Harlequin Presents February 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Dealing Her Final CardUncovering the Silveri SecretBartering Her InnocenceLiving the Charade

by Jennie Lucas

  Last night’s dream flashed before her eyes and she was relieved when he turned his back on her. Only then she got to view his impressive back, and her eyes automatically followed the line of his spine indented between lean, hard muscle. ‘What exactly are you doing?’

  He dropped his T-shirt on the bed and turned to face her. ‘Changing my shirt for dinner. I don’t want to embarrass you by coming across too casual to meet your friends.’

  Ha! Now that she knew who he was she knew he’d impress everyone downstairs even in a clown suit.

  * * *

  Tino shrugged into his shirt and tiny pinpricks of heat glanced across his back as he felt Miller’s eyes on him. A powerful surge of lust and the desire to press her up against the nearest wall and explore the attraction simmering between them completely astounded him. He’d been trying to keep things light and breezy between them—his usual modus operandi—but his libido was insistently arguing the toss.

  ‘Next time I’d prefer you to use the bathroom,’ she said stiffly. ‘And these people aren’t my friends. They’re business colleagues—although as to that I doubt I’ll know many of the other people in attendance.’

  ‘How many are staying here?’

  ‘I think six others tonight. Tomorrow night at TJ’s fiftieth party I have no idea.’

  ‘I thought this was a business weekend?’

  ‘TJ likes to multi-task.’

  Tino rolled his silk shirt sleeves and noticed her frowning at his forearms. ‘Problem?’

  His question galvanised her into action and she crossed to her small suitcase and started rifling through it.

  ‘I’ll be ten minutes.’

  Five minutes later she reappeared in the doorway and padded over to the wardrobe. She barely looked different from the way she had when she’d gone in. Black tailored pants, a black beaded top, and a thin pink belt bissecting the two. She perched on the armchair and secured a fancy pair of stilettos on her dainty feet. The silence between them was deafening.

  ‘Am I getting the silent treatment?’

  She exhaled slowly and he noticed the way the beads on her top swayed from side to side. ‘I hope you’re not currently in a relationship.’

  ‘Would I be here with you if I was?’

  ‘I don’t know. Would you?’

  Her chin had come up and he was surprised he had to control irritation at her deliberate slur. She didn’t know him, and he supposed, given his reputation—which wasn’t half as extensive as the press made out—it was a valid question.

  ‘Okay, I’m going to humour that question with an answer—because we don’t know each other and I understand you feel compromised by the fact that I’m a known personality. I don’t date more than one woman at a time and I never cheat.’

  ‘Fine. I just...’ Her hand fluttered between them. ‘If we really were going out you’d know I hate surprises.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  She glanced away. ‘I just do.’

  Her answer was clipped and he knew there was a story behind her flat tone.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can just fade into the background and not draw attention to yourself, is there?’

  Tino nearly laughed. So much for coming on to him once she found out who he was. He shook his head at his own arrogance. But, hell, most women he met simpered and preened and asked stupid questions about how many cars he owned and how fast he drove. This gorgeous female was still treating him like a disease. And she was gorgeous. She’d dusted her sexy mouth with a peach-coloured gloss that made him want to lick it right off.

  ‘We need to go downstairs.’ She sounded as if she was about to face a firing squad.

  She grabbed a black wrap from the back of the cream chair and stopped suddenly, nearly colliding with him. He felt a shaft of heat spear south as he touched her elbow to steady her, and knew she felt the same buzz by the way she pulled back and went all wide-eyed with shock, just as she had by the car.

  A shock he himself still felt. He hadn’t anticipated being this physically attracted to her. He reminded himself of his iron-clad rule of not getting involved with a woman this close to the end of the season—particularly this season, which had started going pear-shaped three months ago.

  So why couldn’t he stop imagining how she would taste if he kissed her?

  He stepped back from her, out of the danger zone. ‘You might want to think about not jumping six feet in the air every time I touch you.’ He sounded annoyed because he was.

  ‘And you might want to think about not touching me.’

  Large aquamarine eyes, alight with slivers of the purest gold, stared up at him, and the ability to think flew out of his head. Her eyes reminded him of a rare jewel.

  Then she blinked, breaking the spell.

  Get a grip, Ventura. Since when did you start comparing eyes to jewels?

  ‘You really have the most extraordinary eyes,’ he found himself saying appreciatively. ‘A little glacial right now, but extraordinary nonetheless.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think of my eyes. This isn’t real so I don’t need your empty compliments.’

  How about the back of my hand across your tidy tush? The thought brought a low hum of pleasure winging through his body. He did his best to ignore it. ‘Are you usually this rude or do I just bring out the best in you?’

  Her shoulders slumped and she stepped back to put more space between them. ‘I’m sorry. I’m...uncomfortable. This weekend is important to me. I wish I’d just given you chicken pox and handled everything myself. I let Ruby convince me this would be a good idea.’

  Tino felt contrite at her obvious distress. ‘Everything will be fine. Just think of us as two people going away for a weekend to have some fun. You’ve done that in the past, surely.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, her reply a little too quick and a little too defensive. ‘It’s just that I would never choose to come away for a weekend with a man like you.’

  He stiffened even though he knew by her tone that she was being honest rather than deliberately insulting, but, hell, he had his limits. ‘What exactly is it about me that you don’t like, Sunshine?’ he queried, as if her answer didn’t matter. Which, in the scheme of things, it didn’t.

  Her lips pursed at the mocking moniker, but he didn’t care.

  ‘We really need to go down.’

  Tino crossed his arms. ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. But I’m hardly your type either.’

  ‘You’re female, aren’t you?’ He couldn’t help the comment. The desire to get under her skin was riding him.

  ‘That’s all it takes?’

  Her incredulous tone drew a tight smile to his lips. ‘What else is there?’

  She shook her head. ‘See, that’s why you’re not my type. I like someone a little more discerning, a little more...’ She stopped as if she’d realised she was about to insult him.

  ‘Don’t stop now. It’s just getting interesting.’

  ‘Okay—fine. You’re arrogant, condescending, and you treat everything like it’s a joke.’

  Tino deliberately kept his chuckle light. ‘For a minute there I thought you were going to list my faults.’

  She threw up her hands and stalked away from him. ‘You’re impossible to talk to!’

  ‘True, but I make up for it where it counts.’

  Her sexy mouth flattened and he just managed not to laugh. ‘Sunshine, you are so easy to rile.’

  She huffed out a breath and eyed him with utter disdain. ‘Please remember that we are playing by my rules this weekend, not yours. When we’re in company just...’ She smoothed her brows. ‘Just follow my lead.’

  She pinned a frozen smile on her face and sailed through the door, leaving a faint
trace of summertime in her wake.

  Tino breathed deep. He didn’t understand how a woman so intent on behaving like a man could smell so sweet. Then he wondered if she had sex like a man as well: enjoyed herself and moved on easily.

  The unexpected thought made him snort as he followed her down the hall.

  He might not know the answer to that, but he was damn sure they were bound to have another argument when she learned he played by no one else’s rules but his own.

  And as for following her lead...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘SO, HOW did you two meet?’

  Miller swallowed the piece of succulent fish she’d been chewing for five minutes on a rush and felt it stick in her throat. It was the question of the night, it seemed, as TJ’s guests tried to work out how an uptight management consultant could possibly ensnare the infamous Tino Ventura.

  She grabbed her water glass and stiffened as she felt Valentino’s strong fingers grip the back of her chair. He’d done that constantly throughout the meal, sometimes playing with the beads on her top, and she’d felt the heat of his touch sear through her clothing and all the way into her bones. The man was like a furnace.

  Fortunately he took control of the conversation, having already warned her to say very little, but she could see he was as tired of the interest as she was.

  Tuning out, she wondered if she shouldn’t stage a massive fight right here and end the charade before they slipped up. Or before she slipped up—because he seemed to be doing just fine. And maybe she would feel better if Dexter didn’t keep throwing her curious glances that told her in more than words that he didn’t buy the whole international-racing-driver-boyfriend thing one bit.

  When they had arrived for dinner the men had immediately enclosed Valentino in a circle as if he were an old friend, and the women had raked their eyes appreciatively over his muscular frame. Most of them had looked at him as if they wouldn’t say no to being another notch on his well-scarred bedpost. Something that didn’t interest Miller in the slightest.

  Oh, she found him just as sexy as they did, but she had a ten-year plan that she had nearly accomplished, and she wasn’t about to get involved with a man and let him distract her. Especially a man who treated women like sex bunnies.

  Pushing back her chair, Miller politely extricated herself to the powder room. After locking the bathroom door she leant against it, closed her eyes and felt her heartbeat start to normalise now that she was out from under Valentino’s mesmeric spell.

  It didn’t help that he kept touching her, and she really needed to talk to him about his ability to follow her lead. He hadn’t taken any of her subtle hints all night. And every time he touched her—whether it was a fleeting brush of his fingers across the back of her hand at the dinner table or a more encompassing arm around her waist while sipping champagne—it made her feel as if she’d been branded.

  When she had envisaged having a fake boyfriend she’d imagined someone dutifully trailing in her wake and playing a low-key, almost invisible role. But there was nothing invisible about Valentino Ventura, and it annoyed her that her own eyes were constantly drawn to him, as if he really was some god who had deigned to grace them with his presence.

  Deciding she couldn’t hide out in the powder room any longer, Miller exited to find Dexter lounging against the opposite wall, waiting for her.

  She didn’t want to think about Ruby’s suspicions that Dexter was interested in her as more than just a work colleague, but there was no doubt he was behaving differently towards her all of a sudden.

  ‘So...’ Dexter drawled, a beer bottle swinging back and forth between his fingers. ‘Tino Ventura?’

  Miller smiled enigmatically in answer.

  ‘You do know he’s got a reputation for being the biggest playboy in Europe?’

  She knew he had a reputation—but the biggest playboy? ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read,’ she said, though by the way he’d charmed everyone at dinner she could well believe it. Women were always falling for bad boy types they hoped to reform, and even clean-shaven he looked like a fallen angel.

  ‘I don’t see it, you know,’ Dexter added snidely.

  Miller narrowed her eyes. He might be her direct superior, but he wasn’t behaving like it right now. ‘My personal life is none of your business, Dexter. Was there something you wanted?’

  ‘Your part of the presentation we’re supposed to give to TJ tomorrow.’

  ‘I e-mailed it just before I left to come down here.’

  ‘Cutting it a bit fine?’

  About to ask him what his problem was, she nearly screamed when she felt a warm male hand settle on the small of her back. She tried to quell the instant leap of her heart but it was already galloping away at a mile a minute.

  She knew her reaction hadn’t done anything to alleviate Dexter’s scepticism about her relationship, but frankly this internal sense of excitement when Valentino came close was too unfamiliar and disconcerting to deal with head-on. She would have given anything to do what she’d done as a child in uncomfortable situations: run away to her room and lose herself in her drawings.

  ‘Hey, Sunshine, I wondered where you’d got to.’ Valentino’s warm breath stirred the hair at her temple, and his gaze lingered on her mouth before lifting to hers.

  He was terribly good at this, Miller thought, swallowing heavily. It was just a pity that she wasn’t.

  ‘Just discussing work. Nothing important,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘In that case, you won’t mind if I join you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She smiled at Dexter, as if her world couldn’t be more perfect. Anything was better than gazing up into Valentino’s sleepy grey gaze.

  ‘So, by my reckoning,’ Dexter said, looking from one to the other, ‘you will have met around the time of Tino’s near fatality earlier in the year. In Germany. Funny, I don’t recall okaying any trip to Europe in—what?—August, was it? In fact, I can’t recall your last holiday at all, Miller.’

  Near fatality?

  Miller’s eyes flew to Valentino’s calm face and too late she realised she would of course know about this if they really were going out. Collecting herself, she attempted fascination with the conversation.

  ‘Miller wasn’t on holiday when we met,’ Valentino answered smoothly. ‘It was while I was recuperating in Australia.’

  Dexter frowned theatrically. ‘I thought you convalesced in Paris? Your second home town?’

  ‘Monaco is my second home town.’

  Miller noticed he hadn’t directly answered Dexter’s question. Clever.

  ‘So, what do you make of your run of bad luck since your recovery?’

  ‘It’s nice to know you’re such a fan, Caruthers.’ Valentino’s voice was smooth, but Miller felt sweat break out under her armpits.

  She tried to keep her expression bland, but mild sparks of panic were shooting off in her brain. She had a vague recollection of Dexter talking sport during various meetings, but she’d had no idea he was such a motor racing fan either.

  ‘I follow real sports.’ The beer bottle swung a little too vigorously in his loose hold. ‘Football, rugby, boxing,’ Dexter opined.

  Valentino smiled in a way that made Dexter’s comment seem as childish as it was.

  Undeterred, her boss tilted his head. ‘And you know, of course, that Miller doesn’t follow any type of sport.’

  ‘Something I’m hoping to change once she sees me race in Melbourne next weekend.’

  Miller felt like an extra in a bad theatre production, and wondered why they were talking over her head as if she was some sort of possession.

  ‘Ah, the race of the decade.’ Dexter’s remark was as subtle as a cattle prod.

  Again, Miller had no idea what he was talking about and snuck a gla
nce up at Valentino—to find his easy smile still in place.

  ‘So they say.’

  She could feel the tension coming off him in waves, and knew he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted them to believe. She couldn’t blame him. It couldn’t be easy, having Dexter grill him this way.

  ‘You’ll have to wear earplugs, Miller. It gets loud at the track,’ Dexter said, valiantly trying to regain a foothold in the conversation.

  ‘I’ll take care of Miller,’ Valentino drawled. ‘And you’d do well not to believe everything you read on the internet, Caruthers. My private life is exactly that. Private.’

  There was no mistaking the warning behind his words and Miller stared up at Valentino, slightly shocked at the ruthless edge in his tone. Gone was the dishevelled rogue who had baited her so mercilessly in the car on the drive down, and in his place was a lean, dangerous male you’d have to be stupid to take on.

  And what was Dexter doing, talking about her as if they had a more personal relationship than they did?

  Miller was about to take him aside and ask him but TJ chose that moment to intrude.

  ‘There’s the guest of honour!’ he announced, his eyes fixed on Valentino.

  Guest of honour? Since when?

  Miller was starting to feel like Alice down the rabbit hole, but at least she could tell that TJ had backed off in his openly male interest in her; his awe of Valentino clearly overrode his lustful advances.

  Almost ignoring her completely, TJ launched into a spiel about his newest car on order and Miller was glad of the reprieve.

  Eyes gritty with tiredness, she wished herself a hundred miles away from this scene.

  Then she noticed the men looking at her and realised she’d been unwittingly drawn into a conversation she hadn’t been following. Turning blindly to Valentino for assistance, she immediately became lost in his heated gaze.

  Her breath stalled and she had to remind herself that this was just pretend. But, wow, the man could go into acting when his racing career ended and win a truckload of awards.