Robyn Grady - Italian Mavericks - New Year Temptation

‘Would you have gone to all this trouble if we hadn’t been here?’ asked Megan, preferring to steer the conversation back to safer grounds. ‘I mean the Christmas tree and the log fires.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Truthfully.’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘What would have been the point? This is going to be the best Christmas ever for me—and for you too, I hope.’

‘I’m merely here to make Charlotte happy.’

‘You’re making me happy.’

His voice went down an octave, seeming to vibrate through her bones, and Megan turned her head away, concentrating on her drink, taking large sips of the vodka and orange he had mixed for her. A big mistake; it went straight to her head. Much more of this and she wouldn’t be in charge of her senses. ‘I’ve never seen you as the slippers in front of the fire sort of guy.’

‘So how do you see me?’ he asked with a roguish growl, his eyes reflecting the glow of the embers.

Megan felt them warming her—or was it the fire? Or even the drink? Whichever, she was growing hotter by the second. ‘As the tough businessman who’s feet never hit the ground. What made you buy Gerards? I thought you were in the IT industry.’

‘I still am, but I have my finger in lots of pies. I’ll tell you about them some day,’ he added dismissively, ‘but for the moment I want to talk about you. Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy? Why did you walk out without saying a word?’

‘Because I knew you’d stop me,’ she retorted, her eyes condemning as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. Her almost empty glass, she realised. ‘You’d probably have sworn that you’d change, but I knew differently. And I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘No one will ever know,’ he answered sadly. ‘It’s hard to accept that I’ve missed the first three years of my daughter’s life—it’s something I shall never forgive you for,’ he finished harshly as he tossed the last of his drink down his throat. ‘Ever!’

Megan finished her drink also and put her glass firmly down on the table. ‘I don’t want to talk about this. It’s late, I’m going to bed.’

As she stood, he too got up, and before she could stop him his arms came around her. ‘But you’re still my wife, the mother of my daughter, and I’d like a goodnight kiss.’

Megan struggled furiously but he refused to let her go. Instead his mouth came down on hers, one hand behind her head effectively cutting off her escape, the other against the small of her back. It was a long, punishing kiss and it sent resentment reeling through every inch of her body.

There was no escape. The kiss deepened, his arms tightened, and all too soon she felt herself beginning to respond. It was like a replay of when she had met him. She could remember the day very clearly. This handsome, dark-haired, Latin-looking young man had stopped to pick up a bag she’d dropped. Ironically, it had been a few weeks before Christmas and her arms had been full of purchases. When she’d looked into his eyes to thank him she’d been so taken with his good looks that she’d dropped another of her parcels.

‘I think,’ he said, with a smile that turned her legs to jelly, ‘that I’d better help you to your car, or the bus, or wherever you’re going. Home, in fact. You’ve got an extraordinary amount of packages.’

‘Christmas presents,’ she admitted shyly. ‘And I’m catching the bus.’

‘I think not,’ he said with a laugh, ‘not unless you want to lose the lot as you’re jumping on or off. I’ll run you home; my car’s just around the corner.’

‘But I don’t know you. I—’

‘I assure you you’ll be perfectly safe. My name’s Luigi Costanzo, I live in Mickleover, near Derby.’ He flashed his business card in front of her and then tucked it into one of her bags. And Megan knew instinctively that she could trust him. He had an open, honest face, and he had almost to pass her house to get to his own. It would be silly to refuse.

But still she hesitated.

‘I know how you must feel,’ he said. ‘A complete stranger and all that. The offer’s there if you want it, but I’ll still walk you to the bus stop if that’s what you’d prefer.’

Megan was eighteen and he was much older than the boys she usually hung around with. Mid twenties, she imagined, maybe even older than that. She was enchanted by him. And she found herself agreeing to let him give her a lift.

His car was smart, black and sleek. Whatever his business he was clearly doing well for himself. And he drove her straight to her door, even helping her with her parcels. Her parents’ eyes goggled when they saw her with a strange, handsome man, but they were clearly impressed.

Before he left, Luigi asked whether he could see her again. Megan couldn’t refuse. By this time she was completely bowled over. Her insides felt as though they had turned to mush—as they were doing at this moment!

His kiss was awakening all she’d ever felt, and Megan resented it, struggling even more furiously to free herself, until in the end he let her go. There was a twisted smile on his lips. ‘Something tells me that old emotions were stirred there. You’re not as immune to me as you’d have me believe.’

‘Wishful thinking,’ she retorted, her lovely grey eyes glaring icily.

‘Mmm, we’ll see.’

Megan felt a tightening in her stomach. She didn’t like the way he said that. He was going to try again, she knew, and it was the last thing she wanted. Damn! How could she respond to him after all this time? She didn’t want to be involved with him again, not ever. He wasn’t good for Charlotte. A workaholic father was good for no child. She needed two full-time parents.

‘Goodnight!’ she tossed stormily and marched out.

She felt Luigi’s eyes on her but he didn’t call her back, and she ran up the stairs as quickly as she could. It seemed to take an age to reach her room, but finally she found it, and closing the door quietly behind her, she stood a moment reflecting on her reaction to his kiss.

It had shocked her beyond measure. She’d thought herself over him. For her feelings to rise so quickly after all these years was scary to say the least.

Perhaps, she tried to convince herself, it wasn’t desire—she refused to use the word love, that had flown out of the window a long time ago—it was pure animal passion. After all, she hadn’t been with any other man since Luigi; it was natural she would feel something if he—or any man for that matter—kissed her. She was a young, passionate woman with all the feelings that went with it.

Slowly now she walked across the room to check on Charlotte. Her daughter was fast asleep, a faint smile on her lips as though she was dreaming of something nice. Christmas, probably. Or her father. Megan grimaced. Hopefully not! She didn’t want Charlotte getting too attached to him because she had no intention of staying, despite Luigi’s threats.

Threats! Was that what he was doing, threatening her? It didn’t sound nice, and basically Luigi was a nice guy. She’d found that out on the day they met. He had been polite and considerate to her parents and they had immediately taken to him, and in the ensuing days a romance had begun that ended in them getting married six months later. In fact her parents had pushed her into it, declaring she would never find anyone else as good.

She had been the envy of all her friends. Nothing had prepared her for the fact that he put work before everything else. At first she’d been proud of how well he was doing. Before he met her he had written a software program that had taken the computer world by storm, and he had become increasingly busy working on further projects. Sometimes she felt that he thought more of his work than he did her. But then he would come home and their lovemaking reached heights unimaginable. He was every woman’s dream in bed, making up a hundredfold for all the time they spent apart.