Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

  Her cheeks flushed pink with guilty thoughts. ‘Not at all...’ Not as fast as my fantasies would have you move.

  The dangerous smile creased his cheeks and fired every nerve in her body. She was transfixed by lips that curved in a firm and knowing smile. He knew how to walk close but not touching. He must know how that made her long to touch him—

  And right on cue her scars shouted a stinging hello. They might be covered by the prettiest silk fabric, but they hadn’t gone away and were as ugly as ever. And now the doubts crept in. What if Rigo put his arm round her shoulders? What if his hand strayed down her back? What if he pressed those long, lean fingers against her? He couldn’t help but feel the ridges. And her final thought? What if he was repulsed by them?

  Breathe deeply and stay calm, Katie’s sensible self advised. Rigo hadn’t made any attempt to touch her and was unlikely to do so. She might be dressed up by her own small-town standards, but she was hardly a femme fatale. This outing was merely a courtesy Signor Rigo Ruggiero was extending to a representative of the legal firm handling his brother’s will.

  To prove it, they were walking alongside each other like a couple of friends—

  Friends?

  Friends looked at each other’s crotch, did they?

  Katie wished her inner voice would shut up and stop acting as her conscience. Rigo’s gaze might never stray, but she hadn’t perfected the technique of not looking at something so prominently displayed.

  What else was he supposed to do with it? her inner voice piped up again.

  OK, so he was blessed in every department, but she didn’t have to fixate, did she? Hadn’t she worked out yet how acute his senses were? Did she want him to know she had a crush?

  They had reached a crossing and he stared down at her. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Perfectly.’ But she flinched when he put his hand in the small of her back to steer her across the road.

  ‘Relax.’

  Yes, relax. What did she think? That he had X-ray vision now?

  ‘You really are tense...’

  She gasped as he caught hold of her hand and quickly concealed it in a cough. Was this supposed to help?

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said as she broke free. ‘The traffic is dangerous and unpredictable—’

  Like Rigo. ‘Sorry—I promise to be more careful.’

  ‘I’ll make sure of it.’ He locked his arm around her shoulder.

  For a moment she didn’t breathe. Surely he must feel her trembling? And then he walked her straight past the pizza place.

  ‘That’s for tourists,’ he said as she turned her head.

  She had to scurry along to keep up with his easy, loping stride. That wasn’t easy on legs that felt like jelly. For the first time in her life she longed for her cheap suit. It might be ugly, but both the fabric and the shape were concealing. ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘First, we take a bus—’

  ‘A bus?’ He really was the master of surprises, she registered silently.

  ‘Unless a tour bus isn’t grand enough for you, Signorina Bannister?’

  ‘It’s fine by me.’ And was what she had wanted to do all along. ‘I’m just surprised you take buses...’

  ‘You mean, a man like me?’ he said. Rigo’s face creased in a smile. ‘I know every way there is to get around Rome.’ He helped her onto the running board. ‘I haven’t always travelled by private jet.’ He broke off to dig in the pocket of his jeans for some money to pay their fare.

  A curtain lifted. She saw him clearly as the youth who had come to Rome with nothing and had made his fortune here. She only realised she was still frowning as she thought about it when Rigo dipped his head to stare her in the eyes. Her heart thundered a warning. ‘It’s only a bus trip costing a few euros,’ he said. ‘You can deduct it from your fee, if that makes you feel better?’

  Better he misunderstood than read every thought in her head too clearly. ‘I’m good—’

  ‘Please allow me to reassure you that I have no intention of compromising your professional duties in any way, Signorina Bannister.’

  He made her laugh. His humour was more dangerous than she knew.

  And then the self-doubt crept in. Was that what he thought of her? She was all duty and no fun? That equalled dull in any language.

  He chivvied her up the stairs. ‘The view is better up here.’

  He persuaded her to take a seat at the front. She checked her skirt was pulled down as she sat. No wonder Rigo thought her dull. He was easygoing, charming and, even in denim jeans and a fitted casual shirt clinging tenaciously to every hard-wired inch of his impressive torso, he was sex on two strong muscled legs. While she was—

  ‘Dolcezza.’

  ‘What?’ He was paying her a compliment. Why couldn’t she just accept it?

  Maybe because, having sprawled across the seat next to her, Rigo was looking at her in a way that made her cheeks burn.

  ‘I like the new look, Katie; keep it.’

  Before she could reprimand him for using her first name he draped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. ‘Though I think you should be tempted to let your hair down.’

  The murmured words sent her senses haywire as his warm breath connected with her ear. That must be why it took her a moment to realise what he meant to do, and by then it was too late. As he removed the single tortoiseshell pin from her hair it cascaded around her shoulders.

  ‘Bene,’ he said, sitting back.

  ‘My hair ornament, please.’ She held out her hand.

  ‘You can have it back later,’ he said, putting it in his pocket. ‘Now concentrate on the view.’

  As he spoke, what might well be his ancestral home hove into view. The Colosseum—the ancient amphitheatre with its pitted archways glowing eerily with honeyed light.

  But as Rigo related the history of the building she was gripped. Discovering the man beneath the public face was a non-stop revelation. His depth aroused her to the point where it was no longer possible to concentrate. She had to shift position to ease the ache inside her. She wanted to remain immune to him and soon realised what a pointless exercise that was. What she really wanted was for Rigo to touch her intimately. All this she accepted whilst maintaining a serious conversation about ancient Rome.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EXPANDING HER FANTASIES as the tour bus drove on into the night allowed for Rigo touching her skilfully and persistently, rhythmically and expertly, until she found release. It didn’t stop there. They might experiment in the Colosseum—before a concert, maybe. As her gaze slipped to his lips while he talked she indulged in another image—one that stirred her more than most: she was being held down by Rigo while he subjected her to a lengthy feast of pleasure. She wanted sex with him. Which meant it was time to put a stop to such a dangerous fantasy.

  Thankfully, Rigo provided the exit she had been looking for, when he thanked her for giving Antonia such a good day.

  ‘It was my pleasure. Your sister is wonderful—and in fairness, it was Antonia who went out of her way to give me a good time.’

  ‘Well, my little sister sees it another way. Come on, we get off here,’ he said, standing up.

  ‘But we’re not back at the hotel.’ She looked in vain for a landmark she recognised.

  ‘Pizza?’ Rigo reminded her.

  But they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Katie frowned.

  ‘I asked the bus driver to drop us here. Come on.’ Rigo indicated that she must go ahead of him.

  She disembarked onto a dimly lit street. Could this be right? Her skin prickled with apprehension.

  ‘I don’t have a clue where I am,’ Rigo murmured.

  But when she glanced at him in alarm, he smiled.

  ‘You’re teasing me—�
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  ‘Would I?’

  She refused to hold that gaze, and stared instead at the bus as it drove away.

  ‘I haven’t always lived in the best part of Rome.’

  She couldn’t resist the hook and followed him.

  ‘When I left my home in Tuscany and came to Rome I found myself in the Monti—all narrow lanes and steep inclines. It’s where craftsmen ply their trade and there was always plenty of casual work for a strong boy from the country.’

  By now she was consumed with curiosity. To learn about this other side of Rigo was irresistible.

  ‘Is this our destination?’ she said when he stopped walking on the high point of a bridge spanning the River Tiber. As she stared into Rigo’s dazzlingly handsome face, waiting for his reply, she got another feeling—he enjoyed showing off his city to someone who wouldn’t mock him for how poor he’d been. He still liked these offbeat trails to places that held no appeal for the fashionistas.

  He was resting his hands on the stone balustrade, staring out across the river. Her heart picked up pace as he turned to look at her. Suddenly it didn’t matter where they were going, and as crazy as it might seem they had reached at least one erotic destination, which was enough for her.

  He broke the spell. ‘Come on.’ Straightening up, he reached for her hand and this time she didn’t resist him. She even managed to persuade herself that it made perfect sense for Rigo to take her hand if they had to cross a busy main road. What did she know about Roman traffic? What did anyone know? Even the Romans didn’t know. No one on earth could predict the unpredictable.

  She shrank against him, glad of his protection as cars and scooters buzzed around them like angry bees. This contact with Rigo was the most foreplay she’d ever had. On that short journey to safety on the other side tiny darts of pleasure raced up her arm and spread...everywhere.

  Rigo led her way up some stone steps that curved steeply around the outside of an ancient lookout tower. A pair of these towers marked either end of the bridge. ‘This is the best place in Rome to watch the fireworks,’ he explained, ‘and it’s free.’

  She saw the boy he must have been—a boy who hadn’t wasted time wailing about his fate, but who had squeezed the last drop of enjoyment out of his new life. And the way her heart swelled in admiration was a very worrying development indeed.

  At the top of the tower she had to stop to catch her breath and, resting her arms on the warm stone, she leaned over the battlements.

  ‘Since when can you fly?’ Rigo demanded, pulling her back.

  Having someone look out for her felt so good and as he stared down even breathing was difficult. He was close enough now for her to feel his body heat warming her.

  She turned away. She wasn’t sure how to deal with her feelings or this situation. She was going home tomorrow. They were complete opposites. This was one casual night in Rigo’s life, but her life could be changed for good—

  ‘Open your eyes, Katie, or you’ll miss the fireworks.’

  There was so much sensation dancing through her veins she barely registered the first fantastic plumes of sparkling colour. And then Rigo reached over her shoulder to point out some more, and as he did so he brushed her cheek. It made her turn and now their faces were only millimetres apart. She looked away, but not quickly enough. A darkly amused stare was her reward. He must know how strongly she was attracted to him. Did he also know how frustrated she was? Or what agony it was for her to be this close to him? Or that he made her body ache with need and longing?

  He pulled back when the fireworks were over, allowing her to breathe freely again. She gulped in air enough to say, ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

  ‘It isn’t finished yet.’ Spanning her waist with his hands, Rigo turned her to face the river.

  There was no way to express her feelings towards what she could see, or what she could sense. Fireworks were falling from the sky, replacing the streamers of moonlight on the river with a dancing veil of fire. And there was fire in her heart.

  Leaving the bridge, they walked deeper into the old part of the city. ‘Ancient palaces!’ Katie exclaimed with pleasure, staring about.

  ‘Once this was a very grand area indeed,’ Rigo confirmed, ‘and now I have another surprise for you.’ As he spoke he opened a street door and a blaze of light and heat burst out.

  And good cooking smells, Katie registered, inhaling appreciatively as Rigo held the door open for her. He had brought her to a small, packed pizzeria where the noise of people enjoying themselves was all-enveloping.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, dipping his head to speak to her when he saw her hesitation, ‘you’ll be safe with me.’

  He had also guessed correctly that she rarely went out, Katie thought wryly. She was glad of Rigo’s encouragement.

  There was a tiny dance floor on which a number of couples were entwined and a small group of musicians tucked away in a corner. Surrounding this, tables with bright red gingham cloths were lit by dripping candles rammed into old wine bottles.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Rigo shouted to her above the noise.

  ‘I love it.’ And she loved the feel of his arm around her shoulders.

  The party atmosphere was infectious, but she was shy. Without Rigo she would never have ventured into a place like this. But when she took a proper look around and realised that all the other customers were as down-to-earth as she was, she relaxed. This certainly wasn’t the type of nightlife she had imagined Rigo would indulge in. And she liked him all the better for it.

  ‘Will you stop trying to tuck your hair behind your ears?’ he said as they waited for a seat.

  ‘I’m just not used to it hanging loose—’

  ‘Then you should be. You have lovely hair. Leave it alone,’ he insisted. ‘You look fine. Ah—’ he stepped forward as a portly man dressed in chefs trousers bustled over to them ‘—I’d like you to meet my friend Gino.’

  Katie gathered Gino was the patron.

  ‘Rigo! Brigante!’ he exclaimed, clapping the much taller man on the back. ‘Why is it I can’t get rid of you?’

  Katie suspected that both men knew the answer to that, judging from the warmth in their eyes as they stared at each other.

  ‘And who is this?’ Gino demanded, turning his shrewd, raisin-black stare Katie’s way.

  ‘This is Signorina Bannister...an associate of mine.’

  ‘An associate?’ Gino gave Katie an appreciative once-over before shaking hands with her. ‘You must think a lot of your associate to bring Signorina Bannister to meet me?’ He looked at Rigo questioningly, but Rigo’s shrug admitted nothing.

  ‘Signorina Bannister is in need of real Italian pizza before she leaves Rome. Where else would I take her, Gino?’

  ‘Where else indeed?’ Gino agreed. ‘And for such a beautiful signorina I have reserved the best table in the house.’

  ‘But you’re full,’ Katie observed worriedly. She didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble. ‘And how could you know we were coming?’

  ‘I don’t need to know,’ Gino informed her, touching his finger to his nose. ‘I keep my own special table ready at all times for my speciale guests...’

  Before she could stop him Gino had whisked away her shawl. ‘Oh, no!’ Katie exclaimed, reaching for it, feeling suddenly naked again.

  ‘You won’t need a shawl here,’ Gino assured her. ‘It’s always too hot in my restaurant—’

  ‘But I...’

  Feeling exposed and self-conscious beneath Rigo’s amused gaze, Katie could only stand and watch helplessly as the burly restaurateur disappeared into the cloakroom with her prized piece of camouflage equipment.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Rigo soothed. ‘Gino will keep your shawl safe.’

  Rigo saw her comfortably settled and then took the seat opposite, whil
e Katie sat demurely, taking stock of her fellow diners. Every other woman around them had stripped down to bare arms and shoulders.

  But they all had flawless skin—

  ‘Do you mind if I roll back my sleeves?’ Rigo said, misinterpreting her look.

  He was halfway through the process and hardly needed her permission. ‘Go ahead.’ She tried very hard not to stare at his massively powerful forearms and concentrated instead on a formidable steel watch that could probably pinpoint their position in relation to the moon. One thing was sure—Gino was right: it was hot in here. Steaming.

  ‘Ten o’clock.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Katie swiftly refocused as Rigo spoke.

  ‘I said it’s ten o’clock. I noticed you looking at my watch.’

  ‘I was—’

  ‘Not because you want to go home, I hope?’

  Gino saved her further embarrassment, bringing them the pizzas they had ordered. They were delicious. A thin, crispy crust baked just the way she liked it was loaded with succulent vegetables and slicked with chilli oil. Beneath that a yummy layer of zesty tomato sauce was crowned with fat globs of melted cheese. She only realised how hungry she was when she took her first bite—and there was no polite way to eat pizza when you were this hungry.

  ‘Now you see why Gino and I became such good friends,’ Rigo said, leaning forward to mop her chin. ‘There was always something he needed doing—and I always needed feeding after a hard day of manual labour.’

  She could understand how their friendship had been forged. ‘You found a mutual need,’ she said. And could have bitten off her tongue as Rigo’s gaze lingered. ‘Indeed,’ he agreed, sitting back. ‘Napkin?’ he suggested.

  ‘Good idea...’ Drool was not a good look. She returned her attention determinedly to her food.

  ‘This is only the first course, to whet your appetite.’

  ‘Oh, no. I really couldn’t eat another thing...’

  ‘If you lived in Italy you would soon develop a healthy appetite.’

  She had no doubt. But was that wise?

  Katie sensibly avoided Rigo’s gaze, reminding herself she was going home tomorrow.