Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction

‘Well…that was a very interesting evening,’ he drawled as they entered the suite. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’ he added, walking across the carpet to a bar, in a far corner of the large sitting room.

‘No, thank you. I never drink when on duty.’

‘Ah, yes…I’ve been thinking about your duties as my personal bodyguard,’ he murmured, pouring himself a stiff whisky, before turning around to give her a broad smile. ‘And I came to one or two interesting conclusions.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Antonia eyed him warily. She was beginning to realise that when Lorenzo Foscari turned on the charm he generally had some devious objective in mind.

He shrugged. ‘We both know that I was less than pleased to find myself landed with a bodyguard. Nor was I too happy to discover that she was female. Not that I have anything against women, of course…’

‘You could have fooled me!’

‘It’s just that I foresaw certain…er…difficulties in such an appointment,’ he continued, clearly choosing to ignore her interjection. ‘However, after giving the situation much thought, I suddenly realised that those “difficulties” were, in fact, a positive bonus!’

She frowned. ‘Sorry—I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about the fact that, as my bodyguard, you are concerned with the close and personal protection of my body,’ he drawled smoothly, walking slowly over to where she was standing by the doorway.

‘So?’

‘You have, I understand, been hired to guard my body for twenty-four hours a day?’

‘Yes, technically speaking, I suppose I have. But…’

‘Well, there you are!’ He grinned wolfishly down at her. ‘I suddenly realised that it would be churlish, to say the least, to turn down the opportunity of having you, my dear Antonia, closely guarding my body through the night.’

She stared at him in amazement for a moment, before being struck by the utterly ridiculous aspect of the situation.

‘You must be joking!’ she laughed.

‘Oh, no—not at all,’ he murmured, his eyes gleaming beneath their heavy lids. ‘In fact, I’m beginning to find the idea of us spending the night together quite an enchanting prospect. Tell me…on which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped.

Antonia was almost certain that he was just winding her up. But she was determined to put this guy straight about the relationship between a bodyguard and their client. Who did he think she was? Some kind of Mata Hari?

‘Your insurance company has hired me to act as your personal bodyguard,’ she told him firmly. ‘And yes, I do have the overall responsibility of making sure that you have close, adequate protection around the clock. But…’

‘Wonderful!’ he exclaimed with another wolf-like grin. ‘I don’t wear pyjamas, of course. But, I’m sure a real professional, such as yourself, has a great line in sexy night-dresses, hmm?’

‘Oh—come on! Are you completely incapable of listening to a word I’ve been saying?’ she demanded irritably, refusing to be intimidated by the tall, dark figure now looming over her. ‘Believe me, I have absolutely no intention of spending the night here, in your suite.’

‘What? Are you intending to welsh on the deal?’ he queried with mock indignation. ‘That is disgraceful! I shall certainly report this dereliction of duty to your superiors.’

‘Ha-ha—very funny!’ she ground out sarcastically. ‘However, if you want to check, you’ll find that there is already a guard stationed outside in the corridor,’ she added curtly. ‘He, working together with a colleague, will make absolutely certain that you are not disturbed during the night.’

‘And you?

‘I will be in the suite adjacent to this one—with the door firmly locked!’ she retorted swiftly. ‘Although why you seem to think that I’d want to share your bed is completely beyond me!’ she added with a shrill, high-pitched laugh. ‘You may think that you’re totally irresistible, but, quite frankly, sweetie, I’m not that desperate!’

He took a step forward, his expression suddenly hard and threatening.

‘Be careful, Antonia!’ he growled. ‘As you undoubtedly realised, I was merely enjoying a joke with you. However, I really don’t care to be talked to in such a disrespectful manner.’

‘Tough!’ she retorted, suddenly deciding that she’d had quite enough of this unbelievably tiresome Italian for one day.

‘Although, believe me, if I was in frantic need of a man,’ she added with another, high-pitched laugh, ‘I sure as hell wouldn’t waste any time chasing after an uptight male chauvinist such as yourself!’

In the dead silence which followed, she was aware of Lorenzo Foscari’s quick, sharp inhalation of breath, a dark flush sweeping over his cheeks.

‘Oh, really?’ he muttered savagely. His blue eyes, like chips of tungsten steel, bore down into hers as his hands came down on her shoulders.

‘OK—let’s cool it, huh?’ she muttered, quickly pulling herself together. What on earth was she doing, quarrelling with a client like this? Even if the gentleman concerned was enough to try the patience of a saint, her behaviour was well out of order.

But, as Antonia discovered for the second time that evening, she was guilty of seriously underestimating an opponent.

Despite always priding herself on her quick reactions, she realised that she’d been completely outclassed and out-gunned, as Lorenzo suddenly moved at what seemed to be the speed of light. A nanosecond later, she found herself firmly clasped by one steely, unyielding arm to his hard, tall body, while he placed his other hand firmly beneath her chin.

Tilting her face up towards him, she barely had time to become aware of his blue eyes glittering down at her before his dark head was descending swiftly towards her—his mouth possessing her lips in a kiss of devastating intensity.

SHOCKED and stunned by the totally unexpected swiftness of Lorenzo’s action, Antonia took a second or two to begin trying to struggle free from his strong arms.

Bitterly ashamed of being such an idiot, and having stupidly underestimated both this man’s strength and his likely speed of movement, she gradually realised that the hand firmly placed on her back was now beginning to slide slowly and seductively down over her body.

The hardening muscles of his strong thighs, clasped so tightly to her own, suddenly prompted a fierce clench of sexual awareness deep in the pit of her stomach, which left her feeling weak and trembling.

She had no idea of what was happening to her. But it was clear that they were now both in a high state of arousal. As he ruthlessly forced her lips apart, the moistly erotic heat of his tongue, savagely exploring the sweet, inner softness of her mouth, was driving her almost wild with excitement.

As if he sensed her bewilderment and confusion, her inability to cope with the sudden flash-flood of hot desire scorching through her veins, his mouth relaxed its hard pressure as his hands travelled slowly and erotically over the soft curves of her body. She was dimly conscious of the rapid, deep thudding of his heartbeat, of her nostrils filled with the musky scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his mouth, now moving softly and seductively over her quivering lips.

It was as if time was standing still and she, hopelessly trapped by her own emotions, was utterly powerless. She seemed to have no choice, but to respond to the increasingly fiery tide of sensual excitement and sheer naked lust pounding and rampaging through her trembling body.

Only when she became aware that he was unzipping her dress, her bare flesh quivering with delight beneath the soft, warm touch of the fingers trailing down her spine to undo her bra strap, did harsh reality begin to break through the thick mist of overwhelming desire clouding her mind.