Dreaming Of... Italy: Daring to Trust the Boss / Reunited with Her Italian Ex / The Forbidden Prince

Good Lord. No wonder he was rich. He saw right through a strategy that had worked for years. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or frightened.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. It’s a good idea to try to get a handle on what’s going on when you’re confused. But you really should ditch the sassing.”

She laughed, but kept her gaze averted.

He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “I am sorry about this morning.”

The smoothness of his fingers against her skin nearly made her shiver. And his eyes—those striking green eyes that saw everything—held her prisoner. Her heart trembled with longing. She hadn’t even kissed a guy in years and she desperately wanted him to kiss her. A short, sweet, simple kiss...or a kiss filled with passion and honesty. She didn’t care. She just wanted a kiss.

But that was wrong. As she’d begun recovering from Cord, she’d promised herself that she’d never again put herself in the position of being with a man so far beyond her socially. And she’d meant it.

So it was best to let him off the hook about pushing her and return them to their normal relationship. “It’s okay.”

He sighed and rose from his chaise. “No. It’s not.”

“Yeah. It is.” She rose. too. “You see, when we got back to Constanzo’s and we started talking about his son, all those emotions you had dredged up were eclipsed by the feeling of pride I had over doing a good job with Antonio.”

He stopped a few feet short of the pool and faced her. “So you’re okay?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been okay for a while. But it felt different—better—that I could totally forget it once we started talking about work.”

“So demanding answers from you was a good thing?”

She laughed. “Don’t push your luck.”

Somehow they’d ended up standing face-to-face again. Under the luxurious blanket of stars, next to the twinkling blue water, the only sound the slight hum of the filter for the pool.

He reached out and cupped the side of her face. “You are a brave, funny woman, Miss Prentiss.”

Though she knew it was dangerous to get too personal with him, especially since his nearness already had her heart thrumming and her knees weak, she was only human. And even if it was a teeny tiny inconsequential thing, she didn’t want to give up the one innocent pleasure she was allowed to get from him.

She caught his gaze. “Olivia.”

“Excuse me?”

“I like it when you call me Olivia.”

He took a step closer. “Really?”

She shrugged, trying to make light of her request. “Everybody calls me Vivi. Sometimes it makes me feel six again. Being called Olivia makes me feel like an adult.”

“Or a woman.”

The way he said woman sent heat rushing through her. Once again, he’d seen right through her ploy and might even realize she was attracted to him—

Oh, who was she kidding? He knew she was attracted to him. After the episode playing pool the night before, neither one of them could be coy anymore.

Even as yearning nudged her to be bold, reality intruded. The guy she finally, finally wanted to trust was rich, sophisticated and so far out of her league she was lucky to be working for him. She knew better than to get romantically involved with someone like him.

She stepped back. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He caught her hand and tugged her to him. “I would.” He kissed her so quickly that her knees nearly buckled and her brain reeled. She could have panicked. Could have told him to go slow because she hadn’t done this in a while, or even stop because this was wrong. But nobody, no kiss, had ever made her feel the warm, wonderful, scary sensations saturating her entire being right now. Not just her body, but her soul.

His lips moved over hers smoothly, expertly, shooting fire and ice down her spine. Her breath froze in her chest. Then he opened his mouth over hers and her lips automatically parted.

The fire and ice shooting down her spine exploded in her middle, reminding her of where this would go if she didn’t stop him. Now. Just as Antonio’s mom had been, she was poor. Very far out of Tucker’s league. It was foolish to even consider kissing him.

She jerked away, stepped back. His glistening green eyes had narrowed with confusion. He didn’t understand why she’d stopped him.

Longing warred with truth. If he could pretend their stations in life didn’t matter, she could pretend, too. Couldn’t she?

No!

She’d done this before. She was a small-town girl and he was a man of wealth and power. She might be nothing more to him than a conquest. She was too wounded, too cautious to take the risk that someone like him could be serious about someone like her.

She took another step back. “Well, okay then. I guess I’ll see you at breakfast.”

It was the stupidest, most inane thing she could have said but she took pride in having any voice at all as she turned and raced to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. She hadn’t even kissed a man in years, but in another thirty seconds, she would have willingly let him take her. A man she barely knew. A man with whom she had nothing in common. A man who might only want sex from her. Hell, she wasn’t even sure he liked her. Yes, he was attracted to her, but it never really seemed that he liked her.

And her feelings for him? Well, they were getting out of control and she had no idea how to stop them.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u6879cbc6-655c-52b9-9f40-379f3c2fefbd)

THE NEXT MORNING, THE FULL idiocy of what she had said—and done, she couldn’t forget she’d run from the patio—hit her, and when she went downstairs for breakfast she had to steady herself outside the dining room door.

She ran her damp palms down the skirt of her second sundress, grateful to have her favorite dress to wear for confidence. But that didn’t help much now that she was two seconds away from seeing the man she’d kissed last night, the man she was growing to like, even though it was wrong.

She didn’t know how to stop any of this. Her fears after being attacked had robbed her of the normal dating experiences most women had. Though those fears were subsiding and Tucker was making her long for things most women took for granted, she knew—absolutely knew—she was going to get hurt.

Still, she had to go in. If she didn’t, it would only make things worse. With a deep breath, she held her head high and stepped into the dining room to find Constanzo and Tucker reading the paper.

Constanzo rose. “Sweet Vivi, good morning.”

He pulled out her chair and helped her sit. When he returned to his seat, Tucker looked up from the newspaper.

“Good morning...Olivia.”

Her blood rushed hot through her veins again, but she refused to be embarrassed or even think through what it might mean. Had he taken her request to heart that she liked to be called by her first name? Or was he taunting her? Reminding her of a kiss that had warmed her blood and made her feel like a woman just as he’d suggested the night before.

Constanzo’s maid brought a woman who looked to be about thirty into the dining room. Wearing a suit that had to be handmade and carrying a Gucci bag, she could have given Maria Bartulocci a run for her money.

Constanzo jumped up again. “Patrice!” He caught her hands and kissed both of her cheeks. “Tucker, Vivi, this is Patrice Russo.”

After shaking both their hands, she said something to Constanzo in Italian. Constanzo smiled. “Tucker speaks Italian. Vivi, no.”

“Then we speak English.”

Constanzo pulled out a chair for Patrice. “Would you like breakfast?”