The Ruthless Italian's Inexperienced Wife. Christina Hollis
Cheryl didn’t know what to think. To hear his staff talk, Marco Rossi was deadly serious about everything. But from the moment he’d burst into this house she’d been swept up by a whirlwind. He’d been protective, determined, and now he was smiling at her again.
She decided not to risk returning his gaze. It brought back memories of his hands touching hers. Cheryl didn’t dare let herself be carried away like that, so she made herself stick to purely practical things.
But trying to talk about one thing while her mind was on something else proved to be a big mistake. ‘When I’ve found the towels, I’ll take your wet clothes off you, Marco.’
Then she gasped, suddenly aware of what she had said.
‘Oh, no! I didn’t mean—that is, when you’ve taken them off, I’ll— No, what I should have said was—’
A devilish look haunted Marco’s face as he watched her floundering. It spurred Cheryl into ever more desperate torrents of apology. She got more and more flustered, but Marco said nothing. He didn’t need to. When he’d had his fun, he stretched like a cat and smiled with equal assurance.
‘Non te la prendere, Cheryl!’ His beautiful accent caressed her into silence. ‘I’d say chill out, but you look like a girl who doesn’t know what that means. What a shame you didn’t leave your English reserve at the airport,’ he said with mocking severity. ‘Life in Italy is going to be tough if you’re always worrying about double meanings. As for this—’ he glanced down ruefully at his ruined suit ‘—it’s not a problem. I’ll sort it out. I’d never expect you to run around after me like that. In any case, it’s the middle of the night!’
To her surprise, his concern sounded genuine. There was no sarcasm in his voice at all. That confused Cheryl even more.
‘You’re a man who employs staff…surely you expect that sort of treatment as your right, Signor Rossi? I mean, Marco.’ She corrected herself as he lowered his dark brows in warning.
‘Not from you. I’m employing you as a nanny—nothing more.’ He was firm, but she couldn’t leave it at that.
‘I have to do something—you’re filthy, soaking wet, and you might have been killed coming across country as you did!’
As she gazed into the blue of Marco’s eyes Cheryl’s mind was filled with images of him powering through the storm. Those pictures superheated a secret place inside her. It was somewhere she had almost forgotten existed.
When he spoke, his teasing tone aroused her most primitive instincts to an even higher pitch.
‘It was worth it for the reception I got when you opened the door to me.’
There was that smile again. Coupled with his low, melodious voice, it plucked at feelings Cheryl hadn’t allowed herself for a very long time. It felt right, and urgent, and…
If I don’t do something fast I’m lost, she thought desperately. Marco Rossi had a way of looking at her that made her forget time and place. Once trapped in the mystery of his eyes, surely it would only be seconds before she was yielding to the kiss to end all kisses…
‘I have to keep my mind off this storm, Marco.’ She gulped. ‘Tell me which bathroom you’ll be using. I’ll bring some towels when I’ve discovered where they’re kept.’
Dodging past him, she tried to distract her body. His voice wandered out of the sickroom and into the corridor. ‘That sounds ideal. I’ll use the shower in my suite.’
He followed her, but in his own sweet time. Cheryl felt as though she was in the presence of some large, predatory feline who watched her every move. She closed the door to Vettor’s room, tense with expectation. Marco was standing so close behind her she could almost feel his soft, warm breath on her neck. She hesitated, alight with nerves. They were both waiting for something to happen.
Compelled to turn and look at him, Cheryl had to lower her head the instant their eyes met. His expression was too intense. The only way she could cope with those burning blue eyes was to look up at him from beneath her lashes.
‘I’m only trying to be helpful, Marco.’
He smiled.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’re going to be invaluable…’ he murmured. And her heart stood still.
CHAPTER THREE
HORMONES surged through Marco’s veins, goading him on. He looked down on Cheryl’s upturned face. Her lips parted. It was an invitation he definitely didn’t need, but he was a red-blooded male. One kiss from her lovely full lips would be a great reward for dropping everything and focusing totally on getting home.
Hours of travelling through foul weather had washed him up on the front steps of the Villa Monteolio in a desperate state. He needed a break—and it had come in the shape of this gorgeous girl. Sex had been the last thing on his mind at the time, but when she’d flung herself into his arms his body had recovered like lightning. Marco’s mind might have been full of worry for his nephew, but physically he had warmed to Cheryl straight away.
Now he’d seen Vettor, Marco could afford to indulge himself. Desire had been rising in him since his explosive arrival. Now it was a simmering need, threatening to boil over at any moment. Whatever the circumstances, there was one part of his body that was forever ready. It throbbed with anticipation right now. He was going to enjoy this.
Although…
Alarm bells rang in his head. His newest female employee ought to be as out of bounds as all the rest of them. Marco never dabbled with his staff. But then, he reminded himself, none of them offered such warm temptation, so obviously. Cheryl Lane was soft as butter. The novelty of her English reserve delighted him. It was almost as much a turn-on as the questions in her eyes. All he saw there was When? Where? and How are you going to take me?
Marco recognised consent. Miss Cheryl Lane was sending out all the right signals, and there was no harm in a little flirtation. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, or anyone else, but his feelings for women were often tinged with revenge. At times like this, thoughts of another English girl shouldered themselves into his mind.
Years before, Sophie had seduced him in her parents’ grand villa. He was a realist. He’d already known then from experience that the sight of him stripped to the waist and working up a sweat would cast a spell over any woman with a pulse. So the fact a titled English ‘princess’ had made a play for him had meant nothing to Marco at first. But Sophie had turned out to be…different. She’d had brains. Her natural lust had quickly directed his feelings to her own advantage. A poor little rich girl, she’d led Marco on and then dropped him as soon as Mummy and Daddy threatened her allowance.
The whole business had been a tourniquet round Marco’s heart, twisting it until he’d sworn never to leave his emotions open to attack again.
It had been a hard lesson in how manipulative people could be when it came to getting their own way. But Marco was a quick study. He had a lot more to lose than his naivety these days. He didn’t do the R word—relationships. Now he was as careful with women as he was with business deals.
And he could afford to be selective. If he decided to seduce Cheryl, it would be his first taste of a woman for quite a while. As usual, he was wary. From the moment he laid hands on them, women could never quite keep the acquisitive look out of their eyes. Whether he met them in Manhattan or Melbourne, Florida or Florence, once a woman learned who he was she wanted his wallet. But there was something about Cheryl… She was definitely one of a kind. When this softly upholstered girl had greeted his arrival by throwing herself into his arms the unusual sensation of pliant, warm helplessness beneath his hands had stimulated his body straight away. Now all he had to deal with was his mind.
He wondered what it would be like to push his hands through her rich brown hair. The need to feel its smooth silkiness rippling through his fingers rose up as he cast appreciative eyes over her. That