A Sicilian Husband

‘What part of Italy are you from?’ she asked impulsively.

‘I am a Sicilian. My home is in Palermo.’

It fitted. Italy would have given him the smooth sophistication that he wore with the sleek ease of an elegant cat. And Sicily had added the dangerous, untamed streak that burned in the tawny eyes, the curl of his mouth. Knowing he came from Sicily was like opening the door to the family pet cat, only to find that in its place a dark, dangerous, predatory jaguar had prowled into the room.

‘I’d love to visit Sicily! I’ve never been further abroad than a weekend trip to Bruges, and I’d really like to travel more.’

‘Well, perhaps now that you’ve decided to “chuck the job in” you’ll get the chance to do just that.’

At first Terrie thought that it was just the way that the slang phrase sounded strange on his tongue that made her pause, considering it thoughtfully. But next moment came the stunning realisation that he was quoting her own words directly, making her head whirl in shock.

‘Chuck the—you heard that! You were listening!’

‘You weren’t exactly quiet. I wasn’t aware that what you were saying was a state secret. If you hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear then you should have kept your voice lower.’

Was she really trying to pretend that she hadn’t meant him to ‘overhear’? After that openly interested look, the way that she had announced that she was bored and looking for some fun was a deliberate come-on if ever he’d heard one. It was too late for her to back down now.

And, if the truth was told, he would be disappointed if she did. He had no time for games, for the two steps forward, one step back dance of seduction. For the flirtatious pretence of needing to be wooed in order to be won. He knew what he wanted out of this—and, he was sure, so did she. So why were they playing around?

‘Have dinner with me.’

‘What?’

The question came so sharply, so unexpectedly that it caught Terrie totally off guard. It also caught her mid-swallow of another sip of wine and she had to close her mouth hurriedly and gulp it down hard so as not to choke.

‘What did you say?’ she asked, lavender eyes opening wide in apparent shock.

Was this not what she wanted, then? Of course it was, so why did she look so startled, as if the invitation was a total surprise? Or was it that he had acted too fast, cut through some of the expected moves, the polite chat, the ‘getting to know you’ that she had been anticipating?

Hadn’t she expected him to be quite so forthright?

Well, he wasn’t in the mood for observing convention, even if waiting increased the pleasure for her.

‘Have dinner with me. Oh, come on, mia bella! Don’t look so shocked! It’s not as if I’ve asked you to come to bed with me right here and now. It’s only dinner.’

Only dinner! Terrie’s head was spinning with the suddenness and the shock of it all. It was only—what?—less than half an hour since she had first spotted this man on the opposite side of the room. No more than twenty minutes since he had caught her eye and given her the most furiously off-putting glare it had ever been her misfortune to encounter. Then he had sneaked up on her, frightened her into dropping her glass, and now…

‘You want me to have dinner with you?’

‘And is that so hard to understand?’

The beautiful voice had developed a hard edge that reminded her unnervingly of the glare he had turned on her earlier.

‘I know English is not my first language, but I would have thought…’

‘Your English is perfect and you damn well know it! But after the look you gave me a while ago—when you were sitting over there…’ Terrie waved a hand in the direction of the Sicilian’s previous seat. ‘I would have thought that you couldn’t wait to see the back of me.’

‘Ah, that…’

Gio had the grace to look a little shamefaced. The sensual shape of his mouth twisted slightly as he swirled the last drops of his wine round and round in the bottom of his glass.

‘That wasn’t meant for you,’ he murmured, his attention apparently fixed on the rich red liquid. ‘I was angry with someone else—someone I had expected to meet.’

‘Another woman?’

Of course. It figured. He had been stood up and now he wanted to fill the unexpectedly empty hours with someone else.

‘Well, you certainly know how to make a girl feel second best.’

‘Come?’

Those heavy lids flew up, stunning eyes fixing on her face, his confusion apparently genuine.

‘No—you have it totally wrong. The man I was supposed to meet was someone I work with—it was a business meeting. He rang a short time ago to say that he couldn’t make it.’

‘So you’re all on your own?’

She tried to make it sound grudging, as if she was not fully mollified, but only succeeded in coming across as making a hasty reassessment and coming close to conceding.

‘All on my own—a stranger lost in London… You don’t believe me?’

Her expression had given her away.

‘You’re no more lost than I am! Less, in fact. You look more at home here than I do. In fact I’d be willing to bet that you know your way around London as well as you do Palermo.’

‘I’ll concede you that.’

The admission was accompanied by another of those smiles that had the force of a thousand-watt electrical charge, the effect of it sizzling straight through every single nerve in her body and making her toes curl in instant reaction inside her elegant court shoes.

‘But I am still on my own. And I’m hungry. And I would prefer to have company while I eat rather than spend the rest of the evening alone. I have a table booked for two. It would seem a waste not to use it, when you are looking for company too.’

Something about that ‘looking for company’ snagged on a raw edge in Terrie’s mind, making her hesitate sharply. But even as she was rethinking hastily he leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes, fixing her with the hypnotic force of his deep, dark gaze.

‘Per piacere,’ he said softly, huskily. ‘Please have dinner with me.’

She should say that she was having dinner with her friends—with the rest of the conference. She was going to say exactly that. She actually opened her mouth to form the words, only to hear herself say exactly the opposite.

‘Yes,’ she managed a touch breathlessly. ‘Thank you.’

If he had put one foot wrong in his reaction… If he had so much as looked in the least bit self-satisfied or triumphant, then she would have retracted immediately. She would have rushed to her feet, told him that no, she’d changed her mind, she was already booked for this evening. She would have rejoined Claire and Anna and eaten the buffet meal that came as part of the conference package. And, although she would have probably always regretted not accepting his invitation, she would have told herself that it was safer this way—that she wasn’t putting herself at any sort of risk.

But Giovanni Cardella did nothing of the sort.

Instead he simply reached out one long, elegant hand. The bronzed fingers touched hers where they lay on the polished wood table-top, rested lightly, warmly, briefly—just for a moment—and then lifted and moved to pick up his glass once again.

‘Thank you,’ he said, lifting it to his lips and draining the last of his wine. ‘Shall we go through to the restaurant?’

And as she nodded silently Terrie admitted to herself that it had been the brevity of that touch that had been her undoing. Delicate and swift, it had been like the feel of a butterfly alighting and then flying away again. And it had left her feeling lost and unsatisfied. It had just been enough to awaken those electric feelings that had fizzed over her skin. Awaken them and then leave them—and she wanted more. Much, much more.