‘Because more photographs will be taken of you. Information will be sourced. You will be a five-minute wonder.’
‘Information? What information?’
‘Your name, your origin, what you do, who you are. Run-of-the-mill for me, but not so much for you, si? So you go to Ragusa for a few days and this dies down.’
‘Like hell!’
‘There is also the small issue of my future wife,’ he said under his breath as he scrolled through the messages on his phone.
Ava’s head whipped around.
He glanced up and had the grace to look marginally uncomfortable.
‘It’s a joke, Ava.’ He made a gesture. ‘Non e importante.’
Ava forgot all about her behind being shown around the globe for the world’s media to lampoon as she felt something fragile and new sprouting inside her wither and collapse.
‘You’re engaged and you cracked onto me?’ She couldn’t keep the feeling out of her voice.
‘Cracked?’ He pocketed the phone and made one of those extravagant Latin gestures of incomprehension with his hand.
‘Tried it on...made overtures...you know—cracked.’
‘I’m not engaged yet,’ was his cool response.
‘Semantics,’ she shot back, her entire stomach free-falling. ‘Oh, what a piece of work you are. Well, you can stuff it.’ She began looking for her shoes again, this time throwing things around—cushions, the throw on the armchair. She would have liked to have flung the chair at him.
His voice wrapped round her like a strong arm. ‘I wasn’t the one trawling for sex, cara.’
Ava stopped thrashing about. In point of fact her arms went spaghetti limp and her head jerked round. ‘Excuse me?’
He was watching her with that cool, Italian sex appeal some women probably found irresistible.
‘Look, I understand you’re broken-hearted or whatever—’
Again with the scepticism. ‘Let’s go with whatever,’ she retorted.
‘But you weren’t looking for Prince Charming last night,’ he finished with brutal candour.
‘And guess what?’ she snapped back. ‘I didn’t find him!’
In that moment she hated him so much that if she’d had something to hand she really would have thrown it at him.
He was engaged—and who knew how many women had been under his bridge in the last seven years?
Whereas she’d had exactly three. Three! Three men under her bridge. She’d kept her bridge nice. He probably had a toll on his. Thousandth woman through gets a bottle of Bollinger and an engagement ring. How dared he call her morality into question?
‘I’m not going anywhere, bud. This is your problem. You caused this. You were the one who kissed me.’
‘I will remind you that it was you who chased after me like a demented banshee across that square. I wasn’t given much choice after that little performance.’
Great—so now he’d kissed her because he’d had to.
‘And now, signorina, because of your activities last night we’re front page on Rome’s leading gossip sheet. Which means my PR people will be spinning this because you’re family, and so, like a good member of the extended Benedetti family, you’re going to be where the rest of us are this weekend.’
‘What do you mean? I’m not a member of the Benedetti family!’
‘You, madam, are going to Ragusa.’
‘I bloody well am not! I’ve booked a driving tour of Tuscany.’
A romantic trip she was now doing all on her own.
He laughed. He actually laughed.
She didn’t think. She reacted. Overcome by a surge of feeling far beyond what his reaction warranted, she lunged at him.
He caught her arm easily and dislodged the sheet. Ava gasped and, unable to stop the slippage, jammed her breasts up against his chest, effectively imprisoning the sheet but giving him a full body imprint. Outrage dissolved as she suddenly found herself in a very precarious position.
He felt hard and hot and...interested. Yes, definitely considerable interest on his part. A lightning flash of sexual heat shot up her body in response and her nipples sprang out like little pink missile launchers. If she’d wanted his attention she now had it.
She was appalled by how quickly this entire situation had got out of hand. She couldn’t believe she’d physically attacked him. Couldn’t believe anything about this mess and drama was turning her on—and, unexpectedly, him. Oh, yes, his arousal was unambiguous against her belly and she could feel the tremor in his body.
‘Let me go!’ she squeaked, unable to look up because they were so close. She didn’t trust him or herself. She’d been forced to address the base of his throat, where the skin was golden and dark hairs curled invitingly, and she fought the urge to touch him there too.