by India Grey
‗Well…‘ Kate found she was smiling as her insides constricted sharply at the memory of last night.
There was an ear-splitting squeal at the other end of the line. ‗Kate, you didn‘t! Oh. My. God. He recognised you?‘
Kate felt her smile fade again. ‗Not exactly. It‘s a long story. But I‘m with him…‘
‗He‘s there now?‘ Lizzie dropped her voice to a theatrical whisper. ‗Have you told him about Alexander?‘
‗No. And no.‘ The kettle had finished boiling and, wedging the phone against her ear, Kate spooned coffee into a glass cafetière and poured on water.
‗It‘s not that simple.‘
That was an understatement. She didn‘t know where to begin to explain about Cristiano not being able to remember her, but suddenly she realised that that wasn‘t actually the most important thing. She frowned. ‗He‘s not how I remembered him, Lizzie. It‘s not…the same.‘ She paused, a shiver running through her as she remembered the hardness of his face when he‘d looked at her in the Casino, the chips of ice in his eyes. Outside the window the sun had just begun to appear over the top of the mountains, pouring down biblical beams of gold. Kate closed her eyes, feeling its tentative warmth on her cheek.
‗Well, that‘s not surprising.‘ Lizzie‘s voice, with its familiar, down-to-earth Yorkshire vowels, was reassuringly brisk. ‗Four years is a long time, and a lot has happened to you both. But the main thing is that you‘re with him, and the old chemistry is obviously still there. You just have to come out with it.‘
‗It‘s not the kind of thing you can just casually drop into conversation.‘
In her head it had been clear-cut, black and white: either he would reject her completely or—and she had hardly allowed herself to go down this route—they would have the kind of emotional reunion people did in films, just before the credits rolled, accompanied by a lot of swelling music and preferably a sunset. Not for a moment had she considered finding herself in this position. Being with him, back in his bed…but a million miles from the place they had been last time. The place he didn‘t even know existed now, to which she somehow had to try to find her way back.
‗I don‘t want him to feel like I‘ve trapped him,‘ she said softly. ‗I don‘t want to force him into anything.‘
‗You‘re hardly forcing him—or rushing him, for that matter.‘
Kate could vividly imagine Lizzie raising her eyes to heaven as she spoke.
‗You‘ve been bringing his son up single-handed for the last three years, and you didn‘t exactly have a lot of choice about it.‘
‗I know.‘ Kate sighed. Lizzie was on her side, she knew that, but she also knew that she would never understand. Strong, forthright Lizzie would never recognise the feeling Kate had now—as if she was cradling a butterfly between her hands, afraid of holding it so tightly she crushed it, afraid of letting it go and watching it fly away. ‗It‘s just I‘m scared—‘
‗Now, look—don‘t do your usual trick of jumping straight into the worst-case scenario.‘ Lizzie cut her off, sounding suddenly distracted and impatient. In the background Kate could hear a child crying. A frisson of alarm ran through her.
‗Is that Alexander? Is everything all right?‘
The line crackled and her own voice echoed back in her ear, sharp with anxiety.
‗Everything‘s fine.‘ Was it the slight delay on the line, or did Lizzie hesitate before answering? ‗Now, go and get straight back into bed with your man, and stop worrying about everything. Have a fabulous time, and we‘ll speak later, honey—OK?‘
‗OK. Thanks, Lizzie. Give Alexander a big kiss from me, won‘t you? And tell him…‘
She trailed off, picturing Alexander‘s sweet face as emotion swelled inside her.
‗Sorry, what was that?‘
‗Just that I love him. And I‘ll be home soon.‘
But as she cut the call she found she didn‘t want to think about that.
Ten minutes later, very carefully balancing a tray laden with fresh coffee, warm brioche, yellow Normandy butter from the fridge and a jar of honey that had been left on the worktop, Kate gently pushed open the bedroom door.
The sun spilled into the room, warming the bare-boarded floor and turning the tangle of crisp white linen on the bed into a mini-replica of the snowy landscape outside. Cristiano was lying on his front, one bronzed, muscular arm thrown out across the pillows. The duvet lay loosely over his hips, exposing his bare back.
Glancing at him, Kate instantly felt her throat dry, and the china on the tray rattled as a tremor of pure lust went through her. He was a study in masculine perfection—a Leonardo sketch brought to warm, satin-skinned life. The muscles of his massive shoulders were clearly defined, the ridges of his ribs visible beneath the butterscotch-coloured flesh where his body tapered down to his narrow hips.
‗ Buongiorno.‘
She jumped, placing the objects on the tray in further jeopardy and letting out a little gasp of shock. She‘d been so busy gazing at his delicious body that she hadn‘t noticed that his dark, hooded eyes were half open and he was watching her.
‗Oh…S-sorry,‘ she stammered as the colour flooded into her cheeks. ‗I‘m just…I mean, I was trying not to…wake you.‘
He sat up in one lithe, rippling movement, like a panther uncurling itself, and pushed his tousled hair back from his forehead.
‗I was awake already.‘ His voice was deep and husky with sleep.
Setting the tray down on the edge of the bed, Kate busied herself moving things around on it to stop herself from staring at him with her mouth open.
‗I heard you talking downstairs.‘
‗I was on the phone.‘ Oh, God, she hoped he hadn‘t heard what she was saying. She could feel her blush intensify as she looked up at him through her hair and smiled shyly. ‗I was calling a cab, actually. Last night didn‘t quite live up to my expectations, so I thought there was no point in sticking around.‘
His lips quirked into a sardonic half-smile. ‗Not as good as last time? I must have lost my touch.‘
Pouring coffee and handing it to him, Kate kept her face completely straight.
‗Probably you just need a bit more practice. It‘s all about training and focus, you see…‘
Joking about it was the only way she could think of handling this. She had to keep it light. Casual.
‗You sound like Silvio.‘ He put the cup down and caught hold of her hand, pulling her down against his chest. ‗And you seem to know quite a lot about it.‘
The musky, masculine scent of his skin made her feel lightheaded with longing. ‗Only what you told me last time when I interviewed you.‘
He raised an eyebrow. ‗I told you about sex?‘ With one hand he lazily started to unbutton the white shirt. In an instant Kate was drenched with want.
‗No,‘ she gasped. ‗About racing. The sex part was more of a…practical demonstration.‘ His fingers moved downwards, skimming her quivering skin as he slowly undid each button. She gave a breathless laugh. ‗It was my first time.‘
His hand stilled. Kate felt a tiny prickle of alarm and looked up into his face.
His eyes were impossibly dark and utterly unreadable, and although she was still lying in his arms there was something about him that had quite suddenly withdrawn from her.
‗In that case I probably owe you an apology.‘
‗Why?‘
He detached himself from her, leaning over and picking up the mug of coffee he‘d put on the bedside table a few minutes ago. ‗Because I‘m quite sure as first times went it left a lot to be desired—emotionally, if not technically,‘ he drawled.
The sun streaming through the huge window turned his skin to gold and made him seem more beautiful and unreachable than ever. Kate‘s heart constricted.
Sitting up, reaching for her own coffee, she breathed in the fragrant steam for a second and shook her head.
‗No. No, it was…‘ She paused, taking a mouthful of coffee and hoping it would dis
lodge the hard lump of emotion in her throat.
This was her chance to try to bring alive some of the magic of that long, deep, breathless night.
But how?
‗Well?‘
His heavy-lidded eyes were mocking, but she found the laughter that had been bubbling up inside her had vanished and she couldn‘t joke about it any more.
‗It was…special.‘ She stared down into her mug. Her voice sounded husky with the emotions she was trying to hold back. ‗It was good. Not just the s-sex bit, but all of it.‘ She looked up at him, trying to keep the pleading note from her voice.
‗Didn‘t last night make any of it come back?‘
‗No.‘
Aware of the ice in his tone, Cristiano leaned forward with deceptive nonchalance, reaching for a brioche and tearing into it with quiet savagery. He had woken up feeling more at peace than he could remember at any time since the accident, and had lain for a while in the warm, sun-filled room, looking at the majesty of the mountains, his mind going slowly over what had happened.
But it was the moonlight on the snow, the rustle of satin, the taste of salt tears on her skin as he‘d kissed her that filled his head. Not the faintest echo of a hot night in Monaco four years ago. No miraculous revelation. No sudden blinding epiphany. Just the same black hole—only now it seemed even darker and more fathomless than ever.
Making a huge effort to keep his voice neutral, he said, ‗You‘ll just have to tell me about it instead.‘
‗I don‘t know where to start.‘
She sucked a drizzle of honey off the side of her hand. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing his shirt, with last night‘s make-up smudged beneath eyes that were the same blue as the sky above the mountains, she looked absurdly young and heart-wrenchingly pretty. So much for being plain and boring, Cristiano thought acidly as desire uncoiled inside him again. It would be a lot more convenient if she was.
‗How about at the beginning?‘
‗Well,‘ she began hesitantly, ‗it was a really hot day…‘
He needed to know this. It was why he had brought her here, after all, but right at that moment talking or listening were the last things he felt like doing. He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and trying to focus on what she was saying instead of on the hardening of his body, the strength of his sudden longing to pull her into his arms again and cover her mouth with his.
‗…I‘d only found out an hour before I had to leave for the airport that I was coming,‘ she was saying, in her soft, slightly self-deprecating way, squashing brioche crumbs beneath her thumb as she spoke. ‗My boss was supposed to be doing the interview, but his wife had suddenly gone into labour so he had to send me instead. I was terrified.‘
‗Of what?‘
‗Of the whole thing—getting on a plane, watching the race, meeting you.
Luckily there wasn‘t too much time to get into a state about it, but there wasn‘t any time to think about what to wear either. It was raining in Yorkshire, and I thought I ought to look smart and professional, but of course I‘d never been to a Grand Prix before.‘ She glanced up at him with a rueful smile that brought dimples out in her cheeks. ‗I put on the tailored grey suit I usually wear to meet new clients. All the other girls were wearing—‘
‗Hardly anything at all,‘ Cristiano said acidly.
‗Exactly. And they were all so beautiful and glamorous, and I felt so…out of place. Fast cars scare the life out of me anyway, and I was totally unprepared for the noise and the petrol smell and everything. It was all a bit of a nightmare.‘
She was talking faster now, her head bent, her hair falling forward and partly covering her face. He wanted to reach over and tuck it behind her ear, so he could see her properly, but didn‘t trust himself to touch her.
‗I watched you qualifying from the balcony of the Campano building,‘ she went on, ‗and then afterwards I went to the press suite to do the interview. Your PA said you‘d want to shower and rest for a while first, so I waited. Everyone else had disappeared to a party on some yacht and the place was deserted. When you didn‘t appear I thought you must have gone with them, and I felt really stupid for waiting like that.‘ She took a deep breath. ‗So I went to look for you…‘
She faltered and stopped, seeming to search for words for a moment, before shaking her head and saying nervously, ‗But I‘m sure you don‘t want to know all of this.‘
Cristiano reached out and took the plate from her crossed legs, placing it back on the tray. The brioche had been reduced to a heap of crumbs.
‗Yes, I do,‘ he said, with quiet irony. She couldn‘t begin to understand how much.
‗I found the room with your name on the door,‘ she said very quietly. ‗You were asleep.‘
Cristiano gave a hollow laugh. ‗A classic interview-avoidance technique.‘
Kate moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and darted him a quick glance from behind that curtain of honey-coloured hair. Her cheeks were pink.
‗The thing is you were really deeply asleep.‘ Her voice was little more than a whisper now. ‗You were lying there, very still, and you hardly seemed to be breathing and…and…I thought you were…d-dead.‘ She raised her head and looked at him with those luminous blue eyes. ‗Ridiculous, isn‘t it?‘
Cristiano was about to make some sardonic remark, but stopped himself when he saw the stricken expression on her face. ‗Not ridiculous at all,‘ he said gravely. He hesitated, and then almost unwillingly found himself continuing,
‗When I first started driving my biggest weakness was my inability to concentrate, so I taught myself deep meditation techniques. They helped me to focus, and also to come down from the adrenaline rush after a race because they slow your heart-rate.‘ Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he picked up her hand and laid it against his chest. ‗Mine is unusually slow to start with anyway…see?‘
Her clear eyes widened. Darkened. The room was very still and quiet as the moment stretched and she waited…listening…feeling the beat of his heart.
Which, of course, had accelerated the instant she touched him. Maledetto.
What the hell was he doing, telling her about his weaknesses anyway? That was the second time he‘d let slip something private. He‘d be spilling everything before he knew it—all the shameful details of his past.
That at least would bring this thing to a quick and painless end, he thought bitterly, noticing the jump of her pulse beneath the rose-gold skin of her throat.
Suki was right. She wasn‘t his type at all. There was no future in this, and it wasn‘t fair to let her believe for a second that there was. Later he would mention something about getting her back to Monaco. After he‘d found out what he needed to know.
‗So, what happened next?‘ he asked roughly.
She pulled her hand away, curling her fingers and burying them in the folds of his white shirt. She took a quick breath. ‗I was feeling for a pulse…and you woke up…and…‘
‗Let me guess. I took full advantage of the situation?‘
She gave a breathy laugh, but there was an edge to it. ‗No. You tried. But I…I stormed out.‘
‘Buon per te.’
‗You came after me. It was getting pretty late by then, so you offered to take me back to your house to do the interview.‘
‗Which is how I managed to scare the living daylights out of you on the way, and then take full advantage of that situation,‘ Cristiano said cuttingly.
It was surprisingly uncomfortable being given an insight into his past mode of operation. Sitting up abruptly he punched a goosedown pillow into shape and leaned back against it, putting a bit more distance between himself and the bit of her bare thigh that wasn‘t covered up by the shirt.
‗It wasn‘t like that,‘ she said carefully. ‗You cooked dinner for me.‘
‗Pasta?‘
She gave a little indrawn breath and lifted her head. ‗You remember?‘
Cristiano gave a twisted smile.
>
‗No. It was a race weekend. I eat nothing but pasta.‘
‗Oh. Of course.‘
She got up then, unfurling her legs and wrapping her arms across her body as if she was cold. ‗We sat outside, by the pool, and…we talked. I asked you the questions I‘d been given.‘ She walked over to the window and stood there with her back to him, so he had a perfect view of her long legs beneath the shirt. He thought fleetingly of all the enticing, erotic creations of silk and lace and even on occasion leather that women had worn to please him in bed over the years, and wondered why none of them had ever had quite the same effect as this. This girl with skin like cream and her soft voice and her gentle hands.