Chapter Seven #2
She experienced a moment of stomach-clenching nausea that she refused point-blank to acknowledge as jealousy.
‘I didn’t think it was a firm—’
‘Date?’
‘Arrangement,’ she inserted, her smile insincere but the accompanying scowl very authentic as she ignored the mocking note in his voice.
‘Another day will do just as well and if you’re busy it might be quite fun to explore on my own.
’ Actually, a pair of dark glasses and some fresh air might, with the help of the painkillers, see off the incipient migraine.
‘It was firm, and I’m not in any hurry.’ He turned towards her as the light shifted and fell on her face, bleaching her skin of colour and emphasising the size and brilliance of her soft brown eyes. He frowned.
‘Did you sleep OK?’
‘Like a baby,’ she lied cheerfully. ‘Did you have a good run, or workout, or—’ She swallowed as her eyes remained unwilling to stop following the progress of a bead of sweat that slid down his chest.
‘There is a gym and a pool inside and out, so feel free to make use of them.’ He had made full use of them both before his run. He had exhausted his body though not his mind, which had only eventually cleared as he had pounded the forest trail.
He was overthinking everything. There was no problem to work through; he was not a hormonal teenager, and neither was he one of those men who waxed lyrical about emotional connections.
Last night had been sex, pretty mind-blowing, excellent sex, to be sure, but just sex.
‘I don’t expect I’ll have time,’ she said, resurrecting a little defiance.
‘Do you have an issue with what I’m wearing?’ he drawled, setting his drained cup back on the tray.
Her lips pursed tight as she glared at him and thought, Thanks for drawing attention to the fact I can’t take my eyes off you.
‘I was just thinking that you’re not looking very executive today.’
No, just sexily gorgeous.
And he knew it.
Swallowing, she forcibly removed her eyes from the second bead of sweat that was tracing a slower path down the glistening skin of his throat.
Behind his half-closed, heavy lids she could see the gleam in his inky eyes and she tensed, preparing for another jibe. Only she was left stunned when instead he said, ‘You look beautiful this morning. We never did get to spend a night together, did we?’
Despite her innocence, or for that matter his own, she had not been overendowed with inhibitions. In fact, Leo thought, she had usually taken a wicked delight in shocking him.
He’d had more skilful lovers since her, but not one of them had ever come close to living up to the youthful, carnal initiation they had shared.
Until last night, he had sometimes wondered if he was guilty of embroidering their fireworks in bed with nostalgia.
Now he knew he hadn’t.
He watched her through his lashes, the angle of her jaw, her shell-like earlobe… Dio, what the hell was happening to him? He was getting aroused by a woman’s jaw!
Everything she did was just so… He took a final gulp from the nearly empty cup and got to his feet, moving restlessly around the room.
His research into her life would have revealed any long-term relationships, but he considered it impossible that a woman with her innate sensuality would have lived the life of a nun.
Still, the knowledge that she was OK with casual hook-ups did not totally erase the unease he felt about last night, but he shelved the idea of the faceless men who had passed through her life, not finding it a subject he wanted to dwell on.
At the same time, he was well aware that, considering his own lifestyle, his disapproval of hers was incredibly hypocritical.
‘Last night…’
‘A mistake, I know.’
‘Inevitable is what I was thinking.’
‘Oh!’ She folded her hands primly in her lap and lowered her gaze.
‘I was… I mean I…don’t always act with so little…finesse.’
She looked up and was astonished to see embarrassment flit across his face.
‘You were perfect!’
Her blush amused him.
‘So were you.’
‘This could get complicated, Leo.’
‘What are you agonising about? We’re not in a relationship, so why should there be any complications?’
Not for him, maybe, because he didn’t even like her, whereas she… ‘I don’t like the assumption that you consider me being here as your sex on tap. That really isn’t in my contract, not even the small print.’
He looked astonished by her outburst before he laughed.
‘Don’t stress,’ he said, studying her face.
‘Let’s play it by ear, shall we? For the record, I’m quite happy to be your sex on tap for the duration.
You going to eat this?’ he asked, lifting the cover on a croissant and putting it in his mouth before she replied.
‘I don’t eat breakfast.’ It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘You’re eating me up instead.’ Underneath the sly, mocking accusation there was a tell-tale layer of tension that communicated itself directly to her tingling nerve-endings. The prickling sensation spread like a hot rash under her skin.
The automatic denial died on her lips when she realised she was staring at his mouth. She yanked her gaze upwards, connecting with his eyes, but the expression in the dark glimmering depths provided no safe space from the debilitating awareness that permeated her body.
‘With your eyes,’ he elaborated, presumably just in case she hadn’t got the drift.
‘You do think a lot of yourself, but actually I was thinking you might have showered before you invited yourself in,’ she said with a fastidious little sniff as she shoved her hand in her handbag and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses and slid them on her nose.
Her eyes hidden, her chin took the heavy lifting when it came to challenging him to comment.
His response demolished any illusion that she was in control of this situation.
‘You have changed. You used not to have any issue with my sweat. Quite the opposite, in fact.’
Her nostrils flared as she remembered the taste and smell of his damp skin.
She cleared her throat and blinked away the tactile images crowding into her head as Leo levered himself out of the chair with stomach-flipping, casual grace and rubbed his hands together.
‘So, shall we get this thing over with?’
‘What over with?’
‘The tour. What did you think I meant, cara?’
‘Will you stop calling me that?’ she snapped out irritably, hating the way his tongue curled around the endearment, dragging each syllable out.
‘Why? I am Italian. It’s natural for me to say it.’
She turned her head, trying to avoid the smell of the coffee in her nostrils, a fragrance she normally loved but the migraine messed with all her senses.
‘Did you never realise that you had family here? Did your mother never speak of…? Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’ She hesitated, not sure she should ask, not sure she had the right.
‘Poke your delightful little nose in?’ He shrugged, his eyes detaching from her face.
Amy’s shoulders sagged. She was relieved both to escape his scrutiny and not be called out for her curiosity.
‘My mother…no, never.’
Amy had the feeling that his words were not really addressed to her. He was barely acknowledging her presence; it was almost as if he had forgotten she was there.
He was still speaking.
‘At least until she got ill. At the very end, she was on strong medication and she did speak of this place, though I didn’t know that then as she kept sliding into Italian.’
‘It seems odd she didn’t speak Italian to you growing up.’
His flickering regard landed back on her face. ‘What is this, twenty questions?’
She expected him to end the conversation and was surprised when, after a pause, he disclosed some more.
‘I think my mother was trying to erase her background. I did know a few words, actually, and some phrases she said sometimes. When she called out for her papà, I assumed he was dead. I carried on thinking that for a long time.’
‘It’s so sad, but it must have been marvellous to know you weren’t alone,’ she said softly.
He imagined her eyes behind the dark sunglasses glowing with an empathy that struck him as ironic in the circumstances.
‘I had thought once before I wasn’t alone, but it turned out I was mistaken.’ He brought his white teeth together, his shark-like smile more like a grimace as he watched her pale and virtually ooze guilt. ‘Don’t look so worried, Amy. What doesn’t kill you and all that. So, are you ready?’
‘I just need my…’ She flung the words over her shoulder as she quickly disappeared into the bathroom. She needed a minute. She had reached the point of no return on the tears that refused to be blinked away behind the misted tinted glass.
What was she crying about, anyway?
He was never going to forgive her, she knew that. For a long time she had struggled to forgive herself, but she knew that if she had to make the choice again, she still would. That didn’t make it the right decision but, right or wrong, she had to live with it.
And she had been living with it, in a water-under-the-bridge, moving on kind of way, but now, being here, seeing Leo, and remembering who he had once been…
He had moved on and so had she. Their lives were briefly connecting again, that was all.
On that tear-drying, pragmatic thought she snatched a tissue, blew her nose and wiped the mist from her glasses with her sleeve and went to locate her trainers from where she must have kicked them off last night.
If Leo wanted to give her a tour, he could give her a tour.
Anything that got them out of this room was a bonus.
Leo had watched Amy leave the room, admiring the view.
He was still struggling to keep his libido in check when she returned, still pale in the face and huffing out breaths as she balanced on the foot that was shoved in an unlaced trainer, while with her knee brought up almost to her chin she tried to put the other on.
‘There’s no fire. Sit down before you do yourself an injury,’ he barked out roughly.