The Italian's One-Night Baby

Rio Benedetti angled his handsome dark head back, his dazzling dark golden eyes veiled by his ridiculously long black lashes. He had blue-black hair that he wore cropped short but the strands still revealed a striking tendency to curl, which gave him a tousled, sexy aspect. He had beautiful eyes, a lean straight nose and bone structure that belonged in an oil painting of a dark angel. He smiled back at her in complete silence.

That fast, Ellie wanted to slap Rio all over again and tell him what she thought of him even though she had already done that two years earlier. He was gorgeous and he knew it, a hanging offence in her list of the attributes of a decent man. In reality she had never met such a stunningly good-looking male as Rio and when she had, she had caved as fast as a brick shed built on sand foundations, she recalled with an inner shudder of revulsion.

Why? she still asked herself occasionally, because that kind of impulsive recklessness was not Ellie, not her way with men, not her style, nor even how she was prepared to behave. Unfortunately she hadn’t counted on meeting a Rio Benedetti blessed with such extreme magnetism, intelligence and charm. At least that was how she had excused herself for having very nearly succumbed to a one-night stand that had no prospect of any future but she was still ashamed of her misjudgement, still unable to forget that awful moment when that hotel bedroom door opened and she saw what was already waiting on his bed for him…

Rio didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want to fake it, he wanted to glower at her, and he hadn’t planned to sit down either. No, standing over her, intimidating her with his much greater height had been his intention. But then he had seen her and all bets were suddenly off. Watching the tip of that little pink tongue chase stray flakes of pastry from her full pink lips had been more than his libido could bear. And his libido rode him like a runaway express train around Ellie Dixon, his arousal enforcing the necessity of sitting down to conceal his condition. What was he? An uncontrollably horny fifteen-year-old again? Dark colour lined his hard cheekbones. Regardless of the fact that he disliked and distrusted Ellie, she was a real beauty with skin as translucent as creamy porcelain, luminous eyes as green as any emerald and a wealth of tumbling Titian curls. Although smaller than average height, she had stupendous sexy curves matched with a tiny waist. Her proportions were truly breathtaking.

Rio had been sexually entranced with Ellie Dixon from the instant he’d laid eyes on her and when he had been rejected for the first time in his adult life the bite of that experience had stayed with him. Ellie had returned to his hotel with him the night of her sister’s wedding but, on the very brink of intimacy, it had all gone wrong. In departing, Ellie had slapped him and insulted him. Rio gritted his teeth at the recollection of that experience. Far too many people had treated Rio with contempt when he was younger for him to easily overlook that kind of slur.

‘What do you think I’m doing here?’ Rio enquired smoothly, turning her own question back on her.

Ellie shrugged a shoulder and concentrated on her cappuccino. She didn’t even want to speak to him but could she be that rude? After all, he was her brother-in-law’s best friend and she liked Polly’s husband. ‘Did Rashad tell you I was going to be here and ask you to check up on me?’ she asked abruptly, thinking that that was just the sort of protective thing Rashad would do, believing that he was doing her a favour when she was staying in an unfamiliar place.

‘No. I don’t think Rashad knows you’re in Italy,’ Rio admitted.

‘So, I don’t need to be polite, then,’ Ellie assumed with satisfaction, reaching out for another pastry.

A sizzling smile slashed Rio’s wide, sensual mouth. ‘No, neither of us need be polite.’

That smile of his engulfed Ellie like a blast of sun on a wintry day and she wanted to turn into it and smile back in reward. Suppressing that reaction took the exercising of several seconds of strained self-control. But Rio had still won in one sense because although she didn’t return the smile her whole body was reacting to him in the most unnerving manner. Her teeth gritted as she recognised the stinging tightness of her nipples and the warm liquid feeling between her thighs. He could tempt her wretched hormones with just a glance and she hated him for having that much power over her treacherous body. Had she no pride? And after what he had done to her, had he not a single honourable streak in his character?

‘So, if we don’t need to be polite…’ Ellie hesitated only for a second before giving him a very honest response. ‘Go away, Rio.’

A very faint stab of bewilderment penetrated Rio’s sharp-as-a-tack brain. He had decided in the absence of any other evidence that Ellie had most probably dreamt up some vague link between her late mother and his godfather purely to gain fresh access to him. And either she was now playing ridiculously hard to get in the hope of stoking his interest…or, he was actually nothing whatsoever to do with her reasons for visiting Tuscany.

‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ Rio asserted, his sculpted lips compressing as his coffee arrived along with the hotel owner, who lingered to exchange greetings both with Rio and Ellie.

‘I don’t believe in coincidences either,’ Ellie told Rio with a freezing smile once they were alone again. ‘I mean, it was bad enough meeting you at Polly’s wedding…but this—this is overkill of the worst kind—’

‘Is it really?’ Rio was fearful of getting frostbite from that smile, marvelling that Ellie could dare to t

reat him with such disdain, and his strong and aggressive jawline clenched hard.

‘Yes, I do appreciate that this is your home country but I can’t believe we’re running into each other again…accidentally,’ she admitted.

‘And you would be correct. My presence here is no accident,’ Rio confirmed softly as he sipped his espresso, contriving to look relaxed.

But Ellie knew he wasn’t relaxed. Rio had certain tells. She had picked up on them at Polly’s wedding. His eyes were veiled, his jawline tight, his fingers too braced round the tiny cup he held. Rio was tense, very tense, and she wondered why and then she wondered why she would even care. He was the man whore she had almost slept with, and she was very grateful that she had found him out for what he was before she shared a bed with him. Having carefully ensured that she’d never visited Dharia when he was also visiting, there was no reason for her to waste further words or time on him.

‘So, why are you calling on me? And how did you know where I was staying?’

‘I want to know what you’re doing here in Tuscany,’ Rio informed her flatly without answering her questions.

‘I’m on holiday,’ Ellie told him with a roll of her fine eyes.

‘I don’t think that is the complete truth, Ellie,’ Rio scoffed with a sardonic smile.

‘Well, it’s the only truth you’re likely to get out of me,’ Ellie responded as she stood up, her fine-boned features stiff with restraint and annoyance. ‘It’s not as though we’re friends.’

Rio sprang upright with fluid grace. At her sister’s wedding, his grace of movement had been one of the first things she’d noticed about him: he stalked like an animal on the hunt, all power and strength and purpose. ‘Would you like to be friends?’ he asked lethally.

Ellie stiffened where she stood, quick to pick up on the husky erotic note edging his enquiry. ‘No. I’m very choosy about the men I call friends,’ she declared with deliberate cool, not caring whether Rio assumed that she meant friends with benefits or not.

Heat flared like a storm warning in Rio’s dark golden eyes. ‘You chose me in Dharia,’ he reminded her with satisfaction.

Ellie’s hand tingled as she remembered slapping him hard that night. It occurred to her that a fist would have been better and less forgettable on his terms. She was outraged that he could remind her of that night when in her opinion, had he had any morals at all, he should’ve been thoroughly ashamed of how their short-lived flirtation had ended. But then Rio Benedetti was a shameless sort of guy, arrogant and selfish and promiscuous. That he should also be as hot as hellfire enraged her sense of justice.

‘But I wouldn’t touch you even with gloves on now,’ Ellie traded without skipping a beat and, turning on her heel, she walked back into the hotel.