Chapter Three
‘All better now?’
The man had a devastating smile, even when directed at a three-year-old. Stella felt the impact ripple through her like waves on a beach, warm and inviting.
The child nodded, turning his face against his mother’s leg, but not before giving the big man a grin.
The boy’s mother, initially inclined to scold, ended up promising her son a gelato after the stranger smiled so warmly, reminiscing about how eager he’d always been as a child to run out into the sunshine.
Stella watched the woman melt under that silvery gaze and warned herself not to do the same. Especially as, for a moment when her eyes had locked on his, she’d felt a quick thrum of excitement through her body.
It had never happened before and had to be a reaction to the man’s astonishing good looks.
And her emotional state. The last twenty-four hours had been dreadful and she still didn’t feel as if her feet had touched the ground.
She’d left her father’s office and gone straight home to pack a bag, knowing she had to get away. Of course he hadn’t come after her. He expected her to toe the line. To her knowledge none of Alfredo Barbieri’s children had ever defied him.
But expecting her to marry a stranger…!
‘Are you all right? You look dazed. Did you hurt yourself?’
Not just good looks but a voice that ran through her like hot chocolate. She could almost taste the richness of her mother’s special recipe on her tongue, rich chocolate with a hint of cinnamon.
His gaze dropped and she realised she’d licked her lips as if savouring that phantom taste. Heat flared in her cheeks and she hurriedly looked away.
‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’
She crouched down, reaching for her wallet and the other contents of her bag, strewn around them.
He joined her, reaching for her favourite lipstick. She saw his tanned fingers close around the silver tube, making it look tiny, fragile. Her breath snared as he passed it to her, fingertips warm against her palm.
A tickle of sensation shivered up her arm then straight down to her stomach.
‘Thank you.’
She snatched her hand back, stunned at how aware of this man she was.
The length of his legs folded beneath him.
The width of his shoulders as he twisted to reach for her keys.
The warmth of him and the tiniest hint of masculine scent.
Something that reminded her of cedar and sun-warmed lemon groves. And the sea.
If she wasn’t careful she’d be eating him up with her eyes, the way that young mother had a minute ago!
The idea was so preposterous—because Stella had long since been immunised against charming, good-looking men—that she suddenly felt much better. More like herself and less bothered by the string of texts she’d received.
She got to her feet and he rose beside her, close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.
‘Don’t forget this.’
Stella looked down at the small notebook in his hand. Seafoam green with embossed silver letters that said Nautilus. Stupidly, she flinched at the reminder of what she’d left behind. Her father’s premier hotel where she’d worked for the last year.
‘Thank you.’ Her fingers closed around the notebook but he didn’t let it go immediately.
‘I’ve heard of it. In Sicily, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘On the beach.’
‘You enjoyed your time there?’
Still he held one corner of the notebook and she looked up to see his gaze fixed on her. It wasn’t just his sculpted features that made him attractive. It was the arresting combination of golden olive skin, dark as night hair and eyes like bright pewter.
Was he an actor? He was certainly used to women staring. First the little boy’s mother, now her. Hurriedly Stella retreated a step and the notebook fell to the floor.
‘Clumsy of me. Sorry.’ He scooped it up and handed it to her with an apologetic smile.
‘No, no, not at all. It was my fault. Thank you.’
She closed her eyes. Was she babbling? She never babbled!
‘So perhaps not a good stay at the Nautilus?’
Her eyes snapped open and she read something in his, something more than idle curiosity, that made her survey him more closely.
If she didn’t know better she’d think he was pumping her for information, as so many had tried to before, thinking Alfredo Barbieri’s daughter had more hair than wit. As if she’d spill her father’s plans for the asking.
But then any public praise she received from her father was more likely to be about the way she looked rather than her business acumen. No wonder people often thought her a cosseted trust-fund baby, living off her family’s wealth.
As if! The irony never failed to amaze her.
She dropped her gaze to the notebook in the man’s open palm. Her fingers tingled at the idea of touching him again, but she steeled herself as her fingertips scraped his warm flesh. That little ripple of awareness was back but she pretended not to notice.
Stella shoved the notebook into her bag. ‘Actually, it’s a lovely hotel in a spectacular position. I can particularly recommend the seafood restaurant.’
‘That sounds like an advertisement. You don’t have shares in the place, do you?’
Her head shot up. No, she didn’t have shares. By rights she should have some stake in the family company, but her father had been slow awarding her any of the inheritance he’d shared with her half-brothers.
And now he demanded she marry—marry!—before he’d consider even letting her run a hotel.
The stranger put up his hands as if in surrender. ‘It was a joke.’
His expression was easy, unshuttered. She’d grown used to second-guessing her father’s thoughts, trying to glean his intentions when he kept so much to himself.
Except when he was in a rage. Even her half-brothers and their wives were adept at hiding their real opinions behind expressions of polite interest or amusement.
Was that why she found it so hard to take this stranger’s smile at face value? Was that niggle of warning because she’d conditioned herself not to expect honesty?
How tired she was of that! How wonderful it would be to trust and take people at face value.
‘Sorry. I’m a bit distracted.’
‘Nothing bad, I hope.’
She shook her head, amazed at the sudden urge to unburden herself to a stranger. Probably because she had no other confidant she could trust.
‘Nevertheless, I think a remedy is in order.’
‘Remedy?’ She felt slow-witted this morning with so much playing on her mind.
‘Absolutely.’ His expression was grave but his eyes laughed and she felt the urge to get closer and bask in that glow.
‘You’re probably in shock after that collision.
Fortunately I know the best treatment.’ That serious expression disappeared, replaced by a grin she felt all the way to her bones.
‘Sunshine and a gelato. There’s nothing like it.
And Rome’s best gelateria is across the square.
What do you say? Can you spare ten minutes? ’
Ten minutes for sunshine and a gelato? And the warmth of this man’s company?
He was charming but not sleazy. If anything he stood a little further away from her than necessary, as if not wanting to crowd her.
Stella wasn’t in the habit of trusting strange men. She’d had too many encounters with people drawn to her because of her family, interested in her connections or her supposed wealth rather than in her personally.
But hadn’t she come to Rome for a break from that world?
If her father had his way, she’d never be free to do anything as innocently impulsive as share an ice cream with a handsome man. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been impulsive.
Apart from yesterday when she’d boarded the first plane to Rome, telling the office she was taking a week’s leave with immediate effect. It was probably the first time she’d acted impulsively since coming to Italy. She’d been so busy toeing the line, trying to please her family.
Her knees threatened to give way at the thought of what waited for her back in Sicily. Her furious father. An expectant bridegroom. A career that would stall unless she gave in to Alfredo’s outrageous demand.
‘Sunshine and a gelato sound perfect.’
Her mouth tilted into a smile and for a second she thought she read awareness in eyes that darkened from pewter to stormy grey. But almost instantly the illusion disappeared. She put it down to a trick of the light.
‘Bene.’ He inclined his head and gestured towards the door. ‘It’s a perfect day for it and I haven’t had a gelato yet today.’
She couldn’t help darting a quick glance at his lean form as they headed for the glass doors.
In chinos and a dark grey polo shirt, with designer sunglasses hooked into his collar, he looked fit and athletic.
His chest was broad, his arms strong and the fabric of his trousers had strained against muscled thighs when he squatted.
‘You don’t look like a man who indulges in sweet treats every day.’
Laughter made his eyes crinkle at the corners and sent a bolt of fire to her core. ‘I take that as a compliment. But what’s life without a few treats? You need to find enjoyment when you can. You never know what’s around the corner.’
Stella heard a discordant note in his voice but saw only good humour in his features.
An employee opened one of the glass front doors and they walked outside. It was only spring but today felt like summer.
Because you’ve run away from your real life, pretending this is a holiday rather than a chance to determine your future.
The thought of her real life stirred her innate caution. Was it wise, going with a stranger, even if she could see the gelateria across the way?
She halted on the pavement. ‘How did you know I spoke English?’ Had he been watching her? Was their meeting planned rather than accidental?
He lifted his shoulders in an expansive shrug and she found herself admiring wide, straight shoulders. ‘You spoke English when you comforted the boy.’
‘Of course.’ She really was slow today. The child had called out in English and she’d automatically answered in the same language.