An hour later she was still wide awake, and now she was thirsty. Knowing that she would never be able to sleep until she’d had a drink, she slid out of bed and stepped into the hall. Everywhere was in darkness, and she assumed Lanzo had gone to bed, but when she pushed open the kitchen door her heart jerked against her ribs at the sight of him leaning against the worktop, idly skimming through a newspaper. He was naked apart from the towel hitched around his waist, and droplets of water glistened on his shoulders and his damp hair, indicating that he had recently showered.
Dear heaven, he was gorgeous! He lowered the paper as Gina hovered in the doorway, his bright green eyes gleaming with amusement when she stared simply stared at him, her mouth open in a perfect oh of shock.
Dark eyebrows winged upwards. ‘Did you want something, cara?’
She moistened her dry lips with her tongue, and the gleam in his eyes became intent and feral. ‘I came to get a drink. I usually take a glass of water to bed with me,’ she croaked.
‘Lucky water,’ he murmured, so softly that she wasn’t sure she had heard him right. He took a glass from the cabinet, filled it from the tap, and strolled towards her. Her eyes hovered on his towel and she prayed it was securely fastened.
‘Here.’ He handed her the glass.
‘Thank you.’
Leave now, her brain insisted urgently. But her senses were swamped by his closeness, the tantalising scent of clean, damp skin, the sensual musk of his aftershave, and something else that was irrevocably male and primitive that made every nerve-ending in her body tingle.
Green eyes meshed with sapphire-blue. ‘Is there anything else you want, Gina?’
His breath whispered across her lips, and without conscious thought she parted them in silent invitation. Lanzo made a muffled sound deep in his throat as he lowered his head and grazed his mouth gently over hers.
It felt like heaven. Starbursts of colour exploded in her mind as he tasted her with delicate little sips, until he felt the little shiver of pleasure that ran through her and deepened the kiss. His lips were warm and firm, yet incredibly gentle, teasing hers apart, his tongue tracing their shape but not sliding into her mouth. Instinctively she leaned closer to him. He lifted his hand and threaded his fingers through her hair.
And then suddenly, from nowhere, Simon’s image hurtled into her mind—a memory of him grabbing her hair and pulling several strands from her scalp during one of his drunken rages.
‘No!’ She jerked away from Lanzo so forcefully that she banged the back of her head on the doorframe. He frowned and lowered his hand. She could see the questions forming on his lips and she shook her head, silently telling him that she was not about to give an explanation for her behaviour. ‘I can’t.’ Her voice was thick with misery. ‘I’m sorry.’
She was still clutching the glass, and she spun away from him so urgently that water sloshed over the rim, soaking through her nightdress as she tore down the hall towards her room.
Lanzo watched her go, half tempted to follow her and demand to know what she was playing at. She had turned from soft and willing to tense and frightened in the space of a few seconds, and he wanted to know why. But he recalled the expression in her eyes—a silent plea for him to back off—and after a moment he switched off the kitchen light and padded down the hall to his own room, wondering what had happened in her past that had decimated her trust.
CHAPTER FIVE
GINA dreaded facing Lanzo the following morning, but to her relief he greeted her with a casual smile when she joined him on the terrace for breakfast, and made no reference to what had happened between them the previous night. If he was curious as to why she had reacted so badly when he had kissed her he did not allow it to show, and over coffee and the delicious herb and parmesan frittatas that Daphne served them he focused exclusively on work and the meetings planned for the day ahead.
A week later, Gina glanced around the quaint little courtyard tucked away down a side-street in the Campo di Fiori area of Rome, and then studied the faded photograph in her hand.
‘I’m sure this is where Nonna Ginevra used to live,’ she said excitedly. ‘The fountain in the centre of the square is just the same, and that house over in the corner looks like the one my grandparents are standing in front of in the photo. It’s amazing—this courtyard has hardly changed in over sixty years,’ she murmured.
Lanzo peered over her shoulder at the photograph. ‘Your grandfather is in military uniform, so I assume the picture must have been taken during the Second World War?’
Gina nodded. ‘Grandad was stationed in Italy in the war, and that’s when he met Nonna. They married soon after the war ended, and she moved to the farm in Dorset with him, but she often spoke of her childhood home in Rome. It must have been hard for her to leave the place she loved, but she always said that she loved my grandfather so much that she would have lived on the moon with him if he’d asked her.’
It was hot in the enclosed courtyard, and she sat down on the stone wall surrounding the fountain, glad of the fine spray that cooled her skin.
Lanzo dropped down next to her. ‘You were obviously very fond of your grandmother.’
‘Yes, I was close to both my grandparents. After my mother left I spent a lot of time with them while Dad was busy on the farm. They died within a few months of each other, and although I was sad I couldn’t help but be glad that they were together again,’ she said softly. ‘Even death didn’t part them for long.’
Her grandparents’ long and devoted relationship had epitomised all that marriage truly meant, she thought. Love, friendship, respect—the things she had hoped for when she had married Simon, until his drinking binges and increasingly aggressive behaviour had killed her feelings for him.
‘I can’t believe we’ve actually found Nonna’s childhood home,’ she said, refusing to dwell on dark memories when the sun was blazing from a cobalt blue sky. ‘You seem to know every corner and backstreet of the city. Did you grow up in Rome?’
Lanzo shook his head. ‘No, I was born in Positano, on the Amalfi Coast. I like Rome, and I spend a lot of time here because Di Cosimo Holdings is based here, but home is very much my villa on the clifftops, looking out over the sea.’
‘I’ve heard that the Amalfi Coast is supposed to be one of the most beautiful places in the world,’ Gina said, smiling at his enthusiasm. ‘Do your family still live there?’
‘I have no family. My parents died many years ago, and I was an only child.’ Lanzo’s tone was curiously emotionless, and his eyes were shaded by his sunglasses so that Gina could not read his expression, but something warned her that he would not welcome further questions about his family.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. She remembered reading somewhere that he had assumed control of Di Cosimo Holdings when he had been only twenty—long before he had stayed in Poole ten years ago. Presumably he had taken over the company on the death of his father. No wonder he seemed so detached, she mused, trying to think of a suitable word to describe him. From the sound of it he had no one in his life he cared about, and perhaps losing his parents when he had been a young man had hardened him.
There was a proverb that stated ‘no man is an island’. But Lanzo seemed to prize his independence above anything, and did not appear to need anyone. His housekeeper Daphne ran his various homes and took care of his domestic arrangements, and a ready supply of willowy blonde models satisfied his high sex-drive. She wondered if he had ever been in love, but when she darted a glance at his stern profile she dared not ask, feeling fairly certain what his answer would be.
‘Now that we have found where your grandmother used to live, where would you like to visit next?’ he asked after a few minutes. ‘We’re not far from the Piazza Navona, where the fountains are rather more spectacular than this one.’ He dipped his hand in the small fountain and flicked water at her, grinning when she yelped. ‘The square is world- famous, and the statues are truly worth seeing.’
‘You don’t hav
e to be my tour guide all weekend,’ Gina told him. ‘You’ve already shown me so much of Rome.’
Her mind re-ran the past wonderful week. After her initial awkwardness with him that first morning she had slipped into the role of his PA with surprising ease, and a companionable relationship had quickly developed between them—although she was always conscious of the shimmering sexual chemistry simmering beneath their polite conversations.
Each evening they returned to his apartment to sample Daphne’s divine cooking, and afterwards strolled around the city, admiring the exquisite architecture of the ancient landmarks and discovering secret little side-streets and courtyards where they drank Chianti beneath the striped awnings of some of the cafés.
Rome was a magical place, but in her heart Gina recognised that for her the magic was created by Lanzo as he walked close beside her, or smiled indulgently when she paused to study a pretty window box or peer into a shop window. It would be very easy to fall for him, she thought ruefully. And it was that knowledge which held her back from responding to the sultry invitation in his eyes each time she bade him goodnight every evening and went to her bedroom to sleep alone.
She was puzzled that, although he did not try to disguise the fact that he desired her, he had made no further attempt to kiss her. She supposed she should have felt reassured that he was obviously not going to pressure her in any way, but instead she lay awake every night, gripped by a restless longing as she imagined his muscular, naked body pressing down on her soft flesh, his dark head lowered to her breast.
‘I’ve enjoyed showing you around,’ he told her, his voice cutting through her erotic fantasy, so that she blushed scarlet and hastily avoided his gaze. ‘We won’t have another chance for a while. We’ll be in St Tropez for most of next week, preparing for the launch of the new Di Cosimo restaurant, and after that I plan to spend some time in Positano.’
‘I assume you’ll want me to be here in Rome, to run the office while you are staying at your villa?’ Gina murmured, trying not to dwell on how much she would miss him. He probably had a mistress in Positano, she thought bleakly, despising herself for the corrosive jealousy that burned like acid in her stomach.
‘Of course not—I’ll be working from the villa, and naturally I will require my personal assistant to be with me.’
Lanzo got to his feet and stared down at her, feeling his body stir into urgent life as his eyes were drawn to the deep valley between her breasts revealed by her low-cut vest top. After spending all week fantasising about the voluptuous curves she kept hidden beneath smart work suits and high-necked blouses, the sight of her in denim shorts and the clingy lemon yellow top at breakfast this morning had sent heat surging through his veins.
He could not remember ever wanting a woman as badly as he wanted Gina, he acknowledged, almost resenting her for the hold she seemed to have over him. He had told himself he would wait until she accepted that their mutual attraction could only have one inevitable conclusion, but he hadn’t reckoned on her ability to shatter his peace of mind.
Lanzo took Gina’s hand and drew her to her feet, but instead of leading her out of the courtyard he stood towering over her, so that she was faced with the choice of staring at his muscle-bound chest, and the tantalising glimpse of tanned flesh above the neckline of his shirt, or the chiselled perfection of his face.
‘I want you to come to Positano with me,’ he said, in his rich-as-molten-chocolate voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. ‘And not just as my PA, cara.’
Her eyes flew to his, and she caught her breath at the feral hunger gleaming in his green gaze. Tension quivered between them, and the air in the courtyard was so still and silent that Gina was sure he could hear the frantic thud of her heart. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that,’ she whispered. He had broken the unspoken promise between them—not to refer to their mutual awareness of each other—and she felt exposed and vulnerable.
‘Why not—when it’s the truth?’ His arm snaked around her waist and he jerked her up against him, so that she could feel every muscle and sinew of his hard thighs pressing into her softer flesh. ‘You must know that I want you,’ he said roughly. ‘And you want me too. Do you think I don’t notice the hungry glances you give me, or the way you trace your lips with your tongue, inviting me to kiss you?’
‘I don’t—’ Gina stopped dead, horrified to realise that she had unconsciously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue even while Lanzo was speaking. But not because she wanted him to kiss her, she assured herself. Not because she longed for him to cover her mouth with his own and plunder her very soul.
His dark head blotted out the sun, and her heart beat faster as she saw the determined intent in his eyes. She should move, she thought desperately, but her body would not follow the dictates of her brain, and the soft brush of his lips over hers opened the floodgates of desire that she had tried so hard to deny.
Her common sense warned her not to respond, but already it was too late. She had no weapons to fight his sorcery. Her hands were shaking as she placed them against his chest, intending to push him away. The trembling that now affected all her limbs was not from fear, but from a fierce longing to press her body against the muscled strength of his and feel the thud of his heart echo the drumbeat of her own.
Lanzo tasted her again softly, carefully, as if he was aware that she was poised to flee from him. But the gentle pressure of his lips on hers tantalised her senses, and with a low moan she opened her mouth to welcome the erotic sweep of his tongue. And suddenly the dam broke, and he could no longer restrain the thundering torrent of his desire, kissing her with a blazing passion that had her clinging to him while he tangled his fingers in her long, silky hair.
It was Lanzo who finally broke the kiss, the functioning part of his brain reminding him that, although the little courtyard was deserted, they were in full view of the houses surrounding them. He lifted his head reluctantly and frowned. As the head of one of Italy’s most successful companies he was a well-known figure in Rome. He never kissed his lovers in public, aware that paparazzi could be lurking anywhere. But yet again Gina had caused him to break one of his personal rules, he thought derisively.
He was unbearably tempted to take her back to his apartment and spend the afternoon making love to her, but once again the wariness in her eyes stopped him. He was sure now that some guy had hurt her in the past. She had brushed off his delicate attempts to probe into her romantic history, but her defensiveness told him there was a reason why she continued to pull back from him. Patience was a virtue, Lanzo reminded himself ruefully. Gina would be his soon, but he would not rush her.
‘I leave it up to you to decide what we should do for the rest of the day, cara,’ he murmured, forcing himself to ease away from her. ‘We can go home and relax …’ He paused, heat flaring inside him as he imagined removing her shorts and tee shirt and stroking his hands over her voluptuous curves. He took a ragged breath. ‘Or we can visit the Pantheon, as we had planned to do.’
Gina stared at him in stunned silence, still reeling from his kiss. Part of her wished that he would make the choice for her, exert his dominance and whisk her back to his apartment so that he could take her to bed for the rest of the day. But she was afraid to admit her longing for him to make love to her. It was more than a step. It was a leap off a precipice. And her nerve failed her.
‘I don’t want an affair with you,’ she said jerkily, cringing at her bluntness but needing to make it clear to him—to herself—that she was not in the market for a sexual fling.
His eyes narrowed, and she saw the effort he made to control his frustration. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t think about denying the chemistry that burned between us when you responded to me so eagerly a few seconds ago. We were good together once,’ he reminded her when she shook her head.
‘Ten years ago you only wanted me for sex,’ Gina reminded him shakily.
‘That’s not true.’ It had started out l
ike that, Lanzo admitted silently. He had been attracted to Gina, but he had assumed that once he had taken her to bed he would soon grow bored with her—as he did with all his mistresses. To his surprise his desire had increased with every week that they had been lovers. He had been drawn to her, and had wanted to spend all his time with her—until alarm bells had rung in his head and he had abruptly ended their affair, determined that he would never allow himself to become emotionally involved with any woman. He had learned that emotions hurt, and he was not prepared to risk going through the pain he had felt when he had lost Cristina ever again.
‘It was not just sex. You meant something to me,’ he said roughly.
‘So much so that I never heard from you again after you returned to Italy?’ Gina said bitterly. ‘If you cared for me at all—’ she could not believe he had ‘—why didn’t you say so?’
‘Because my head was messed up.’ Lanzo exhaled heavily. ‘I wasn’t in a fit state of mind to contemplate a relationship. You were young and full of life. You deserved to meet a guy who would make you happy.’
Instead she had met Simon, Gina thought bleakly. ‘Why was your head messed up?’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes I used to glimpse an almost haunted look in your eyes, but you never liked to talk about yourself.’ She could tell from his shuttered face that things had not changed and he still would not confide in her. ‘I never really knew you at all,’ she said sadly. ‘And now I don’t want to spend a few more weeks as your convenient mistress.’
Lanzo stared at her intently. ‘If I only wanted to satisfy a carnal urge there are any number of women I could call,’ he said quietly. In truth he did not know exactly what he wanted from a relationship with Gina, but they had been friends as well as lovers ten years ago, and he saw no reason why they could not be so again now. His jaw tightened when he saw panic flare in her eyes. ‘What are you afraid of, Gina?’
The Ultimate Risk Page 7