Unnoticed and Untouched

He frowned. “That is unimportant.”

Impulsively, she put a hand on his chest. The fabric of his tuxedo was smooth, cool, but beneath it his body was hard and hot. She knew he was in excellent shape considering that he was a top Grand Prix rider—not to mention she’d saved the heat-inducing magazine ad where he’d posed in his leathers with the zipper opened to his navel. She’d been unable to deny how sexy he was in that ad, even if she did think him heartless when it came to women. The magazine had gone into her keeper pile, much to her dismay.

Still, after all that, she was unprepared for how his body felt beneath her hand.

Power and leashed strength waiting for the right instant to explode into action. At the moment, however, he seemed very still beneath her touch, nothing but the beat of his heart vibrating against her palm. It was almost as if he was purposely holding himself still.

Faith forced herself to focus. “Please, Renzo, the Viper is important to you. Talk with Mr. Stein. Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”

She’d learned how after a trial by fire she would never forget.

His fingers wrapped around hers where they rested on his tuxedo. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there that sent a shudder rocketing down her spine.

“You are quite remarkable, Faith,” he said softly.

“Hardly,” she replied. She needed to put distance between them, now more than ever. She didn’t like this hot, achy feeling he called up inside her. It could come to no good for her. Even if he were interested in a plain girl like her, she had a lot more to lose than his usual women. Unlike the others, she’d find herself brokenhearted and jobless once he decided to dump her, were she foolish enough to give in to this silliness inside. “I’m thinking of my bottom line. If the Viper succeeds, then I can ask for an even bigger raise.”

Renzo threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed. Then come with me, cara.”

And, twining his fingers in hers, he led her into the center of the garden party.

CHAPTER THREE

RENZO was in a good mood. Aside from Lissa Stein’s behavior—and the way his leg now throbbed after so much time standing on it—it had been a good evening. Stein had expressed interest in building custom tires for the Viper, and an acute interest in an exclusive partnership with D’Angeli Motors, should the Viper prove a success during the time trials next month in Italy. The bike wasn’t quite ready yet, but Renzo had high hopes they’d be able to begin training for the MotoGP season soon.

But, more interestingly, he was very much intrigued by the woman sitting beside him in the limousine. He’d kept her close for the rest of the evening, ushering her through the gathering like a prized possession. Lissa Stein had stayed far away, grazie a Dio.

While that had been his priority in bringing Faith tonight, he’d found that he rather enjoyed having her near. She made no demands. She did not simper or whine or pout. In fact, she seemed quite prickly, and she’d taken him to task over the women in his life. Rather than finding it impertinent, he’d been amused.

She might bristle like a porcupine, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d shivered and blushed when he’d touched her. And that it seemed to infuriate her that she had.

When he’d backed her against the terrace wall and put his hand on her cheek, he’d had every intention of kissing her even though he knew he should not. He’d never yet committed the sin of making love to a personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line now. But he had wanted to taste her. Just for an instant.

He still wasn’t certain why. Faith Black was not a gorgeous model, but she had some indefinable quality about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. She was strong, but also vulnerable. She’d experienced pain in her life, but that pain hadn’t defeated her. He’d seen it in her eyes when Lissa had made those hurtful comments. He’d wanted to defend her, but she hadn’t needed defending.

“I have not forgotten that you did not answer me about Italy,” he said into the silence.

The interior of the car was dark, other than the lights from the street that shone inside as they drove back toward Brooklyn. One of Faith’s earrings caught the light as she turned her head toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

“And what have you been thinking?”

“You didn’t tell me how it would work once I got there. Where would I live? Would I need a car? I haven’t driven in years, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable relearning that skill in a foreign country. It’s not that I can’t drive,” she hurried on, “but since I’ve lived in New York, it’s been unnecessary.”

She sounded somewhat breathless, he noted, as if she were nervous and trying to hide it. Interesting.

“I have a very large house, cara. You would stay with me. And there is no need to drive, as you will travel with me wherever I go.”

Wherever he went? Renzo surprised himself with the statement, but si, it made the most sense. How could she organize his appointments if she did not accompany him?

“I’m not sure I could do that,” she said very quietly.

“Why not?” He sounded perplexed. Because he was perplexed.

“Because at least I have weekends off now. I have my own life, you know. It does not revolve around you twenty-four hours a day. And it sounds like it would in Italy.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. Perhaps it should have occurred to him before, but the simple fact was that it hadn’t. “Do you have a boyfriend, Faith? Someone you do not wish to leave behind?”

He knew what he wanted the answer to be, but he had no idea what she would say. If she would ruin his good mood by giving him a different answer than he desired.

“No, no boyfriend,” she said.

A sliver of relief slid through him at her soft words. Not that he cared if she had a boyfriend, of course. But it would make it much easier if she did not.

“Any pets?”

“No. No pets. I had a cat, but he died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, as if she were trying to say it was nothing. And yet he wasn’t fooled. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “It’s fine. He was old and it was his time. I wanted to get a kitten, but they need so much attention. Well, any cat does, really, and I work a lot so …”

Her voice trailed off and he found himself feeling somewhat guilty, as if he was at fault because she hadn’t gotten another cat. He did work long hours, and sometimes she stayed behind, too, not leaving the office until after seven or eight in the evening.

No, a cat would not like that. Neither would a boyfriend.

She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t really want to know all that. I’m babbling.”

“I’ve never heard you babble, Faith. I would hardly classify this as babbling.” He knew babbling. Katie had been a babbler. He’d found it somewhat annoying that she couldn’t ever stop talking, but he’d tried to keep her mouth too occupied to talk whenever they were together.

Renzo frowned. What had he ever seen in Katie? Besides the perfect body, of course? She’d been so shallow, so self-absorbed. Why had he surrounded himself with that?

“Well, I’m babbling now. My mom would say I—”

He heard her indrawn breath. “Would say what?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She’d folded her hands on her lap again, and he found himself wanting to take one of her soft hands in his and rub circles in her palm the way he’d done before. Just to feel that tremor slide through her.

“You can tell me,” he said.

“I’d rather not.”

She sounded so prim, so controlled. It made him wonder. How had she worked for him for six months and he didn’t know anything about her? She didn’t seem to want to talk about her past. And though he wanted to command her to tell him what she’d been about to say, he could hardly do so. It wasn’t like he enjoyed talking about his past—his family—either.

His mother was a good woman who’d worked hard all her life, but he was still somewhat embarrassed by his origins. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Not because of her, but because of the Conte de Lucano. From the moment he’d learned who his father was when he was eight years old, the one time the man had come to see them and threatened his mother if she dared tell anyone who had fathered her child, he’d felt inferior. Damaged. Like garbage tossed on a scrap heap.

For all he knew, Faith felt the same. “You do not like talking about your family,” he said.