Taming the Last AcostaItalian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

by Susan Stephens

  So? Didn’t that mean she should make the most of today?

  There was such a festival air in the small bistro Katie was soon tapping her foot in time to the music. Gino had insisted she must try his home-made wine—how right he was. Picking up her glass, she drank the delicious ruby-red liquid down. It was so moreish. Who needed brand names when the house wine tasted like this? She immediately craved more and held out her glass for a refill. ‘It tastes just like cranberry juice—’

  ‘And packs a kick like a mule,’ Rigo warned. ‘So drink it slowly...’

  He really did think of her as a kid sister—that, or an ancient aunt. Of course she would drink it slowly.

  Well, she had meant to, but it tasted so fruity and innocent, and one more glass couldn’t hurt her surely?

  ‘And now you must dance,’ Gino insisted, waltzing past with an armful of plates.

  ‘I don’t dance.’ She announced this to Rigo, who didn’t seem to care whether she danced or not.

  ‘Do what you like,’ he said, leaning back in his chair.

  It seemed to Katie that the young women at the pizzeria had no inhibitions at all, and that their sole reason for being here was to shimmy into Rigo’s eye line. Something tight curled in her stomach as she watched them flash lascivious glances at him.

  ‘Well, signorina,’ Gino said on his return, ‘will you make an old man happy?’

  It took longer than Katie had expected to focus her eyes on Gino’s face, and even longer to register surprise that he was serious. Gino did want to dance with her. Suddenly

  Rigo’s warning about the wine made sense. Her head was on straight, but the room was tilting—and now Gino was opening his arms to her.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Rigo said helpfully as the band launched into a wild tarantella.

  Having stumbled to her feet, she barely had chance to exclaim, as Gino, quite literally, whisked her off her feet.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RIGO CUT IN.

  By the time he cut in Katie was happy to forget her reservations and fall into his arms.

  Gino melted away.

  Had she been set up? Katie wondered. A bleary glance into Rigo’s totally sober face told her precisely nothing—at least, not in her present state. This was great. She couldn’t dance. She could barely stand up. And Signor Superior had been proven right. The wine had gone to her head. And now she was in danger of making a complete fool of herself.

  There was nothing for it, Katie concluded. Before she fell over she had to appeal to Rigo’s better nature—that was, supposing he had one. ‘If you could just get me back to our table...’ When cast adrift in a storm of flying heels and elbows, it didn’t do to stand on your pride.

  But Rigo didn’t lead her off the dance floor. Couldn’t he understand? Hadn’t he heard her? ‘I don’t dance,’ she complained.

  She got a reaction this time. One inky brow rose in elegant disbelief but, rather than leading her to safety, he tightened his grip on her arms. ‘Everyone can dance, Signorina Bannister.’

  ‘I absolutely don’t dance.’ And, taking that as her cue, she broke free and attempted to totter back to their table unaided.

  Thankfully, Rigo caught her in his arms just as she was on the point of lurching into a waiter. ‘I’m fine.’ She flapped her arms around to demonstrate this.

  ‘Well, clearly, you’re not.’ So saying, he banded her arms firmly to her body.

  ‘Let me go.’ Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into Rigo’s amused gaze. ‘I did warn you about the wine,’ he pointed out, keeping a firm hold of her.

  Right now the wine was the least of her worries.

  And then at Rigo’s signal the music changed abruptly. From jigging up and down like frantic monkeys the couples all around them eased effortlessly into the sinuous rhythm of the rumba.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ he soothed, murmuring in her ear. ‘You dance beautifully...’

  How could she not when Rigo had somehow managed to mould her clumsy body to his? And Rigo could dance.

  Oh, yes, he could...

  By some miracle she stopped wobbling, and began to move her feet in some sort of recognisable pattern. As long as he didn’t hold her too close she’d be all right. As long as his hands didn’t wander to the scars on her back she could do this.

  And now she was even beginning to relax, it felt so safe and good...

  Not so her fantasies. They weren’t safe at all. Dancing close to Rigo with all the other couples masking them gave Katie’s imagination all the excuse it needed. She had everything to learn about a man’s body and this was her opportunity.

  As the music filled her, her senses grew ever more acute. Her body was like molten honey curling round him until Rigo changed position and her fantasies flew away.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he said as she grew tense.

  ‘Nothing...’ She took a deep breath and tried to relax, but the magic had vanished. Rigo’s hand had slipped into the hollow in the small of her back as they danced and then his fingers had eased a little higher. Good manners for him not to touch her anywhere remotely intimate, but a danger signal for her, and her head had cleared at once. There was no possibility she could relax now. Even her deepest longings stood no chance against her greatest fear. She wanted Rigo to hold her—she also wanted to be perfect. She wanted to rest unresisting in his arms, and dance and dream, and enjoy herself, but how could she with her scars?

  ‘Katie?’ Dipping his head, Rigo stared into her troubled eyes. ‘If you concentrate on dancing the rest will follow.’

  He couldn’t know how wrong he was. But as he drew her to him there was something reassuring about him. The power of his command and the fact that she didn’t want to make a scene...

  His hands slipped lower. Theoretically she should be hearing more warning signals—and this time they wouldn’t be connected with her scars, but her body was clamouring and she didn’t want to fight it. This was like skirting the fringes of a hurricane and, instead of running as fast as she should in the opposite direction, hoping to be swept away by it.

  ‘Let go,’ Rigo murmured, encouraging her to relax.

  But the damage was done and now she could think of nothing but securing her mate in the most primitive way possible. ‘I’m trying to.’

  If only she dared.

  * * *

  He was enjoying this far more than he had expected. His initial impulse had been to rescue Katie from the risk of being trampled by Gino’s enthusiasm, but that was before he discovered how she felt beneath his hands. Timid, yet eager, she had everything to learn, and that in itself was irresistible.

  He had to remind himself that she was going home tomorrow and there was no time for the style of initiation he had in mind. Resting his chin on her hair, he smiled as he dragged in her light, wildflower scent. It was a revelation to him to feel how Katie trembled beneath his intentionally light touch. He knew she wanted more. She proved it by moving closer, seeking contact, seeking pressure between their bodies, seeking sex.

  So was Signorina Prim strait-laced and just a little drunk, or was she a dam waiting to burst? Perhaps Katie Bannister was the best actress he had ever met. She was certainly a storm loosely contained in a cage of inexperience. He knew that he should take her back to the table and call for the bill, prior to taking her back to sleep alone in her chaste, maidenly bed.

  And he would...soon.

  * * *

  If Rigo’s hands should slip lower...

  Katie gulped. She was relieved that he was nowhere near her scars, of course, but he was almost cupping her bottom, which had set off a chain reaction in parts of her he mustn’t know about. But how could she hide her response to him? She didn’t have the experience to know. She arched her back. She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to feel those big, str
ong hands holding her. She wanted to read all the subliminal messages that could pass between a man and a woman through the merest adjustment of a finger...

  As the sultry beat of the slow, Latin American dance thrilled through her Katie found herself angling her buttocks ever more towards Rigo’s controlling hands. It was a signal as old as time and one he couldn’t help but read.

  She exhaled raggedly as he confirmed this by adjusting the position of his hands once again. His fingertips were dangerously close now and, rather than feeling alarm, she felt small and safe, and violently aroused. She had never done anything as bold as this before, but here in the wholesome surroundings of the simple pizzeria, hidden in a mass of dancing couples, she felt free from the usual constraints. Gazing up, she met with eyes as dark and watchful as the night. Lower still she saw the sardonic smile playing around the corners of Rigo’s mouth, and realised he knew.

  He knew.

  She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, when what she really wanted to do was whisper, make love to me. But, other than in her wildest and most erotic fantasy, she would never find the courage to do that.

  * * *

  His senses were on fire. For the first time in his life he didn’t want a dance to end. The sexual chemistry between them had surprised him. He had enjoyed teasing Katie Bannister, the girl he thought of as Signorina Prim, but now his thoughts were taking the direct route to seduction. He wasn’t alone in feeling the power of this erotic spell. The other couples on the dance floor were drawn to them like moths to immolate on erotic flame. Even the musicians were swept up in this inferno of desire and, with a key change like a sigh, had reinforced the mood.

  But he didn’t do one-night stands, or complications. Usually.

  ‘You’re quite a surprise to me,’ he murmured, feeling her tremble as his breath brushed her ear.

  ‘I wasn’t always so dull...’

  He wasn’t going to argue about Katie’s interpretation of dull. Sensing there was more to come, he remained silent.

  ‘I trained to be an opera singer once.’

  ‘Did you?’ He couldn’t have been more surprised and pulled back to stare into her eyes. ‘What went wrong?’

  He knew at once he shouldn’t have asked. He hadn’t meant to spoil the evening for her. Drawing her back into his arms, he held her gently and securely until she relaxed.

  She’d tell him if she wanted to tell him, he reasoned. But the revelation had intrigued him. There was obviously so much more to uncover in this woman who favoured dull brown suits—perhaps an artistic diva waiting to break out. But as far as he was concerned, she must remain a shy, brown mouse who was under his protection while she was in Rome. Katie Bannister might be many things, but she was not a seductress—and even if in this sultry setting she appeared to be, it was up to him to keep things light between them and send her home as innocent as the day she had arrived in Italy.’ Reluctantly he disentangled himself from her arms. ‘Andiamo, piccolo topo—’

  ‘I am not your little mouse,’ she slurred.

  And then he realised that three glasses of wine was probably her annual quota back home and she had drunk Gino’s firewater as if it were cordial—which almost certainly accounted for her openness about her opera training too.

  ‘You must learn to call me Signorina Bannister,’ she insisted, drawing her taupe brows together in her approximation of a fierce stare.

  ‘Bene,’ he said, happy to indulge her—at least on that one point.

  ‘It’s much better if we keep it...’ She frowned as she searched for the right word.

  ‘Formal between us?’ he suggested. ‘I think it’s time I took you home now,’ he said firmly, holding her away from him at arm’s length.

  * * *

  Rigo’s sudden change of mood from sexy to serious was so unexpected Katie blanked for a moment. Only when she finally managed to refocus did she wonder how she had ever wasted a moment thinking Rigo Ruggiero uncomplicated and fun. He was a playboy who lived every moment for the pleasure it brought him before moving on to the next distraction. Gino’s genuine warmth and the restaurateur’s homely restaurant must have clouded her thinking.

  OK, that and the wine.

  Common sense should have warned her Rigo was not the youth who had pitched up in Rome hoping to make his fortune. Rigo enjoyed these nostalgic visits but that didn’t mean he was the same uncomplicated youth he’d been then.

  As he frogmarched her back to the table she faced the ugly truth. She was as naïve as she had ever been and Rigo was the same playboy for whom the main attraction on tonight’s menu of amusement had been an impressionable out-of-towner. He’d played the game for a while, but had soon tired of her lack of sophistication. She felt bad, because she never put herself in the way of rejection, knowing the outcome was a foregone conclusion. And the one time she had...

  Katie smiled as she thanked Gino for her shawl. Rigo was already standing by the door, waiting for her. He couldn’t wait to bring the evening to a close. It was up to her to pull herself together and leave with enough pride to be able to deal with him on a professional level tomorrow morning.

  * * *

  Taking a shower in cold reality was the swiftest antidote to male pride he knew. As he held the restaurant door for Katie her cool gaze assured him—don’t worry, you won’t get the chance. Tipping her chin, she walked proudly past him into the night. Even that amused him. Most women with one eye on his fortune tried harder. Katie wasn’t that sort. In her eyes he was a man who preferred racing his sports car to keeping an appointment. Shallow? He was barely puddle-deep. Yes, all this he could see in Katie Bannister’s cool, topaz-coloured gaze.

  He only had to raise his hand and a limousine drew up in front of them at the kerb. ‘Your chariot awaits, signorina. I plan ahead,’ he said when she looked at him in surprise. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added when her gaze flickered with alarm. ‘I’ll see you safely back to your hotel.’

  He let his driver help her into the car, which appeared to reassure her. He took his seat in the back, ensuring he kept a good space between them. She didn’t risk further conversation; neither did he. It seemed the most sensible course of action after the fire they’d ignited at Gino’s. He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised by the way time had flown. ‘If you’d like to make our meeting a little later—’

  ‘Not at all,’ she interrupted in a way that drew his attention to her lips. She had beautifully formed plump pink lips. The thought of pressing his mouth against them while his tongue teased them apart stirred him. He could imagine how she would taste, and how it would feel when she wound her arms around his neck. ‘In that case, I suggest we have lunch immediately afterwards—’

  ‘Immediately after our meeting tomorrow I’ll be on a plane home, Signor Ruggiero.’

  He awarded her more than one brownie point for that swift riposte. ‘I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Rigo?’

  She didn’t answer, and as she turned away to stare out of the window he found the chill between them erotic. He liked a challenge. And, even if he had decided to take her home and treat her chastity with the respect it deserved, he was a man.

  She spoiled the mood by asking for her hair clip.

  He shrugged and gave it to her, and then had to watch as she scraped her hair back as tightly and as primly as it would go. She only relaxed when she had completed the transformation from lovely young woman to maiden aunt.

  But the obvious had always bored him, which was why Katie Bannister intrigued him. So much passion so tightly controlled could only end one way. And remembering her visit to his favourite shop—what a contrast that style of underwear would be to her precisely ordered hair. When did she intend on wearing it? Was she wearing it? What had provoked Signorina Prim into that walk on the wild side? And what would persuade her to take another walk on the wild
side with him?

  As if sensing the path his thoughts were taking, she looked at him shyly, but, shy or not, that look plainly said he shouldn’t imagine everything had been put on this earth for his amusement.

  ‘In another thirty-six hours,’ she said, and with rather too much relish, he thought, ‘I’ll be back at my desk in Yorkshire—’

  ‘In that case we’ll have to work quickly,’ he said.

  She flashed him a concerned glance.

  ‘I’ll take you to the airport immediately after the reading of the will.’

  He felt sure she would refuse this offer, but instead she said, ‘Thank you, Signor Ruggiero, that will save me taking a cab.’

  * * *

  Katie was on tenterhooks until they reached the hotel. She couldn’t wait to bury her head under a pillow and wish the night away so it could be morning and she could gabble out the contents of the will and go home to her dull, quiet, safe life. To her disappointment, for the remainder of the journey home Rigo had no trouble keeping things on a business footing and didn’t speak to her at all. By the time they reached the hotel she was tied up in knots.

  He escorted her across the lobby and even insisted on pressing the elevator button. When the lift doors slid open he kept his finger on that button as he said, ‘Goodnight, Signorina Bannister. I hope you sleep well. And don’t worry about calling a cab in the morning—I will send a car for you.’

  She said thank you for the evening and then got into the lift. She wished, hoped, prayed, Rigo would step in after her. Of course, he didn’t. Something she had every cause to be grateful for, Katie reasoned sensibly as the elevator door closed.

  After that everything felt flat and a restless night followed. There was only one face in her dreams, which explained why her eyes were red the next morning. Her face was washed-out too, and as for her hair...

  Better not to dwell on that disaster, she decided, scraping it back neatly into the customary bun before securing the severe style with the whole of a packet of hair grips.