Fling

by Sara Fawkes

  In a valiant effort to wrestle her nerves into submission, Josie exhaled slowly and straightened her shoulders. Then she pulled out her compact mirror to give herself a once-over. She tucked a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear and fixed her ruby lipstick, pleased to see that she’d somehow managed to maintain a calm façade, one that spoke of confidence and poise, even though inside she was nothing but a bundle of nervous energy.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  How she had let her boss talk her—her, a mere intern who was barely a year out of design school—into flying from Montreal, Canada, to the Italian Rivera to meet with Luca Mancusi, one of the world’s youngest self-made business tycoons, was beyond her. Then again, after the entire design and business team at House of Renee came down with food poisoning, it wasn’t like they had any choice but to send the staff’s youngest, most inexperienced apprentice.

  Whether she was in over her head or not, Josie had to pull herself together and get what she had come there for. The truth was, not only was her boss, Renee Kenyon, counting on her to sell her fashionable line of lingerie; Josie owed it to her mentor to pull off this assignment. With the downturned state of the economy, jobs were hard to come by, and Renee was the only person willing to hire a newly graduated student when no one else would. Because of that, Josie would do just about anything to ensure her boss’s line got the final nod of approval it needed from Mr. Mancusi himself, no matter how much the handsome billionaire intimidated her. And, of course, she couldn’t forget the possibility of working with Renee herself and learning more about the business end of things if she came through for the team back home.

  Night had fallen over the east coast of Italy as the vehicle came to a complete stop near the impressive yacht. When the driver slid from his seat and came around to open her door, Josie took that moment to get her mind back on the task at hand. The warm night air, fragranced with hibiscus, oleanders, and balmy seawater filled her senses as she tucked her catalogue under her arm and accepted the chauffeur’s outstretched hand. She stepped from the limo, leaving her suitcase in the trunk for the time being. She wouldn’t need her belongings until her driver transported her to her prebooked hotel later that evening.

  She gave him a grateful smile before he handed her off to a rather burly bodyguard dressed in an expensive Perry Ellis suit, a sign that Mr. Mancusi had certain expectations of those he surrounded himself with. After a quick nod, the bodyguard pressed his finger to his earpiece like he was receiving instructions, then he cupped her elbow to escort her onto the boat.

  Moving with careful precision in her too-high stilettos, Josie walked along the wobbly, aluminum gangway and stole a quick glance at the crowd gathered on the wide expanse of deck. She sidestepped a waiter with a tray of bubbly champagne but didn’t miss the way the lanky models were studying her with downturned noses, their whispered voices carrying in the breezy night air.

  Ignoring Luca’s entourage—yes she knew all about his female companions and how he could be found in bed with not only one but two at a time—while they dissected her appearance and speculated on how someone like her had managed an invite to Mr. Mancusi’s exclusive party, Josie straightened to her full height and carried her head high, regardless of the fact that her head wouldn’t come close to reaching the shoulders of the gorgeous women glaring down at her—even with her spiked heels on.

  The guard guided her through the throng on the deck, down a long hallway, and into what appeared to be a five-star stateroom that doubled as an office. Decorated in dark, earthy tones, rich, contemporary décor, and with the fine, subtle scent of an expensive cigar lingering in the air, it was easy to tell it was a man’s room.

  With a slight incline of his head, her escort gestured toward the chocolate-colored leather sofa. “Please make yourself comfortable. Mr. Mancusi will be with you in a moment.”

  Mr. Mancusi . . .

  A shiver moved through her, and she held on to her thick catalogue like it was a lifeline as she lowered herself onto the plush sofa. Just hearing his name and knowing she was seconds from meeting the hard-assed businessman who tolerated nothing but perfection had her realizing just how unprepared she was for this meeting. Three days ago, her weekend plans had been to flop out on the tattered sofa in her tiny studio apartment, not embark on a whirlwind of activity before flying off to Italy to meet with a man who owned a fleet of upscale department stores.

  The noise of the stateroom door’s opening pulled her from her musings. She turned, and when her gaze met with dark, turbulent eyes, her jaw dropped open, and the sound of her indrawn breath filled the air. She’d never met the man in person, but as she stared at him from across the room, one thing became glaringly apparent; the pictures splashed across the magazine covers hadn’t done the young billionaire justice.

  Dressed in a sleek, Italian suit that tapered to fit his gorgeous body to perfection, he looked rugged, dangerous, and wildly sexy. Taking her by surprise, her nipples hardened in response, and there was nothing she could do to ignore the heat coursing through her.

  With her thoughts derailed, Josie just sat there staring, barely able to breathe let alone think. Instead of trying, she took pleasure in his sun-kissed skin, his broad shoulders, and fine, chiseled features that spoke of good breeding. Everything about this man made her think of sex. Hot, hard-up-against-the-wall kind of sex. Not that she had ever engaged in such wild, uninhibited sex before. Probably because the guys she’d been with could hardly be classified as men. They were young, immature, and couldn’t find a woman’s G-Spot even with the aid of a GPS. But this guy, oh, this guy was all man, and she had no doubt that he was very familiar with the erogenous areas on a woman’s body.

  He took a step in, and his presence filled the room. When Josie realized she was still staring, she slammed her mouth shut and forced herself to breathe as his presence—not to mention his testosterone—filled the spacious stateroom.

  His smile was both polite and professional, and it was all she could do to return it. He closed the distance between them, and when he cocked his head, Josie didn’t miss the way his self-assured glance felt like a slow, lazy caress. Her pulse kicked up a notch, and languorous warmth stole through her when the rich scent of sandalwood reached her nostrils.

  Steeling herself, she stood and reached her hand out. “Mr. Mancusi, I’m Josie Pelletier. As you know, I’m here to represent the House of Renee. We appreciate your meeting with us on such short notice.”

  He gave a slight nod, swallowed her hand with his, and when he gestured for her to sit, she noticed a deep, jagged line below his chinbone. “I take it your flight was enjoyable?” he asked in a thick, Italian accent that had shivers skittering down her spine.

  Scar forgotten, she stood there taking pleasure in his sensuous voice and the way it resonated through her body. But when she realized he was waiting for an answer, she gathered herself enough to respond with, “Yes, thank you.”

  While she knew from his pictures that he was handsome and charming, she was completely unprepared for his sheer magnetism, completely unprepared for the way it roused something so primal and needy in her rather inexperienced body.

  She returned to her seat, and her mind raced, searching for something intelligent to say as she tried to tame her suddenly overactive libido. God, what the hell was wrong with her? She was there to sell her boss’s line, not let her hormones get the best of her, a difficult task considering how hot Mr. Mancusi was up close and in person.

  Gaze riveted, she watched him make his way to the bar, his long legs eating up the plush carpet. He tossed a glance back over one broad shoulder. “Drink.”

  She nodded even though she suspected he wasn’t asking. He reached for the crystal decanter, and she noted the way he carried himself with confidence. She had no doubt he was a man used to getting what he wanted. A man who took without asking.

  Oddly enough, a fine shiver of anticipation moved through her at that last thought.

  Mr. Mancus
i handed her a drink and stood over her like a predator ready to mark its prey. His gaze settled on the V of her low-cut dress, and she spotted something very sensual—and hungry—in his gaze.

  His burning eyes left her chest and slowly tracked down her body. He gave an approving nod. “Perfect fit,” he said as if he’d had a personal hand in choosing her dress.

  He looked pointedly at her, his eyes locking on hers. While he was commanding and intimidating, there was something honest and trustworthy in those perceptive eyes of his, and it almost made her relax. Almost.

  Remembering the glass in her own hand and looking for a distraction, Josie swallowed the drink in one gulp. The amber liquid burned its way down her throat. She looked up to see Mr. Mancusi still watching her, looking completely sexy as he gifted her with an amused look.

  “I was thirsty.” She handed him back the glass. “Flying does that to me.”

  “I see,” he said, and took her glass. He stepped away from her and cut across the room, his tight ass pulling her focus and scorching every inch of her body. Damn. . .

  Working to sound casual, she decided to get right to the point, “Mr. Mancusi,” she began.

  “Luca,” he corrected as he refilled her glass.

  Josie cleared her throat. “Luca,” she tried again in her best professional voice. “I believe the samples arrived this morning, and I have my catalogue—”

  Luca pressed a button on his desk before he moved toward her. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  He handed her the full glass and cocked his head, his glance racing over her body a second time. As dark, intense eyes observed her with careful calculation, Luca dropped down onto the sofa facing her. She worked to keep herself poised, but when his controlled gaze latched onto hers, she couldn’t help but lower her glance in a submissive manner and fight the urge to fidget.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked again.

  Josie carefully placed both her drink and her book on the small mahogany table between them. “Yes, to show you the portfolio and showcase the House of Renee’s line of lingerie.”

  “Is that why you think you’re here?”

  Trying to keep the nervousness from her voice, she continued, “From what I understand, Renee’s designs passed your buyers’ approval, but you have to personally give the line the green light before you’ll carry it in your department stores.”

  For a long time, silence hung heavy, and everything in the way he just sat there staring at her made her feel jittery, completely conscious of her every word, her every movement. In an effort to cut the tension that continued to hover like the sharp blade of a guillotine and thinking a bit of flattery might lighten his mood and help her close this deal quickly, she said, “I believe approving every item is a very smart business decision, which is, of course, why you’re so successful, and the House of Renee would be honored to be partnering with someone of your intelligence and stature.”

  His mouth turned up at the corner, a half smile that warmed her blood and curled her toes. Seeing right through her act, he asked, “Are you trying to flatter me?”

  “No, not at all.” When one perfect brow lifted, she rushed on, “I mean, you’re a very smart and powerful businessman, and you probably wouldn’t be where you are right now if you didn’t oversee every aspect of your business.”

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  Confused, she said again, “To present our line.”

  “You’re wrong, Josie.” He leaned forward and met her gaze unflinchingly. “You’re here because you want me to get into bed with you, and I’m very, very careful about who I climb into bed with.”

  Shocked at his bluntness, even though she’d been warned he was a man who spoke his mind, Josie sucked in a quick breath and resisted the urge to inform him that she’d heard otherwise. But that was his personal life, she reminded herself, and this was about business, even though everything in his smoldering glance spoke of blurred lines and hot, sexy nights.

  “Luca,” she said, getting herself back on track, “the House of Renee has some of the finest, freshest designs in the industry. If you’ll just take a minute—”

  “No, Josie. Why are you here? I was expecting Ms. Kenyon to present her line, not her . . .” He paused as if looking for the right term.

  “Intern,” she supplied.

  “Yes, intern.” He arched a curious brow. “Am I to believe that your boss sent an intern to such an important meeting, one that could take her from obscurity to making her mark in the fashion world?”

  “Yes.” The last thing a man like him needed to know was that the only reason she was on board his vessel was because she was the one left behind to answer the phones while the staff went out to celebrate their good fortune over a meal that gave them all food poisoning. She couldn’t blame them for wanting to raise their glasses in triumph. It wasn’t every day a man like Luca accepted appointments outside his office hours and agreed to a quick meeting before he embarked on his holidays, which was why she was currently on his yacht and not in his Milan office.

  “You must be very persuasive, very good at negotiating.” Everything in the way he emphasized that last word sounded so sinful, so sexual.

  “I am,” she replied with more confidence than she felt.

  A smile softened his features, making him look younger than his thirty years. “Okay then, Josie, why don’t you show me your catalogue.”

  Josie opened her book, and he took that moment to cross over to her side of the table, lowering himself onto the sofa beside her.

  Hyperaware of his close proximity and trying hard to stay focused, she opened her portfolio. Luca leaned in close, and when their thighs touched in an intimate manner, Josie worked to ignore the rush of sexual energy swirling around her, not to mention the telltale hardening of her nipples beneath her unforgiving silk dress.

  She showed him the designs, her rehearsed speech disturbed only for a brief second when one of his assistants slipped in through the door behind them to place the stack of lingerie samples she’d shipped earlier onto the table. With a nod, Luca dismissed her and climbed to his feet. He looked over the samples, then reached for the piece that just happened to be Josie’s personal favorite. She watched, transfixed, as he rubbed the white, lacy material between his fingers in a way that had her wondering how those fingers would feel rubbing a certain spot on her body.

  He held up the slip of material and turned to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get out any words, the door behind them was flung open. The muscles along Luca’s jaw twitched, and he traced his hand along his scar as he looked past Josie’s shoulders.

  “Luca,” a shrill voice cut through the tension. “There you are.”

  Startled by the sudden interruption, Josie turned in time to see one of the models from above deck brace her hand on the wall, her champagne splashing over the rim of her glass, her legs wobbling slightly beneath her.

  Luca leveled her with a stare. “Genevieve,” he said, impatience lacing his voice. “It’s not a good time for this.”

  Ignoring him, Genevieve staggered in her high heels, her scathing gaze going to Josie. After a long, hard look, her glance went to the lingerie in Luca’s hands.

  Looking completely indignant, she said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You leave me all alone so you could be with her. Her! Talk about lowering your standards.”

  The second Josie realized how this might look to one of Luca’s girlfriends, she opened her mouth to clarify, but Luca cut her off, taking full control of the situation.

  “Genevieve,” he said again, and without explaining why Josie was in his stateroom, or what he was doing with a negligee in his hands, he handed the sexy piece to Josie and walked across the room to remove the flute of champagne from Genevieve. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  The guard who’d escorted Josie into the stateroom earlier came up behind the irate model. Standing in the doorway, he cupped the woman’s elbow, and said, “Sorry,
Mr. Mancusi. I’ll see that she gets home safely.”

  “Charles,” Luca said to halt him, then leaned in and said something else in a low voice. Josie heard whispered words about setting sail, but from the way Genevieve was carrying on and trying to break free of Charles’s hold, Josie couldn’t make out the conversation. After dismissing his girlfriend and bodyguard, Luca turned back to her.

  When dark eyes moved over her with careful regard, she rushed out, “Was she . . . I didn’t mean. You should have explained.”

  “Explained what?”

  Flabbergasted, Josie waved her hand back and forth between her catalogue and the stack of lingerie on the table. “That this was a business meeting. That this wasn’t what she thought.”

  “And what did she think, Josie?”

  “That you and I . . . that we were . . .”

  “Were what?”

  Her words fell off because the way he was looking at her had her thoughts taking an erotic journey. Her mind’s eye visualized herself held captive beneath his hard body, his mouth paying homage to the hot little spot between her legs, and, suddenly, she could no longer think with any sort of clarity.

  Luca continued to watch her, his expression dark, unreadable, and she forced her mind back on the task at hand. She turned her attention to the lingerie and started rambling on about the pieces, sure she was ruining any chance of him carrying the line.

  After a long-winded spiel, the boat swayed slightly, sliding her book across the table. She reached for it. “Wait. Why are we moving?”

  “Because we’re setting sail. We’ll be travelling overnight.”

  Josie jumped to her feet. “Setting sail? Why? Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  She glanced around, then another thought hit. “I don’t even have my suitcase.”

  Just then the door opened, and a man she didn’t recognize placed her suitcase on the small, pedestal side table bolted to the floor. After exchanging a nod with Luca, he quietly slipped out of the stateroom and closed the door behind him.