The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит
smiled, tried to draw her into that smile, into something shared. ‘None of it is a walk in the park, is it?’
‘You mean it scares you too?’
‘Sometimes.’ He was the one to glance away now. ‘I’m not exactly an expert in all this myself, you know, Liana.’
‘But you’ve had loads of relationships, according to the media anyway.’
‘Don’t believe everything you read.’
Her eyebrows rose, two pale arcs. ‘It’s not true?’
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable to impart so much, yet knowing he could only be honest with this woman. His wife. ‘I’ve had quite a few...sexual relationships, I admit. They didn’t mean anything to me.’
‘That’s more than I’ve had,’ she said with a soft laugh that wobbled at the end, a telling note.
He felt a sudden stab of surprising regret for all the pointless encounters he’d had, all attempts to stave off the loneliness and need he’d felt deep inside. The need that was, amazingly, starting to be met by this woman.
‘Have you ever...loved anyone?’ Liana asked softly. ‘I mean, a woman? A romantic... Well, you know.’
‘Yes.’ Sandro paused, pictured Teresa. What had drawn him to her originally? She’d been so different from everything about his former life, he supposed. A California girl, with sun-kissed hair and bright blue eyes, always ready to laugh, always up for a good time. It had taken him nearly a year to realise Teresa only wanted a good time. With his money. His status. She wasn’t interested in the man he really was, didn’t want to do the whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing. At least, not for worse.
‘Sandro?’ Liana’s soft voice interrupted the bleakness of his thoughts. ‘You must have loved her very much.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because your face is like a thundercloud.’
He shook his head. ‘I thought I loved her.’
‘Is there really a difference?’
He sighed. ‘Maybe not. Sometimes disillusionment is worse than heartbreak.’
‘How were you disillusioned?’
He shrugged, half amazed he was telling her all of this. ‘I thought she loved me for me. But I discovered she was really only interested in my money and status, and not so much me, or being faithful to me.’ He’d caught her in bed with the landscaping guy, of all people. She hadn’t even been sorry.
Liana pressed her lips together. ‘So that’s why you’re so suspicious.’
‘Suspicious?’
‘Of me.’
He hesitated then, because as much as he’d been enjoying their conversation and this new, startling intimacy, her words reminded him that she had agreed to marry him for exactly those reasons. Money. Power. A title.
Nothing had really changed, except maybe in his own sentimental mind.
He pushed the thought away; he wanted, for once, to enjoy the simple pleasure of being with a woman. With his wife. ‘Have another strawberry,’ he said, and held another one out to her parted lips.
* * *
Liana licked the last of the chocolate from her lips, every sense on impossible overload. She’d never felt so much—the sweetness of the strawberry, the seductive promise of his kiss, the alarming honesty of their conversation that left her feeling bare and yet bizarrely, beautifully light, as if she’d slipped the first tiny bit of a burden she’d been carrying so long she’d forgotten it was weighing her down. Crippling her.
This was why people fell in love, she supposed. This was what the magazines and romance novels hinted at—and yet she didn’t even love Sandro. How could she, when she barely knew him?
And yet he was her husband, and he’d held her all night long and kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. She’d had more with him already than she’d ever had before, and if that made her pathetic, fine. She was pathetic. But for the first time in her life she could almost glimpse happiness.
But could he? Could they have something other than a marriage of convenience, even if they wanted it? Her own emotions and desires were a confused tangle, and she had no idea what Sandro’s were. What he thought. What he felt. She didn’t want to ask.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Sandro asked as he popped a strawberry into his own mouth.
‘Lots of things.’
‘You’re all sunlight and shadows, smiling one minute, frowning the next.’
‘Am I?’ She laughed a little, tried for some more of this hard honesty. ‘I guess I’m trying to figure out what I think. What I feel.’
‘Maybe,’ Sandro suggested softly, ‘you should stop thinking so much. Just run with it.’
She nodded. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. Stop analysing. Stop worrying. Just...feel.
She’d spent half a lifetime trying not to feel, and now that was all she wanted to do. She laughed aloud, the sound soft and trembling, and Sandro smiled.
‘Good idea?’ he asked and she nodded again.
‘Yes,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Good idea.’
* * *
They arrived in Los Angeles tired and jet-lagged, but Liana was still euphoric. This was a new place, a new day. A new life.
A limo was waiting for them at the airport, and Liana kept her nose nearly pressed on the glass as they drove through the city to Sandro’s beachside villa in Santa Monica.
‘I’ve never been to the US before, you know,’ she said as she took in the impressive elegance of Rodeo Drive, the iconic Hollywood sign high above them.
‘Consider yourself a tourist. I have some work to do, but we can do the sights.’
‘What are the sights?’
‘The usual museums and theme parks. The beach. I’d like to take you to a spa resort out in Palm Desert and pamper you to death.’
She let out a little laugh as a thrill ran through her. ‘That sounds like a pretty good way to go.’
‘I don’t think you’ve ever been pampered,’ Sandro said quietly. ‘Spoiled.’
‘Who would want to be spoiled?’
‘I mean...’ He shrugged, spread his hands. ‘Treated. Indulged. Given an experience just to enjoy and savour.’
No, she’d never had any of those things, not remotely. ‘Well, good thing I’m with you, then,’ she said lightly. ‘Pamper away.’
Sandro smiled and let it drop; she knew he knew there were things she wasn’t saying, things she was afraid to say. And would she ever tell him? She thought of his fingers stroking her back, her hip, softening her. Slowly, slowly.
The limo pulled up to Sandro’s gated mansion and they spent the next hour walking through it. He showed her the voice-controlled plasma-screen television, the shower stall big enough for two people that was activated by simply placing your palm on the wall.
‘This place is like something out of James Bond,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I had no idea you were a gadget guy.’
‘I worked in IT.’
‘And Leo does too, doesn’t he? I remember someone saying at our reception that he’s drafting an IT bill.’
‘He is.’ Sandro’s expression seemed to still, everything in him turn wary. ‘He’s worked hard in my absence.’
She heard the note of recrimination in his