‘For the first time you are truly in love. You have found the woman of your heart.’ The words hit home, and he listened as his father continued. ‘Do not allow it to blind you and stop you from seeing what is right before your eyes.’
Rico’s confused frown deepened. ‘How do you mean…blind me?’
Before his father could reply, the door opened and his mother stepped in, calling him to see the visitor who needed some advice. As they left the study together, his father draped an arm around his shoulders.
‘Go home, figlio mio,’ he advised with a smile. ‘Claim your woman!’
Rico watched his parents walk away, then he went to the terrace to fetch Ruth.
‘You are ready to go?’ he asked, agitation making his voice brusquer than normal.
‘Yes, all right.’
As Ruth gathered her things, he kissed Nonna Emanuela, who scowled at him and looked as if she wanted to scold him, just as she had done when he had been a boy. Ruth seemed even more on edge and skittish than before as they took their leave and headed out to the car. He remembered her reaction when they had picked his black Ferrari up at the airport, and how she had teased him about it.
‘I thought you weren’t interested in luxuries and ostentatious extravagance!’
‘My car is my one indulgence, my only weakness,’ he had told her.
As he drove out of the city and headed towards his home, he knew that was no longer true. Ruth had become his weakness. It had been a constant battle not to give in to the temptation to whisk her off and seduce her, to make her stay with him and damn the job. He thought of the advice he had been given that day. Both Paolo and his father had urged him to act. What did they see that he was missing? And why did they talk in riddles instead of telling him something useful?
The tension increased with each kilometre they travelled out of Florence and into the countryside. Ruth felt jumpy and troubled. Searching for a safe subject, she thought of something and made an effort to break the awkward silence.
‘I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, Rico, but I had an email this afternoon from Mr and Mrs Michaels.’ She had been so pleased to hear from the parents of the young man who had suffered such nasty burns during the accident at the restaurant overlooking Morecambe Bay. ‘Jamie is settled at the specialist burns unit. The doctors are pleased with his progress and confident about his recovery.’
‘That is very good news. I hope he continues to do well.’
Rather than easing the charged atmosphere, her topic of conversation seemed only to have added to it. It had certainly reminded her of the restaurant. And the conference. And their passionate night. Ruth felt Rico’s gaze flick to her, glad he could not see her clearly in the dimness inside the car, and she turned her head to stare unseeingly through the side window, her hands knotted together in her lap.
The rest of the journey was completed in silence, but Ruth felt the electricity arcing between them. It did nothing to calm her nerves. She anticipated arriving at Rico’s house and thought back to the first time she had come here—the Sunday after the wedding, following their flight from Scotland to Florence.
Rico’s comments when he had seen where she lived in Strathlochan had made sense as soon as they had reached his home. Located in the Mugello, the beautiful area to the north-east of Florence in the watershed of the Apennines, the old single-storey house, built in local honey-coloured stone—which, she had discovered, Rico had restored himself—was set amongst wooded hills and rolling fields.
The oldest part of the house dated back to the fourteenth century, and had been sympathetically extended over the years, keeping its original beams and terracotta floors. Secluded and private, it was an Italian version of her own home. It was bigger, of course, with more expansive views, and it had a swimming pool, but the similarities were striking.
Rico’s land extended over a hundred acres, and linked up with one of the many trekking trails. Ruth had enjoyed a long walk with Rico the previous weekend and had seen wild boar and roe deer, as well as many other examples of the area’s extensive fauna and flora. What she longed to see were the wolves that Rico had told her lived in the Casentino Forests National Park, a protected area in the Apennines that spanned the borders of Tuscany and Emilia-Romagna.
As with the city of Florence itself, it would take her a lifetime to explore this landscape, from the high ridges, waterfalls and verdant valleys to the wildflower meadows and woods of oak, beech and chestnut. Did she have a lifetime here?
Everything about Rico’s home, and the region in which it was set, had taken her breath away. She had immediately felt comfortable and at peace. As if she belonged here. It had been a struggle these last few days to remember that even if she took the job at Rico’s clinic, this wonderful place was not her home. Just as Rico was not her man. But, oh, how she wished she had the right to lay claim to both.
Emanuela had told her that Rico had never brought another woman here. Was that true? And, if so, had he just asked her to stay because he wanted to persuade her to work for him? When she had met Rico’s housekeeper for the first time, Luciana had been surprised that he had brought a guest to stay, Ruth recalled, but she had not thought anything of it at the time. And whatever Rico had told Luciana in Italian had pleased the older woman, who had been warm and friendly. As had her husband Alessandro. The couple lived in a small cottage out of sight of the main house. Both of them were devoted to Rico, who had provided them with work and a place to stay when they had fallen on hard times.
Now, as the headlights picked out the gateposts that marked the entrance to the drive, Rico turned the sleek Ferrari between them and moved towards the house, hidden from view beyond the trees. Ruth sucked in a shaky breath, uncertain of his mood. He seemed distracted, unsettled, which only increased her own unease and confusion. Was he regretting having her here? If she stayed on at the clinic, she would have to find her own place. What would it feel like to live alone in Florence and only see Rico at work? The thought depressed her.
Her chest felt tight, and she was acutely conscious of him as he walked beside her to the front door and unlocked it, reaching inside to switch on the light. The action brought him close enough for her to catch a tantalising hint of his cedar scent and the warm maleness of him.
Disturbed by her increasing awareness of him and need for him, Ruth stepped hastily away, putting some distance between them.
‘Ruth…’
‘I’m really tired,’ she lied, unable to meet his gaze as she moved towards the bedroom wing. ‘I’m going to get an early night.’
She escaped before he could detain her, and, on reaching her room, she closed the door and leaned back against it. Have courage, Emanuela had told her. And what had she done? Scuttled away like a frightened mouse. Cursing herself, she went to have a quick shower.
After putting on a thin nightdress, all she needed in the warmer temperatures in Italy, Ruth sat on the bed, knowing she was never going to be able to sleep. Rico was all she could think about. Gina’s words, encouraging her to fight for him if he was what she wanted, returned to her. And she did want him. Which meant she would have to try and do something she had never done before. Seduce a man.
Taking her friend’s and Emanuela’s advice would not be easy, especially with her lack of experience. It was true that she feared Rico’s rejection. And it would mean taking a huge risk. But she had nothing more to lose. She needed to know if there was any chance of something more than a job and a one-night memory between them.
Restless, and needing to clear her head, Ruth opened the French window and stepped out onto the deserted terrace that overlooked the swimming pool and, in daylight, the magnificent vista. Everything was quiet and still, and the warm breeze felt good against her skin. Gazing out into the night, with only the pool’s edging lights and the glow from her room breaking the darkness, she tried to decide what to do. If she succeeded in working out a plan of action, would she have the courage to see it through?
‘DIO!’
Restless and frustrated, his mind troubled, Rico turned over and thumped his pillow. Ruth had been distracted and even more jumpy that evening, and she had not been able to retreat to her room fast enough when they had arrived home, confounding his attempts to speak to her. He was no closer to a solution about what to do and the increasing tension was almost more than he could bear.
Linking his hands behind his head, he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He had tried his best to be patient, knowing that Ruth needed time and understanding, but things were not working out as he had hoped and his restraint was wearing thin. Although he still had not grasped exactly what his father had been trying to tell him, his basic message had echoed that of Paolo’s earlier in the day. Time was running out. If he wanted Ruth—and he did—then he was going to have to act and damn the consequences.
He huffed out a breath. Never had he felt so uncertain, and scared, in his life before. He had been so sure that Ruth felt the same connection he did, and that their extraordinary night together had sealed the bond between them. But finding her gone the next morning had stripped away his confidence and left him with doubts—doubts that Ruth’s skittish behaviour these last ten days had done nothing to allay.
Midnight came and he was still tossing and turning. He and Ruth had been circling around each other for far too long. He needed to know one way or another where things stood between them. And if that meant laying all his cards on the table and facing ultimate rejection, it was a risk he was going to have to take.
Rising from the bed, he pulled on swim shorts, opened the door that led from his bedroom to the terrace, and stepped outside. It was a balmy night, the temperature unusually warm for May. Honeysuckle and jasmine climbed the wooden frame and provided a living canopy over the terrace, their scent perfuming the air. Cloud layered the sky, blocking out most of the stars.
Hoping a swim would clear his head, cool his libido, and help him formulate a new plan, he took a step towards the pool, but a sound alerted him and he looked round, stopping dead in his tracks when he discovered he was not alone. Ruth was leaning against the railing further along the terrace.
As she stepped back, a shaft of light spilling from the open door behind her rendered her flimsy night slip transparent, revealing her naked outline beneath and rocketing his temperature up even higher. Her hair encased her face in a halo of pale gold. His body reacted in an inevitable way. As if in slow motion, Ruth looked up and saw him. And there, in that unguarded moment, her expression unmasked and her emotions laid bare, he saw what he had been waiting and hoping for—desire, longing and the same desperate yearning that overwhelmed him.
‘Ruth…’
The last threads of his control snapped.
‘Maledizione! To hell with patience.’
With purposeful strides, he began to close the gap between them. Paolo and his father had been right. It was time to claim his woman.
Engrossed in her thoughts, Ruth ceased her pacing and rested her hands on the wooden railing, watching the shifting shadows and flickers of light across the gently undulating surface of the pool several feet away. A noise impinged on her consciousness and she looked up, searching for the source of the sound. She stepped back, her gaze sweeping from the open door to her room nearby, along the wall of the house to Rico’s room, which had been in darkness a short while before. Now the door was open and the light from within held Rico in its glow.
Ruth stifled a gasp of surprise, one hand rising to her throat where she could feel the rapidly accelerating beat of her heart. He was superb. She could not drag her gaze from the picture he presented, clad only in black swim briefs—like an ancient god, a figure of masculinity far more perfect even than Michelangelo’s David. Ruth’s mouth went dry, her lungs constricted, and her heart pounded against her ribs. Longing and desire consumed her, too much to contain after days of trying to hide how she felt about him.
‘Ruth…’
Her name whispered softly to her on the breeze. Then she heard Rico’s curse in the stillness of the night, and everything in her tightened and trembled as he strode towards her. The impatience and naked hunger in his eyes stole her breath. He looked like a man who refused to be denied. Excitement throbbed deep inside her. Her stomach clenched and the ache of need intensified beyond bearing. Without even realising she was moving, she stepped to meet him.
There was no time to think. No time to question the future. All that mattered was the here and now, and the raging, desperate, painful need that only he could assuage. She wanted him. So badly.
Bodies collided. Mouths met…open, hot, hungry. Passion exploded. Rico fisted one hand in her hair, angling her head for the deepest fit. His other hand held her rear, and pulled her tight against him. She wriggled, needing to be closer still, swallowing his moan as she rubbed against the hard evidence of his arousal.
The kiss was uncompromising, demanding, unrestrained, igniting the flames that had been smouldering just beneath the surface. Ruth clung to him, her fingers savouring warm male flesh as they roamed across his shoulders, down his back, and everywhere she could reach, eager to relearn his body, urgently needing to touch all of him. His masculine scent mingled with exotic cedar—a combination that was uniquely Rico, familiar and arousing. Her tongue danced and duelled with his. His taste intoxicated her. How had she survived the last two weeks without this?
Unable to bear anything at all between them, her questing fingers freed him from the restriction of the briefs, and she struggled to push the clinging fabric down as far as she could without breaking the kiss. Rico helped her, impatiently working them off and kicking them away, groaning when her fingers reclaimed him, and she boldly stroked and shaped and teased him.
His hands were equally busy, skimming over her, setting every particle of her on fire. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel them against her skin. He clearly had the same thought, and Ruth gasped as the sound of ripping fabric rent the air. She felt the whisper of fresh air on her heated flesh as Rico dispensed with the tattered remains of her nightdress. Then his hands were on her, his knowing, urgent caresses driving her higher.
Excitement building, she clasped his shoulders as he walked her back and lifted her until she was sitting on the wide wooden railing. He stepped between her parted thighs and she ran her hands down his back to his taut rear, her fingers tightening as she urged him closer, desperate for him to ease the terrible hollow ache that was clamouring deep within her.
He broke the wild kiss, his mouth working down her throat, lips sucking, teeth nipping, his tongue salving the erotic sting.
‘Please, Rico,’ she begged, her breathing ragged, her pulse racing. ‘Please.’
His stubbled jaw grazed across her skin…a delicious caress that drove her wild. She writhed against him, crying out as his mouth moved to one of her breasts and drew the swollen, sensitised peak inside, sucking strongly. The dart of pleasure was so intense that her fingers speared into the luxuriant strands of his hair, trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.
Sobbing, Ruth wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him more tightly to her. She needed him—now. As his mouth released her nipple, and he kissed his way across to lavish the same torturous attention on its twin, clever, wicked fingers zeroed in to the very heart of her, finding her more than ready for him.
‘I need you, sirena mia.’ His voice was low, rough, sexy.
Ruth’s urgency matched his and she pleaded with him to hurry. ‘Yes! Rico…Here. Now, please.’
Her words trailed off as he complied with her demands, and Ruth held on to him as he united them, crying out at the wonder of experiencing this again. It was wild, frantic, desperate. Ruth lost herself in the magic of the moment, craving more, giving him everything as they moved together, the sense of fullness, the erotic friction, the searing pleasure building and building as their rhythm increased, rushing them both towards the inevitable conclusio
n.
Ruth didn’t want this most shattering, incredible experience ever to end. She tightened her legs and wrapped her arms around him, her hands clinging as she tried to find purchase on his slick hot skin.
‘Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…’ Sobbing, she arched into him, overcome by the intensity of what they were sharing.
Rico’s arm around her hips bound her to him, and his free hand returned to her hair, his fingers tangling in the loose strands as he buried his face in her neck, his whispered words muffled against her skin.
‘Come with me, sirena mia.’
However much she wanted to prolong the bliss of making love with him, she couldn’t stop her body responding to the demands of his. The pleasure built, wave after impossible wave, until it finally crested, crashing over her with such force it threatened to sweep her away. Rico was her anchor and she was his. They clung to each other as they plunged over the edge of the precipice, lost in the whirling vortex, spinning out of control as the ecstasy consumed them.
Ruth had no idea how much time passed before some kind of thought process was possible again. She couldn’t move, and she certainly couldn’t speak. Her head dropped to his shoulder and with every ragged breath she inhaled his scent. Every part of her was shaking and trembling. Her heart was pounding. So was Rico’s. She could feel it where his chest pressed against hers. He still held her close, and she was grateful, because the more reality began to intrude the more scared she became about what happened next.
What, if anything, had this meant to Rico? She closed her eyes and snuggled against him, trying to push her worries from her mind. His mouth closed on her shoulder, lips brushing, teeth nibbling, tongue lazily stroking. Ruth quivered, resting against him, her legs relaxing but not unwinding. Far too soon, though, Rico drew back and she reluctantly released him. His hands cupped her face, a serious expression in his hazel eyes as he looked at her.
Italian Doctor, Dream Proposal / Wanted: A Father for her Twins Page 16