Craving Her Enemy's Touch

He raised a brow, his eyes sparking with sexy mischief, doing untold things to her pulse rate. It had to stop. She couldn’t stand here any longer beneath his scrutiny. She’d melt.

‘I hope I get to find out.’ His voice was almost a drawl, making her stomach clench.

‘Coffee?’ Diversion tactics were certainly required and coffee was the first thing to come to her mind.

* * *

‘Sì, grazie.’ The effect she was having made him slip automatically into Italian. Coffee was the last thing he wanted. Even a good cup of espresso wouldn’t distract him from the fire in his body.

She looked at him, her tongue sliding unconsciously over her lips, and he almost groaned with the effort of staying seated at the table when all he could do was watch her. Desiring a woman dressed in elegant evening wear was normal, but the way he wanted this casual and rumpled version of Charlie was totally new and unexpected. It was also extremely inconvenient.

He watched as she moved around the kitchen, taking in her curves as she turned her back to him to prepare the coffee. He liked the way her jeans clung to her thighs, accentuating the shape of her bottom. Her scruffy T-shirt couldn’t quite hide the indent of her waist, just as it hadn’t hidden the swell of her breasts from his hungry eyes moments ago.

She turned and passed over a mug of instant coffee, then sat at the table. Inwardly he grimaced. Not what he was used to, but if it meant he had time to convince her to at least be present at the launch then he would have to put up with it.

He took a sip, watching as she blew gently on hers, almost mesmerised by her lips. He had to rein in his libido. She was an attractive woman and in any other circumstances he would have wanted more—much more, at least long enough for the fire of lust to burn lower. But he had to remember she was Sebastian’s sister and, out of respect for his friend’s memory, she was off limits. He shouldn’t have allowed his attraction to show, shouldn’t have lit the fuse of attraction.

‘Back to business,’ he said tersely and put down his mug.

‘I wasn’t aware it was business,’ she said lightly. A little too lightly, giving away that she was battling with emotions, that she was stalling him. ‘I thought this was all about salving your conscience, freeing you of guilt.’

He did feel guilt over Seb’s death—who wouldn’t in the circumstances?—but it wasn’t what drove him, what had made him come here. He’d come because of the promise he’d made. ‘It is business, Charlotte. I want you to be at the launch of the car. Seb always wanted you there. He knew how good you were with the media.’

‘He never said anything to me about being at the launch.’ She put her mug down, pushing it away slightly, as if she too had no intention of drinking it.

He was about to say how much Seb had missed her. How he’d looked forward to her going to Italy. Anything to persuade her, when her next words jolted him with the raw pain entwined in them.

‘But I suppose he didn’t know he was going to die.’

He nodded, fighting his conscience and sensing she was coming to the right decision by herself. He just needed to give her a little more time. ‘Sadly, that is true.’

‘When is the launch?’

Her eyes, slightly misted with held-back tears, met his. Despite his earlier thoughts, he did feel guilt. Guilt for her sadness, and worse. He felt compelled to make it right, to bring happiness back to her life. After all, she wouldn’t be hiding away from the world, the racing world in particular, if she wasn’t unhappy.

‘Friday.’

‘But that’s only two days away! Thanks for the advance warning.’ Her tone was sharp and he saw a spark of determination in her eyes that he recognised and related to.

‘Bene, you will be there?’

‘Yes, I will,’ she said as she pushed back her chair and stood up. Dismissing him, he realised. ‘But on my terms.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT TERMS?’ ALESSANDRO asked suspiciously, looking up at her from where he’d remained sitting at the table.

Charlie watched his jaw clench and his eyes narrow slightly. He hadn’t expected that. It annoyed her that he’d thought he could just turn up at the last moment and ask her to go to the launch of the car, as if she was merely an afterthought. Until now she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the car, but she’d started to realise that by being involved she might be able to find answers to the questions she still had about the accident.