Cathy Williams - Summer Loving

‘Just be a gentleman and stick to compliments. I spent a small fortune on my dress.’

‘Ava, you look breathtaking. That is always a given. But the caveman in me would love to see you in something...else.’ A shroud-like something that wouldn’t make any red-blooded male wonder if her skin felt as soft and velvety as it looked.

She planted a hand on her hip, a pulse-heating smile playing on her glossy lips. ‘What exactly is wrong with it?’ she challenged, her eyes sparking fire at him.

His frustration escalated. ‘Aside from the fact that it barely covers your backside and is missing a back, you mean?’ It was just too damn shimmery.

‘But I look hot?’ she pressed with a smile that now dripped pure mischief.

‘You look hot. You look like a pure, sinfully tempting fantasy. Is that gentlemanly enough for you?’ The material caressed her thighs, brought attention to legs that seemed to go on for ever. And she’d done something to her toes. ‘What’s that?’ he rasped, barely able to take a full breath.

She followed his gaze. ‘It’s a toe ring,’ she replied. ‘Cesare, we have twenty-five minutes to get there. Will you be able to handle me looking like this or are we going to be late because you’ve suddenly developed a dislike for any other man seeing me in a short dress?’

He swallowed, tried to speak and ended up just shaking his head as her gaze wandered over him.

‘Oh, and for the record, you look hot too. I could tell you to button your shirt all the way up so no woman can see your manly, mouth-watering chest, but see, I’m a grown-up, so I’ll just suck it up. Now, shall we go?’ Her eyes had grown dark when she raised her gaze to his.

Their expression and the knowledge that she felt an iota of the feelings rampaging through him made him feel marginally better.

‘Celine will be made aware in no uncertain terms that she owes me big for this.’ He strolled over to her and held out his arm.

‘Behave yourself, Cesare.’ At his snarled, pithy response, she laughed. ‘This is going to be a long, trying evening, isn’t it?’

He took in the thrust of her chin, the hectic race of the pulse in her throat and an all too familiar spike of lust raced to his groin. ‘Sì, it is.’

Cesare knew he was being ridiculous. Jealousy had no place in his feelings because he knew by rights he had no hold on her. Besides, he would bet his sizable fortune that most of the women at the club tonight would be similarly dressed.

But most women weren’t his wife!

Another growl emerged before he could stifle it. Cursing the possessiveness that had sprung from nowhere, he grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. ‘I don’t begrudge you the dress, cara. My only wish is that you’d received more of it for your efforts.’

She bared her teeth in a fake smile. ‘Well, keep wishing, tesoro. Who knows, Santa might come early.’

* * *

Ava was only half-listening to the guest whose name she’d forgotten. That he didn’t speak more than a dozen words of English made it easy. Her eyes tracked Cesare, who she’d smugly believed hated nightclubs and would hate this evening.

No. Far from smouldering arrogantly the way she remembered him to, he was on the dance floor, enjoying the attentions of the blonde who’d attached herself to him the moment they’d walked in the door.

She glanced down at her dress, and again wondered if she’d been wise to listen to the saleslady at the shop on the Via Condotti who’d insisted the green dress was perfect for her.

Compared to Cesare’s dance-partner’s dress, Ava’s was downright demure. The woman could easily be mistaken for a runway model. Her bone structure alone was enough to make the men here salivate with lust. The fact that she was currently breathing the same air as Cesare didn’t seem to deter other men from watching her.

A fist of jealousy lodged in her chest, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.

It didn’t help that all day she’d felt on tenterhooks.

She couldn’t help but feel her life would unravel even further once she and Cesare finally had their talk.

‘You mustn’t worry, il mio amico. Giuliana is a man-eater, but trust Cesare.’

She turned to find Celine watching her with an expression sickeningly close to pity.

Ava forced out a laugh. ‘I’m not worried.’

‘I hope it’s because you trust him.’ Celine’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘You know he will not deliberately hurt you?’

Anxiety and confusion warred through her. ‘Unfortunately, I know nothing of the sort.’ Cesare’s withdrawal from her had shattered the foundations of her belief.

‘Hang in there. Di Goia men don’t give their love easily.’ Sadness clouded Celine’s eyes.

Ava touched her arm. ‘Cesare told me about you and Roberto...and Valentina.’

Celine’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

She gave a slight grimace. ‘I demanded to know his connection to you.’

Celine’s smile wobbled. ‘I’m glad he told you. Even though he loved my sister, Roberto was the love of my life. A part of me is angry he died before I got my chance with him. But it’s not too late for you two. Whatever happens, hang on with everything you’ve got.’

Several minutes after she’d left, Ava remained rooted to the spot, Celine’s words echoing through her mind.

She didn’t deny Cesare held tremendous sway over her emotions. One smile was enough to light up her whole day. The occasional glimpses of pain she saw flash through his eyes caused her heart to echo his pain over losing his brother.

But, no matter how she felt about him, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d only married her because she’d been pregnant; that he’d tolerated her because she was the mother of his child. Despair rose like a riptide, threatening to suck her down.

The music ended and she watched Cesare and the stunning Giuliana head for the bar. As he plucked two champagne flutes from the counter, his eyes met Ava’s. His gaze raked over her, sending her pulse into overdrive.

Suddenly annoyed with his effortless power over her emotions, she lifted her glass in mock salute.

There was no future to hang on to. At least not where she and Cesare were concerned. She didn’t doubt his love for Annabelle and therefore didn’t doubt his capacity to love. But that love didn’t stretch to her.

The distress the thought produced made her glass tremble in her hand.

Setting it down, she found the guest she’d spoken to earlier next to her. Before she could excuse herself, he smiled. Racking her brain, she remembered Celine had introduced him as her second cousin. He was charmingly good-looking, with light brown hair and attractively boyish brown eyes. Not wishing to appear rude, she smiled in return.

He moved closer. ‘Drink?’ A champagne-serving waiter lingered nearby.

Hastily, she shook her head. She’d barely eaten more than a few mouthfuls at dinner. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea.

Her admirer set his glass down with a decisive click.

‘Balliamo?’ He gestured to the dance floor. When she hesitated, he clasped a dramatic hand over his heart. ‘Per favore?’

On a sudden whim, she nodded. She’d never been one to slink away to lick her wounds. As much as she wanted to shut herself off, preferably somewhere quiet, and indulge in a monster ice cream-fuelled pity party, she wouldn’t.

She was here because of Celine. The least she could do was pretend to enjoy herself.

‘Wait.’ She laughed when he tried to steer her towards the dance floor.

His face fell but when he saw her shucking off her shoes, his grin widened. The blaring hip-hop was the perfect antidote to her melancholy.

Mario—she remembered his name now—led her to the middle of the dance floor and proceeded to prove himself an energetic dance partner.