Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

In reality her skin prickled with apprehension just at the thought. She might be wearing her new dress, but she was frightened to leave the room wearing it.

She performed an experimental twirl, loving the way the silk felt against her skin. There wasn’t room for much of a twirl, because the hotel room was very small. She had no complaints—it was functional and clean, which was all she needed.

But Rome was waiting for her outside—and tomorrow she was going home…

Moving back to the window, she stood a little to one side, staring out at the busy street scene far below. There was an open-topped tour bus that stopped right outside the hotel, and she could see people chatting to each other as they waited to board. Across the road was a family-oriented pizzeria with a neon sign. That looked fun too. Perhaps they would have room for one later…

Stop, Katie told herself firmly, pressing back against the wall. It was one thing buying into the pretence of going out and something else when she started to believe it might happen. But pretending had been fun. She had even styled her hair a number of different ways—up and down—but she had forgotten how thick and glossy even boring brown hair could be when it was washed, conditioned and blown dry with more than her usual care and even for a fantasy night out she wouldn’t want to look too obvious. Her everyday style was safest, she had concluded. Over the years she had perfected the technique of brushing her hair straight back before twisting it tightly and securing it with a single tortoiseshell pin.

But she wouldn’t change a thing about the dress, Katie mused, smoothing her palms over the cool silk. She eased her neck, imagining Rigo at her side…or perhaps behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. She would lean against him…relax against him, until he dipped his head and kissed her neck as he murmured that he loved her…

She held the image in her heart for a moment, before opening her eyes and facing reality. Rigo was eating dinner with Antonia, after which he would go home to bed.

Antonia had so much to give, Katie reflected, but her brother had no time to take anything from anyone, because Rigo was too busy driving forward…

Rigo…

Leaning back against the wall again, she closed her eyes. He would look like a god tonight. She imagined him wearing a dark tailored suit with crisp white shirt and discreet gold cuff-links. The elegant look would show off his tan, his rugged strength and the power of his commanding personality. His hair would be freshly washed with thick, inky black waves lapping his brow and his cheekbones. He had the thickest, strongest hair she had ever seen, and though Rigo’s grooming would be impeccable he would still carry that air of danger that made him irresistible, and like a magnet he would draw the gaze of every person in the room.

And she still wasn’t going out, Katie told herself bluntly, opening her eyes as she pulled away from the wall. And whichever way she looked at it dreams could never compete with the reality of Rigo.

No, but dreams were safe, Katie’s sensible self reminded her. With dreams there were no complications, no embarrassing moments, no…

Nothing.

But…

The mini-bar was full of chocolate, so it wasn’t all bad.

He’d taken Antonia home and then gone back to the penthouse to change into jeans and a casual shirt before setting off again to Katie Bannister’s hotel. He felt tense. Wishing-he-didn’t-have-to-do-this tense? Expectant tense? He couldn’t tell. He only knew they hadn’t got off to the best of starts and Katie Bannister was alone in Rome. He wanted her to relax. He wanted to relax.

No, he didn’t, Rigo conceded as he shouldered open the door of the small, dingy hotel. Relaxing was the last thing on his mind. He didn’t have anything half so worthy in mind for Katie Bannister. His hunting instincts had brought him here. He couldn’t get her out of his head, the contradictions—the primness, weighed against the logo on a shopping bag from one of the sexiest lingerie stores in Rome. Her excuse that it belonged to Antonia was a lie. He’d driven Antonia home and unless his little sister had eaten the bag she certainly didn’t have it with her. Since then his imagination had dressed Signorina Bannister in lace and silk—which, bearing in mind he’d only seen her in an ugly brown suit before, had been quite a startling revelation.

He approached the reception desk with his package and made his request.

‘Mi dispiace, I’m sorry, Signor Ruggiero, but there is no reply from Signorina Bannister’s room.’ The man behind the desk shrugged as he replaced the telephone receiver.

He should have known he would be recognised. It couldn’t be helped. ‘Could Signorina Bannister be in your restaurant?’ He stared across into an uninviting and markedly empty dining room.

‘We have no reservations tonight, Signor Ruggiero.’

No surprise there. ‘Her room number?’

The man barely paused a beat—something to do with the money he had just pressed into his hand, no doubt, before telling him, ‘Room one hundred and ten, Signor Ruggiero.’

There was no answer when he knocked on the door. He used the house phone to ring the hotel kitchen and ask them to put Antonia’s picnic in their cold room. Someone would be up right away to collect it, he was told. He waited until the porter arrived, and then he returned to room one hundred and ten. Where would Katie Bannister go this time of night?

He knocked and waited. He heard sounds from the room and knocked again.

She answered the door cautiously, leaving the security lever in place.

‘How many times do I have to tell you I don’t bite?’

‘Rigo?’ Her voice rose at least an octave when she gasped his name.

‘Unless I have a double…’ He leaned back against the wall. The corridor was narrow and they were agreeably close. Signorina Prim’s sexy voice had done it again, he registered, enjoying the sensation.

‘What do you want?’ she whispered nervously through the gap.

Admittedly this wasn’t the type of reception he had anticipated, or was used to, but then Katie Bannister wasn’t his usual type of date. ‘We had a dinner engagement, if you remember?’

‘I told you I’d be eating dinner in my room.’

And he had chosen to ignore that. ‘You haven’t eaten yet?’ he said with surprise. ‘It’s nine o’ clock.’ As if anyone in Rome ate before nine.

‘I didn’t say I haven’t eaten.’ She opened the door a little wider and bit her lip.

She looked cute. ‘You didn’t say you have eaten,’ he pointed out. ‘Open the door, Katie. I can’t stand here all night.’

The bar slid back and the door opened, but instead of standing to one side to let him in, she retreated into the shadows at the far end of the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘GOOD evening, Signorina Bannister. I trust I find you well?’

‘Good evening, Rigo,’ she said shyly, remaining pressed back against the wall.

‘You look nice.’ He closed the door softly behind him. Nice? She looked beautiful, which raised a number of questions. But taking things at face value to begin with, he knew her taste in lingerie and had already dallied with erotic images, but seeing this new, softer side had unexpectedly brought out the best in him. Until his suspicions raced to the fore. ‘I beg your pardon for calling so late.’

She glanced at her wristwatch.

‘And it seems you were going out?’ After refusing his dinner invitation, was it possible the waiter won her over?

‘I wasn’t going anywhere.’

Was that a wistful note in her voice? ‘But the dress?’

‘I was just trying it on.’ Raising her chin, she looked at him steadily. ‘I bought it today. I don’t know what I was thinking—’

‘That it suited you?’ he suggested.

‘Do you really think so?’

In that moment she was like a child, and as pleasure flashed across her face she touched his heart, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. ‘Yes, I do. You look great.’ Fragile, proud and womanly he didn’t sa

y. Even her profile with her hair scraped back so tightly was delicately appealing.

‘I was going to return it—’

‘Don’t you dare—I mean, do as you like,’ he said casually as she looked at him in surprise. She wasn’t the only one to be surprised by the force of his reaction. ‘So…you’re not going out, but you’d like to?’

‘Not really…’ She made a little hand gesture. ‘I’m fine right here—’

‘But a dress like that is meant to be worn by a beautiful woman on a warm evening in Rome.’

She all but said, that rules me out.

‘An evening just like this…’

She laughed nervously as he gestured towards the mean little window. ‘It’s very kind of you, Rigo—’

‘I don’t do kind. I’m hungry.’

‘But you just ate with Antonia—’

‘Fiddly food?’ He dismissed the gourmet feast he’d enjoyed with an airy gesture. ‘And, as you can see—’ he ran a hand down his casual shirt and jeans ‘—I’m off-duty now.’

She risked a laugh.

‘I’m thinking pizza—though Antonia sent a picnic for you, if you prefer?’

‘I love your sister!’ she exclaimed impulsively. ‘Only Antonia would think of a picnic.’

He gave her a wry look. He couldn’t deny Antonia held the record for delivering the unexpected, and doing it well. ‘The hotel has it in their cold room—but I’m thinking real Roman pizza.’