The Italian's Summer Seduction. Karen Van Der Zee
staff, was always polite and considerate in his dealings with them and he adored the grandmother who’d brought him up after he’d been orphaned. So, knowing she wasn’t the twin who stood accused of theft in his eyes, he had been kind to her, mostly, especially after he’d decided not to come down on her like several tons of bricks.
It really puzzled her. And it was pointless trying to figure it out and tying her brain in knots, she decided as she stepped out of the most welcome shower she’d ever taken in her life.
Wrapping herself in one of the huge fluffy bath sheets, a different thought struck her like a bolt of lightning and robbed her of the ability to breathe, to move.
When he’d started to make love to her it hadn’t been because he believed she was his ex-lover as she’d thought. He’d known she wasn’t!
It was she, Milly, who’d turned him on!
Her gaze met her reflection in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors and her heart jumped. Her eyes looked huge, sparkling and her mouth looked swollen, soft, as if she’d just been kissed to within an inch of her life.
Smothering an internal groan she turned away and began to towel dry her hair with startling vigour. She wasn’t going to go there! It was a non-starter of a track, ending nowhere!
She would just enjoy feeling fresh and clean, her skin perfumed with the fragrant body lotion she had found and was using lavishly. She slipped on the pretty undies and the dream of a dress, which fitted her to perfection and made her look cool, classy and strangely elegant—a far cry from the way she’d presented herself in Jilly’s cast-offs.
Locating a comb on the dressing table, she ran it through her silky hair and was ready. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the pair of oyster-coloured butter-soft leather kitten heels she’d selected and walked to the en suite bathroom door, ready now to do her utmost to convince Cesare that Jilly wasn’t a thief, that there must have been some terrible mistake. To beg him to try to trace her whereabouts because she was growing increasingly anxious for her vanished twin’s well-being.
As she entered the bedroom Cesare appeared in the doorway that led to the sitting room.
He had shed his suit jacket and his silk tie and there was a tension about the broad shoulders beneath the fine white cotton of his shirt. After a timeless head to toe scrutiny his eyes held hers for what seemed to Milly like long breathless moments, as if he could reach into her soul and read it.
And then he smiled. Slow and devastating. And commanded, his voice thick, ‘Come here.’
Chapter Ten
MILLY WENT LIKE a sleepwalker, something in the depths of those fathomless dark eyes, something slow, burning and impossible to resist, was drawing her to him.
Her whole body unbearably sensitized, she stood before him, felt the heat of him, the firm caress of his hands as they settled on either side of her tiny waist.
Lush ebony lashes veiled the gleam in his eyes and his voice was a purr of masculine appreciation as he murmured, ‘Bella, bella! La direttrice understood my directions perfectly.’ Then, the line of his gorgeous mouth wry with a hint of amusement, ‘Forgive me. Not one word of my native language must be spoken because you do not understand it! It was the first test I ran, weeks ago, and it heightened the suspicions I was already having.’
Cesare’s thumbs were rotating seductively against her ribcage, the wicked sensation making her breath tremble in her lungs, her breasts surge in urgent invitation for his touch against the confines of her pretty flower-sprigged bra. Her rosy flush had nothing to do with the humiliation of knowing that she hadn’t fooled him for more than a handful of hours and everything to do with her fierce hunger for him.
His hands had worked their way upwards and tension held her very still. Burningly expectant. Another fraction of an inch and his seductive hands would be touching the underswell of her breasts.
Barely containable excitement rippled down the length of her narrow spine and heat pooled wildly between her thighs as she willed with everything she had for his hands to move that fraction higher. Then, his voice oddly hoarse, he promised, ‘I will teach you my language. It will be a pleasure for both of us.’
At mind-blowing speed Milly came crashing to her senses, straight back down to earth.
What was he talking about? And what on earth did she think she was doing? Teach her his language? When? Did he expect her to stay on? As Filomena’s companion, even though that dear old lady would surely despise her for her deceit? Or because he fancied her, as he had briefly fancied Jilly, so she would be handy whenever he got the impulse to invite her to share his bed?
Pushing small hands against the hard breadth of his chest she swung away. Wrapping her arms around her midriff to stop herself from trembling, she clenched her teeth and gritted, ‘We need to talk about my sister, remember?’
‘We do?’ He sounded lightly amused as he positioned himself to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, fingers touching the bare flesh of her upper arms.
He touched his long sensual mouth to the pale hollow where her neck met her shoulder and she shuddered with forbidden delight and made herself resist the febrile temptation to turn, wrap her arms around his neck and beg for his kiss.
‘You hurt her badly,’ she pronounced baldly. She paced a step away from him, away from the danger of him. ‘That’s my educated guess.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He sounded genuinely perplexed. He was one class act, Milly reminded herself, he was a twenty-four carat womaniser. If she’d been weak enough to join in his no doubt standard seduction routine, then by now he would have been undressing her, and she would have been helping him, destination that handy big bed with no thought of future heartbreak, no thought except her consuming need for him.
Would it have given him a kick to notch up both twins?
Would she have welcomed his lovemaking because she loved him?
The thought appalled her, made her speechless so that Cesare had to prompt, ‘So tell me about your educated guess.’
The arrival of room service gave her breathing space, allowing her to piece together her fragmented wits while the slim young waiter whisked the trolley through tall windows that led out to a balcony.
‘We can talk while we eat.’ A hand in the small of her back propelled her over the sea of jade green and out on to the balcony that overlooked secluded gardens that gave up the heady perfume of jasmine into the dusky air.
Holding out a chair for her at the small round table he promised huskily, ‘And after talking, who knows?’
Milly closed her ears to that! And shivered slightly despite the warmth of the evening air. At his invitation, she helped herself to a little of this, a little of that, of what exactly she couldn’t have said because she was far too wound up to even think of eating.
A healthy gulp of the crisp, sparkling and delicious champagne gave her the impetus to state, ‘Jilly isn’t a thief. My guess is she only disappeared because you’d hurt her so badly. The last time we heard from her was when she wrote and told us she was leaving her job as a receptionist—at least I think it was a receptionist, I don’t remember exactly—at a high class nightclub here in Florence. She didn’t say where she was going or what she’d be doing, only that she would soon be able to pay back every penny she owed our mother.’
She levelled an accusing glance at him and stabbed a prawn as if she were wishing she could stab the fork into him. ‘She obviously believed everything was coming good. We had no idea she’d moved in with you, acting as your grandmother’s companion. She must have met you before, here in Florence, I would imagine. You were lovers and I guess she believed you and she would be married.’
Another throat cooling draught of champagne, then, ‘When she realised that wasn’t going to happen she left, broken-hearted.’ She shot him a darkly glittering look. ‘I know she’d never been in love before. She’d