Carole Mortimer - Fascination

It had been a long and trying day for Cesare so far, his business meetings having been more protracted than he would have wished. His thoughts had turned to Robin more often than he would have wished, too.

She looked wonderful again this evening, her cream dress perfect against the honey tones of her skin and the thick sheen of the long hair she wore loose about her shoulders. Her arms were bare, her legs long and silky in the stockings that Cesare now knew she favoured, instead of those unattractive tights most women wore, that he personally found so lacking in sensual allure.

Several times today he had found his mind wandering to thoughts of those long, long legs in their silk stockings, of the softness of her bare thighs above those sexy stocking-tops, of the silky triangle between her legs that he had so enjoyed caressing, of the taste of her as he’d suckled her nipples into the warmth of his mouth and brought her to shuddering release.

Thoughts that even now made his body harden with need!

So, yes, he intended taking Robin away on a honeymoon. He wanted to be alone with her somewhere for at least a week, so that they could explore every sensual pleasure together!

‘Daddy had to go and take a telephone call in his study, but he should be back in a few minutes,’ Robin excused. ‘Would you care for a drink while we’re waiting?’ She indicated the array of spirits in cut-glass decanters on the side dresser.

What he would care for would be to put an end to all of this and just be alone with Robin so that he could make love to her!

‘A whisky will be fine,’ he accepted instead, moving to sit down in one of the armchairs and watch Robin from between hooded lids as she deftly poured a measure of spirit for him.

Such long, sensual hands—hands that Cesare knew he wanted on his body with a need that made him impatient with everything and everyone else.

Once he got this necessary social meeting with her father out of the way, he intended taking Robin back to his hotel suite and taking her. And to hell with what the departing Catriona or anyone else thought!

Cesare seemed very distracted this evening, Robin noted, as she handed him the glass of whisky, finding his brooding silence unnerving.

‘It was your idea to come here this evening, Cesare,’ she reminded him dryly.

Those dark eyes glinted with impatience. ‘I am not in the least concerned about your father’s possible reaction to our plans for a hasty marriage, if that is what you are thinking, Robin.’

No, she wasn’t thinking that at all. The shares that Cesare held in Ingram Publishing apart, he—with all his wealth and power—was not a man many people said no to.

Including herself, it seemed …

‘I wouldn’t feel too relaxed if I were you, Cesare,’ she told him tartly, stung by his monumental self-confidence. ‘A man’s wealth is of little importance to my father when it comes to his suitability as a husband for his only daughter.’

Goodness knew, Giles had been wealthy enough—and look how disastrously that marriage had turned out!

‘And you, Robin?’ Cesare placed his untouched glass of whisky down on a side table before standing up, making her aware of his impeccably cut dark business suit, which was complemented by a white silk shirt and neatly knotted grey tie. ‘What is important to you as regards suitability in a husband?’ he encouraged, two long strides having brought him to stand directly in front of her.

Robin felt slightly overpowered by his proximity as she looked up into that darkly handsome face, and those black eyes were relentless as he easily held her gaze.

She swallowed hard. He was standing so close to her now she could feel the warmth of his body. She knew the power beneath that white silk shirt—had already touched and caressed his muscled strength yesterday.

She shook her head. ‘The question hardly applies between us, does it, Cesare?’ she responded.

‘No?’ He reached up to curve his hand about her throat, his thumb resting against the nerve pulsing in the hollow at its base.

‘You are becoming aroused again, Robin,’ he murmured with satisfaction.

‘I—’

‘Your pulse is racing.’ He ignored her protest, his dark gaze heated on her parted lips as his thumb moved caressingly against her jaw. ‘Your nipples are taut against your dress,’ he observed approvingly, his eyes having lowered to her thrusting breasts before slowly returning to her mouth. ‘You want me to kiss you,’ he said, and his thumb moved to part her lips and his mouth took possession of hers.

She did want him to kiss her. Robin couldn’t deny it, even as her body curved into his, her arms moving up about his shoulders and her fingers becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair.

She had no explanation for the madness she knew in this man’s arms—no will to fight it either, as Cesare slowly drew her bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue caressing its inner sensitivity as warmth spread through her whole body. Her groan was one of hunger as his tongue thrust fully into her mouth.

‘Perhaps I should come back later …?’

Robin wrenched her mouth from Cesare’s at the first sound of her father’s voice, giving Cesare a slightly accusing look as she wondered if he hadn’t kissed her with the sole intention of being caught in the act.

She turned away from his unreadable expression. ‘Don’t be silly, Daddy,’ she dismissed teasingly as she crossed the room to her father on legs that shook slightly, linking her arm with his and drawing him farther into the room. ‘I don’t need to introduce the two of you, do I?’ she asked lightly.

‘Gambrelli,’ her father said curtly, and he held out his hand.

‘Ingram,’ Cesare answered just as curtly, as he briefly shook the older man’s hand, impatient with the interruption—although in truth, holding Robin in his arms, kissing her, he had forgotten that her father was expected to make an appearance, had forgotten where they were!

Robin gave a husky laugh. ‘Now, I want the two of you to return to your corners and when the bell goes come out fighting!’

Charles Ingram ignored her levity as his stare remained locked on Cesare’s.

It was a silent battle of wills, Cesare acknowledged, with grudging admiration for this man who was Robin’s father.

But he had also been the father of Simon Ingram—the man Cesare held responsible for Carla’s death!

His mouth hardened. ‘I do not think your father appreciates your humour, Robin,’ he reproved tersely.

‘And you?’ She looked up to taunt him. ‘Do you appreciate my humour, Cesare?’

He gave Charles Ingram one last narrow-eyed look before turning his attention to Robin, deliberately softening his expression as he saw the light of challenge in her eyes, her cheeks slightly flushed. With temper rather than arousal, he thought.

He smiled slightly. ‘I, of course, appreciate everything about you, Robin,’ he drawled mockingly.

That flush deepened in her cheeks. ‘Well, of course you do,’ she replied stiffly. ‘Daddy, Cesare has come here this evening so that we can all sit down cosily together and discuss our wedding plans,’ she explained. ‘When is the wedding to be, Cesare?’ she prompted, her voice brittle.

Cesare saw the way Charles Ingram’s frown deepened, knowing as he did so that Robin was coming perilously close to revealing the tension between the two of them. It did not bother him personally, but he had thought the pretence important to Robin.

What had he done to anger Robin so much that she was in danger of revealing the disharmony between them when she had already assured him she wanted to keep it from her father?

‘That is, of course, for you to decide, Robin,’ he replied smoothly.