Reckless Nights in Rome

by CC MacKenzie

  Part of her couldn't quite believe that what she'd experienced was real. If this was an affair or a quick fling then Nico appeared to be taking it very seriously indeed. But perhaps that was how men of the world behaved when they were with a woman? She supposed a playboy was called a playboy for a reason. It wasn't as if she had experience of these things.

  There was absolutely no point, she told herself, in trying to analyse what was happening between them. He'd told her he found her amazing and she believed him. She'd satisfied him and that gave her a wonderful feeling for the first time in her life of immense feminine power. Bronte Ludlow had made Nico Ferranti tremble. He'd called her name in the throes of physical passion. And how wonderful was that?

  "Bronte! Do not fall asleep," he yelled from the bottom of the stair.

  ?"I'm coming!"

  She leapt out of the bath.

  Wrapped in a towel she tiptoed into her bedroom and stopped dead.

  Pillows were strewn across the polished floor of dark oak. Her usually pristine Egyptian cotton sheets and duvet looked as if they'd been through a hurricane. Evidence of energetic sex lay everywhere.

  With a shrug, she ignored her perfectionist tendencies. That siren call to bring order back to her bedroom and her life. She dug out black skinny jeans and matching polo neck from her closet.

  After tying up her hair she pulled on cosy socks and padded down to the kitchen.

  He'd been busy.

  The table was set for two. In the middle of the table a heavy white platter was piled high with wholemeal sandwiches filled with what appeared to be slivers of lean ham and cheese.

  Nico turned with a smile for her that would melt the polar ice cap and Bronte simply stared.

  Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eye for her.

  Dressed in jeans and his sweater, she noticed he hadn't bothered with shoes. With the tousled hair, the five o'clock shadow on that strong jaw and the glint in his eye, the man was gorgeous. And he was looking at her as if she was his sun in the morning and his moon at night.

  She managed to reach a chair before her legs gave way.

  He genuinely cared for her? A shaft of alarm, a portent of disaster slid into her heart. Desperately, she told herself she was imagining it. Nico had laid his cards on the table. He'd told her in words of one syllable that he didn't want commitment. And Alexander had made it crystal clear that Nico had no place in his heart for a woman.

  But he'd been so gentle with her after her nightmare. Then he'd run a bath for her, cared for her, warning her not to fall asleep.

  Dismay squeezed her lungs as she studied the food meticulously prepared, for her. When he placed a bowl of fresh strawberries on the table and poured her a cup of coffee Bronte could barely breathe. He must not care for her.

  She had nothing, no future, to give him.

  He was a man who moved fast in all things she realised now. This was not the time for her to become heavily involved with any man, never mind a man like Nico.

  "Cara?"

  She blinked as he crouched in front of her and Bronte forced herself to smile into his eyes. As ever, he smelt divine. If she bottled it, she'd make an absolute killing.

  Gentle fingertips stroked her cheek.

  Telling herself she was over thinking things and over reacting as per usual, she took a breath and picked up a sandwich.

  "You've been busy. Thank you."

  "It is my pleasure. I enjoy looking after you."

  Oh God, her mind desperately searched for a neutral subject when the phone rang.

  Saved by the bell she thought as she rose and picked up the receiver.

  "Hello? Bronte speaking."

  There was a long silence before the person hung up.

  She replaced the receiver.

  Nico rose to stand next to her. "Wrong number?"

  With a frown she shrugged at him. "I don't know, they didn't speak."

  ?The message light was flashing. It must have come in when they were in bed. Pressing play she cocked her head listening to the long silence with a spooky feeling in her gut that someone was there and almost certain she could hear faint breathing.

  Then they hung up.

  "Do you receive many crank calls?"

  With a slow shake of her head Bronte remembered the messages earlier.

  "Strangely enough I had three that hung up early this morning. I turn the volume off on the extension in the bedroom on weekends."

  Nico frowned now.

  "If you continue to have problems call the telephone company."

  "I will, but it could be one of those automatically generated sales calls."

  She spotted her sketchpad on the table.

  "So, what are you going to do with my drawing?"

  His eyes searched her face and she pumped up her smile as she returned to her seat.

  He sat next to her. "I will frame it."

  Sipping her coffee, Bronte choked.

  "Good grief, why?"

  At ease Nico leaned back in the chair stretching out long legs.

  "Because it will remind me to keep my ego in check."

  "You've lost your mind."

  "It is how you see me, no? You see me as the devil."

  He took her hand in a relaxed friendly fashion but his eyes were too watchful.

  Bronte ordered herself to be very careful.

  "I believe I was a tad pissed off with you at the time."

  Nico barked out a laugh.

  "Not a terribly ladylike expression, cara."

  "Well, there are times when I'm not a lady."

  His fingertips stroked the back of her hand. "You cannot change who and what you are."

  Perfectly true, she admitted.

  She picked up her cup and eyed him over the rim.

  "So, you're going to run Ludlow Hall for a month?"

  He nodded as he shovelled in a sandwich, wiping his fingers on a white linen napkin he'd unearthed from God knew where.

  "I am, yes. We will be working together."

  Her brows rose. "We will? I usually have meetings with Julie."

  He shook his head. "You will be meeting twice a week with me."

  "Very well, if you don't trust me." Her chin tilted and he tapped it with a gentle finger.

  "So quick to take offense. Pull in your horns. Has it not occurred to you I might want your company?"

  He did? She told herself to keep calm. Her vivid imagination was working overtime as usual. What could happen in a few weeks?

  "If that's what you want. But I'm certain you will be bored to death with icing designs, fillings and flavours, colour schemes and flowers. Not to mention hysterical brides."

  Nico merely shrugged. "You are incredibly creative. It will be a joy to watch you."

  It would? She had to ask, "Then what?"

  He gave her a long, slow smile.

  "Then Alexander takes over and things return to normal."

  Well, she'd asked and received an answer. And wondered why she didn't feel relief. One minute she was worried he might actually care for her and the next she was worried he might not. She didn't want him to care and she didn't want him to leave. Maybe she needed to visit a psychologist after all, because she was certainly losing her frigging mind.

  "Nico?"

  "Bronte?"

  "What is it you do? I know you own hotels and other interests. But you don't appear the type to get your hands dirty. Even if you do make too much money."

  He shook his head.

  "I look forward to the day I understand why you have a complete disdain of money."

  Nico took a sip of coffee before he answered,

  "I acquire things. I suppose the best way to explain it is that I invest in people and match them with opportunities. Years ago I discovered I had a talent for recognising people and technology in their embryonic state. I invested and the rewards were great, fortunately for me. The hotels belonged to my late grandfather. I kept the flagship and sold off the rest. Then I met Al
exander, we became partners, he runs the hotel side." He shrugged. "That is it."

  If he had a wealthy grandfather then what was he doing on the streets?

  None of it made sense and none of it was any of her business she reminded herself.

  "Bronte?"

  Her attention snapped back to Nico who was watching her with a quizzical look in his eye.

  "Hmm?"

  "Tell me about your nightmare."

  Not a chance. "It's nothing, honestly."

  Nico leaned forward.

  His hand reached for and found hers.

  "Sometimes, cara, it is good to talk about such things."

  She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine and then he rubbed slow circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

  "I drove right into the middle of the emergency services when they were removing the remains of my parents from their car ..."

  With an expletive Nico grabbed her and Bronte found herself on his lap as strong arms held her close. He murmured words in Italian into her hair and Bronte snuggled right in as her eyes stung and her voice went too husky. "I don't think I'll ever get over it."

  Big hands held her face as he stared into her eyes and she read shock along with steady support.

  "I am so sorry, cara." Those dark eyes stayed on hers. "Can I stay tonight?"

  Logic yelled 'no way' and her heart cried 'yes.'

  Bronte did what came naturally. "I would like that."

  Nico's brilliant smile would have cracked glass.

  He moved in for a long, lingering kiss that had her pulse skipping and her tummy tugging with arousal.

  The tip of his nose touched hers. "Do you have wine?"

  She smiled, inhaling the now familiar scent of him. "I do indeed, red or white?"

  He rubbed his nose against hers. "I am Italian, red."

  ?