“Carly?”
She didn’t move, but her body registered Marco’s presence as a heat pervaded her heart and she relived in a fraction of a second every moment of their four days.
“What are you doing outside? Come back to bed.” His hands, warm and reassuring, reached out to her shoulders and pulled her back gently so she leaned against his hard frame. He was aroused. Again. She couldn’t help but smile. This man was so very blatant.
“We have time.” His breath fanned her cheek, and she let her head drop back, wallowing in the scent of him. His tongue caressed her exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from her. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, wanting and needing him. She turned and his arms enveloped her, crushing her to his body. Cradling her to his chest, Marco carried her back to bed.
Carly didn’t utter a sound. She wanted this—with a vengeance. Her time may be almost up, but she determined she would enjoy it to the absolute last second. She would ignore the warring words in her brain and the increasing fear rising in a wave of panic in her gut. A fear that reminded her of her past, one she never, ever wanted to recreate.
Why?
Because reality would catch up. Eventually.
Carly lifted her gaze skyward, the whirring sound in the distance catching her attention and forcing her to face up to the present. She so desperately wanted to ignore the sound, believe it wasn’t happening, but it was. It had to—in the end. The sound became louder until she had to admit the helicopter was about to arrive.
Paradise was dissolving.
“Cara.” Marco cradled her to him.
She would never tire of his touch. Struggling to contain her grief, Carly mustered every last crumb of strength and turned to him, pasting a smile on her face. “The helicopter is here.” Her voice was but a whisper as she stated the obvious. She filled her lungs with a deep, steadying breath. “It’s time.”
It was over. The words twisted and churned with tumultuous viciousness in her heart, and her hands shook and her knees began to buckle beneath her. Marco reached out to support her, but she flinched and jerked away from him. She couldn’t bear for him to touch her. Not now that it was over.
His hands fell away. She wanted to cry, no please, hold me, don’t leave me. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could utter a sound.
“So, this is it then?” she whispered, struggling to sound cheery while inside she cried silent tears, her words awkward and trite.
“It’s been a pleasure.”
“Pleasure,” she repeated parrot fashion. Her moist eyes caught his, drinking in as much as she could in the few minutes they had left. They were the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and lightened and darkened with his mood. The hard planes of his bronzed cheeks and his killer smile sent a heady anticipation spiraling down her spine and made her hunger for his touch. The touch she had to deny.
She dragged her gaze away, suddenly taking intense interest in the sand-splattered patio. “Yes, it was. Thank you.” She turned from him then, retreating inside and quietly dressing, tossing her clothes into her case. The end of paradise.
She tried to tell herself that everything had to end. But it didn’t make it any better. She still ached inside. Desperately.
Thank you!
All she had said was thank you. Marco forced himself to retain an air of detachment. Without speaking, he escorted her to the waiting helicopter.
It was the same pilot who’d ferried them four days earlier. “Good holiday, was it?”
Carly nodded, but Marco couldn’t trust himself to speak so remained mute. The pilot eyed them both and shrugged. Holding herself stiffly, arms hugging her waist, she ignored him then seated herself and buckled in. The pilot went through procedures and within minutes they were off, leaving paradise behind.
For twelve long, drawn-out minutes, she refused to acknowledge he was even at her side and, for the first time in his life, he found himself stymied. Damn it. He had his pride. He wouldn’t beg.
Where was his control, his renowned ability to tackle the most difficult business acquisitions?
She wasn’t an acquisition.
No, but he wanted her. A lot.
“Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, the meal in the evening,” he teased.
For a moment, Marco thought she would say yes. Wanted her to very much, which surprised him. He hadn’t realized how four days could change a man’s thinking. But it had. He’d entered this deal with Carly for fun, a chance respite from his own hectic world of responsibilities and his mother’s constant marriage prattle.
And now? Now…well, it was just dinner. That was all. Wasn’t it?
“I don’t think so,” she finally replied.
“No?”
“No,” she repeated, her refusal curt.
Marco wasn’t used to begging, but as the helicopter began to land, he was filled with a sense of urgency, of unrequited need. “Another time then?”
“No. I can’t.” Carly scrambled from her seat, but he grabbed her wrist just as she made for the exit.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Take your pick. But the answer is still the same.”
“Yet you shared many hours in my arms.”
“That was then, Mr. Valente,” she said with a stiffness in her voice he hadn’t heard for four days. “And this is now. Now we go back to our lives. I go to work and you go…wherever you want to.”
As she shook him off, Marco realized with a jolt that even now, after days and nights together, neither of them really knew anything about the other or had even offered that information.
Paradise Island truly had been a fantasy.
She grabbed her bag and delved into its depths. She turned to him and held out an envelope to him.
“What’s that?”
“Payment.”
“Porca miseria,” Marco swore. He closed the space between them. He easily towered over her. She tilted her head back, squinting as the sun shone in her eyes, and raised a hand to shade her face, but he grabbed her wrist and she gasped. Did she feel the heat between them as he did?
“You think I want your money?”
“That’s not what you said before we went. You agreed.”
“Ah, but all that changed didn’t it, cara? Your friends didn’t come. We had time for ourselves, and…sex. You hired me to play your gigolo, and now you toss me aside.”
“But, the job…the terms.”
“Damn the job and its terms. This is about us.”
“There is no us, Mr. Valente. It’s over. Get it? You were merely an employee.”
Anger boiled inside Marco. Not at Carly, for she obviously knew what she wanted and had gotten it. He was angry with himself. His gut churned, and he fisted his hands at his side. He’d been a fool even to agree in the first place. Had thought that perhaps, maybe…
Fool!
“We were meant to be on the island with my friends, and since neither of us had come with a phone, we had to stay. Simple as that. Nothing more,” she said, taking several steps back. “The contract ended the moment the helicopter flew off and my friends didn’t turn up.”
“Yet you were happy to play, sweetheart,” he drawled.
Carly’s face bleached.
Just then he felt the buzz of his mobile hidden in his jacket pocket. A slow smile spread across his face.
Revenge is often sweet, so they say. Pulling it from his pocket, he flicked it open.
“I’m here,” he said.
Carly stared at him. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. He searched her face, waiting, keeping his stance rigid, knowing she would go on the attack.
She didn’t disappoint him. “You had a phone all along,” she accused, jabbing an index finger at his chest. “I asked you the day we arrived if you had one. You said no.”
Marco looked away, aware of a definite stain of heat beneath his skin. He disconnec
ted his call and pocketed his mobile.
“At least you have the decency to look guilty,” she chastised.
He snorted, uncomfortable with her accurate barb. “Do you think a phone would have improved the situation?”
“Of course.”
“How? We would have gotten off the island and you could have worked your butt off, instead of enjoying four days. I made a decision. You said you wanted to escape to paradise with your friends.”
“My friends weren’t there, remember?”
“Was it so bad? Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”
Carly’s lips pursed into a thin, disapproving line.
“Okay.” He shrugged, refusing to acknowledge his guilt. “So I lied. I’m not sorry.”
He was. Why else would he feel so damned guilty?
“Tell me one thing, Marco, since I didn’t hear it ring while we were on the island, I presume you deliberately kept it on silent. Did you?” she challenged.
Marco nodded, and Carly’s breath escaped in one long hiss. “If there is one thing I hate, it’s a liar and a cheat.”
“What are you complaining about, cara?”
“Don’t you cara me, buster.”
“You got what you wanted. Don’t complain.”
Carly shivered. “Wanted? How the heck do you know what I wanted?”
A slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, cara mia, I know. Your body told me.”
“Trust you to bring it down to sex.”
“It wasn’t just sex. It was desire. Blatant, scorching and flagrantly hot sex,” he said, watching with triumph as a blush traveled the curve of her delicious neck. “It was more than good, you can’t deny it.”
Carly’s eyes widened.
“See, you can’t, can you?” He sure couldn’t. It had been pure heat. Sizzling, mind-numbing and unforgettable. But, despite the ring of truth, Marco felt a sadness and disappointment that everything had come down to this.
A play of emotions crossed Carly’s sweet face, and she let out a world-weary sigh. “You lied to me.”
“No, cara. You do that by handing me money.”
“I always keep my promises.”
“All very admirable, but I don’t need your money. I have my own, plenty of it.”
Just then a limousine rounded the corner and pulled up beside them. A black-suited driver with a crisp white shirt and dark tie exited and held open one of the rear doors. He nodded toward Marco. Now the truth would be out.
For the second time in as few minutes, Carly’s mouth gaped in astonishment. “What does that man want?”
“He wants me,” Marco stated tonelessly.
“You?” Carly looked from the driver and back to Marco, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“Si, he is my driver.”
“But you ride a bike. That rattle trap Moto Guzzi or whatever it’s called.”
“I do. For a hobby, to relax and unwind.”
“What are you talking about? This doesn’t make any sense. You wear black leather.”
Marco couldn’t hold back a smile. “You judge a book by its cover, isn’t that what they say in English? I ride a bike. I wear leathers.” He shrugged. “The car is also mine.”
“It is?”
Marco watched Carly with the intensity of a hawk.
“Don’t,” she demanded.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that. You make me feel as if you’re dissecting me.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s very difficult not to admire a beautiful woman.”
“Enough, Marco. Forget it.”
“As you wish, cara, but the truth is, I’m a wealthy man.” Then, without another word, he spun on his heels and headed for the limousine.
Panic hit. He was leaving. Out of her life.
“Where are you going?”
Half in the car, he halted and faced her. Once again the mask was back in place. Carly’s fingers itched to slap it right off.
“I have a meeting. You have your car?”
She nodded. “So, um, this is it then?”
Marco shrugged. “We’ve had our fun.”
His gaze traveled in a slow and deliberate fashion, raking her from head to foot, stripping her naked in broad daylight. “You got what you wanted. You didn’t want me when you thought me penniless. Are you having second thoughts, cara?” His mouth twisted in a derisive curl. “Forget it. I’m not for sale.”
“And I’m not buying.” Prickles of sweat beaded between her breasts. She stared at him. She wouldn’t look away, wouldn’t kowtow to this man. “I didn’t ask for a liar or a cheat, Marco. My father was one of those. I don’t need another in my life.”
Marco’s mouth turned downwards, lips in a thin sneer. “So, our deal is done. You got your four days of play.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, and Carly struggled and failed to douse the longing she felt for him or find a suitable response. “I thought…maybe,” she said, fighting one part of her that said, okay, this is the end, the other that desperately wanted to hang onto what they’d had these last four days, “that perhaps we could have dinner.”
That she had already declined his invitation for the same didn’t escape her.
“Dinner?” Then he took her by complete surprise and burst into a deep-throated laugh. “I see.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Now you see I am not just a poor motorcyclist, you want marriage perhaps? You think to tempt me. The temptation is strong, cara,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her, “but not for marriage.”
Carly’s jaw dropped. “Marriage to you? You must be joking.” How wrong could he be? Money wasn’t her elixir, though lust was. Marco Valente was.
“Si. It’s a joke,” he agreed, interrupting her silent internal argument. “Marriage is definitely not an offer.”
Thank God she’d said nothing. Hadn’t pleaded. Carly crossed her arms across her chest as tangled fingers of humiliation clawed at her heart and soul. She lifted her chin and gave Marco what she hoped was a chilling stare. “Good, because I’m not interested. Marriage is not on my To Do list.” She turned to walk away, then halted mid-step and shot him a glare over her shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, the offer of dinner is definitely off.”
How Carly arrived home was quite beyond her, the journey a blur. The moment she opened the door to her apartment, she dropped her bag where she stood.
Working on automatic pilot, she filled the kettle with water and plugged it in. Coffee, strong, hot and black, was in order.
Just like Marco’s.
Cruel. She shouldn’t think about him.
But as stinging tears began, unhinging her for a second time, there was no way on earth she could stop them. She sniffed, walked to the bathroom for a box of tissues and blew her nose loudly. What she wanted was comfort food. Chocolate—and lots of it.
Carly fell to the sofa and huddled under the aubergine velvet throw. It may have been eighty-five degrees outside, but she was frozen to the core, dead cold and miserable as hell. The whistle on the kettle blew and thankfully switched itself off. She couldn’t be bothered, didn’t care and couldn’t move. She didn’t want to do anything.
But wallow in self-pity.
So? Wasn’t a girl allowed to wallow if she wanted?
And she certainly wanted to.
What a fool she’d been. She snatched a fifth tissue and wiped away the ceaseless tears just as the phone rang.
Damn.
She wanted to ignore it. She tried, but her conscience got the better of her. Maybe it was Marco. Maybe he was going to apologize.
Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t even have your phone number. Or you, his.
Carly grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
“Carly, is that you? You sound sick.”
“Hi, Maxine. I’m not, just, um, a bit tired, that’s all.”
“Tired?” Maxine giggled. “Sounds like our plan worked.”
Confused, Carly could ba
rely answer. She just wanted to go away and hide, not talk to dear, faithful Maxine.
“Did Mr. Invisible give you a good time then? Your hunk had the rest of us jealous.”
“He did?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t be? Dark, sexy as can be and devoted to you.”
“Yeah, devoted,” Carly parroted.
“You don’t seem so sure, honey. What’s wrong?”
Carly bit her lip. “Oh, Maxine,” she wailed, unable to halt the torrent of tears once more.
“What’s up? Didn’t he come? You weren’t alone for all the four days, were you?” Maxine gasped. “Oh, God, Carly, I’m sorry. The thought horrifies me.”
“I wish.”
“Why? Surely it can’t have been that bad.”
Carly hesitated. What was she going to say? The man was invisible because he didn’t exist. That he was a heavenly hunk, but a liar, and oh, so sexy and loving and passionate and stirred her senses until they were so hot they ignited? That she loved him, but was scared. Confused.
“Come on, Carly, you can tell Auntie Maxie. What’s up?”
“It’s over.”
“Over? As in finito, kaput, over and out?”
Carly nodded then whispered. “Yes.”
Her friend was clearly speechless, and she decided now was as good a time as any to end this call. “Maxine, I’m not up to long explanations right now.”
“Perhaps later?” Maxine offered.
Carly grimaced. Maxine was like a dog with a bone. She wouldn’t give up on a good bit of gossip. She’d want the ins and outs and all the gory details.
“Maybe,” she agreed, but knew there was no way on earth she would recite the whole messy saga to anyone. Never. Ever. She said her goodbyes and hung up.
“What a fool. Really dumb.” Carly groaned out loud. Why had she allowed herself to become so entangled in make-believe? She’d been sucked into four days with her mysterious Mr. Romeo and had stupidly fallen totally and irretrievably in love with him.
Romeo had conquered Juliet.
“Not fair!” Carly wailed and erupted in another torrent of tears. It wasn’t meant to happen. She didn’t want it to. She’d never planned on romance.
Romeo for Hire Page 9