Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
pain, did that thought make his libido kick into gear?
“I’ll be fine in a few moments. Just let me stand here.” It wasn’t an admission he’d wanted to make, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to deny the truth when she could clearly see it.
She frowned up at him. “I had a roommate who was a massage therapist, and she taught me some things. I’m not a professional, but I can try to ease the cramp.”
“It will go away in a moment.”
Her expression said she didn’t believe it for a minute. “I can massage it or you can stand here. Whichever you prefer. But know this. My feet hurt and I’m going inside and sitting down, with or without you.”
He swore softly in Italian, but he let her help him into the cramped living space of her apartment. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the limp this time. What was the point?
She eased him down on her sofa and then hastily moved magazines from her coffee table before bending to pick his foot up and prop it on the table. Renzo leaned his head back and closed his eyes as pain throbbed into his body.
“You shouldn’t have stood on it so long tonight,” Faith said.
“This rarely happens,” he replied automatically, though it was a lie. In truth it happened too often of late. And what if it happened on the track? He’d been asking himself that for months now. The consequences could be disastrous. He knew what it was like to wipe out at two hundred miles an hour. Knew how lucky he’d been to wake up from the accident with pins in his leg and his head intact.
“Yes, well, you should still think of it and take opportunities to rest the leg when you can.” Faith sank down onto the couch beside him, her body pressing against his as she leaned over him and put her small hands on his thigh.
Renzo swallowed. Hard. He was in pain, yes, but he wasn’t dead. His body wanted to respond to the feel of her hands pressing into him, but he refused to allow it. His senses were filled with her—with the sweet scent of her, the tactile pressure of her hands on his body, the sound of her breath and her voice. With his eyes closed, he didn’t have to ask himself what it was about her. He could feel what it was, though he’d be damned if he could name it.
“The muscles are so tight,” she said. “It would be much better if you took your pants off.”
Renzo couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was nothing like his usual laugh. He wasn’t quite sure if it was strained from the pain of his leg or the pain of fighting with himself not to reach for her. “Cara, you surprise me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, sounding all prickly and cool.
Renzo opened his eyes. She was looking at his leg, concentrating on massaging it, but a red flush had spread over her cheeks. Her face in profile was lovelier than he’d imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from lifting his hand. From sliding his finger across her soft cheek.
“And yet I could almost wish you did,” he said, and her head came up, her green eyes so wide and innocent. Innocent? He wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that thought from.
“Are you flirting with me, Mr. D’Angeli?”
“Not if you prefer I didn’t,” he told her truthfully, disappointed that she’d retreated behind formality once more.
Her gaze dropped again. Her fingers kneaded his knotted muscles. It hurt, and yet he knew she was loosening them at the same time.
“That is exactly what I prefer,” she said. “You are charming, but your charm is misdirected on me.”
His brows drew together. She was bent over him, her head bowed, her cleavage frustratingly covered—and yet he would have sworn she felt the spark between them, too.
“Is it?” he asked, aggravated that she was so distant and formal.
“The last thing you need is another woman puffing up your already-outrageous ego,” she stated firmly. “So, if you don’t mind, while I am certain you could charm the panties off a nun, I’d prefer if you didn’t attempt it on me.”
Her heart thudded in her ears. Faith couldn’t believe she’d actually said that to him. She was not unaffected by his male beauty, no matter how she protested otherwise. But he didn’t need to know that, did he?
Except he wasn’t a stupid man. When he’d touched her, she’d felt the blush bloom across her cheeks. Surely he’d seen it. Just as he’d no doubt heard the breathy note in her voice when she’d asked if he was flirting with her.
She’d denied she was affected, but it was a lie. What living, breathing woman wouldn’t be attracted to this man?
Faith wanted to snort in disgust. Really, she should be the woman who wasn’t because she’d watched him go through at least five girlfriends since she’d worked for him. Not only that, but she’d also seen the tabloid reports on his notorious love-them-and-leave-them lifestyle. How could she ever find a man like him attractive?
And yet she did.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever charmed a nun,” he said, his voice containing a hint of steel beneath the silk. “I only charm those who wish to be charmed.”
“Then I’ll consider myself safe.” The tops of her ears burned.
“For now,” he said.
Faith tried to concentrate on the ropes of muscle beneath her hands. It would be so much easier if she could touch his skin instead of his trousers, but this was definitely safer. Seeing his body, touching his skin—it made curls of heat sizzle into her just thinking of it. Even now, though there was fabric between her skin and his, it wasn’t quite enough to block the sensuality of touching him.
Concentrate.
Faith pressed her thumbs into the muscle and worked at the knots. She wasn’t a true massage therapist, but she’d thought she could help him by using a couple of the things that Elaine had taught her before moving back to Ohio.
What else could she do? She couldn’t let him stand out there in the hall, and she couldn’t let him go back downstairs when he was in such pain.
“Should I go down and tell Stefan what’s happened?” she asked, suddenly remembering the uniformed man they’d left on the street.
“I’ll call.” Renzo took his phone out of his pocket.
“He can come up, if you like.”
Renzo’s eyes were flat. “No, that is not necessary.”
Faith supposed Stefan was quite used to waiting outside women’s apartments. The thought did not cheer her. Would the man think his boss was up here getting cozy with her? Did she care?
Renzo made the call, told Stefan to go home while Faith tried not to swallow her tongue, and then hung up and gave her an even look.
“Don’t look so worried,” he told her. “I’ll take a taxi home.”
She bit the inside of her cheek and told herself it didn’t matter if Stefan thought Renzo was spending the night with her. It was getting late and Stefan would want to return home, so it was kind of Renzo not to make him wait.
“Is this helping at all?” she asked, still pressing her thumbs into his thigh muscle.
“Si, I think so.”
“How long has this been going on, Mr. D’Angeli?”
His icy blue eyes glittered. “I refuse to discuss this with you unless you call me Renzo.”
Faith’s cheeks heated. “I had thought it best if we go back to the way things were before the party tonight.”
Because she needed to put distance between them. She needed to remember that he was her boss, and not a man she could ever know more personally.
“And