In the Italian's Sights (12 page)

Taken aback, she spoke without thinking. ‘I wasn’t thinking of Liam. Not specifically.’

‘Liam.’ A hardness came into his voice. ‘I do not like this name.’

It was such a ridiculous thing to say she found herself smiling. ‘In spite of what you think, I
am
actually over him,’ she said firmly. ‘It was a salutary lesson in being foolish enough to place one’s trust in a man if nothing else.’

Vittorio finished the last of the wine in his glass before speaking. ‘And this is the woman who took me to task for my observations of the female sex yesterday?’ he said silkily. ‘Such hypocrisy.’

‘Not at all.’ Hell, she’d walked into that one. ‘You were saying women are driven by a man’s wealth first and foremost and marry for money, and that’s just not true.’

‘Forgive me if I misunderstood,’ he went on, in the same tone as before, ‘but did you not just condemn men as being intrinsically undependable and untrustworthy? Speaking purely for myself, I think it is fair to say you have a limited knowledge of me, and I fail to see how you can make an accurate observation of my character—not to mention all the millions of men out there you have not met.’ Black eyebrows rose mockingly. ‘Is this not true?’

‘Oh…’ She was furious with him for catching her out so expertly, and knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on in this particular altercation. ‘You don’t understand what I meant.’

‘No?’ His smile died. ‘But I do know this man let you down in some way, and I would like to know what happened,’ he said with utter seriousness.

Something in his voice—a tenderness, maybe?—caught her unawares and changed the nature of the conversation.

‘If you can bring yourself to talk about it, that is.’

‘I told you. I’m over him,’ she repeated quietly.

‘But there is still sadness and even disillusionment. Your own words prove this.’

Cherry shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal how easily Angela had enticed Liam into her clutches. There was an ignominiousness to it all that still smarted. But perhaps it would be easier to tell Vittorio if she was going to be around for a few weeks? If nothing else, it would convince him she had no intention of going from the frying pan into the fire and that any kind of dalliance with him was out of the question.

She kept her eyes on the dazzling white wall of the house opposite them across the cobbled road, the blazing sunlight turning its window boxes of brilliant red geraniums so bright the contrast was unreal, and began to speak. She told him it all. It seemed pointless not to. And it didn’t take very long. When she’d finished she still didn’t look at Vittorio straight away, reaching for her glass and taking a long sip of her wine before she raised her eyes to his. They were waiting for her.

‘I have known women like your sister,’ he said softly. ‘Just one or two. Predatory females who are never satisfied with what they have. I have the feeling Liam has got exactly what he deserves. She will make his life hell. You know this?’

Cherry nodded. Yes, she knew it. She had seen it happen before. But the strange thing was the men concerned still wanted Angela no matter what she did. It was as though she injected a love drug into their system and they
were addicted from the first kiss. To her knowledge, not one of Angela’s conquests had ever thrown her over. It was always the other way round.

‘These people are shallow and without foundation,’ Vittorio went on. ‘Unable to feel deep emotion and incapable of contentment. Every generation breeds a few of both sexes and it is your misfortune to have one as your sister. They make everyone they come into contact with miserable eventually. It can be no other way. But her power will be defused when you show her you know what she is and that she cannot hurt you or influence you.’

‘But she can hurt me,’ Cherry pointed out. ‘She has. Often.’

‘Only because you let her,’ he said, very gently. ‘And Liam was not the man for you or he would have been immune to her wiles. Love can cut through the power these people exert like a knife through warm butter.’

It was all very well for him to say that. He didn’t know Angela or her mother, and he hadn’t grown up in Angela’s shadow like she had. The very concept was inconceivable to him.

‘Your mother? She is not a happy woman?’ Vittorio asked perceptively.

Cherry thought about it and realised with a little jolt of surprise that her mother was far from happy. ‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Because all the time she is trying to reconcile what she wants her daughter to be and what she knows deep in her heart she is. No doubt your sister plays your mother’s heart like a violin. As I said, these people cause everyone who is close to them to suffer in one way or another.’

Cherry drank the last of her wine just as the waiter appeared with the two espressos Vittorio had ordered.

Once they were alone again, Vittorio looked at her with a small smile playing round his lips. ‘Wondering how I know so much about such people,
mia piccola
?’

His question so accurately reflected what she was thinking that she suppressed a nod of agreement.

‘It is because I had a lucky escape from one such woman a long time ago,’ he said softly, without waiting for her to speak. ‘For a short while I thought my heart was broken. It was not, of course. And then events transpired which caused me to reflect that a tongue that carries the sweetness of nectar can be a fatal trap to the unsuspecting bee, rather than a source of life and joy—especially when that tongue is in a beautiful face with an enchanting body to accompany it.’

Was he talking about this Caterina Sophia had mentioned? The woman he’d been about to marry when his parents were killed and who’d then married one of his friends? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. Instead she sipped her espresso before she said lightly—in a deliberate attempt to break what had become a disturbingly intimate atmosphere—‘So now you go from flower to flower and never linger too long?’

He didn’t join in her casualness. ‘Not exactly.’

He didn’t elaborate, and she felt like a child who’d spoken out of turn. She wondered how it was that this man always seemed to put her in the wrong even when she was right.

The stubbornly immovable custom of the siesta was drawing near, and in the next moment or two the waiter appeared with their bill. They left the little
trattoria
and made their way back to the Range Rover, and this time Vittorio did not take her hand. Cherry wondered why she
felt bereft and told herself not to be so stupid, at the same time berating herself for agreeing to stay at the Carella villa. She’d made some bad decisions in her life but this had to be the worst.

Once in the vehicle, Vittorio turned to her. ‘I have not met your sister,
mia piccola
, but of one thing I am sure. She does not have the beauty of her sibling. You are beautiful, whatever you think to the contrary.’ He leaned forward, tipping her chin up with his forefinger and kissing her lightly, trailing his lips across hers before settling himself into his seat and starting the engine.

Cherry couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to. She closed her eyes for a moment as they got underway, willing herself to keep still and pretend nothing had happened. She didn’t want to be attracted to this dark, volatile stranger who curiously didn’t feel a stranger; she couldn’t let herself go down that route. He lived in one world and she in another; they were different in every way. He had a magnetism that would draw women from puberty to old age. She—well, she was Cherry Gibbs from England, unremarkable, conventional, no great shakes. That was reality. That was fact. Even if they began something—her stomach did a cartwheel—she would be a ship that passed in the night as far as he was concerned. Whereas for her…

‘You are very quiet.’ He glanced swiftly at her before returning his gaze to the road ahead.

Cherry mustered all her will-power to lie convincingly. ‘I was thinking about Sophia. I hope she’s feeling better.’

‘Sophia will be fine.’ He dismissed his sister with a coolness that told Cherry he hadn’t forgiven Sophia yet. Something his next words confirmed. ‘She has got what
she wanted, after all. To be Santo’s wife. Never mind the
furore
her determination has caused.’

‘That’s a bit hard,’ Cherry protested.

‘No. It is facing the truth. The Carella strength of mind in action—always getting what it wants.’

‘
You’re
a Carella,’ she pointed out, knowing he was right and that Sophia had been determined to have Santo all along. ‘Do you always get what you want?’

He smiled—a smile as predatory as the women he’d spoken of a few minutes before. ‘Always,’ he said softly, slanting a glance at her that—although mockingly teasing—was interested to see her reaction.

‘So it’s OK for you, but not for Sophia because she’s a woman?’ Cherry said, with more acidity than she was actually feeling. If what she’d read in his eyes was right then Vittorio Carella wanted
her
, impossible though it seemed for a man who could have any woman he desired with a click of his fingers. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t fallen at his feet in humble adoration that he was interested? she asked herself in the next moment. All those hopeful daughters of predacious Italian mammas had probably been schooled to worship the ground he walked on, and the sophisticated female socialites his wealth would bring him into contact with would have no qualms about stroking his male ego—among other things. She blushed hotly as though she’d spoken the last thought out loud.

‘It is OK for me because I am a grown man who can control his emotions and bring sense and reason into any situation,’ Vittorio stated with unshakable arrogance. ‘Sophia, as yet, cannot. She is capable of acting like a spoilt child on occasion.’

‘So you never let your heart rule your head?’ she said crisply. ‘I find that very sad.’

Vittorio pulled off the road into a square they were passing which was deserted in the hot afternoon sun now the siesta had begun, apart from the odd pigeon pecking around. Without a word he cut the engine and moved to take her into his arms, pulling her into him as he took her lips in a scorching kiss. Like the time at the pool the day before she didn’t even think about objecting, instead savouring his closeness, drinking in his elusive unique scent—a combination of freshly laundered clothes, the clean shampoo fragrance of his hair and the delicious aftershave he wore. His body was strong and solid, as intoxicating as the powerful aura of masculinity that surrounded him, and his body heat enveloped her so it felt as though they were the only people in the world.

As the kiss deepened her mouth opened willingly under his, her arms slipping up and around his shoulders. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she ran her fingers through the crisp dark hair at the base of his head and knew he was aroused. The knowledge ignited a desire more powerful than anything she’d felt before.

How long the kiss lasted she had no idea. The flames of hot pleasure were taking over time and reality and her nerve-endings were sensitised to screaming point. His hands were stroking her body, and although she knew she should stop this, her need of him was stronger than her will-power, stronger than reason.

It was the car horn blaring as Vittorio shifted position that broke the spell. He swore, softly and fluently, in his native tongue, before muttering, ‘This is ridiculous. I have not made love to a girl in a car since I was sixteen and borrowed my father’s Ferrari for the purpose.
It was uncomfortable then and it’s uncomfortable now.’ He eyed her wryly. ‘This is what comes of letting one’s heart rule one’s head,
mia piccola
.’

Cherry stared at him, struggling to bring her whirling brain to order so she could match his cool amusement but it was beyond her. Necking in a car! She could just hear her mother’s voice.

Vittorio settled back in his own seat before taking her hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed the fleshy mound at the base of her palm, then let the tip of his tongue caress the delicate, sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.

She shivered. She couldn’t help it. But common sense was paramount as she tugged her fingers from his. ‘Don’t. Please don’t. I meant what I said yesterday. I’m not looking for a holiday romance.’

‘I am aware of that,’ Vittorio said softly, ‘but one kiss is not a romance,
mia piccola
.’

Well, that had told her, Cherry thought, with a stab of piercing hurt. Say it as it is, Vittorio, by all means.

Before she could say anything, he added, with shocking honesty, ‘That is not to say I do not want you in my bed, Cherry. I do. Very much. But even if you had not spelled it out for me I would have known you are not the type of woman who indulges in casual relationships.’

Why? Because she wasn’t beautiful enough? her poor self-esteem asked immediately. He thought she didn’t get many offers?

‘Some women can handle such intimacy and move on with no regrets when it is over. But you are not like that. This is why you have been fighting the sexual attraction between us which was there from that first moment on the road yesterday. You know this, as do I. It is useless to pretend.’

The presumption was beyond belief. It was also true, Cherry admitted silently, but she would rather walk barefoot on burning coals than admit it. ‘Actually, and I know this is going to come as a terrible shock,’ she said testily, ‘not every woman in the world would kill for your body.’

He smiled. The wretch
smiled
. And, from wanting him so badly she had been oblivious to anything but what his hands and mouth were doing to her, Cherry now wanted to kick him.

‘I’m fully aware of that,’ Vittorio drawled silkily, ‘but
you
want me, Cherry.’

In view of how she had just responded to him it was foolish to deny it, but she did so anyway. ‘In your dreams.’

To her utter chagrin, his smile widened. ‘I had you in my dreams last night,
mia piccola
, and although pleasant it is not like the real thing,
si
? But,’ he continued, his face settling into an expression of wide-eyed innocence—if a man like Vittorio could ever look innocent—‘you are here to help Sophia. I know this. And taking you into my bed would complicate matters for sure. Added to which, I can see you are not ready for such a step yet. Whether because of this Liam—’ the name was said with utter contempt ‘—or because you need to get to know me better first, it does not matter. Suffice to say I understand we need to take it slowly.’