One Night In His Bed. Christina Hollis
Garett went on watching her covertly. He was savouring the idea of stripping away her inhibitions one by one, as her shock and confusion melted into desire. It awakened in him a feeling that he thought would be hard to better—and then something happened that improved on it. She looked up as their main course arrived, and in a reflex action her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Her anticipation fired Garett’s—but for something far more pleasurable than mere food. He imagined her using that neat little pink tip to caress him all the way to paradise. As the waiter moved to his side of the table, Garett had to pull his chair in closer to the table to hide the most obvious sign of his arousal. Trying to distract himself, he stared down into the white porcelain dish of ravioli that had been placed before him. It was still bubbling, as hot as his thoughts.
A squeak from the other side of the table made him jerk his head up again. An eruption of sauce had splashed out and burned Signora di Imperia’s hand. As he watched, she sucked her finger to cool the heat. But it did nothing to quell Garett’s desire.
Then her gaze flew to his. Her blue eyes opened wide. Instantly she withdrew her finger and hid it in her lap.
‘Oh—I am so sorry, signor! What can I say? It’s just that…I’m so nervous. Coming to a place like this is such a novelty for me—I’ve never been anywhere so wonderful—’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he murmured, his mind on something else entirely.
‘Be careful—the dish is very hot. I hope you like it.’
‘I’m sure I shall.’ He smiled with complete conviction.
While waiting for his food to cool a little, Garett took a sip of wine and congratulated himself on his choice. This Moscato was a light, yet aromatic example of its type. It perfectly complemented both their soup and now their main course. He counted himself lucky to be able to experience it. No, I’ve earned the right to do this, he corrected himself quickly. Garett was a strong believer in making his own luck. Anybody could do what he had done if they wanted success badly enough. When would people learn that all it took was hard work?
Then Garett realised his companion was dissecting her dish of pasta pillows in their velvety sauce in a particular way. It was a delaying tactic he recognised from his life on the streets. She had already told him that dining like this was out of her league. Now he sensed she was trying to make the experience last for as long as possible.
He could only hope there was not another, darker reason for her time-wasting. Watching her slender wrists and delicate hands as she toyed with her food, he wondered when she would next see a decent meal. An unlikely interest in some people’s habits was another legacy of his deprived childhood.
Garett’s frown of concern was enough to bring their waiter scurrying to his side.
‘I wonder, could you bring me some more of this, please? And another serving of garlic bread?’
Sienna was so amazed, words burst from her before she could stop them.
‘But you haven’t touched what is in front of you yet, signor!’
‘Good grief—that isn’t the sort of reaction I’m used to from my dinner guests.’ He laughed.
Sienna paused, and then shot a glance across at him.
He had turned on a particularly winning smile, aimed at the restaurant staff scurrying up with his additional order.
‘It’s all for you, signora,’ he whispered. ‘Enjoy!’
Plates were juggled and the table rearranged to make space for the extra dishes. Sienna was speechless, but at least the shock gave her time to consider her reply.
‘This is very kind of you, Signor Lazlo,’ she murmured as soon as all the waiters were out of earshot, ‘but I’m sure I shall never manage all this. What made you think my own meal wasn’t big enough?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re as thin as a rail, and white as paper. Eat up. The servings here may not be American-sized, but they’ll still put some roses in your cheeks.’
‘So…does that mean your own meal is too small?’
He began making great inroads into his own ravioli, with evident satisfaction.
‘Not at all. I can never stand to see good food go to waste, so I always eat everything that is put in front of me.’
‘It seems to do you good.’
The words were out before Sienna could stop them. She gasped, desperate to take them back, but Garett had heard too many empty compliments in his life to take much notice of hers. And he chuckled at her innocent remark.
‘What I meant was…I mean, you look perfectly—that is…’
He let her flounder about, watching with amusement as she got more and more flustered, and more and more embarrassed. It pleased him to see a woman struggling over compliments. The girls who slinked up to him at parties all read from the same script. They had their patter worked out. This Signora di Imperia was anything but practised. She was obviously attracted to him, but trying not to show it. This made a refreshing change for Garett. Though of course he would never respond to any come-on from a mousy little innocent like her! It was all he could do not to laugh out loud at the idea of it. What sort of attraction could she possibly hold for him?
The lure of the forbidden: the most powerful one in the world, his body told him suddenly, with an alarming jolt.
Disturbed, he looked up from his meal. Their eyes met across the table and he found himself looking temptation straight in the face. Suddenly the innocence in her large, clear eyes began to inflame rather than quell his feelings. The urge to stir those Mediterranean depths with desire—desire for him and him alone—was almost overwhelming…
But he wouldn’t let that distract him now. He smiled lazily in her direction. ‘Forget it, signora—I already have. Now, let’s enjoy our delicious lunch!’
His unruly libido was not so easily distracted.
Their pudding was a wonderful shared confection of cream, chocolate mousse and chestnut puree.
‘It’s such a shame your friends weren’t able to enjoy this lovely meal.’ Sienna slumped in her seat with a sigh of satisfaction as coffee was served. Garett had been so charming over lunch that she was almost tempted to forget her suspicions about his motives. Then she thought of what Aldo would have said at such terrible backsliding, and sat up again smartly.
‘I shouldn’t waste too much sympathy on them, signora. We all eat like this far too often for our own good. It’s the executive’s plague.’
Sienna believed him, but could tell instinctively that this wasn’t a man who overindulged too often. He liked to be in control. She suddenly had a delicious vision of him working his body in his private gym…
‘I wish I could eat like this all the time.’ She sighed with longing, dabbing her lips with her starched white napkin. Even that was luxury. The damask was so thick and perfect. She folded it neatly and dropped it beside her plate as her host summoned the waiter.
‘But you can if you want to, signora,’ Garett said softly as he paid the bill.
She looked up at him. Was this the moment he closed in on her? What would she say? What could she do? Resistance would be useless—but how could she possibly square it with her conscience, or keep it a secret, or—?
‘All you have to do is get yourself a dream, then go all-out to seize it with both hands,’ he went on smoothly.
Sienna might have been relieved—if she hadn’t been so disappointed.
‘That’s easy for you to say, signor. Dreaming isn’t going to pay my bills or put food on our table, is it?’ She spoke quickly, trying to cover her confusion.
‘It’s worked OK for me.’
‘Yes,