bright, lips ever so slightly parted. That heart-stopping glow.
Their gazes connected, and his pulse jumped. He strolled to meet her, controlling an urge to run across and catch her up in his arms.
‘Hello.’
He embraced her and bent to brush her cheeks with his lips. They were cold, nipped to rosiness by the wind even in the transition from the limo to indoors, but the fragrance of her skin and hair rose in his nostrils like an intoxication.
With last night hot in his blood, he felt the irresistible stir in his loins. She was wearing something black under the coat, with a neck-line that revealed an alluring hint of her breasts. Her eyes were as seductive, with shadow on their lids, her luscious mouth a rich deep red. Their gazes connected only fleetingly, but long enough for him to see the feverish little sparkle. The buzz in his veins escalated. Whatever she said, this was a long way from a mere meeting.
She spoke very rapidly, slightly breathless, the way she always had when her excitement was on the simmer.
‘That was extremely nice of you to send the limo. I hardly know what to say.’ She made a gesture as though to touch him, but her hands fluttered in the air then drew back without making contact. ‘Thank you so much. It was lovely and warm, though, honestly, there wasn’t the least need.’ She smiled. ‘I only hope the neighbours were watching.’
He smiled too, conscious of the spark in his own blood. ‘The least I could do, since your home is off-limits. For the moment, at least.’ She looked quickly at him, but he only smiled and with a tilt of his head indicated the bar. ‘Would you care for a drink before dinner?’
‘Oh…er…do you mind if we order dinner somewhere more or less straight away? I can’t stay too late.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I promised Mum I’d be back by ten thirty. She has to work later. I can’t leave-her alone.’
Her. No, of course not. Though this certainly curtailed the possibilities. Unless…
Well, Dio mio, how he loved a challenge.
He kept his expression grave. ‘That’s a pity. We’ll just have to see what we can fit in between now and ten- thirty. Would you prefer to stay here where it’s warm, or walk down the street to one of the restaurants?’
She hesitated and glanced about, and he watched the indecision flit across her face. Whether to dine here, with his bed calling from upstairs, or to brave walking out into the cold with nothing to protect her legs from the wind except that faint Lycra shimmer?
She met his eyes, a small determined gleam in hers. ‘I think-down the street.’
‘Ah,’ he said, amused. Did she really think she could out-manoeuvre Alessandro Vincenti? ‘I thought you’d say that. I booked us a table at one of the places around the corner.’
She started buttoning up again, and he took charge of the top two buttons, enjoying the conscious flutter of her lashes, knowing how intimate the gesture was, how tempted she was to look up into his eyes. Then he took her arm-purely a friendly gesture, surely. When the glass entrance doors opened before them, they were met by new arrivals coming in, a perfect reason to slide his arm around her waist to steady her against his body.
Even through the layers of her clothing his fingers thrilled to the response in her vibrant flesh, and it stirred his blood like no aphrodisiac ever could.
When he released her outside, the all too brief, tantalising touch stayed with him, and he’d have been willing to bet his billion dollar share in Scala Enterprises that her slim, supple body felt the same yearning loss.
Nothing like a meeting.
He signalled the valet to summon a taxi. The distance wasn’t great. If the evening had been warmer the walk past all the boutiques, tourist shops and historic byways of this old section of the city would have been pleasant, but his aim was to warm her up, not chill her down.
CHAPTER TEN
THE restaurant was an old converted terrace house, charmingly furnished with antiques, its floorboards slightly uneven, but to Lara’s relief it was warm, courtesy of a combustion stove in the crowded front room. A jazz quartet occupied one corner, and while her ear responded to a sultry rendition of ‘The Man I Love’ her mouth watered at the tantalising aromas issuing from the kitchen.
Her pleasure in those old dining experiences with Alessandro came rushing back. How he’d adored restaurants, and she’d plunged into his enthusiasm with him. Food was of the most immediate importance, he’d once sternly told her, shocked by her cavalier attitude to what she ate. She’d felt so sophisticated, dining with a connoisseur of fine food and wine. She remembered how easy and casual he’d always been then, how generous to staff.
The waiter led them through several packed rooms to a table in a smaller room beyond, where Alessandro had to duck his head to avoid the lintel. Two other tables in the room were unoccupied. After a second Lara realised there were no place settings on those other tables.
She glanced quickly at Alessandro, looking so darkly handsome and assured in his elegant suit. Her knees had only just started to recover from the sight of him strolling towards her at the Seasons. Would the Marquis of the Isles have arranged for them to have this private little dining room all to themselves?
She slipped off her coat and handed it to the waiter. She could feel Alessandro’s gaze and turned to see him assessing her in her black dress. The wolfish hunger in his eyes thrilled through her with a delicious awareness of her femininity. She’d almost forgotten the sensation of being desired by a gorgeous man, of feeling beautiful and sexy and fascinating.
Oh, Lord. How had she survived for so long without it? Without him?
His dinner setting had been placed adjacent to hers, and as he took his chair she absorbed the graceful old- fashioned furnishings, long lace-edged linen cloths, tall windows draped in long swathes of blue satin. A chaise longue set against one wall extended a silent, though potent, invitation.
‘This is very intimate,’ she said with a smiling lift of her brows once the waiter had delivered their menus and departed. ‘Perfect for a serious discussion, isn’t it?’
His eyes gleamed, then flickered down to where her bodice dipped to the valley between her breasts. ‘And we have a lot to talk about, don’t we, tesoro?’ He flashed her a devil’s smile, then opened the wine list and started to study it.
‘Something to start? A cocktail, perhaps?’ She nodded and satisfaction settled in the chiselled lines of his sexy mouth. ‘Good. Something to warm you up. Let’s see now…you like strawberry…a Strawberry Kiss?’ His brows edged together as he perused the list. ‘No, too icy. We can do better than that. How about a Between the Sheets? Or perhaps a French 69? A little gin, some champagne…’
‘I think I’d prefer mine straight, thank you. Just straight old-fashioned champagne.’
His sensuous lips gave a very faint twitch. ‘Straight up it will be. Though we’d better be careful,’ he murmured, returning to the list. ‘I don’t want to get you drunk. Not now you’re a mother.’
She smiled and raised her brows, pleasantly stimulated by the delicious little bout of sexual innuendo. ‘Can’t mothers enjoy themselves?’
‘I’ve been led to believe that mothers can be very puritanical.’
‘That isn’t always the case. I think it might depend on who the mothers are with.’
‘Ah.’ He flicked her a smiling glance. After a moment his eyes veiled and he said, ‘How is-what did you call her? Vivi?’
Her heart skipped up a gear but she smiled and she gave a wary nod. ‘That’s right. Short for Vivienne. She’s- fine. She should be in bed round about now. Grandma will be reading her a story.’
‘She has another grandmother, you know,’ he said absently, scrutinising his menu. ‘I’m guessing you’ll order the pumpkin soup. Yes?’
Her heart made an alarmed lurch, and it wasn’t inspired by his amazing recall of her passion for pumpkin soup.
‘Does she?’ The words sounded as if they’d been through a strainer, courtesy of a sudden blockage in her
