Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
where your hands are, yes?”
She barely resisted the urge to pinch him. “If this were a spa, I highly doubt you’d be asking the technician to call you Renzo.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Depends on how attractive she was, I imagine.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said.
“And possessed of an outrageous ego, I understand.”
Faith couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh dear. I’m sorry I said that.” It might be true, but she shouldn’t have said it. One evening pretending to be his date didn’t give her a license to insult him. He was still her boss when everything was said and done.
“You aren’t sorry at all. And I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is true.”
“Will you tell me about your leg now?”
“Will you agree to call me Renzo?”
What else could she say? “Yes.”
“Bene.” He sighed. “It happens more lately than it used to. The doctors told me I would never walk without a limp, that I would always need a cane—but I proved them wrong. Except,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice, “that it seems as if my victory was only temporary.”
She stopped rubbing for half a second, her fingers going limp at the thought of this proud man needing a cane once more. “There is nothing that can be done?”
“Probably not. But I will not give in just yet.” He leaned toward her then, took her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “No one can know about this, Faith. It’s very important that no one knows.”
She could only blink at him. “I don’t see how you can keep it a secret if something like this happens again.”
He released her and sat back again. “I won’t let it happen.”
“That didn’t work so well for you tonight, did it?” She was growing angry, and not because he was stubborn, but because he frightened her. She knew where this conviction sprang from, knew what he did not say. The Viper. The Grand Prix circuit. Though he had a racing team, he didn’t feel anyone else could ride the bike to victory just yet. It was personal to him, though she did not quite know why.
The arrogant man intended to risk his neck on the track and to hell with everything else. It infuriated her.
She got to her feet, her entire body trembling with energy. She needed to move, needed to do something, or she might explode. Why did she care?
“Do you want something to drink?”
He was watching her carefully. “A brandy would be nice.”
She wanted to laugh, but she did not. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t the Ritz. I don’t have a liquor cabinet. I may have some vodka, though.”
Elaine had liked vodka and Faith was pretty sure she’d left half a bottle behind.
“And tonic water,” she added. “I know I have that.”
“Vodka and tonic would be fine,” he said. Faith turned and fled to the kitchen. She found the vodka shoved in the back of a cabinet. Then she filled a glass with ice, added some vodka and poured tonic water on top. For good measure, she made another for herself. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she had the feeling she needed something to take the edge off.
This night had been strange, to say the least.
Renzo was sitting where she’d left him, his leg still propped up, his head leaning back against the sofa cushion. His eyes were closed, and she took a moment to admire the symmetrical beauty of his face. His nose was long and lean, his cheekbones high, his lips full and firm. He had a mouth made to kiss, she thought. His top lip dipped in the center, just slightly, and she found herself wanting to nibble on that sexy little dip.
It was a sensual mouth. A cruel mouth. A mouth she wanted on hers even though she knew better. Just for a moment. Just so she could see for herself what made all those women so willing to put up with this man.
His eyes snapped open, then went unerringly to her face. The heat she saw there was unmistakable. It nearly fixed her feet to the spot, but she forced herself to move as if nothing was any different. As if they were still Miss Black and Mr. D’Angeli, and this was simply a morning at the office and she was taking him coffee.
She crossed the distance between them and held out the drink. “Grazie,” he said, taking it from her and sitting it on the table beside him.
She set her own drink down and turned back to him, prepared to ask if he wanted her to continue rubbing his leg. But the look in his eyes scorched her.
Renzo reached up and took her hand in his. Her skin sizzled as fire snaked through her.
“You feel it, too,” he said. “I know you do.”
Faith could not speak. She did feel it, whatever it was. And she didn’t like it. It made her achy and jumpy and worried. He was the wrong man, the man who could destroy her present just as Jason Moore had destroyed her past.
With one tug, he pulled her down onto his lap, his arms going around her to cradle her close. “Renzo,” she started to protest, but he bent and fitted his gorgeous mouth to hers, silencing her.
SO MANY sensations crashed through Faith at once: confusion, fear, lust, passion, joy. She wanted to slide her arms around his neck, arch into him and beg him to show her what no man ever had before.
And she wanted to shove away from him, put as much distance between them as possible. She wanted him to go. And she wanted him to stay.
His mouth on hers was firm, sensual, demanding. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, enticing her, entreating her. She was determined not to give in to the invitation, but he caressed her cheek and she gasped. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, stroked against hers.
It was, in its own way, heaven. Her heart hammered so hard in her ears that she could hear nothing else.
Faith made a sound, realized it was a moan. It was a needy sound from deep in her throat, the kind of sound that invited a man to continue, to take it further.
No! No, no, no. That was not at all what she wanted. She wanted it to stop—
And yet she made no move to stop it. In fact, she shivered in his embrace at the thought of more. The truth was that Renzo D’Angeli kissed like he’d been born to do so. His mouth moved over hers, fitted to hers, coaxed hers. And she gave, gave as much as she was able, gave more than she thought she could.
She meant to push him away, but she wound her arms around his neck instead, let the hot sensations roll over her. She was electric, incandescent, her body sparking and tightening in ways she’d not thought possible. This was what drew the women, then. This.
A moment later she tilted, and then the world was shifting as he pressed her back onto the couch, his hard strong body pressing into hers. Panic shot through her. It suddenly reminded her of another time, another place, when she was young and innocent and thought she was in love. Jason had pressed her onto her parents’ couch just like this, his body rubbing hers almost painfully, his hands grasping and groping beneath her dress.
Renzo did nothing of the sort, and yet Faith couldn’t get the images out of her head. The fear, the panic. A good girl wouldn’t do such a thing, Faith. A good girl keeps her body sacred until she enters into the bonds of matrimony.
It was her father talking, but she suddenly couldn’t make the sainted Reverend Winston go away. And she couldn’t allow that ugliness to ruin whatever beautiful feeling was crashing through her because of Renzo.
She put