‘Not currently.’
His black brows lifted. ‘Why not?’
She swirled the wine in her glass, then sipped, welcoming its rich mellowness on her dry lips, aware of his glance drifting to her mouth. ‘Is there ever an answer to that question?’ She lowered her lashes, then looked up again, directly at him. ‘What about you? Is there a woman?’
He shook his head. ‘No woman in particular.’
‘But-you had a woman,’ she said silkily. ‘Your wife.’
He frowned down at the table. ‘For a very short time. That was-a mistake. We married each other for-reasons we shouldn’t have.’ He looked grim all of a sudden, and she felt a little flare of anger. The thought came to her, not for the first time, that he should never have married that woman. He’d belonged to her.
‘You must have already known her when you were here before,’ she said lightly. ‘With me.’
He gave a shrug. ‘Since childhood.’
She felt a sort of helplessness, imagining their intimacy, the shared experiences of long acquaintance. How could she ever have competed with that?
‘Did you tell her about-me?’
He met her gaze steadily. ‘Everything.’
‘And she still went ahead with the wedding?’
His eyelids flicked down, and she thought suddenly she would never understand. Never be able to guess how aristocratic Venetians and their wealthy connections thought about such things as love and marriage, and little flings on the side.
It cost her some pride, but she had to ask. ‘Did you love her?’
He scanned her face, his dark eyes glinting. ‘Whatever I say to that you will hold against me, one way or another.’
‘Then you did.’ She smiled, though it scraped her heart.
‘I’m beginning to feel flattered. What do you care?’
‘I don’t care,’ she said fiercely, her voice shaking all at once. She set down her glass with a snap.
Unexpectedly, he leaned over, tilted up her face and took her lips in a hot, hungry little kiss. The contact with his sensuous mouth was electrifying. While her mind reeled in shock, her parched lips responded to the delicious friction like the desert earth drinking in the rain. As he intensified the connection, gripping her with one lean hand on her ribs, fiery tingles set her mouth alight, and a hot, sweet, overwhelming rush of desire whooshed straight to her nipples.
She should have resisted, but he slipped his tongue inside her mouth with the clever old artistry, tangling it with hers and igniting the tender tissues inside. As his hot breath mingled with hers she could have swooned with all the fantastic sensations, not least being the inflammatory effects on her erotic imagination.
While the masculine taste and scent of him flooded her starved senses, her breasts warmed and strained against the fabric of her bra, all her erogenous zones bursting into vibrant, throbbing life.
Just when she was ready to climb on his lap, wrap herself around him and make the leap to the next steamy level, a background noise impinged on her ears, and, as if suddenly mindful of the place, Alessandro released her and they jolted apart.
Barely awake to the real world, she glanced about, but to her relief no one was in direct view, other drinkers having long vacated the bar, and the bartender/waiter busy in the restaurant. Hot, flushed and aroused, she turned a reproving glance on Alessandro, and felt scorched by the desire in his wolfish gaze.
Oh, God. Her racing heart started to thunder a warning. It was happening again. The most dangerously seductive man on the planet, and here he was, sweeping her along again, hypnotising her until her brain cells spun into cotton candy and her responsibilities all floated out the window.
Overloading her senses. Fogging her brain.
Wasn’t this the same pattern, unfolding just as it had before?
A conversation. A pleasant walk. Those first light touches-the casual brushing of shoulders, hand to cheek, hand to hand. A soft stroke of her hair.
That first tender kiss.
Then the deeper kisses. The hotter, more passionate kisses. The wild, hungry, desperate kisses with the insane, thirsty cravings for skin contact…
The hotel room…Oh, God, the hotel room.
And then the obsession.
And this time, this time, he’d omitted some steps to jump straight in at hot and sexy. Except this time she had more than just herself to think about and she really did need to resist.
So how? With all she had to lose, how could she have allowed herself to succumb to his first move so easily?
She needed to be strong. Cool, tough and in control. Show him she wasn’t affected by his ploy, masterful though it had been.
She marvelled at the breathtaking ease with which he’d managed to transform the mood of the strained afternoon meeting from hostility to lust. And she’d plunged right in.
In an attempt to minimise her compliance, she fought to calm her breathing and gain control of her voice. With her blood still pulsing through her like a rapid river, she forced some brain cells to reassemble, and managed a croaky, ‘Look, Alessandro, what are you doing? Do you think you can just take up where you left off? I have a different life now, I’m a different person. You’re only here for a few days, and there is something I need to-’
His eyes darkened. He took her hands and it was like connecting to the power grid.
‘You taste the same.’
The warm, smooth grasp, the piercing, sensual gleam in his eyes played on her desire and weakened her resolve, but it was too confusing, arousing, and there was her pride. Only minutes before he’d been talking about his wife. And she couldn’t afford to take any more risks with her heart, not with Vivi to consider.
Vivi. She snatched her hands back.
‘Forget about my-taste’ She nearly gasped the word. ‘There’s something important I need to tell you.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And I can’t be late home. Mum’s working tonight.’
‘Work? At this hour?’
‘She’s a midwife. This week her shifts start at eleven. She likes to-’ She waved her hand impatiently. ‘Forget about that.’
Encountering sensual amusement in his dark eyes, she had the nervous realisation that she was about to deliver him a jolt that would wipe away his insouciance. He politely elevated his brows.
Despite her anxiety a false calm came over her, courtesy of a massive surge of adrenaline. She could do this. She had to, for Vivi’s sake.
Straightening her spine, she said in a steady voice, ‘As it happens, I have a child.’
Her quiet words seared the air like nuclear fission.
Alessandro grew very still, though something stirred in the dark depths of his eyes. The silence stretched. ‘Is that so? A child?’ He lowered his lashes, and when he glanced up again, his gaze had sharpened to a cool, wary probe. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t mention it sooner.’
All her muscles were tense. ‘I know. I would have, but, as I said, I found it impossible to contact you.’
Somehow his lean, powerful frame grew even more still, as though carved in ice. Then he blinked, echoing, ‘To contact me.’
She gazed wordlessly at him, her pulse drumming in her ears, and saw comprehension flood his eyes.
He closed them in disbelief. ‘Sacramento.’ He held up a hand as if to hold her at bay. ‘How-old is this child?’
‘Five.’
‘What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me it is-my child?’ The long, idle fingers on his glass tightened convulsively.
She met his gaze squarely. ‘Yes, Alessandro. She is.’
Alessandro felt a numb sensation in his chest. He searched her blue eyes for signs of faltering from her assertion, but they were steady and unwavering. A darker, more shadowy blue, perhaps. Troubled, even. But honest, true and definite.