Every inch of his cold, hard features was etched into her memory for ever.
Horrified by the sudden flash of awareness that exploded through her body, Lindsay took a step backwards regretting the circumstances that had forced her into his path again.
Averting her eyes from his spectacular body, she suddenly wished he were dressed in a formal suit and standing on the other side of a very large desk.
How could she possibly have a serious conversation here?
He was half naked, for goodness’ sake.
Half naked and angry, if the power behind those rhythmic punches was anything to go by.
That missing file had obviously been something important.
He still hadn’t noticed her and it crossed her mind that she could still slink away and wait outside the door for him to finish his workout.
&n
bsp; And then his gaze shifted and he stilled.
Dark, deep-set eyes connected with hers and in that single moment the world seemed to shrink. Nothing existed outside the square metre that contained the both of them.
They stared at each other in silence, exchanging a long, lingering glance that was wholly sexual. Trapped by the intimate demands of his intense dark gaze, Lindsey felt the blood pound in her head and she ceased to breathe.
He’d had exactly the same effect on her the first time she’d seen him and it was as terrifying now as it had been then.
Even knowing who he was and what he did for a living had done nothing to lessen the sheer physical impact of the man. He was unashamedly and blatantly masculine, his Sicilian roots evident in every bold line and hard angle of his impossibly handsome face. Stripped virtually naked, he was even more breathtaking. Unlike most men, he had no need of clothes as a disguise for physical imperfections. Alessio Capelli looked even better undressed than he did dressed.
His eyes were dark and framed by such thick, long lashes that it was as if nature had decided to emphasise such an unusually striking feature with extra care. Other men might have used those lashes as an effective screen for his emotions, but not Alessio Capelli. His gaze was direct and unflinching and she suspected that the reason he never felt the need to conceal his emotions was because he’d never actually experienced an emotion of any sort in his life.
He dealt with facts and numbers. And they were big numbers if the rumours were correct.
Feeling eighteen rather than twenty-eight, Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘Hello, Alessio.’
His fists dropped to his sides and his eyes didn’t leave hers. Then he slowly removed each of his gloves and dropped them onto a nearby bench.
‘You’ve chosen a romantic venue for a reunion, Lindsay.’ He spoke in perfect English, but in every way that mattered he was pure Sicilian. The dark good looks, the arrogance, the simmering volatility barely held in check by the veneer of sophistication that surrounded him like another skin—all products of his ancestry.
A wicked thrill of pleasure that he hadn’t forgotten her was immediately replaced by dismay.
Flouting the powerful messages from her brain about not responding to him, her insides tumbled with excitement and her knees weakened. This was why she didn’t trust herself around him—every second that she was in his company, her life became a battlefield. She was instantly trapped in a vicious conflict between what her body wanted and what her brain wanted.
The layers of protection she’d built around herself melted away in an explosive blast of raw chemistry. Her grip on the present slipped, and her mind twisted the highly charged sexual attraction into the ugly, destructive monster she knew it to be.
Terrified by the sudden glimpse into her own vulnerability, Lindsay reminded herself again that this was about Ruby. Ruby was the reason she was here.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t forgotten me, given the number of blonde women in your life. They must merge after a while.’
Amusement shimmered in his eyes as he reached for a towel. ‘The unexpected is always memorable. You walked away from me.’
And she could tell from his tone that no woman had done that before.
‘There was never the slightest possibility that I’d become involved with you. Unlike you, I think with my head.’
He laughed at that, and Lindsay frowned slightly because over the months she’d managed to forget that he had a sense of humour. And she knew why—that sense of humour made him seen more human and she didn’t want to think of him in that way. It suddenly seemed vitally important to remember that he was cold, ruthless and unemotional. In her head he needed to be as unattractive as possible.
But the smile he gave her was anything but unattractive. ‘So why are you standing in front of me now?’
‘I’m here because I need to talk to you.’ And that was true. But it didn’t change the fact that she was painfully aware of him.