Hired:The Italian's Bride

“And every guest who comes out of our spa will feel like a million.”

“I doubt it.”

Mari watched as Luca ran a finger beneath his bottom lip and she remembered how their bodies had been close. How she’d shamelessly wrapped her arms around his ribs and pulled him in so that the warmth of his body pulsed through her. That couldn’t happen again. A relationship was out of the question. Boundaries. He’d said they could set the boundaries. She wished he’d let her.

“Have you ever had a spa day, Mariella?”

“I’ve had facials and pedicures, sure.” Once, when she’d first moved here and had treated herself. When she’d been reinventing herself.

“No, not that kind. The kind where you spend a whole day. You are massaged and buffed and polished from head to toe, so that when you’re done you feel like you own an entirely new body.”

She shook her head.

“You must. I’ll talk to Gina.”

Gina again.

She was losing ground quickly. Somehow this conversation had gotten away from the topic of expenditures and she had to bring it back.

“I do not have time for a spa day, Gina or not.”

His smile was crafty. “But if you’re with Gina, she’s out of my hair.”

“And conveniently, so am I.” She raised her brows so he knew she was on to him. “You made these changes without even consulting me.”

“I am the owner.”

Mari unclenched her fingers, relieved they were back to the safe topic of talking about the hotel again. “As I’m well aware.” She smiled coolly. “I have to run these figures again, if they are, as you say, correct. Find a way to trim costs somewhere else.” She didn’t add that she blamed him for the extra work; there was no need. He never seemed to listen to her cautions about money. He simply forged ahead with whatever scheme he had in mind. And he was a great one for schemes.

“Mariella, you are going to worry yourself into the ground. Take the day. Enjoy it.” He reached over and put his hand over hers. “You’re no good to me or the employees here if you’re out on stress leave because you’ve pushed yourself too hard.”

Words seemed to strangle when she tried to talk and she paused. He wasn’t goading her or criticizing. His eyes were sincere. He actually sounded like he cared.

He was so hard to resist when he was this way. It had been easier for her to deal with the work this morning than think about the what-if’s with Luca. But he was here now and work didn’t solve a thing. If anything it only served to increase her awareness of him. To highlight how often during the day they were together. To remind her of how much she’d lost herself in his arms last night. To remind her of how much she longed to trust someone, to have them fill that empty space she’d become so adept at ignoring.

Luca saw her face change, saw that little hint of vulnerability she tried to keep hidden. He recognized that look. Gina had had it, less now that she had her own family, but he’d seen it enough growing up. In his days here, he hadn’t seen Mariella with any friends. She never talked about her family. She was, to his recollection, the most alone person he’d ever met. And something told him she had it that way on purpose.

It would be good for her to have a day with Gina. Moreover, it would get them both out of his hair for a blessed few hours so he could work in peace.

“I want to do this for you, Mariella. I want you to take the rest of the morning and treat yourself to a massage or a wrap or whatever you like.” And he lifted her hand and kissed the back.

It was a mistake. The scent of her skin as he touched it with his lips made him remember the feel of her last night, soft and pliant in his arms. It had affected him more than he’d expected, but he’d been unable to resist going to her on the balcony. There was nothing brash about her, she had no agenda, and that set her apart from most of the women he escorted to various functions. But that wasn’t all.

It would be very easy to care for Mari, to care too much. She seemed to need it, but he wasn’t the one to give it. He would be leaving. She was different. He knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to string along. And he didn’t have it in him to give her anything more.

He dropped her hand and sauntered to the door. As he reached the threshold, he turned his head back. “Oh, if you could, be back at two-thirty. I’ve made us an appointment to see some artwork at a local gallery.”

He shut the door behind him. Mari could never know that the attraction was becoming very real for him. It would complicate everything, and right now he needed to keep things simple.

At two-thirty Mari met Luca in the lobby.