafe, like a compass needle finding north her eyes seemed irresistibly drawn to his.

  ‘Men are handsome, Rose, ladies are beautiful.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No,’ she persisted stubbornly, ‘Rafe is beautiful.’

  Natalie could only agree with her daughter’s assessment of the man whose startling blue gaze was melded with her own. Her voice thickened emotionally. ‘Extremely beautiful,’ she agreed huskily.

  ‘Well, I think it’s time that we were going,’ Mike interrupted stiffly.

  It was difficult to persuade Rose it was time to go, but eventually the time Natalie had been dreading arrived—she and Rafe were alone. There seemed no point delaying the inevitable; she took a deep breath and got straight to the point.

  She shot a wary glance at the tall figure who was examining the books in her bookcase. He didn’t look, but it was reasonable to suppose, despite his performance, that he wasn’t too happy with her.

  ‘I think Mike’s in a bit of a huff.’

  Rafe slid a copy of a paperback thriller back; he ran a finger slowly down its spine before turning. There was a hard light in his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ll be losing any sleep over your Mike.’

  ‘He isn’t my Mike,’ she replied irritably.

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he looked searchingly at her. ‘No…?’

  ‘He’s getting married today.’

  ‘Most people would consider him pretty good-looking,’ Rafe remarked casually.

  ‘Fortunately Rose took after him in the looks department…’

  ‘So you do think he’s good-looking…?’

  Natalie gave a bewildered frown. ‘Look, just how are Mike’s looks important to anything?’ she demanded.

  ‘If he decided not to get married, if he asked you to take him back—would you?’

  Natalie coloured angrily. ‘What do you take me for?’

  His smile was cynical. ‘A woman in love?’

  Natalie’s eyes slid from his. ‘I am not in love with Mike,’ she replied guardedly. Now that she knew what being in love actually felt like she knew she had never loved Mike in that way.

  Rafael gave one of his inimical shrugs. Natalie studied his face. ‘You didn’t like him, did you?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘I didn’t like the number he was trying to do on you,’ he revealed grimly. ‘Give him custody? No lawyer, no matter how well paid, could persuade a court in the country to take Rose away from you.’

  ‘You don’t know all the facts.’

  ‘I know you’re a good mother.’

  The conviction in his tone brought an emotional lump to her throat. ‘But I’m stony-broke. It’s ironic, really Mike has never been able to pay child support. Now he’s marrying a rich woman, his uncle has died and left him a property worth over two million and the critics have decided he’s the next Warhol! I, on the other hand, expend more than I earn.’

  ‘What I said still stands—you’re a good mother and that’s all any judge would be interested in.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Natalie said wistfully; she really wanted to believe him.

  ‘Totally,’ Rafe confirmed.

  Normally Natalie found his immutable confidence irritating, but this was one occasion when she welcomed it. ‘Did you go along with…?’

  ‘Go along with…?’

  Cheeks burning, she lifted her head. ‘Me saying we were engaged. Was it because you didn’t like Mike?’

  ‘I expect that had something to do with it,’ he confirmed.

  ‘I suppose you expect me to apologise for…’

  ‘Well, going on your track record I’m not expecting it any time soon.’

  Natalie’s head came up, she set her hands on her hips and glared up at him. ‘I don’t have a problem apologising when I know I’m in the wrong—even to you!’

  One dark brow lifted. ‘Meaning I do?’

  ‘You made me feel about so high,’ she said, holding her forefinger and thumb a whisper away from one another. ‘And,’ she added bitterly, ‘if you wanted to put me in my place you didn’t have to do it in front of everyone! You didn’t have to…’ She broke off, dismayed to feel her eyes fill with tears. ‘You probably don’t even know when I’m talking about.’ Why would he?

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I was stupid enough at the time to think that we were friends,’ she added in a small voice.

  ‘Yes, you were stupid,’ he agreed. ‘We could never be friends,’ he added harshly.

  To hear him spell it so brutally hurt more than she would have thought possible. ‘What’s wrong, Rafe—is my hair the wrong colour?’ Rafe’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they slid through the silky strands of her long brown hair. ‘Or am I from the wrong social background?’ she suggested scornfully.

  ‘Your hair…’ He cleared his throat and removed his gaze from her hair. ‘Your hair is beautiful.’ The forceful nature of this raw declaration made Natalie look at him sharply. ‘And who our parents were has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Pooh…says you!’ She sniffed.

  His nostrils flared as she turned away from him. ‘Yes, I do,’ he rebutted in a driven undertone. ‘And I say we couldn’t be friends because there’s too much chemistry between us and there has been from day one.’

  Natalie spun back, her face flushed, her mouth slightly ajar. She could feel her fragile grip on reality slipping as she focused on his lean dark face. ‘You’re my b…boss.’

  ‘I don’t need reminding of that,’ he promised her.

  ‘Day one!’ she breathed in a stunned undertone. ‘You liked me…?’

  ‘I don’t think like is the correct term. Changing the subject slightly, which believe me I don’t do out of choice…I was wondering…?’

  ‘Yes…?’

  ‘Are you going to the wedding like that?’

  ‘Like…?’ Frowning, she followed the direction of Rafe’s gaze and gave a cry. ‘Oh, God, what time is it?’ she cried, drawing the gaping lapels of her thin, loose-fitting robe in her fist.

  ‘Relax, it’s early yet.’

  ‘You wake up looking drop-dead gorgeous; for me it requires a little more time.’

  ‘I think you look gorgeous like that.’

  ‘If you’re going to lie, try for something a little more believable.’

  Rafe shook his head. ‘My God, I’ve never met a woman as hard to be nice to as you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NATALIE smudged a little soft brown shadow on her eyelids and smeared some clear gloss on her lips. A quick flick of blusher completed her hastily applied make-up. It was ironic that the one time she had planned to really go to town with the warpaint she was in even more of a hurry than usual.

  ‘Well, they do say the natural look is in this season,’ she reflected, eyeing the result in the mirror as she fought her way into the simple soft apricot shift dress she’d decided to wear. It bore the label of a chain-store brand; Natalie had decided it would be foolish to try and compete on her budget.

  She slipped her feet into a pair of high-heeled sandals that emphasised the shapely length of her slender calves and smoothed out a wrinkle in her fine lace-topped hold-ups she wore underneath. She glanced at her watch; it was the only jewellery, besides a pair of antique drop pearl earrings, she wore.

  All I have to do now is something with this hair, she thought, frowning as she slid her fingers through the silky mass that fell river-straight almost to her waist. That was always supposing she ever got this darned zip up! She grunted softly and grimaced as she twisted around in an effort to see what the recalcitrant fastener had snagged on.

  While in a position that would only be considered comfortable by a contortionist she lost her balance and stumbled against a lamp. She lunged for it, but her reflexes were not sharp enough to stop it falling off her bedside table, taking with it her alarm clock, which hit the metal bed frame and catapulted like a t
hing possessed across the room where it hit dead centre the cheval mirror, which shattered before her disbelieving eyes.

  The noise as the glass showered onto the bare wood of the stripped floorboards was so loud that she wasn’t aware of the door opening until Rafe was actually inside the room.

  ‘I heard a noise.’

  ‘I think they heard a noise half a mile away.’ The wry smile that invited him to share the humorous side to this situation faded as her eyes encountered no reciprocal amusement in his—on the contrary Rafe’s expression was unexpectedly severe, his entire manner off-puttingly grim as he stood there not reacting to the disorder around him.

  Perhaps it was the thought of acting as her fiancé at the wedding that was making him look so bleak—now he’d had a little while to reflect he could be questioning if his acting ability was up to carrying it off.

  Natalie was wondering if she ought to do the decent thing and give him the opportunity to back out gracefully when she caught sight of the neat stack of freshly laundered undies that were waiting to be put away on the bottom of her bed. Instinctively she reached across and drew the chenille throw that was folded across the bed over them. She realised immediately that all her prim action had done was draw his attention to them. He probably thought it hilarious that she imagined the sight of her white cotton knickers would inspire uncontrollable lust.

  In your dreams! Maybe his too—he was the one who had mentioned chemistry. Lust at first sight, no less.

  ‘Well, I suppose this means seven years’ bad luck.’

  ‘Are you superstitious?’

  ‘Not especially—I have my fingers crossed.’ So the joke had been pathetic, but a polite smile wouldn’t have killed him! A frown deepened the line between her arched brows as she studied his enigmatic dark face. She was beginning to get the distinct impression that he hadn’t heard a word she had said.

  ‘My zip jammed,’ she began to explain. When she was nervous she babbled and his silence and the growing tension she sensed in him made her very nervous. Also this whole bedroom thing was something she wasn’t comfortable with. ‘I guess it’s a classic case of more haste, less speed. I was trying to unstick it and I knocked the lamp off.’ She gestured to the lamp lying on the floor. ‘It was sort of a chain reaction after that—you should have seen it.’

  ‘Is it still stuck?’

  His abrupt question made her start. ‘What? Oh, yes, you have to be a contort—’

  ‘Turn around,’ he instructed brusquely.

  ‘Oh, I’ll manage.’ She forced her lips into a smile.

  ‘Turn around,’ he repeated in a tone that suggested he was getting bored with the subject—and, for that matter, her.

  Natalie bit her lip. If she persisted in resisting his perfectly unexceptional offer it might give rise to awkward questions, such as for instance why did the idea of him touching her skin have her in such a blind panic? After all, she planned on letting him do so as much as he liked.

  ‘Thank you.’ Taking a deep breath, she turned around to give him access to the zip.

  Nothing happened; nothing happened for so long that she almost turned around.

  Just as she was deciding enough was enough she felt cool air touch her skin as he lifted the mesh of her loose hair off her neck. A shiver slithered softly down her spine as she felt his fingertips lightly graze her skin. At that point Natalie realised this was going to be every bit as bad as she had imagined and more…pure torture!

  Rafe eventually managed to gather all her hair in his fist. ‘There’s a lot of it,’ he murmured, laying the heavy swathe over her shoulder. Displaying a meticulous attention to detail, he brushed the few stray strands that clung to her neck to join them.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  Natalie closed her eyes tight shut. ‘Not a thing,’ she assured him brightly.

  There was another agonising pause before he reapplied himself to the task in hand. The zip was jammed just below her bra strap, and Rafe’s fingers slid under the lacy hem to give himself better access to the problem.

  ‘Stop fidgeting!’ he snapped tersely as she shifted restively in a frantic effort to lessen the contact that was sending ripple after ripple of hot sensation through her body. Her skin was so hot and sticky he had to have noticed.

  ‘Then hurry up,’ she retorted thickly.

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can.’ He gave a grunt of pent-up frustration. ‘Damned…stupid…!’

  His touch had a frightening addictive quality. ‘For pity’s sake, it’s not brain surgery!’ she gasped, desperation in her voice. ‘I have a wedding to get to.’ And if she did or said what she actually wanted to she was pretty sure they wouldn’t!

  She heard him mutter darkly under his breath and felt his warm breath stir the fine hairs on her nape as he bent closer to his task. A faint whimper escaped from between her clenched teeth.

  ‘You all right…?’

  If she hadn’t been so far from all right Natalie might have noticed that Rafe’s normally assured voice held an unfamiliar strained note. ‘Absolutely fine!’ she heard herself lie breezily.

  ‘I’m getting there.’

  So am I—she was at that very moment hovering on the brink of a precipice; one little shove would have her turning around and begging him to take her. Exhaling gustily, she dabbed her tongue to the film of moisture above her upper lip. The debilitating weakness that was already severely affecting her limbs had obviously begun to cloud her mental judgement as well. Her suspicion was validated by the next uncensored idiot observation that spilled from her big mouth!

  ‘Dear God, if you take this long to undress a woman the poor thing is probably asleep by the time you actually get started.’

  ‘So far that hasn’t happened; slow but thorough, that’s me.’

  The fiery blush travelled all over her skin, but underneath the embarrassment she was getting even more excited thinking about Rafe being thorough and slow with her.

  Not now, there’s a wedding to go to and all sorts of ground rules to figure out.

  ‘Got it, I think…?’ Holding the fabric taut, Rafe forced the zip upwards, it gave, and when he pulled it down again this time it slid smoothly—very smoothly all the way down.

  All the way!

  With a silken rush the peach-coloured fabric of the dress parted from her neck to the top of her tight buttocks and revealed the entire length of her satiny slim back, plus the interesting little dimple just above the soft curve of her peachy skinned bottom.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ The pressure inside Rafe’s head was now so intense he knew something had to give. ‘Oh, my God,’ he repeated in a fainter but no less impressed tone. ‘You’re absolutely perfect.’ He ran a fascinated finger down her straight spine, feeling the evenly spaced bony projections, letting his exploration widen to take in the elegant definition of her elegant shoulder blades.

  With a mumbled imprecation that concerned his sanity, Rafe spun her around.

  She stood there, visible tremors running through her slim body, eyes wide, lips parted. In the front the dress was hanging onto her slender shoulders—barely. One judicious tug and it would… Her wide eyes looked up at him; she was scared stiff he’d take the next step and scared stiff he wouldn’t. Having suffered a similar ambivalence for weeks and months, he could readily identify with what she was feeling.

  The dress fell with a sexy, silken slither to pool around her feet and Natalie stood there clad only in her minuscule lacy bra and matching pants; the stockings and high heels that completed the outfit she wore couldn’t really be classed as clothing—more provocation!

  Less is quite definitely more, Rafe decided, unable to stop staring like a kid at a sweet-shop window. No window…no door—in fact there was nothing keeping him away from her except his disintegrating will-power—an overrated virtue if ever there was one.

  Natalie wanted to tell him that he really shouldn’t have done that, but her vocal cords were paralysed—as she was—with lust. She waited fo
r her protective reflexes to kick in, but they didn’t. But then no man had ever looked at her the way Rafe was, and she felt her legs tremble.

  ‘I’ve wanted you for weeks,’ he confided, laying his hands heavily on her shoulders. ‘I’ve fantasised about what you had on under those hideous, baggy clothes you wear.’ He wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what he had fantasised about doing once he had removed those clothes…fantasised about doing right there in his office.

  Desire was like a fist clutching low in her belly. ‘I dress for comfort.’ She was surprised to hear an unfamiliar breathy voice emerge from her lips. ‘Well, thank you for fixing my zip.’ And blowing my mind into some lustful other dimension. ‘But I really should be getting ready now.’

  Rafe heard her out politely before he laughed scornfully and closed his hand possessively over her right breast. From the expression in his eyes it seemed to Natalie that he found the sight of her small breast covered by his big hand as stimulating as she did.

  ‘I know a short cut to the church, we have at least forty minutes to spare.’ He appeared to consider the problem. ‘What do you suppose we do with that time?’

  As he spoke he was scooping her straining breast out of the flimsy bra cup with practised ease. A sibilant hiss escaped through his clenched teeth as he watched the already engorged pink bud swell and harden. Natalie cried out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

  ‘You are probably the smuggest, most conceited man that ever lived,’ she accused shakily.

  Rafe swallowed hard and dragged his reverent gaze to her face; there was not a trace of the smugness she accused him of in his raw, driven expression. Her stomach flipped.

  He gave a strained, crooked grin. ‘But sexy with it, right…?’ he croaked hoarsely.

  A laugh was wrenched from Natalie’s dry throat—laughter and sex had never seemed compatible until now. ‘It isn’t your sex appeal that’s in question here, it’s my sanity—’ She broke off mid-complaint as she felt the catch on her bra unclick.

  With a smile Rafe chucked her bra over his shoulder. ‘In the interests of symmetry,’ he explained, admiring the perfect symmetry of her unfettered breasts. The thought of taking those straining peaks into his mouth aroused him unbearably.