Her eyelids flickered as if his question had momentarily thrown her. ‘I—I don’t have one.’ Her slim throat rose and fell, and even with the background noise of the restaurant he heard the sound of her tight swallow.
Matteo kept hold of her hand, his thumb stroking across the soft skin of her palm. ‘Ah, but that is not quite true, is it? We all have some hoof print of hurt from the past, often from some event in our childhood or adolescence. And you’ve had cancer, which is one hell of a wound to deal with—one, I suspect, that would leave a much larger hoof print than most.’
‘But I was cured, so I don’t have that wound any more.’
‘But you still worry about getting cancer again.’
Her gaze lowered to the collar of his shirt. ‘Yes, but so do most cancer survivors. Every ache or pain, you wonder... Is it back? Every annual check-up and blood test are an anxiety fest until the results come back normal.’
Her gaze crept back up to his. ‘It’s a heck of a way to live, but I’m glad I’m still living. There were a couple of other teenagers on the ward with me who didn’t make it. I made a promise to myself back then that I would make the most of my life to honour them. And I believe I do that every time I match up two people and they fall in love with each other and get their happy-ever-after. Nothing gives me more pleasure.’
Matteo hooked one eyebrow upwards, his thumb circling her palm in a caressing manner. ‘Nothing?’
Emmie’s cheeks went pink again and she gave a wry smile. ‘Well, apart from that.’ She paused for a moment and added, ‘But I don’t regret waiting this long to...to have a fling. I needed to concentrate on my business and it might not have been as successful as it’s been if I’d been distracted by my own relationship. An intimate relationship takes time and commitment. I’ve put that time and commitment into my career.’
‘There might be a time when a career isn’t enough for you any more.’
Emmie pulled her hand out of his and picked up her water glass, shooting him a look from beneath her lowered lashes. ‘Not every woman wants the husband, the kids and the white picket fence, you know.’
‘Do your parents pressure you and your sister to give them grandchildren?’ Matteo asked, thinking of the endless nagging his father had gone on with over the years, about Matteo producing an heir.
Emmie put her glass back on the table, but seemed to misjudge where the cutlery was. The stem caught the tines of her fork and the glass fell over, spilling water across the tablecloth. ‘Oh, shoot. I’m sorry for being so clumsy.’ She began to mop up the spill with her napkin but a waiter soon rushed across and took over.
Matteo couldn’t help feeling his question had unsettled her and wondered if her parents were the traditional sort who expected their offspring to date, get engaged, marry and then produce children in that order, as they had. He had lived experience of parental pressure, and if anything, it had achieved the opposite, making him even more determined not to settle down. Which was no doubt why his father had gone to the lengths he had to get Matteo to do what he wanted.
The waiter replaced the tablecloth and poured Emmie a fresh glass of water and then discreetly melted away again.
‘Will you excuse me?’ Emmie said before Matteo could resume the thread of conversation. ‘I need to freshen up.’
‘Sure.’ He watched her weave her way through the tables, a frown deepening on his brow. If her parents had pressured her the way his father had pressured him, then Emmie and he had more in common than he’d thought.
No wonder he felt such a deep connection with her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMIE WAS GLAD the rest room was empty so she could pull herself together in private. Matteo’s question had caught her off-guard, not because she hadn’t been asked such a question before—she had, many times, too many times to count. Her parents were the last people who would ever pressure her to produce grandchildren, because they knew she couldn’t. Nor could Natty, unless her condition was cured, and unfortunately, with every year that passed, that was looking more and more unlikely.
It pained Emmie every time she saw her mother’s wistful glance at a pram or a pregnant woman, or when she walked past a children’s wear boutique. Her mother was careful to do it covertly but Emmie had seen it enough times to know her mother grieved deeply for the shattered dream of one day holding her own grandchild in her arms.
It was why Emmie didn’t add to her mother’s grief by openly expressing her own sadness at not being able to have a baby. She pretended it would have been her choice to be childless regardless of her chemo-induced infertility. What good would it do to dump even more pain on her already overburdened mother? It wouldn’t be fair, nor would it achieve anything but inflict more emotional distress. Her cancer had taken so much away from her but it had also stolen so much from her family. The future they had once envisaged, the happiness and healthiness all of them had taken for granted until it was snatched away.
Emmie could no longer be the daughter her parents had once pictured as the mother of their future grandchildren. How, then, could she dare to picture herself as someone suitable for Matteo? It was an impossible dream. A fool’s dream.
Emmie finger-combed her hair, reapplied her lip-gloss and took a deep breath to compose herself. Spending time with Matteo Vitale was exciting, exhilarating and erotic, and yet he threatened everything she had worked so hard to finally accept in her life. She knew it was hypocritical of her to call out his fear of vulnerability when she was covering up her own. His laser-like focus, his forensically trained, sharply intelligent mind and his assiduous attention to detail were qualities she deeply admired in him, and yet they were the very qualities that most unsettled her. While she didn’t believe vulnerability was a weakness, her vulnerability was nobody’s business but her own.
And she intended to keep it that way.
* * *
The band had taken up position next to the dance floor by the time Emmie got back to the table. Matteo rose from his chair and held out his hands. ‘How about we try out those two left feet of yours?’
Emmie fought back a smile. ‘Are you wearing steel-toed shoes? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘I have a high pain threshold.’
Emmie didn’t for a moment doubt it. He had lost his wife and child and, while he claimed not to have been in love with Abriana, he most certainly felt enormous guilt and sadness at the loss of her life and that of their child. It struck Emmie then how similar he and she were. Both dealing with deep personal sadness, pretending to everyone they were fine when they were not. They had each buried their sadness and carried on the best way they knew how.
Matteo led her to the dance floor, held her in the waltz position and began moving with her to the slow ballad. Emmie moved with him, a little surprised at how natural it felt, as if they had been dancing together for years. Three other couples joined them but to Emmie it felt as if she and Matteo were completely alone. His hand on the small of her back sent tingles down the backs of her legs. The fingers of his other hand were warm and gentle around hers. His navy-blue eyes held hers in a mesmerising lock, communicating a sensually charged message that made her skin tighten in anticipation.
‘You’re a natural,’ Matteo said, bringing her closer to his body, close enough for her to feel the impact she was having on him. It thrilled her to feel his reaction, the stirring of his body sending a hot wave of desire flooding through hers.
‘I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s because you’re such a good partner,’ Emmie said, gazing up at him.
His eyes darkened and dipped to her mouth and her heart missed a beat. Her words seemed to ring in the silence. Such a good partner. The perfect partner in so many ways. But her job was to find him someone, not to be that someone herself.
There was no way anyone could describe her as the perfect partner for him. She could not give him what he most wan
ted. He didn’t want love or even long-term commitment. What he wanted, needed, was an heir. There was no magic wand or benevolent fairy godmother that could ever bring that about for her. Her fate had been decided eight years ago, the day she had first been diagnosed with cancer.
Eight years ago...
And there was another similarity between her and Matteo. Eight years ago, his life had changed for ever when his wife and child had died in a car crash. The same year Emmie had been fighting for her life, his wife and child had lost theirs.
Matteo brought one of his hands to the small frown on Emmie’s forehead, smoothing it out with his finger. ‘So serious all of a sudden. Is something wrong?’ His tone had a note of concern.
Emmie gave a vestige of a smile. ‘I was just thinking that eight years ago we were both going through terrible times on opposite sides of the world. It’s kind of spooky how two strangers’ lives can intersect.’
Matteo brushed his fingers beneath her chin in a feather-light caress. ‘Have you heard the saying, “strangers are friends you haven’t yet met”?’
‘No, but I like it.’ She paused for a beat before asking, ‘Is that how you see me? As a friend?’
His eyes moved between hers for a pulsing moment, his expression inscrutable. ‘That’s what you like to be for your clients, isn’t it? The friend that facilitates a perfect match for them.’
Emmie sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I try to be. Someone they can rely on to be there for them, to help them identify and then push through the emotional barriers that have prevented them from finding love in the past.’
Matteo turned her away from one of the couples who were coming a bit close. His arms around her were strong and protective, the warmth of his body heating every tissue in hers. ‘Some people find love only to lose it. My parents, your parents, numerous others.’ His tone was more reflective than cynical, merely stating what he had observed.
‘I know, and it’s often the fear of losing love that prevents people from seeking it again.’ Emmie looked up at him again. ‘My mother is a case in point.’
‘You haven’t tried matching her with anyone?’
‘I mentioned it a couple of times but she was pretty adamant she was never going to get involved with anyone ever again.’ Emmie sighed. ‘It’s funny how I’ve been able to help so many people find happiness but I’ve not been able to do it for my mother and sister.’
‘What about your father? Has he got a new partner?’
Emmie twisted her mouth. ‘I’ve lost count of how many he’s had since he broke up with Mum. He seems to be in a new fling just about every month.’
‘Maybe he prefers to live his life that way.’
‘I guess, but I can’t help thinking he’s going to end up a lonely old man in the end.’
There was a lengthy silence as they continued moving about the dance floor.
‘We all make choices we have to live with,’ Matteo said and led her back to the table now the band had stopped their bracket.
And some of us don’t get a choice at all, Emmie thought with a deep twinge of sadness.
* * *
A few minutes later, Matteo led Emmie into his house and drew her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Emmie responded by linking her arms around his neck, leaning into his warmth, relishing in the proud rise of his hard male form against her. Her lips moulded to his, moving with the same perfect timing as their dancing had only half an hour ago. Their tongues met and danced a sexy tango that made her blood tingle and race through her veins. His hands went to her hips, pulling her closer to his hardness, a low, deep groan sounding in his throat that vibrated against her lips.
Emmie shivered as his mouth moved from hers to trail a scorching pathway of fire down the side of her neck from below her ear to the framework of her collar bone. His tongue grazed her sensitive skin, sending shooting sparks down her spine.
‘I want you.’ His blunt statement sent another thrill through her body, an electric thrill that made her inner core coil and tighten with lust.
Emmie licked her tongue along the fullness of his lower lip, a frisson passing through her as her tongue encountered the pinpricks of stubble below his lip. ‘Then have me,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘Because I want you too.’
Matteo pressed an urgent kiss to her lips, his tongue mating with hers in another erotic dance that made her heart race with excitement. After a few breathless moments, he led her upstairs to his master suite, loosening his tie with one hand as he walked her to his bed.
‘Here, let me help you with that,’ Emmie said, taking his tie in her hand and using it to pull his head down for another kiss.
Matteo groaned against her lips and she opened again to the silken thrust of his tongue, her body quaking with desire. He walked her backwards to the bed, only lifting his mouth long enough to dispense with his tie, tossing it to the floor. His mouth came back down on hers, firmer, with more passionate urgency, one hand going to the back of her dress and releasing the zip all the way to just above her bottom. Her dress slipped away from her like a sloughed skin, and his other hand stroked down the length of her back and then to the curves of her bottom.
Emmie set to work on his clothes but not with quite the same skill and efficiency. She was sure she heard a button on his shirt pop but she was beyond caring. She wanted him naked. Now.
Within a few moments, they were both naked, and Matteo glided his hands upward from her waist to cradle her breasts. She had never considered her breasts the sort that men would want to pay too much attention to, but right then, with Matteo’s dark blue eyes gazing at her small form, she had never felt more feminine and desirable. He bent his head to caress her right breast with his lips and tongue, making her almost delirious with lust. His tongue circled her nipple, then he took it in a gentle press between his teeth, releasing it to sweep his tongue around it again. He did the same to her other breast, sending shivers of reaction across her skin.
Matteo guided her to the bed, laying her down. He knelt one of his knees on the bed, his hands resting either side of her hips, a determined look in his eyes. A smouldering look she recognised all too well which sent a river of heat to her core. ‘This is all I’ve been thinking about this evening—tasting you, pleasuring you.’ His voice was gravel-rough and so deep she could feel it reverberating in her body as if an invisible wire tied her to him.
Emmie wasn’t capable of speech just then. Her anticipation was at fever pitch and, as soon as his mouth came to the heart of her female flesh, she shuddered in reaction. His tongue played her tender tissues like a maestro fine-tuning a delicate instrument, and she came apart in a rush that swept through her like a pounding wave.
Her gasps, cries and whimpers shattered the silence but she couldn’t suppress them...nor could she suppress the burgeoning feelings deep inside her. Feelings she had promised herself she wouldn’t feel for anyone, must less Matteo Vitale. Feelings that were like tiny fledglings perched high up in a nest, wanting to fly free but sensing the danger of doing so. She had to keep them in the nest. She had to secure the nest, reinforce it, concrete over the gaps so none of those feelings could escape.
They must not escape.
Matteo lay beside her on the bed once he had sourced and applied a condom. He ran his hand down the length of her body from her shoulder to her thigh, his gaze focussed intently on hers. ‘You are so delightfully responsive.’
Emmie could feel her cheeks warming. Had she been too loud? Too enthusiastic in her response? But how could she help it? He triggered in her such incredible sensations...such forbidden feelings. ‘You make it easy for me to respond. I didn’t know my body was capable of some of the things you’ve made me feel.’
He smiled and stroked his hand across her stomach, a lazy finger circling her belly button. ‘I could say the
same about you...’ He bent his head and captured her mouth in a bone-melting kiss, the intimacy intensified by tasting her own essence on his lips. The kiss deepened and then he rolled her over so she was lying on top of him, his hands resting on the curve of her bottom, gently encouraging her to take control. ‘This way can increase your pleasure. You can control the pressure and depth.’
The one thing Emmie couldn’t control was the growing need for his possession—it was a tight ache inside her flesh, clawing at her with increasing desperation. She lowered herself onto him, shuddering with pleasure as her body wrapped around his steely length. It was erotic, excitingly erotic, and she didn’t shy away from it but moved in a perfect rhythm with him. The friction was electric, sending fizzing sensations through her flesh, exquisitely tightening her tissues until there was nowhere to go but off into the stratosphere. The orgasm hit her hard, rocking her to the core of her being, an explosion of sensation that rippled throughout her pelvis. She threw back her head, her hair wild about her shoulders, her cries of pleasure shockingly primal.
Matteo’s release followed on the heels of hers and she rode every pounding second of it with another wave of pleasure flowing through her flesh. The bucking and rocking of their joined bodies delighted her all over again. The intimate smells of their lovemaking, their perspiration and body essences overlaid with their colognes and hair products, mingled in the air like a bewitching vapour. Emmie collapsed over his chest, burying her head against his neck and breathing it all in, storing it into her memory.
Matteo stroked his hand down from her neck to the base of her spine and back again. Slow strokes that made her skin tingle and tighten in delight. She had not realised how gentle a man’s touch could be. Her first and only foray into sex as a teenager was with a partner who had rushed and, in his hormone-driven enthusiasm, had been a little rougher than she would have liked. There had been small moments of pleasure but nothing like she was experiencing with Matteo. The earth-shattering release he triggered in her was off the scale.
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