A Sicilian Husband

‘Oh, no. Not at all! Prince Charming wasn’t transformed into anything. He stayed a prince all the way through.’

‘And is that how you see me?’ His tone was casual enough but there was an unexpected light in his eyes, one that made every tiny hair on the back of her neck suddenly lift in nervous apprehension. ‘Am I truly Prince Charming?’

Was he? Was he really the person he seemed? The delightful, easy-going dinner companion, the man who was politeness personified. Who had told her to order whatever she wanted from the menu, who made sure that her every need was attended to—her meal served, her glass filled, her plate cleared, even before she had realised that she wanted anything herself. Was this the real Giovanni Cardella or was there another side to him? What about the man who appeared in court?

‘You certainly can be charming when you choose,’ she said carefully.

‘Choose?’

‘Well—I get the feeling that you’ve deliberately set out to be this way. That you mean to be nice to me. That you—’

‘And why would I not?’ Gio cut in with a touch of sharpness. ‘You are a woman—and a beautiful one at that. Wouldn’t any man want to treat you like this? Wouldn’t any sane male want to “charm” you, to please you? To see you smile?’

‘I have to admit that it’s not exactly what I’m used to,’ Terrie murmured, totally thrown off balance by that softly emphasised ‘beautiful’. ‘The men that I’ve dated haven’t had your…flair—your skill—at this. Or the money to bring me here, for that matter.’

‘And the money is important?’

Gio recognised his mistake as soon as the words were out. Those soft grey eyes flew to his face, narrowing sharply as she caught the note of cynicism in his voice. So the lady didn’t want the truth being stated too openly? Well, he could go along with that. Part of his attraction for her might be that he obviously had the wealth to give her a good time, but she clearly preferred to pretend that it went deeper than that.

‘I’m not—’ Terrie began indignantly.

‘You’re the one who described yourself as Cinderella at the ball,’ Gio pointed out with calm reasonableness. ‘I got the impression that you weren’t used to being in a place like this. Was I wrong?’

‘Well—no…’ Terrie was forced to admit. ‘I don’t normally end up in posh restaurants—or hotels for that matter. It’s only because I was at this conference and the company’s paying that I’m here at all.’

‘The company that you have now decided you no longer want to work for?’

‘The same.’ Terrie nodded, her expression rueful. ‘So I expect that this will be my one and only taste of such luxury for a long, long time. I can’t expect fairy godfathers to come along every day of the week, can I?’

She looked deep into his eyes as she spoke, her lavender-coloured gaze wide and intent above the soft, full mouth. Watching her, Gio felt desire give him such a hard, demanding kick that he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘A moment ago I was Prince Charming, now you’ve cast me in the role of Fairy Godfather.’

Or she’d like to put him in that role. Well, if a long-term sugar daddy was what she was after then she was doomed to disappointment.

‘Perhaps you’re both?’

Though of course there was no way that the ‘Fairy’ part of the description fitted, Terrie reflected, her whole body tingling in sensual awareness of the strength and power of the hard masculine body seated opposite her. One lean brown hand rested on the starched tablecloth, the tanned skin standing out sharply against the crisp white damask, and, having dropped her gaze to it for a moment, she suddenly found herself unable to drag her eyes or her thoughts away again.

What would it feel like to have those long, strong fingers caress her skin? How would his touch move over her sensitive flesh? Would it be soft and tantalising or hard and demanding? Every female instinct told her that he was a man who would know how to love a woman. How to arouse her, to stir her senses until she was barely conscious with longing, to set her whole body quivering…

Oh, lord, what was she doing? Just to think like this was turning her on, making heated passion uncoil in yearning demand in the pit of her stomach. Clumsily she reached for her glass, swallowing down some of the wine in an attempt to ease the sudden dryness of her throat.

‘Of course, I suppose to you this is quite commonplace,’ she blurted out, desperate to move the conversation along and so distract herself from her wanton thoughts. ‘You must always be in places like this.’

‘My legal work takes me all over the world.’

‘That must be exciting—working in so many different countries.’

‘Not really.’

Gio shrugged off her comment.

‘When you’ve seen one hotel room, you’ve seen them all. And usually I’m working so hard that I don’t get to see anything of the places where I’m staying.’

And that was how he liked it. The truth was that he didn’t need to work; not financially at least. Thanks to the huge corporation owned by their joint families, both he and his half-brother Cesare were independently wealthy enough never to have to work again if they didn’t feel like it.

But working filled the long, empty hours of the day. It tired him so that at least he had some hope of sleeping at night and it stopped him from thinking—from remembering.

‘That’s a terrible pity! Such a waste. I’d love to see all those—’

‘I’m there to work,’ Gio interrupted crushingly. ‘And at the end of a long day in court I’m hardly in the mood for sightseeing.’

Perhaps now she’d get the message that he wasn’t prepared to listen to her unsubtle hints.

Leaning back in his chair, he too reached for his wine glass and sipped at his drink slowly, all the while watching the woman before him. Did he care that she was so obviously attracted by his wealth? he asked himself. And that she was trying to insinuate that maybe they could spend some time together?

No. Quite frankly, he didn’t give a damn. He was in the mood for some female company tonight—and for tonight only. And because of that he couldn’t care less what she found attractive about him. Only that she did find him attractive. Because with those huge, soft eyes, the tumble of pale hair, the moist, inviting mouth, she was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time.

Did she know the way the candlelight caught on her hair, raising sparks of brilliant gold in the ash-blonde strands? Was she aware of the way that it gave her skin a softly luminous sheen, like the glow on a string of the finest freshwater pearls? And had she sensed that when she leaned forward to talk to him the low V-neck of the white cotton top she wore gaped slightly, giving him a tantalisingly erotic glimpse of the shadowed, perfumed valley of her cleavage?

Of course she had! In fact, he suspected her of making that movement quite deliberately, knowing it had to intrigue him, set his pulses racing.

She was doing it again now, coming partway across the table, her arms resting on the cloth as she leaned on them. He just wished she’d take the jacket off to give him a better view.

‘I wasn’t hinting!’ she protested, actually managing to sound sincere.

‘Of course not.’

His response didn’t seem genuine, even in his own ears, but he didn’t care. If she thought he didn’t believe her, well, tough!

He reached for the bottle in the centre of the table.

‘More wine?’

‘No, thanks.’

Terrie was beginning to suspect that she’d already had more than enough. The alcohol was warming her blood, which, together with the heat in the room, made her whole body glow uncomfortably. Perhaps she’d feel better without the suit jacket.

‘Have you finished your meal?’

He might as well have asked if she could read his mind, because it seemed she could. No sooner had the thought that he would like her to remove her jacket crossed his mind than she had promptly obliged. And the effect of her actions, the way that her shoulders went back, pushing her small, high breasts forward, the small, sensually wriggling movements she made as she inched the linen sleeves down her arms, was like a neat shot of brandy in his veins, flooding him with heat.

‘Yes—thank you. I couldn’t eat another thing.’

‘Nothing sweet?’

‘I’d love something but I don’t think my figure could take it.’