‘She’ll be back in a few days,’ Rocco reminded her.
‘I know.’ She forced a smile. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself now that Cordelia has accepted the Harrises’
invitation to stay in Rapallo with them for a couple of days and Holly has gone. I think I might be bored.’
‘As suredly not, cara,’ Rocco drawled, the velvet-soft sensuality in his voice sending a quiver down Emma’s spine. ‘I can think of a number of ways to keep you occupied.’
His eyes roamed over her and he congratulated himself on his excellent sense of taste in female attire. The short denim skirt he’d bought her when she had first arrived in Portofino moulded her pert derrière and revealed a tantalising amount of slender, lightly tanned thighs, while the simple white T-shirt clung to her generous breasts like a second skin. An erotic fantasy filled his mind, of stripping her right there on the front lawn and tumbling her down onto the sweet-scented camomile.
Reality intruded as he remembered the report on his desk that required his urgent attention, and the several hours of work waiting on his laptop.
The glimmer of tears clinging to her lower lashes like tiny raindrops caused him to abandon both ideas. Work could wait, and he would have to control his sexual frustration for a while. Emma was putting on a brave face, but he could see what a wrench she found it to be parted from her daughter. Once again he was surprised to find that the desire to comfort and protect her was stronger than his desire to satisfy his sexual urges.
He looped his arms around her waist and could not resist dropping a light kiss on her mouth, smiling lazily at her startled look and the flush of pink that stained her cheeks. Last night she had been a passionate temptress in his bed, and her shyness this morning both amused and touched him.
‘I want to spend the day with you,’ he said softly. ‘How about we take my boat out? We can sail along the coast to Camogli and have lunch there.’ He drew her closer, so that their bodies were pressed together and she could be in no doubt of his state of arousal. ‘And afterwards we’ll have a siesta onboard the Anna-Maria.’
Emma caught her breath at the hungry gleam in Rocco’s eyes, and felt the sweet seduction of sexual anticipation unfurl in the pit of her stomach.
‘You want to spend the afternoon sleeping?’ she queried demurely.
His rough laugh could not disguise his rampant desire. ‘Let me put it another way, cara. You will be lying down, but do not expect to get much rest.’
CHAPTER NINE
CAMOGLI was a pretty coastal village with a busy harbour, where sleek motor yachts were moored next to brightly painted fishing boats. Emma had enjoyed the leisurely trip there on board Rocco’s twenty-foot cruiser, which was the epitome of luxury. It was a perfect day, with a cloudless blue sky and the sun shimmering on the crystal clear sea. As she had stood on the deck, with his arm around her waist and the breeze playing with her hair, she had felt that she had stepped into another world.
It was a million miles away from her life with Holly in Northumberland, but in a few short weeks she would leave Italy and Rocco, she reminded herself. She was determined not to be overwhelmed by this peek into a multimillionaire’s lifestyle. But when she looked into his golden tiger’s eyes and saw the predatory hunger in their depths it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by him.
Along the way they had stopped at a famous landmark on the Ligurian coast, San Fruttuoso, and had spent an hour exploring the beautiful Benedictine monastery there, which had been built on the beach.
Now they were sitting outside a charming harbourside restaurant in Camogli. Lunch had consisted of scallops, followed by the local dish brazino in tegare—sea bass cooked with white wine and tomatoes—served with a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The deliciously crisp white wine had induced a pleasant lethargy in Emma, and she ruefully acknowledged that she needed the cup of strong black coffee Rocco had ordered at the end of the meal.
Her heart flipped in her chest when she looked across the table at him. In black jeans and polo shirt, his eyes hidden behind designer shades and his silky dark hair falling across his brow, he looked devastatingly sexy. From the numerous female glances cast in his direction, she was not the only woman to find him so, she noted.
They had spent a pleasant few hours discussing everything from politics to the arts, and had discovered a shared taste for a new author of complex thrillers, but now Rocco leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee before asking, ‘Did you always want to be a nurse?’
The question provided a welcome distraction from her fierce awareness of him and Emma nodded. ‘Yes—as far back as I can remember. I grew up on my parents’ farm and for a while I thought about training to be a vet, but by the time I left school I knew that nursing was my vocation.’
‘I imagine it’s not always an easy job? There must be occasions, incidents which you find upsetting.’ Rocco had witnessed her compassion in her treatment of his grandmother, and he suspected that beneath her guise of brisk and efficient nurse she had a heart as soft as butter.
‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘The death of a patient is always hard, but the rewards of the job far outweigh the negatives. After I’d completed my training I worked for six months in Liberia. The country has been torn apart by years of civil war, and medical facilities are primitive, to say the least. It was so sad to see people—especially children—dying from preventable illnesses such as malaria and measles. But the trip was an amazingly uplifting experience. The people have suffered so much, but they are determined to improve their lives, and it was good to know that I was helping them in some small way. When Holly is older I’d like to work in Africa again.’
‘So, after Africa you returned to England, married Jack and lived happily until his tragic death?’
‘Yes.’ She avoided Rocco’s speculative stare, unaware that the sparkle in her eyes had suddenly faded.
Her happiness had been built on the illusion that Jack had loved her as she had loved him, and it still hurt to think of all the times he had been unfaithful. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been better to have found out about his infidelity sooner, so that at least she could have confronted him about it. But he had died on the same day that his mistress had revealed his true nature, and Emma’s grief had been mixed with anger and bitterness that he had betrayed her trust so cruelly.
‘How about you?’ she said, desperate to steer the conversation away from her marriage. ‘Did you ever want to become an actor like your parents?’
‘Dio, no!’ Rocco’s reply was swift and succinct. ‘There was quite enough artistic temperament in the family with the two of them,’ he said sardonically.
‘Flora and Enrico’s life had been a continuous performance,’ he explained, ‘and, like a Shakespearian tragedy, full of drama. Neither of them had been able to cope with Gio’s behavioural problems, but when he’d died they had played the role of grief-stricken parents.’
‘They did consider sending me to a performing arts school, but fortunately my grandfather intervened. My father had never had any interest in joining the family company, but Silvio was determined that I would be his heir and one day take over as head of Eleganza.’
‘Didn’t you mind having your future mapped out by your grandfather?’ Emma asked curiously, thinking that Silvio D’Angelo sounded a formidable character.
Rocco shook his head. ‘It was my choice to study engineering at university. I am interested in all aspects of the motor industry, but the development side—thinking of new ideas and using new technologies—excites me the most. The project I’m involved with at the moment is to design a high-performance hybrid sports car which uses an electrically powered engine as well as an internal combustion engine that will result in a reduction in the use of fossil fuels.’ He grinned, his enthusiasm making him seem suddenly boyish. ‘I’m probably boring you,’ he said ruefully. ‘Most women get a glazed look in their eyes when I talk about my work.’
‘No, I think it’s fascinating,’ Emma told
him honestly. ‘I guess I’m not like the other women.’
‘That is an understatement, cara,’ he assured her gravely.
No other woman had ever made him feel this way, Rocco brooded. He had had more mistresses than he cared to admit, but his interest in them had never extended outside the bedroom door. He worked in a predominantly male environment, and although he might flirt with women, and charm them, he rarely talked to them about things that mattered to him. It was a new experience to be with a woman he valued as a friend as well as a lover. The sense of companionship he felt with Emma was something he hoped would continue for a long time. Which meant what? he asked himself, frowning. Did he envisage his affair with her lasting for longer than the three months she had agreed to stay in Italy as his grandmother’s nurse?
He studied her beautiful face, framed by her golden bell of hair, and realised that the answer to his question was an unequivocal yes. He could not imagine a time when he would not want her. He dropped his gaze to her firm, full breasts and desire jackknifed through him as he imagined stripping off her T-shirt and bra and cradling her luscious flesh in his hands.
‘I think it’s time for that siesta,’ he drawled softly. ‘Are you sleepy, mia bellezza?’
Emma’s stomach lurched with anticipation at the blatant sensuality in Rocco’s voice. She had enjoyed the boat trip, and lunch, but all day she had been conscious of the sexual tension simmering between them. The idea that very soon he would spread her beneath him and make love to her with a wild passion that matched her own caused a flood of sticky heat to pool between her legs.
She met his gaze and gave him a demure smile. ‘No, I’m not a bit tired.’
Her teasing tone inflamed his libido. ‘We have to get out of here now—before I give in to temptation and make love to you on the table,’ he growled, jerking to his feet and hustling her out of the restaurant.
He held her hand and they ran along the quay back to where the Anna-Maria was moored. Laughing and breathless, they stumbled onboard, and within minutes Rocco was steering the boat out of the harbour.
‘We’ll drop anchor a little way out from the shore, where we won’t be disturbed,’ he said, pulling her to him and claiming her mouth in a fiercely passionate kiss that left Emma in no doubt of his hunger for her.
The ringtone of his mobile phone drove them apart.
‘I’ll have to take this, cara,’ he muttered reluctantly, ‘it’s Silvio.’
He spoke to his grandfather in Italian for a few moments, then ended the call and switched off his phone, before scooping Emma up into his arms and heading purposefully down the steps to the lower deck.
‘The old man called to remind me that he’s hosting a dinner party at his home tomorrow night, for a number of prestigious clients as well as Eleganza’s top executives. I’ve told him I’ll be bringing a guest.’
‘Me?’ Emma gave him a worried look. ‘But what will your grandfather think? I mean, strictly speaking, I’m your employee. If I go to the party with you, won’t he suspect there’s something going on between us?’
‘I don’t give a damn what Silvio or anyone else thinks,’ Rocco told her thickly as they reached the master cabin and he dropped her onto the bed. ‘I want you with me. And if you are my employee I hope you are going to obey my every command, cara. Something is undoubtedly going on between us, and it’s time you took your clothes off.’
The desire blazing in his eyes made Emma feel like a wanton seductress, and with a confidence she would never have imagined herself possessing she pulled her T-shirt over her head and wriggled out of her skirt. Liquid heat coursed through her veins as she watched Rocco dispense with his own clothes to reveal the broad, bronzed chest covered with wiry dark hairs. Her eyes followed a path over his powerful abdominal muscles and hard thighs, and she caught her breath at the sight of his proudly erect penis. She reached behind her to undo her bra and then, oh, so slowly, slid the straps down her arms.
‘So you want to tease, do you?’ He laughed raggedly as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and whipped her bra from her fingers, curling his hands possessively around her breasts. ‘Do you know what happens to naughty nurses who like to tease? They have to suffer being kissed over every inch of their body.’
He started with her nipples, flicking his tongue across each taut bud until she whimpered. He relented and took one pebble-hard peak and then the other fully into his mouth. By the time he had peeled off her panties and continued her punishment with the most intimate caress of all Emma was gasping and desperate for him to take her.
She reached for him, and felt him shudder when she stroked him. With a groan he quickly donned a protective sheath and positioned himself between her thighs.
‘Playtime’s over, cara,’ he growled, and he entered her with one deep thrust that filled her and gave her a sense of completeness that tugged on her heart.
Her man, her master. She welcomed each subsequent stroke and wrapped her legs around his back to increase the exquisite sensations that were building deep in her pelvis. The feeling of oneness she had with Rocco was like nothing she had ever experienced. It was as if their souls as well as their bodies had become a single entity: a circle that had no beginning and no end.
But there had to be an end, and it came in an explosive orgasm that caused her to rake her nails across his shoulders while her body pulsed with spasm after spasm of pleasure. He continued to drive into her, sending her over the edge for a second time, and as she tumbled he fell with her, uttering a savage groan in the ecstasy of their simultaneous release.
Afterward, Rocco settled her head on his shoulder and smiled when he saw her lashes flutter down to fan against her flushed cheeks. He would allow her a short siesta before he enjoyed her delectable body for a second time, and no doubt a third. He could not resist her, he acknowledged ruefully. But it was just good sex. He did not want a long-term relationship when experience had shown him that it might end in bitterness and acrimony, like his parents’ hellish marriage and the marriages of so many of his contemporaries. But neither did he want to let her go, taunted a voice inside his head. At some point he was going to have to make a decision about where his affair with Emma would lead.
The following evening Rocco knocked on the door of Emma’s bedroom, where she had gone to change for his grandfather’s dinner party.
‘Are you ready, cara?’
She spun round to face him, and he saw from her taut expression and the way she was twisting her hands together that she was as tense as a coiled spring.
‘Just about. But, Rocco, I really don’t think I should go with you. For one thing, Cordelia is tired after her trip to Rapallo—I think visiting three museums was a bit much for her. She seemed very frail when I collected her this afternoon, and I think I should stay here in case she needs me.’
‘I’ve just been with Nonna, and she is delighted that you are going out for the evening.’ He dismissed her argument. ‘She says she’s going to have an early night. And Beatrice is on hand should she require assistance.’ He strolled across the room and slid his hand beneath her chin to tilt her face to his. ‘What’s the real issue here, Emma?’
‘I won’t fit in with your prestigious clients and top executives,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m not a glamorous socialite and I don’t have anything interesting to say.’
Rocco gave her a quizzical look. ‘You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met, and you have so much to say that is worthwhile. I would happily spend all evening talking with you rather than being bored to death by so-called “glamorous socialites”, whose conversation is limited to gossip about celebrities or fashion.’ He gave her an amused smile. ‘You’re one of the few women I know who fully understands the workings of the internal combustion engine.’
‘I told you—I used to help my brother fix the farm tractors. But my experience as a grease-monkey is not an ideal topic for discussion at a posh dinner party,’ she said dryly.
‘You’ll be fine, I promise. Si
lvio is looking forward to meeting you. And as for fitting in—in that dress you look elegant and sophisticated.’ He ran his eyes over the floor-length black jersey-silk dress that moulded her curves and emphasised her slim waist. His voice thickened. ‘And indescribably beautiful.’
Emma caught her breath at the sudden flare of emotion she glimpsed in his eyes, but it was gone before she could decipher it—hidden beneath the sweep of his dark lashes. In a black tuxedo and brilliant white shirt he looked mouth-wateringly sexy. She felt her heart rate quicken and gave a wry smile.
‘So do you. Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They were a lovely surprise.’ Her eyes lingered on the three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the villa during the day and were now arranged in a vase on her dressing table. Red roses were for love, she thought wistfully. But Rocco did not love her, and from all she had learned of him he would never give his heart to any woman.
‘It’s time to leave.’
His velvety voice drew her from her confused thoughts. Enjoy the present, and stop worrying about the future, she told herself as she slipped her hand in his and allowed him to lead her from the room.
‘What do you think of my house, Mrs Marchant?’
Emma was standing by the window, gazing out at the night-time view of the city of Genoa, where graceful old buildings were illuminated by the golden glow emitted from the street lamps. She turned her head at the sound of the heavily accented voice to find that Silvio D’Angelo had joined her.
‘It’s incredible,’ she replied honestly, recalling the tour Rocco had given her earlier of the five-storey house, whose elegant rooms were filled with priceless antiques. ‘It’s such a beautiful, historical building—as are so many of the other houses nearby.’
‘This part of Genoa is known as the Old City, and is included on the World Heritage list,’ Silvio told her.
Shorter and stockier than his grandson, he had a wrinkled face and grey hair that indicated that he must be well into his eighties, but there was a shrewd gleam in his dark eyes that Emma found unnerving.
A Dangerous Infatuation Page 14