Kate Walker - A Sicilian Husband

‘It was dry white wine, wasn’t it?’

‘Oh—yes…’

Her response was even more distracted because as he lounged back in his seat and stretched out his long legs in front of him, crossed at the ankles, she discovered to her horror that her skirt had not been the only victim of the accident with the glass. The smart silver-grey trousers that were now in her view were liberally splashed with wine too—and his was only too clearly not a cheap suit. In fact, if the perfect fit, immaculate tailoring and fabulous material were anything to go by, it was an extremely expensive item of clothing.

‘But there’s no need… You don’t have to go to any trouble.’

‘It is no trouble,’ he assured her, his voice low and as intent as the gleaming eyes that were fixed on her face. ‘On the contrary, it’s a pleasure.’

The words should have been reassuring, but to Terrie’s total consternation they had precisely the opposite effect. She felt uncomfortably as if someone had scraped away a vital protective layer from her skin, leaving her nerves raw and uncomfortable, and that unnervingly direct stare made her shift uneasily on the velvet-covered chair.

Up close, he was just too much. Too beautiful, too big, too sexually disturbing, too male, for any female with the normal amount of hormones to be able to cope. And every single one of Terrie’s feminine instincts was on buzzing red alert at simply being faced with him.

‘I really think…’

‘What are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid!’

Her tone of voice belied it, starting high-pitched and rising even further until it ended in an inelegant squawk at the end of the sentence.

‘Then drink your wine.’

Softly spoken as it was, it was clearly a command, and one he intended to have obeyed at once and without question. Just for a second Terrie was tempted to argue. But the impulse to rebellion died as soon as she looked into his dark face and met the forceful blaze of those tawny eyes head-on.

‘Thank you,’ she managed, reaching for the glass.

But with the drink halfway to her lips she suddenly paused again.

‘I wouldn’t want you to think…I mean—I don’t normally let…’

To her embarrassment, the faint lift of one black eyebrow mocked the struggle she was having to get her words out.

‘I don’t normally talk to strange men in bars.’

Was she truly as nervous as she sounded? Gio wondered. Or was it just an act? Surely the woman who had given him such a deliberate and unashamed appraisal couldn’t now be feeling uncertain and ill at ease.

Wasn’t it more likely that, having won his interest, she had now decided to change tactics, preferring to act as the prey rather than the hunter? Well, he would play along for the moment, though he wasn’t in the mood for subtlety or games. And as they were both only after one thing, then quite frankly he didn’t see the need for them.

‘And I don’t normally talk to women I don’t know either,’ he returned smoothly.

If he had had any doubts about the way he was going to handle this, then they had evaporated as soon as he had seated himself opposite her. This woman had class. The slim, elegant body, the fall of pale blonde hair, the porcelain-pale complexion, all had a touch of exoticism to a man used to being surrounded by women with a much darker natural colouring. The faint scent of her body mixed with a light, floral perfume to send a sensual message straight to his brain, making his body harden in hungry demand. But rushing things would be a mistake. The evening would be much more enjoyable if he took his time, enjoyed the journey as well as the final arrival at his destination.

And the final conquest would be all the sweeter as a result.

‘So why don’t we introduce ourselves and then neither of us will be complete strangers?’

One long, powerful hand was held out over the table, the fingers elegant and square-tipped.

‘My name is Giovanni Cardella. But most of my friends call me Gio.’

He pronounced the name like a softened version of ‘Joe’, though in his beautiful accent it had nothing like the ordinary solidity of the English form.

‘Terrie Hayden…’

Did she really have to touch that hand? She had reacted badly enough to the brief, faint brush of it against her leg. How much worse would she feel if she had to grasp those strong-boned fingers, feel the heat of that satin olive skin against her own?

But it seemed she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she put her own hand into his, sharp white teeth digging into her lower lip as his strength closed around her. The sensation of grasping a live electrical wire sent a powerful, burning reaction zigzagging up her arm, making her head swim so that she missed Gio’s murmured response.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Terry?’ he repeated, frowning faintly. ‘But that is a man’s name—no?’

‘It’s Terrie—with an i and an e, not a y.’

Carefully she eased her hand away from his, struggling to resist the impulse to cradle it against her, as if his touch had actually burned her skin.

‘It’s short for Teresa actually. But, like you, no one ever calls me by my proper name.’

‘I would. Terrie is not right for you—but Teresa…’

He made it sound so very different, Terrie registered with a sense of shock. After so many years of being called Tereesa, then his lyrical pronunciation of Terayza had a lovely, musical sound that made her smile unconsciously.

‘I will call you Teresa.’

He could call her anything he liked, if he would just continue to speak to her in that wonderful voice; if he would smile into her eyes in that enticing way. The effect of that smile was to make her feel as if she was bathed in the warm sun of some Mediterranean country, which was obviously where he had been born.

‘What part of Italy are you from?’ she asked impulsively.

‘I am a Sicilian. My home is in Palermo.’

It fitted. Italy would have given him the smooth sophistication that he wore with the sleek ease of an elegant cat. And Sicily had added the dangerous, untamed streak that burned in the tawny eyes, the curl of his mouth. Knowing he came from Sicily was like opening the door to the family pet cat, only to find that in its place a dark, dangerous, predatory jaguar had prowled into the room.

‘I’d love to visit Sicily! I’ve never been further abroad than a weekend trip to Bruges, and I’d really like to travel more.’

‘Well, perhaps now that you’ve decided to “chuck the job in” you’ll get the chance to do just that.’

At first Terrie thought that it was just the way that the slang phrase sounded strange on his tongue that made her pause, considering it thoughtfully. But next moment came the stunning realisation that he was quoting her own words directly, making her head whirl in shock.

‘Chuck the—you heard that! You were listening!’

‘You weren’t exactly quiet. I wasn’t aware that what you were saying was a state secret. If you hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear then you should have kept your voice lower.’

Was she really trying to pretend that she hadn’t meant him to ‘overhear’? After that openly interested look, the way that she had announced that she was bored and looking for some fun was a deliberate come-on if ever he’d heard one. It was too late for her to back down now.

And, if the truth was told, he would be disappointed if she did. He had no time for games, for the two steps forward, one step back dance of seduction. For the flirtatious pretence of needing to be wooed in order to be won. He knew what he wanted out of this—and, he was sure, so did she. So why were they playing around?

‘Have dinner with me.’

‘What?’

The question came so sharply, so unexpectedly that it caught Terrie totally off guard. It also caught her mid-swallow of another sip of wine and she had to close her mouth hurriedly and gulp it down hard so as not to choke.