The Bride Fonseca Needs

Max’s mouth tipped up at one corner. ‘It was pretty memorable. You single-handedly scared off three guys who were all easily three times your size.’

Max took her hand in his and hers looked tiny. It made her too aware of their inherent differences.

She shrugged. ‘I just...saw them...and I didn’t really think, to be honest.’ She bit her tongue to stop herself from revealing that she’d used to watch Max far too intently, far too aware of his presence. Aware of the insolence he’d worn like a shield.

Afraid that he might see it, she deflected the conversation back onto him.

‘You and your brother...do you think you’ll ever be close?’

Darcy thought he’d pull his hand away, but he left it there, holding hers.

Quietly, he said, ‘We used to be close. Before we were separated. Closer than anyone.’ He looked at Darcy and smiled. ‘We had a special language. It used to drive our parents crazy.’ And then the smile faded. ‘Luca was stronger than me, though...older by a few minutes. When our parents told us they were taking one each he just stood there—not crying, not saying anything. I’ll never forget it.’ Max’s mouth twisted. ‘I was the one that fell apart.’

Darcy turned her hand in Max’s and gripped it. A sense of rage at his parents filled her, shocking in its intensity. ‘You were little more than a baby, Max...’

Just then Julieta appeared, with a coffee pot on a tray, and Darcy blinked up at her, broken out of the web of intimacy that had come down over her and Max without her even realising it. Suddenly she felt very raw, and absurdly emotional. The full impact of the day was hitting her. She was in

danger of losing herself out here with Max.

Acting on impulse, she seized the opportunity like a coward, pulling her hand back from Max’s, avoiding his eye. She stood up, smiled, and said, ‘No coffee for me, thanks—it’s been a long day.’

Unfortunately she couldn’t quite manage to leave at the same time as Julieta because Max had caught her wrist. Darcy looked down and her heart skipped a beat. To her intense relief his expression indicated nothing of their recent conversation. He looked altogether far too sexy and dangerous. Far too reminiscent of that younger Max—cocky and confident, but still human underneath it all.

He smiled, and it was the smile of a shark. ‘You’re not willing to concede defeat yet?’

Darcy shook her head and struggled against the blood that pounded in her veins. ‘No, Max, I still don’t think it’s a good idea.’

To her surprise he let her go and leaned forward to pour himself some coffee. ‘Buonanotte, then, Darcy...’

Feeling unsure, because she didn’t trust Max an inch, Darcy sidled around him to get to the doorway.

And then she heard him say softly, ‘It’s better that you go to bed now because you’ll need your sleep. I’ll be waking you early in the morning. I’ve got more plans for tomorrow.’

She looked at him suspiciously. ‘What are you talking about?’

He just smiled and said, ‘You’ll see.’

Darcy started to speak. ‘Look, Max—’

He speared her a look that told her in no uncertain terms that he was hanging on to his control by a thread and that if she stayed a moment longer he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

‘Goodnight, Darcy. Go to bed while you still can...or it won’t be alone.’

She had the sense not to ask anything else and fled.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘LEMME ALONE. IT’S THE middle of the night.’ Darcy burrowed back into the bed as deep as she could, but big firm hands reached in determinedly and ripped the covers back.

She squealed, wide awake now, and looked at Max looming over her, in the very early morning gloom.

‘Buongiorno, mia moglie.’ My wife.

Darcy scowled, feeling thoroughly disgruntled and aware that she was in just skimpy pants and a vest top.

She scrabbled for a sheet but Max insisted on pulling it back again, saying briskly, ‘Now, I can dress you, or you can dress yourself—it’s up to you. I’ve laid some clothes out for you.’

There was enough light in the room for a squinting Darcy to see that Max was wide awake, dressed casually, and that those mesmerising eyes were making a very thorough and leisurely appraisal of her body.