Jacqueline Baird - Mediterranean Tycoons

‘I actually thought I was having a mid-life crisis … But it wasn’t—it was you. And I have been lashing out at you ever since. I used my perception of your brother as an excuse to believe you were as bad as I thought him to be in a crazy attempt to deny what was staring me in the face. I love you.’

Deep inside, Lucy felt the dead embers of hope burst into flame. She could see the sincerity in his eyes—hear it in every word he spoke.

‘I swore I never wanted to see you again, and yet I came up with reasons to visit you—each one crazier than the last. I was jealous of my dead brother because it was obvious you’d liked him. I was even jealous of Gianni, the butler, when you walked into the dining room with him laughing. I’ve never seen Gianni laugh like that in his life. And tonight I could have knocked young Paolo down when he laid his hands on you. I was so jealous.’ He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘I know it is a lot to ask, but can you ever forgive me for the way I have treated you? At least try and forget? Forget the argument over our brothers and business? Forget everything that has happened these past months and give me a chance to prove I love you?’

Lucy looked at him. Lorenzo was jealous. She had not been mistaken. But he was better than most at hiding his feelings. She thought of how on that first night, when he had remonstrated with her about her security, it had given her hope at the time, and of other instances when he’d been protective of her. He said he didn’t care what her brother might have done. Later she would tell him how her brother had passed out when he returned home, and the rest—but for now she decided to take a chance, a leap of faith, and believe him.

Her green eyes sparkled and a smile curved her lips. ‘I’ll give you a chance, but I don’t want to forget everything, Lorenzo. Some parts were memorable and should be repeated,’ she said, with a wriggle against him and a teasing flicker of her lashes. Lifting her hand, she swept back the hair from his brow.

He caught her wrist, his eyes tender and passionate as they met hers. ‘Oh, I think I can arrange that,’ he said, knowing exactly what she meant. ‘But first there is something else,’ he said in a husky, unsteady tone.

Lucy tensed, wondering what was coming next.

‘I don’t expect you to love me, but I want to take care of you—keep you. I know I can make you happy in bed, and maybe in time you will grow to love me if only you will let me try. Lucy, will you marry me?’

Lucy felt her heart swell to overflowing. She saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he waited for her answer—her proud, arrogant lover was unsure … nervous. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘You won’t have to try—I do love you.’ She saw the confusion, then the growing hope in his eyes. ‘I have from the first time we made love. And, yes—I will marry you.’

‘You do? You will?’ Lorenzo looked shocked, then his dark eyes blazed with emotion and a hint of tears as he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his broad chest, and buried his face in the fragrant silken mass of her hair. ‘You are sure?’ he queried, and then his lips sought hers and he kissed her with achingly sweet tenderness and a love that stole her breath away. He lifted his head. ‘When?’ he asked, and his dark eyes watched warily as he waited for her answer.

She realised her confident, powerful man was still uncertain. ‘Whenever you like.’ She smiled, all the love in her heart shining in her brilliant green eyes. ‘The sooner the better,’ she said, and finally let go of the coverlet and looped her arm around his neck. ‘Do we have to wait for the wedding?’ she teased.

‘Dio, no—I can’t wait,’ Lorenzo groaned, his voice thick with emotion and a hunger that Lucy felt herself.

Taking her arm from his neck, he stripped off his shirt, his pants. Lucy’s eyes followed his every move. This was what she wanted—what she yearned for—and as he gathered her in his arms she met the smouldering darkness of his gaze and arched into the hard warmth of his great body, her small hands caressing, her lips parting.

They melded together—heart to heart, mouth to mouth—in a kiss like no other, full of tenderness and longing, passion and love.

‘Lorenzo … ‘ she breathed, as his hands slid sensuously over her body and her own caressed his satin smooth skin. He filled up her senses, and with murmured words of love and groans of fervent need their bodies joined in the primeval dance of love, finally fusing together in surge after surge of pure ecstasy, two halves of a whole in perfect love.

‘I can’t find the words to tell you how you make me feel,’ Lorenzo husked as they lay satiated in each other’s arms. But he tried, with softly whispered endearments. He eased his weight away, but held her close to his long body, his hands gently stroking her back. ‘I don’t deserve you, Lucy, but I will never let you go—you are the colour in my life. You are beautiful inside and out.’ A long finger found the scar near the base of her spine. ‘I can’t believe you did this for your brother.’

‘Yes, you can,’ Lucy murmured. ‘You would have done the same for yours if he’d needed it,’ she said lazily as she surfaced from the sensual haze that surrounded her.

‘You have more faith in me than I do myself.’

‘Ah, but then I love you.’ She pressed a kiss on his chest and he rolled over on his back, carrying her with him. And as the dawn of the new day crept through the windows the dance of love started all over again.

‘What the hell?’ Lorenzo swore as a loud crashing noise woke him. Keeping Lucy safe in the curve of his arm, he sat up.

The maid was standing three feet into the room, and she had dropped the coffee tray she had been carrying. Her face was scarlet, and Lorenzo could understand why as Lucy opened her eyes and smiled up at him, stroking her small hand across his stomach.

‘I just need to feel you are real, Lorenzo, and know I wasn’t dreaming last night.’

Then to add to the confusion his mother appeared in the doorway, fully dressed.

‘What on earth has happened?’ she demanded of the maid, and then looked across at the bed. ‘Oh, Lorenzo—how could you?’

Lucy heard the voice and snatched her hand away from his stomach, blushing redder than the maid and trying to burrow down beneath the coverlet.

Lorenzo pulled her gently back up. ‘Trust me, Lucy—that will look worse.’ He grinned and tucked the coverlet under her, putting his arm around her shoulders before looking back across the room.

‘Good morning, Mother,’ he said, with all the confidence and panache a thirty-eight-year-old man could muster when for the first time in his life he had been caught in bed with a woman by his mother … ‘I want you to be the first to know Lucy and I are getting married.’

His mother gasped, and then smiled, and was about to rush over.

‘But can you save the congratulations and the cleanup until later? Lucy is a little shy right now.’

‘Yes—yes, of course.’

The two women backed out of the room.

‘As embarrassing moments go, that has to be the worst,’ Lucy said.

‘Not really. I should have expected something like that. From being a highly successful, staid and arrogant banker, in control of billions, who has never had any trouble with women in his life, this summer has seen women running rings around me. But, on the plus side, I have found the love of my life.’ And, laughing out loud, he tipped Lucy back in his arms and kissed her soundly.

LORENZO guided the car through the gates and up the drive, a smile on his face. Lucy had married him in the cathedral in Verona on a fine October day—a vision in white and a picture he would carry in his mind for ever. And eight months later their son Antonio had been born—conceived, Lucy was sure, on the night he’d proposed to her. Lorenzo had his doubts, but didn’t argue with his wife. She had filled his life with laughter and love, and she collected friends as other people collected stamps. Last week had been Antonio’s first birthday, and they had thrown a party for their friends, and his little friends and their families, with a funfair set up in the garden.