Return of the Italian Tycoon

“Then what?” She pulled her finger from his hold as though she’d read his errant thought. “You don’t think you can keep your hands to yourself around me?”

“Yes... I mean, no.” He absolutely hated this feeling of being out of control—of his emotions or whatever you called it ruling over his common sense. “You confuse me.”

“How so?” Her gaze narrowed in on him. When he didn’t answer her, she persisted. “Tell me. I want to know.”

He sighed. “It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.”

“What is this really about? It has to be about more than just a kiss.”

His gaze lifted and met hers head-on. How could she understand him so well? No other woman had ever seen the real him—they’d always been more interested in having a good time. But then again, he’d gone out of his way to hook up with women who didn’t have serious, long-term plans where he was concerned.

His strong reaction to Kayla was due to a lot more than just the kiss. She made him feel things—want things—that he had no business feeling or wanting. And the way she’d moved him with that passionate kiss hadn’t done anything to settle him. It had only made him want her all the more. What was up with that? He’d never desired a woman with every single fiber of his being. Until now.

Kayla stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Angelo, I think we’ve grown close enough on this trip that you can talk to me and know that it won’t go any further. Tell me what’s eating you up inside.”

He knew what she was after—the secrets of his past. But was h

e ready for that? Did he have the courage to peel back those old wounds? Was he ready to deal with her reaction? Could he stand having her think less of him?

The answer was a resounding no.

Angelo inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. He wasn’t prepared to open that door. It wasn’t as if they were involved romantically. They didn’t have a future, just the here and the now.

But there was something else...

He needed her—well...er...her help. He couldn’t do this wedding pitch alone. The admission twisted his gut in a knot. He was not a man accustomed to reaching out to others.

He made a point of being the man handing out assignments, making suggestions and overseeing operations. He was never at a loss for how to accomplish things—especially an advertising pitch. This was supposed to be his area of expertise—his specialty.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he come up with a solid pitch? And what was Kayla going to think of him when he made this request? Would she think less of him?

Wanting to get it over with, he uttered, “I need your assistance.”

“What?” Her brow creased. “Of course I’ll help you. That’s what I’m here for.” She took a seat on the couch. “What do you need?”

His gaze met hers briefly, and then he glanced away. “I...I’m having issues with this pitch. Weddings and romance aren’t my thing.” That much was the truth. He avoided weddings like the plague—he always had a prior business engagement. “I thought maybe you’d have some experience with them.”

“Well, um...I have a bit of experience.” Her cheeks took on a pasty shade of white.

“You don’t look so good. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“You don’t have to wait on me. I can get it.”

She started to get up when he pressed a hand to her shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

He retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and poured it in a glass for her. This was his fault. He’d had her gallivanting all around Monte Calanetti in the sun. She must have worn herself out.

He moved to her side and handed over the water. “Can I get you anything else?”

She shook her head. “Thanks. This is fine.”

He sat down beside her as she sipped at the water. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard in the village. I should have brought you back here sooner—”

“No, that’s not it. The visit was perfect. I wouldn’t have changed anything about it.” She sent him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I don’t believe you. There’s something bothering you.” He stopped and thought about it. “And it started when I mentioned the wedding pitch. Do you feel that I’m expecting too much of you?”

“That’s not it.” She placed a hand on his knee. The warmth of her touch could be felt through his jeans. “I’m just a bit tired.”