by Amy Andrews
And yet…
There was something about her that intrigued him. Not least of all the fact that she’d been the only female in the room who hadn’t clamoured to be closer to him.
‘I see you texting. All night,’ he prompted when she still didn’t say anything. ‘I figure a beautiful woman…’ He shrugged and shot her his best hey-baby grin, ‘it must be a boyfriend?’
Paige shook her head to clear it as Valentino’s smile muddled her senses. ‘I’m a little old for a boyfriend, don’t you think?’
‘Paige. We are never too old for love.’
The slight reprimand in his voice didn’t register. Nothing registered beyond the way he’d said her name. Paige. He had drawn it out a little at the end, giving it a very European flair, and it had stroked across every nerve ending in her pelvis.
She shut her eyes. This was madness. He was just a man. God knew, she hadn’t even thought about the opposite sex since her husband had walked out on her. And, besides, she just didn’t have time for a man. Especially not a model-dating, Italian playboy whose interest in her would no doubt wane the minute after he had his way with her.
Which wasn’t going to happen.
Even if, deep down, in a secret, hidden part of her, she wanted it very, very badly.
I am a single-mother of a high-needs child.
I am a single mother of a high-needs child.
She turned back to her champagne and took a long deep swallow, the bubbles pricking her throat as they slid down, matching the prick at the backs of her eyes. ‘I am.’
Tonight, as always, Paige felt absolutely ancient.
‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, rising and headed for the refuge of the bathroom.
Valentino watched his cousin dancing with his new wife, a gladness in his heart that Alessandro had finally found love after the train wreck of his first marriage.
It always humbled him when he saw two people ready to make a lifetime commitment. Sure, after an early escape he’d worked out it wasn’t for him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe in it for others. His parents were, after all, still blissfully married after fifty years.
He spotted Paige making her way back to the table and he was struck anew by how not his type she was. The crimson dress outlined a figure that had more angles then curves. Her breasts were small, her body one long, lean line, and she moved with purpose rather than grace.
And yet…
He rose as she approached the table and held out his hand. ‘I believe it’s our turn.’
Paige’s heart thundered. His gaze had tracked her from all the way across the room and her heart beat as if she’d just dashed one hundred metres in less than ten seconds. She looked up at him, caution wrangling with temptation. How easy would it just be to surrender? To forget her mangled heart and the type of man who had mangled it in the first place and succumb to the invitation in Valentino’s eyes?
But Paige had never been into masochism.
She ignored his hand and headed towards the dance floor.
Valentino grinned. If she thought for a moment that he couldn’t read every emotion, the battle in those large grey eyes, she was utterly deluded. He followed her to the floor, his gaze glued to the elegant length of her naked spine the dress afforded him, and wondered what it would take to convince her to let her guard down.
Paige reluctantly let him shepherd her into the circle of his arms. His big hand sat low, just above her butt and just this side of decent. It was firm and hot and she felt a lurch in areas that hadn’t felt anything in a very long time.
Valentino felt resistance as he tried to pull her a little closer. ‘Relax,’ he murmured to her temple.
She jerked her head back slightly to forcibly remove the brush of his lips from her skin. Relax? He may as well have asked her to fly to the moon. She glared at him. ‘Let’s just get through this, okay?’
Valentino chuckled. Paige wasn’t one for stroking egos. Another factor he was finding surprisingly appealing. He’d drifted through life never having to work for the attention of a woman—ever. From his mother to his sisters and cousins, to the girls at school and beyond, he’d always had them twisted around his finger.
He was starting to realise how boring, how predictable, his life had been.
They moved to the music and Paige automatically followed, her senses infused with Valentino’s clean male scent. She sought desperately for something to say to instil distance, to break the hypnotic pull of the music and his warm breath.
Anything.
‘So, Valentino, Alessandro tells me you are a cochlear implant surgeon.’
Valentino smiled at her robotic question. He looked down into grey eyes that were averted to a point beyond his shoulder. That she could see over his shoulder was a first for him too. Most women he’d dated, apart from Adrianna, had been shorter. At six feet two, he still had a few inches on her but the fact that it would just take one tantalising tilt of her chin to claim her mouth was an intriguing proposition.
‘Yes, Paige. Alessandro tells me you have a daughter who needs one?’
Paige stumbled at the mention of McKenzie, grateful for a moment that Valentino’s body was there to lean into, to steady herself. But then aware, too aware, of the muscles beneath his shirt, the strength in his arms, the heat of him, the power of him.
‘Yes,’ she said, pushing away from his chest and holding herself as erect, as far away as was possible, which was severely hampered as the dance floor filled with other couples and they were jostled closer together.
‘She’s scheduled for two months’ time.’
Curiously Paige found herself wanting to tell him about McKenzie, about her fragile health and the long road they’d both been on, but as much as she was desperate for conversation to maintain distance, the ups and downs of her life were not for public consumption.
‘Is she a patient of Harry Abbott’s?’
Paige’s face lightened. Now, Harry, her boss, she could talk about. She could talk about him and his genius all night long. Finally she felt on solid ground. ‘Oh, yes. Only the best for my little girl. Do you know him? He’s an absolute pioneer in the field.’
Valentino smiled, amazed at the difference in Paige as passion filled her eyes and she came alive, her face animated. Is this what she would look like beneath him in bed? His hand tightened against her spine, inching her unresisting body closer.
‘Of course.’ He shrugged. ‘Everyone knows Harry.’ In fact, it had been Valentino’s very great pleasure to finally meet the man a couple of months back during an interview.
Paige nodded. ‘He’s an absolutely magical surgeon, so clever and such a fair boss. And great with his patients. He insists everyone in the audiology department knows how to sign so the patients are at ease.’
She chatted away, finally comfortable in his arms. So comfortable, in fact, she didn’t notice that the song ended and another began. Or that they were now so close their bodies rubbed deliciously against each other as they swayed to the tempo.
Valentino, on the other hand, had noticed. In fact, he could barely register anything else. Her chatter faded into the background along with the music as his body responded to the subtle friction of her dress against the fabric of his trousers and the waft of frangipani and woman lit a fire in his groin.
She shifted against him as someone from behind bumped into her and he almost groaned out loud. ‘Paige.’
His voice, low and throaty, snapped her out of her prattle and she was instantly aware of the chemistry between them. The ache of her taut nipples as they chafed against the fabric of her dress and his shirt. The darts of heat radiating from the fingers of his hand on her spine, shooting waves of sensation over her bottom and the backs of her thighs. The heat in her pelvis stoked by the heat in his.
Her eyes locked with his, the lust, the intent in his espresso gaze frightening. She opened her mouth again to use conversation as a weapon to repel him, to push him away.
But Valentino got i
n before her. ‘Do you think if you talk enough you’ll be able to ignore what’s going on here?’
Paige’s eyes widened at his insight. ‘I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she denied, feeling frantic, like a mouse on a treadmill set on maximum speed.
‘Paige.’ Valentino ground out her name as he flattened his palm against her spine, bringing them even more intimately into contact. ‘I think you do.’
For a few seconds Paige wanted nothing more than to grind herself against him. It was an urge she had to suppress with an iron fist.
The music stopped and people clapped. She used the distraction to gather every ounce of willpower and step out of his arms. ‘No. I don’t.’
And she spun on her heel and got as far away from Valentino Lombardi as she could.
An hour later Paige couldn’t take being sociable another second. She knew it was bad form to leave the wedding before the bride and groom but she just couldn’t stand being in the same room as Valentino, watching him dance and flirt, for a second longer.
She made her apologies, assuring Nat she was staying the night but pleading a headache. When the lift arrived promptly she almost pressed a kiss to its cold metallic doors. The impulse was short lived as they opened to reveal Valentino, his jacket slung over his shoulder, his bow-tie undone, leaning against the back wall.
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. ‘Going up?’ he murmured.
Damn, damn, damn. Paige entered the lift after a brief hesitation during which an errant brain cell urged her to run. But she was damned if she was going to show this man he had any power over her. She turned her back on him, keeping to the front of the spacious lift, and searched the buttons for floor twelve.
Of course, it was already lit. Great! Same floor. Next they’d have adjoining rooms! The doors shut and she clutched her bag, reaching for patience.
Valentino, afforded an unfettered view of her spine, looked his fill. He couldn’t deny he wanted to see more of her back. And her front. He wanted to see her become passionate and animated again. And not about a nearly seventy-year-old surgeon who was old enough to be her grandfather. But about him. And what he was doing to her.
But she’d made it perfectly clear that any attraction was not going to be acted on. Valentino Lombardi had never had to beg in his life—he wasn’t about to start.
The lift arrived at their floor and Val smiled as Paige practically sprinted from it. He followed at a more sedate pace, not really wanting to know where her room was. What if they happened to be neighbours? Would knowing she was in the next room be any good for his equilibrium? Wondering if she slept naked? Wondering if she was as sexually frustrated as he that she might help herself to ease the ache?
He shook his head. Dio!
Except it seemed they were to be neighbours and if her cursing and muttering was anything to go by as she rammed the keycard in her door, he was going to have to lend a neighbourly hand.
He hung his jacket over his doorknob and strolled towards her, resigned to his fate. ‘Can I help with that?’
Paige slotted the card in and out several more times, wanting to scream as she twisted uselessly at the handle. She turned to him, glaring like it was all his fault. ‘I hate these things.’
Val smiled. She was animated when she was angry too. Her cheeks flushed pink, her chest rising and falling enticingly, grey eyes sparkling like headlights in fog. He reached for it. ‘Allow me.’
Paige didn’t protest. She couldn’t as his scent infused her senses. She’d done it all back at the wedding. There was no more resistance left. His fingers were sure as they slowly inserted the card into the slot and slowly pulled it out again.
Would he be that slow with her? That thorough? The light turned green and she shut her eyes as he turned the doorknob and opened her door.
‘Entri.’
Paige looked into her room. Her big empty room. She flicked her gaze to Valentino’s big hands with his sure fingers.
Val was surprised by her hesitation and although he couldn’t see her eyes he sensed the battle from earlier had returned with gusto. ‘Maybe I could join you?’
Paige felt absurdly shaky inside. She wanted to cry, burst into tears. She hadn’t realised how lonely the last couple of years had been until an attractive man had propositioned her.
She looked at him instead. Saw the naked desire heat his gaze. This was crazy. ‘I don’t…’ What? Have sex? Make love to? What could she say without sounding gauche or desperate or like a sixteen-year-old who’d never been kissed? ‘Sleep with men I’ve just met.’
After all, it had taken her three weeks and a handful of dates to succumb to her attraction to Arnie.
‘I promise you, there will be no sleeping.’
Paige swallowed hard. Both at the gravel in his voice and the sincerity in his gaze. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. Her throat was parched as she fought a little longer, hoping the sexual malaise invading her bones would lift. ‘Any woman in that room tonight would have accompanied you here in a flash—why the hell do you want me?’
Val gave her a lazy smile as anticipation built in his gut, his loins. ‘Because you’re the only woman who wouldn’t have.’
So she was a challenge? She supposed she should have been insulted but funnily enough they were precisely the right words for him to use. It told her she was something to be conquered and discarded, like all the others. Which, contrarily, right now, suited her just fine. She didn’t have time or room in her life for the distraction of a love affair. But she did have tonight.
Obviously the only thing he was interested in.
It was win-win.
Paige pushed off the wall and without saying a word brushed past him and entered her room. She hoped it looked confident and sexy and that he couldn’t hear the boom of her heart or the knocking of her knees.
She stopped in front of her bed, opened her bag, took her mobile out, checked it for messages then placed it on the bedside table before tossing the bag aside. She heard the click of the door behind her in the muted light and didn’t have to turn to know that he was walking towards her. And in seconds his heat was behind her, his breath at her neck.
He said nothing as his fingers stroked up her arms. Neither did she. Nor did she say anything when his hands peeled the dress off her shoulders, baring her to her waist.
But she did cry out when his thumbs swept across her bare nipples, already hard and eager for his touch.
And when he kissed her neck.
And when he whispered her name.
Paige woke disorientated to a warm hand laid possessively low on her abdomen and a strange buzzing as a pale dawn broke through the gaps in the heavy curtains. She glanced at the clock—five-thirty. They’d been asleep for thirty minutes—Valentino had been true to his word.
The buzzing came again and movement caught her eye as her mobile vibrated and moved slightly across the surface of the bedside table. It must be a text message.
It took another couple of seconds for the import to set in. A text message.
McKenzie.
Instantly frantic, she grabbed her phone and accessed the message, her hands shaking, her heart pounding.
McKenzie woken with a slight temp. Don’t worry. Everything under control.
Paige read the message three times, feeling progressively more ill. Oh, God. Her daughter was sick again and where was she? In the arms of some Italian Lothario thinking only about herself.
She leapt out of bed, ignoring the pull of internal muscles, grabbing for her clothes, furious at herself and Valentino for last night. She should have followed her instincts and gone home. Not stayed. Not let herself be seduced into a one-night stand, no matter how amazing it had been. Seduced into forgetting about the one person who meant more to her than anything else on the entire planet.
Her baby was ill. She had to get to her.
She didn’t even look at Valentino as she threw her things together in record time. Or as she fl
ed the room.
As far as she was concerned, if she ever saw him again, it would be too soon.
CHAPTER TWO
PAIGE arrived for her last day of work before her holidays at St Auburn’s, with a spring in her step. She hadn’t had a spring in her step for a long time but it was there today. She couldn’t believe that McKenzie’s operation was just three days away now. Her daughter hadn’t been unwell or had a fever since the night she’d slept with…since Nat and Alessandro’s wedding two months ago, and she had even put on a little weight.
Things were finally looking up. Finally going their way. All she had to do was convince Harry to let her be in the theatre to observe McKenzie’s operation on Monday and life would be complete.
A butterfly flapped its wings in her stomach as she rehearsed the words again. Not that Paige really thought it would be an issue. Yes, it wasn’t usual but she knew Harry well enough to feel confident that he’d overlook the rules for his right-hand woman.
Paige was actually humming as she entered the operating theatre change rooms. Dr Gloria Reinhart, the anaesthetist Harry used for his lists, was changing into her scrubs and Paige bade her a hearty good morning.
‘Morning,’ Gloria said, staring at Paige, an odd look on her face.
Paige frowned. ‘What?’
Gloria shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s just that I’ve never heard you hum before.’
Paige didn’t need a translation. She knew she was serious. That she wasn’t much fun. She came to work, ran Harry’s theatre and his clinics with ruthless efficiency, not particularly caring whether she made friends or not. She didn’t socialise or have time for gossip or idle chit-chat.
She was respected. Whether she was liked or not hadn’t been a priority.
Paige grinned. ‘Well, it’s about time that changed, don’t you think?’
Gloria responded with a grin of her own. ‘Past time, I’d say.’