Italian Boss, Ruthless Revenge

But it was only Lazzaro!

Bloody hell! Caitlyn thought, ducking from under the light and hoping the shadows would hide her blush as she busied herself with her briefcase. Couldn’t he at least put some clothes on?

Dressed only in trousers, the button not even done up, damp from the shower, patting his freshly shaven jaw with a towel, the usually immaculate Lazzaro was unusually untogether—and, though not the one she’d dreaded facing, he was certainly a ravishing, exotic beauty. The swarthy olive skin that so far Caitlyn had only witnessed from the collar up or the cuffs down was blissfully exposed now…

‘I’m running late…’ Damp jet hair flopped over his forehead, and the musky tang of freshly applied aftershave mingling with damp skin almost asphyxiated her as he brushed past—only it wasn’t the scent that was causing her throat to tighten, trapping her breath in her lungs, it was the man wearing it. ‘Coffee?’

A simple question—a needless one, almost, as caffeine was the one thing that had got her through the previous week. But though Caitlyn had shared more coffees with him than she could count it seemed different somehow—here in his home—with Lazzaro making it.

‘Coffee?’ He frowned at her muteness, at her hesitant blushing nod, then turned his back—which didn’t help matters much. She could feel her nails digging into her palms as he stretched up and opened the cupboard above him, the simple movement allowing a teasing glimpse of muscle definition. She really wished he’d put some damn clothes on—wished normal services could be resumed. Because with Lazzaro semi-naked in the kitchen, her thought processes scattered like leaves in the wind, and she could only hope he didn’t pull out three cups—that Lazzaro’s visitor wasn’t going to be joining them or, worse, that Lazzaro wasn’t going to take her a drink.

Lucky the woman who woke to him…

The leaves caught in a gust, her thoughts fluttered skywards. She was picturing the heaven of that usually inscrutable face smiling down at her with tenderness upon waking, then feeling that surly mouth awakening her with a lazy kiss.

‘Here…’ Unlike hers, his hand was completely steady as he handed her a coffee, as he served her a front-row, best seat view of his chest, and she actually couldn’t take it from him—just couldn’t. She just sat on a kitchen stool and swallowed as he leant over her just a little bit and placed it on the bench behind her, treating her to a generous glimpse of his underarm hair as he stretched. She’d read somewhere that women shouldn’t shave there, that underarm hair was just loaded with lusty fragrances that would dizzy your lover if only you dared. Whoever had written it must have been right because, whether Lazzaro was fresh out of the shower or not, something animal was happening—her head was spinning as the air between them seemed to still. His nipple was in her face, and she wanted to lick it. Torrid, unfamiliar thoughts were pinging in—intimate thoughts. This was their morning. She glimpsed her dreams and elaborated them a touch. This was what it could be like each and every morning…

God, but she was gorgeous. A bag of nerves, perhaps, but utterly, utterly gorgeous.

The last week had been difficult in the extreme—with Lazzaro waiting for her to make a mistake, waiting for her to slip up, to show her true colours. Only to date all she had been was a breath of fresh air…clipping in and out of his office with her wide smile, charming his colleagues and the boss to boot! There was no question she was capable of the role—would, in fact, be extremely capable once she’d mastered a few more of the basics.

Sometimes he actually forgot for a moment just who she was…

At moments like this one he actually forgot that she was Roxanne’s cousin. Lazzaro could see her hands in her lap, her knees bobbing up and down, and he wanted to still them—wanted to trap her legs with his thighs, wanted to take that mouth with his and taste it. Why couldn’t he have felt like that last night? Listening to Mandy—or was it Mindy?—droning on and on. As beautiful as she was, he hadn’t even been bothered enough to shut her up with a kiss, hadn’t even felt a stirring—which for Lazzaro had proved extremely worrying. Rising to any occasion had never, ever been an issue—only it would have been last night. Which was why he’d had his driver take Mandy home—why, after a quick drink, he’d pleaded exhaustion.