Unfortunately, in taking off his slacks, Massimo discovered his underwear soaked through from sitting on the wet bench. He was forced to lean out the door and ask Kelly to hand him a new pair.
It was that, walk out there in drenched shorts, or struggle back into the wet pants so he could fetch the underwear himself, neither of which were good options. Ditching them entirely and walking out nude was out of the question.
When she handed them to him from the top dresser drawer, she acted no differently than if she’d handed him a pen. But even in that quick motion, he knew better. He’d seen the tamped-down flare of attraction in her gaze when she’d handed him the towel. And when he’d taken the clothes from her arms, she’d inhaled sharply and he could’ve sworn her eyes began to flutter closed before she caught herself.
Why the hell would she feel that way when he could have killed her? Didn’t she realize what he’d been about to do? If he’d hit her in the face, at the very least, he’d have broken her nose or her jaw. But if he’d caught her in the temple or side of the head as she’d ducked…dear God, he’d have put her in the hospital. It was a miracle he he’d been able to hold back his fist. He never could’ve lived with himself if he’d harmed her.
It was bad enough thinking about what might have happened.
And here, only an hour ago, he was congratulating himself on feeling in control, knowing that all was well, that he would be just fine handling his life as a royal. What a crock. Who in the world did he think was going to attack him outside the palace? This wasn’t central Africa, there wasn’t a well-armed jungle warlord lurking in the rosebushes to torture or beat or shoot him.
He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering what Kelly had seen in his expression as he’d come over the bench. He could’ve killed her.
He finished dressing, swiped his hands over his face, which was reddened from the chill of the rain, then walked out to the bedroom. It was then he noticed that she was still soaked, despite toweling off. He could see the outline of her beige bra beneath her white shirt, the same top she’d been wearing when she interrupted his meeting with Robert this morning to ask about the bureau in the living room. Her skirt was streaked with rain and her sandals looked like they’d squish if she walked in them.
He forced his eyes to her face, but something about her wet clothing and still-dripping hair nagged at his brain.
“You said Gaspare needed out?” At her nod, he continued, “But when you came to the bench, you’d put him in. What made you come back outside?”
“Maybe I like the rain.”
He skewered her with a look of skepticism.
“I wanted to check on you.”
Check on him? “Why?”
“Why does anyone check on another person? I wanted to see if you were all right. You were sitting by yourself in a downpour, for crying out loud. You looked” —her brows scrunched— “bothered, like you’d just been given terrible news.”
“Funny, because I actually heard some good news tonight. I went out because I needed a moment away from the party.”
He should offer her a fresh towel or allow her to head back to her apartment for a change of clothes, but knowing she’d witnessed him in a moment of weakness left him off-balance. Worse, her deepening frown indicated she didn’t buy his explanation for a second.
“There was more to it than that. You could’ve gone to another room or excused yourself and claimed a headache.” Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she crossed them in front of her, unconsciously warding off the cold. “You needed air, and you needed it badly enough to go out in a storm. Something or someone bothered you at that banquet, whether you want to admit it or not.”
He moved toward the bathroom for another towel.
“You asked me why I came out to check on you. Don’t ignore this, Massimo.”
The insistence in her voice made him stop and look back. “I’m not ignoring anything.”
“You’re not a violent person. Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do. You’d never strike out at someone without reason. It wasn’t simply that I surprised you. Anyone could’ve walked up behind you. There must be dozens of staff and family members with key cards who could’ve gone out to the garden, just like the person who ducked out to try and grab a smoke. With the banquet going on, everyone in the building is up late.”
She took a step toward him. He wanted to move away, but he’d never backed away from anyone. “I’m fine, Kelly.”
“Are you? I don’t think so.” Caring hands cradled his face. Her fingertips were cold, but firm. “I don’t expect you to tell me what’s wrong. But you scared yourself when you came at me over the bench.”
He covered her small hands with his own and stared into her expressive, chestnut-brown eyes. “Do I look like anything’s wrong?”
“Not now, no. You don’t look like it. Other than the fact your hair is wet.”
“It’s the first time in a long time I’ve actually had enough hair to get wet.”
“But we’re not talking about your hair, are we?” Her fingers twitched under his. “I think you need to admit to yourself that something’s amiss. Whatever drove you outdoors in the rain, whatever drove you to defend yourself from an attacker who wasn’t real, you’re more than strong enough to deal with it. But not if you ignore it.”
Or fight it off, he thought. Because that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Fighting the twinges in his gut and trying to reason his way through the sensations of choking, of being crushed, of being burned.
What was it about this woman that allowed her to see in him what no one else could? What even he himself didn’t want to see?
“Thank you.” The words were said softly and came out before he could consider them. It was tantamount to admitting she was right. He leaned forward, pressed his forehead to hers, then allowed his eyes to close.
Her fingers relaxed and she started to pull away, to transition back to formality. But he held her in place, dipped his head and brushed her lips with his.
She didn’t kiss him back. He felt her intake of breath, sensed her internal struggle. He knew, deep in his soul, that she wanted him. And that made him want her all the more.
“Massimo.” Her forehead still rested against his, their breath mingling between their rain-dampened faces. “I’m working for you now. Wasn’t part of the point of employing me to—”
“Shhh. For just one minute. One.”
Chapter Twenty-One
This time, when he caught her mouth with his, she returned the kiss.
There was a pause at first, then a capitulation as she tilted her head to allow him better access before she melted against him. Her fingers remained pressed to his face, his fingers woven through hers, as their tongues made a slow, hot exploration of each other. The emotion of it washed through his soul, cleansing him more thoroughly than any rainstorm.
In another week, she’d go home. On top of that, the woman clearly had her own issues. But for now, he couldn’t think about practicalities. He wanted only to make love to her, to slake the bone-deep thirst she’d created within him.
He let go of her fingers to sink his hands into her wet hair. With a shift of his leg, he trapped her body flush with his. God, but she fit against him as if they were made for each other. Even her head fit perfectly into his hands.
Still, he knew he had to stop. Had to give her space to choose what she’d give, though his body ached for one more moment, one more taste. A sigh escaped he as she shifted, stretching to her toes. The friction of her body moving up, up against his growing erection nearly sent him out of his mind.
It would be so easy to turn her toward the bed.
With Herculean effort, he broke the kiss and met her hooded gaze. He let his hands drift down to her shoulders, then to her arms. “Do I look better now? Because I feel better.”
She was quiet for a moment. At long last, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t going to get another kiss, let alone a night in bed, she said, “You’l
l do. Robert would tell you that your hair needs work, but the rest is good.” Gently, she stroked her thumbs over his cheekbones. “In fact, there are women who would die for skin like yours.”
Her declaration brought a booming laugh from him. While she’d said it to break the sexual tension thrumming between them, the puzzled line of her mouth showed she had no clue why it amused him as much as it did.
“They wouldn’t if they saw the skin on my back,” he explained. “But thank you for the compliment.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes and her hands fell to her sides. “Ah. Now it’s my turn to apologize. I hadn’t considered that. I suspect that you almost died for that skin.”
“No idea if I did or didn’t. No one would tell me. But the recovery hurt like hell.”
“I imagine.” Her voice turned serious. “Was it an army injury?”
Now he definitely wasn’t getting laid. Not that he had a realistic chance in the first place. He should consider himself lucky he managed a kiss, given Kelly’s initial resistance. “Yes.”
“That’s the kind of trauma that changes a person.”
“Yes, it does.” Saying it aloud made him realize the truth in the statement. Years in the military honed him into the man he was now. He’d known with each day of training and each new assignment that his duties were making him tougher, more resilient. But he’d never thought of it as changing him…only as making him a stronger version of the man he’d always been.
The burns, though, those changed him.
A shiver ran through Kelly. Without speaking, he spun and went into the bathroom, intent on getting a towel.
Her voice came to him from the bedroom. “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to talk about it. I’m sure it’s a private matter.”
He was back before she finished speaking. Offering her an oversized towel, he said, “I left because you’re freezing. The last towel wasn’t enough to get your hair dry and then you used it to clean my floor.”
“Oh.”
“And you’re right. It’s a private matter. For a number of reasons, I haven’t talked about it to anyone.” She dried her face and hair as he spoke. The towel prevented him from gauging her expression when he added, “I appreciate that you didn’t ask me about it when we were at your villa.”
“It didn’t seem appropriate.” Slowly, she moved the towel to her shoulders and wrapped it around herself. Mascara ringed her eyes, smudged by her efforts to dry off. Less than an hour ago, he’d been surrounded by high-class, cultured women, all dressed to the nines and with their faces made up to perfection. Yet he found the woman before him far more alluring.
She made him want to talk. That made her dangerous.
Gaspare, who’d been watching them from the corner of the room, stood and plodded toward the kitchen, rubbing his big body against Kelly’s legs as he went. It was enough to break the spell between them.
“It’s late. I should go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You’ve changed out of your wet clothes, I haven’t. Plus I have an early morning tomorrow. I’ve scheduled a shelving installation for an important client and he won’t like it if I’m late. I’ve told him multiple times that I pride myself on my professionalism.”
Once again, he was awed by Kelly’s ability to make him smile. “I’m sure he finds you every bit the professional. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your reputation. I’ll walk you out.”
Even if all he wanted to do was kiss her again and again and again, both of their reputations be damned.
He strode to the entrance of his apartment without allowing himself to meet her eyes or let his gaze fall to her luscious mouth. Because if he did, he’d use every means at his disposal to convince her to stay.
“Wait. Before I go, there’s something else.”
Massimo’s hand froze on the door handle when Kelly said it. For a heady moment, he thought she couldn’t leave without kissing him again. That one kiss would turn into more, then they’d end up making mad, passionate love the way they had in the villa, though hopefully without knocking the mattress off the bed this time.
Instead, she spun on her heel and strode to the antique writing desk in the corner of the room without looking at him.
“I completely forgot, but when I went outside to check on you, I also meant to show you something back here in the apartment.”
Given that she had the desk drawer open, it apparently wasn’t the bed. “What?”
“This.” She closed the drawer, crossed the distance between them, and pressed a soft fabric bag with lumpy contents into his palm. “Have you seen it before?”
He immediately recognized the brilliant blue velvet as the type used by Conti & Fancetti, a jewelry company patronized by the royal family for generations. It was the same jeweler who’d designed his parents’ wedding rings and his mother’s emerald anniversary ring. The white silk tie at the bag’s neck was crimped, as if it had been knotted for a long time, and a few stray threads drew his attention to a hole in the bag’s bottom seam. Slowly, he undid the top. What he’d expected to see inside, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t the piece he withdrew.
“Stunning, isn’t it? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Kelly’s words were whispered, as if they stood in a museum ogling a one-of-a-kind painting or sculpture under the watchful eye of an armed guard. The diamond and sapphire creation he held merited that kind of reverence.
“Nor have I.” He turned the necklace over, studied the setting, then spread it between his fingers for a better look. It was one of the most breathtaking he’d seen, and he’d seen plenty. “Where in the world did you find this?”
“Your bureau. April and I moved it into the closet earlier this evening. After she left, I discovered a hidden compartment behind one of the drawers.” She gestured toward the bedroom. “Here, let me show you.”
He followed her through the bedroom, giving only a slight thought to the bed or the fact he’d kissed her here only a few minutes before, then to the closet. When Kelly entered in front of him and flicked the button on a work light hanging from the side of a ladder, he realized that he hadn’t seen the room since work began. The old curtain rods and dresser were gone, the boxes sorted through and removed. The high window, which had been partially blocked by stacked boxes, was now fully visible and clean, and its trim had been repaired and painted. A gray drop cloth protected the floor and a coat of primer covered the walls, which had been carefully smoothed to eliminate age-old holes and imperfections. Pencil marks indicated planned locations for electrical outlets and shelving. Above him, the old ceiling light was gone and the plaster repaired, leaving only a small hole from which updated wiring now protruded. As with the walls, a pencil outline indicated the positioning for a new light. The most eye-catching part of the room, however, was the massive bureau, which dominated the wall opposite the door.
“The room’s not in a state to be seen,” she warned him. “In a few days, though, prepare to be wowed.”
“I’m wowed already.”
With her back to him, she knelt in front of the bureau and pulled on the next-to-bottom drawer. “Come on in. I want to show you this panel.”
He started at her words. One by one, he unloosed his fingers from where he’d unknowingly wrapped them around the frame to the closet’s pocket door, then took two steps into the room.
“Massimo?” She was squinting at him now. “Is there a problem?”
Hell yes. Two more steps, then another two, and he was at her side. His pulse quickened, but the suffocating sensation wasn’t as intense as in the wine cellar or as when he’d left the banquet. He managed an offhanded, “Don’t want to step on anything I shouldn’t.”
“Grab that end of the drawer, then. Press the mechanism to the side and it’ll come all the way out.”
He crouched and did as she asked, then helped her lower the drawer to the floor. She gestured to indicate the bureau’s exposed interior. “Reach in there. At the b
ack, you’ll feel a wooden rectangle that seems out of place. Wiggle it side to side.”
It took a few seconds, but he found the protruding spot at the back of the case. When he pushed it to one side, then the other, the back panel fell into his hands. He knelt further to look into the dark space, but quickly righted himself as a wave of nausea caught him by surprise. He swallowed it back, determined not to let Kelly see.
“That’s unreal,” he managed at the same time her hand wrapped around his forearm.
“You’re not okay. Come on. Let’s go back to the living room.”
“I’m fine.” At her resolute look, he sat down on the floor and forced a smile. “Now I’m fine.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” The question wasn’t accusing or pitying, but matter-of-fact.
“No.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, wanting to explain, yet knowing it would forever change the dynamic between them. When Kelly remained quiet, he conceded, “Not officially.”
One of her dark eyebrows arched. “Wasn’t aware one could be officially claustrophobic. Is there a certificate involved? Or a secret government stamp?”
That eased the wrenching of his gut. “No, I don’t think so.”
“In that case, your unofficial secret is safe with me.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze, then withdrew her hand. “Does your family know?”
“Nothing to know. It doesn’t serve a purpose.”
Kelly sat beside him on the floor. She crossed her legs in front of her, taking care to tuck her skirt around her knees. With that easy motion, she made the closet feel intimate rather than oppressive. It reminded him of the nights he spent chatting or playing cards with fellow soldiers when they’d shared a small tent in Africa. Then, he’d never felt imprisoned. On the contrary, he’d felt free.
“Maybe the purpose is to make you feel better,” she said. “To know you’re not alone, that another human being is taking note of what you’re experiencing.”
“Now you’re a closet designer and a therapist?”
Amusement caused her to roll her eyes. “Not in my wildest dreams. If I were, I wouldn’t have to explain to my former assistant that I need her to go through my financial paperwork so I can recoup money lost to a former fiancé.”
Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) Page 23