The Italian's Wedding Ultimatum Read online

  Sam rubbed her damp palms against her skirt and didn't even let herself think about what he meant by that. "Other than mutual dislike. And I wouldn't like."

  "Dislike... ?" he mused contemplatively. After a moment he shook his dark head and a predatory smile split his lean features. "Dislike is such a mild word. I think it goes much deeper with us than mere dislike."

  The tactile quality she had noticed before in his deep, darkly textured voice was stronger than ever. Sam swallowed. This man really did have the market in enigmatic and disturbing cornered!

  "You lack caution and judgement."

  "I was just thinking the same thing." Her response had worryingly little to do with caution and a lot to do with the excitement that was tying her stomach in knots! "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's a bit cold out here." Actually, she no longer felt the cold - her skin was burning.

  Instead of moving out of her way, he leaned against the ajar door, causing it to close with a loud click.

  Sam's voice was flat, even though inside she was panicking. "Excuse me..."

  His dark eyes slid down her slim figure before returning to her face. The overt contempt in his expression brought a sparkle of anger to Sam's wide-spaced eyes.

  "No, I will not excuse you."

  Taken aback by the overt provocation in his response Sam blinked.

  A long silence followed, which he showed no signs of filling until he suddenly said accusingly, "Your eyes have turned green."

  "Pardon me...?" It was possible she had misheard him. It was equally possible her aquamarine eyes had turned green. This happened when she was in the grip of strong emotions. Chameleon eyes, her father called them. Though the color-change did not disguise but reveal the depth of her feelings.

  "No, I will not do that either." With out warning he reached out and took her chin in between long brown fingers and carried on looking into her eyes, which were still green. "You would not want me for an enemy, cara."

  Gazing up into the dark mesmeric depth of his astounding eyes, Sam felt the breath leave her body in one long, shuddering sigh. Her knees began to give, and she closed her eyes while she tried to tap into her reserves of wilting composure.

  She opened her eyes and gave a contemptuous smile. "Almost as little as I'd want you as a friend."

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer. "Friendship is not possible between men and women."

  That he held this chauvinistic viewpoint did not surprise Sam at all. "You would think that. It just so happens that one of my best friends is a male."

  "And sex has never got in the way... ?"

  He said it as calmly as if he was asking her how she liked her steak. Sam was less then comfortable about discussing sex in the same county as this man, let alone while he was touching her. She looked away, aware of the flush that had mounted her cheeks. "I'm talking about Jonny."

  "So am I."

  Sam's horrified gaze flew to his face. "All I am to Jonny is a s... supportive friend. I'm getting tired of telling you - there's never been anything like that between us!" she protested shrilly.

  "And you wouldn't want there to be? Do not play the innocent with me. I have been watching you."

  "The all-knowing, all-seeing Alessandro Di Livio?" Sam cut in, her voice a successful marriage of boredom and amusement. Inside, however, she was struggling to control her rising panic. She lifted her chin, carefully focusing her gaze somewhere over his right shoulder to avoid contact with those hateful knowing eyes. "In case you've forgotten," she reminded him, "Jonny is married."

  Alessandro arched an ironic brow and wondered if the copper hair felt as silky as it looked. "I haven't forgotten." His voice dropped to a low, threatening purr as he pushed his point home. "And I suggest you don't."

  Sam felt the humiliating color in her cheeks deepen.

  Of course it wouldn't occur to him that she might have the odd principle or two. "I've told you - Jonny and I are just good friends."

  A quiver of irritation crossed his olive-skinned face and he gritted something soft and angry in his native tongue.

  "Well, let's just say your mouth says one thing..." He paused, a slightly distracted expression drifting across his face as his glance zeroed in on the soft full curves of her lips. And," he continued, anger hardening his voice, "those big, hungry eyes say another thing entirely, Have you been waiting for him to notice that you're a woman?" He released a low, scornful laugh as his eyes raked her stricken face. "Of course it is entirely possible you wouldn't like it if he had," he mused, half to himself.

  "I wouldn't know - he never has!" Sam was pushed into yelling.

  A moment later she connected with his eyes and wanted to curl up and die from sheer humiliation. But pride, and the scorn in his eyes, made her stick out her chin and pronounce in a low, but clear voice, "But I'm not the type to give up at the first hurdle."

  His dark brows twitched into a disapproving straight line above his masterful nose. "Are you totally without conscience?"

  The irony made her laugh. "Gosh!" she sighed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "You've seen right through me. I'm your original scarlet woman. Your sons are not safe while I'm around." Her lips twisted into a derisive grimace. "For goodness' sake, you silly man, I don't represent a danger to anyone."

  He stiffened, and from where she stood she could distinctly hear the sound of his startled inhalation. Sam studied his face and thought, I'm guessing that nobody has ever called him a silly man before. More's the pity. If they had he might have learnt not to take himself so desperately seriously.

  His dark eyes narrowed to slits, but the startled annoyance glittering in the dark depths was mingled with reluctant admiration as he registered the mockery shining in her eyes. "You are a very aggravating female."

  She glared back up at him, torn between exhilaration and exasperation and wishing that he'd yelled - not used that purring tone which made more places than the soles of her feet tingle, "And you," she declared, dumping diplomacy in favor of bluntness, "are much more likely to be the cause of the break-up of your sister's marriage than I am!"

  His lips curled. "Me,.. ?" He dismissed her words with a shrug of his magnificent shoulders." You think you can shift the blame that easily?" A suspicious expression slid into his deep-set eyes. "You are talking as though a break-up is inevitable..?"

  When Sam turned her head away, her lips tight, Alessandro placed a finger under her chin and drew her face round to him. His narrowed eyes scanned her angry face.

  "What do you know...?" he demanded, his voice dropping in volume in direct proportion to the degree of threat in his tone.

  "Like I'd tell you if I did know anything," she retorted, pulling her chin free.

  Her breath coming in short, angry gasps that made her chest rise and fall in tune with her rapid respirations, Sam planted her hands on her hips and angled an angry glare up at him, her eyes flashing green fire.

  "Oh, you'll tell me..."

  At that moment Sam was willing to do just about anything to wipe that confident smirk off his impossibly good-looking face. "Brought your thumbscrews with you, did you?"

  Before he could confirm or deny this a giggling couple carrying glasses of wine came around the comer. They saw Alessandro and Sam and stopped dead.

  "Oops - pretend we're not here!" said the girl, grabbing her partner's hand and winking at Sam before she dragged him away.

  "Oh, God!" groaned Sam, burying her face in her hands. "Just what I need." Pam Sullivan was the sort of gossip who could make the most innocent incident sound salacious.

  "You're right - we need some privacy."

  Sam's head came up, her expression horror struck. She needed privacy with Alessandro Di Livio the same way she needed cellulite!

  "That place over there - what is it?" He nodded towards a section of tiled roof just visible beyond a large shrubbery.

  "It's the gazebo, I think." The original intention had been for a band to be situated there, so that the guests could listen w
hile they sat or strolled around the lovely grounds. Then the weather had intervened and things had been hastily transferred indoors.

  "It will suit our purposes," he announced.

  God, if Pam had heard that it would have made her year. "Look," Sam said, deciding it was time to inject a little reality into the conversation, "the only place I'm going is back indoors. I'm freezing cold, and this conversation - such as it is-is over."

  She froze and looked at the hand on her arm. A strong, shapely hand, with long, tapering fingers. Having it touching her without any sort of warning switched her brain into mush mode.

  "Yes, you are cold," he agreed, sliding one brown finger under the neck of her blouse. It slid slowly across the bony prominence of her collarbone before moving back to the hollow at the base of her throat. The blue-veined pulse there was throbbing so hard that he couldn't fail to feel it.

  Had her brain not already been mush, she might have noticed that his fingers lingered there a lot longer than was strictly necessary - not that it mattered. The damage was done in the first micro-second of contact.

  It had an electric effect - almost literally! It was, Sam mused, as she tried to focus her hazy thoughts, like being plugged into the mains. It took the space of a heartbeat for the shock to travel all the way to her curling toes.

  "I don't want your jacket." Actually, there were other things she wanted less - things like the surge of lustful longing that was making her ache in every cell of her body. But a lifetime of focusing on good things enabled her to look on the bright side: now that he was no longer touching her, her paralysed vocal cords had started working.

  Acting as if she hadn't spoken - no change there - he carried on shrugging off the beautifully tailored pale grey jacket he wore. Draping it over her shoulders, he placed a hand in the small of her back and propelled her in the direction of the gazebo.

  "You don't take no for an answer, do you?" His jacket retained the warmth of his body and held the faint, elusive fragrance that was exclusively him - a mingling of the masculine fragrance he favored, soap, and warm male.

  Standing there in his silk shirt, he appeared not to notice the cold - even though the fabric was fine enough for her almost to see through. She could definitely see the strategic drift of dark body hair on his chest, and the suggestion of muscle definition on his taut washboard belly.

  Ashamed of what amounted to a fascination with his body, Sam - painfully aware that her cheeks were burning - turned her head to one side. Well, as far as she was concerned he could freeze to death - and good riddance!

  This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, thinking, He's not a man, he's a darned force of nature. Despite the fact that saying no to him had as much impact as saying no to a hurricane, she was uneasily aware that she ought to have at least tried. The casual observer might have been forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that she actually wanted to prolong their time together.

  A comment Emma had made not long after she'd met the man she was eventually to marry popped into Sam's head." You know, Sam, I have more fun fighting with Paul than having sex with any other man. Makes me wonder what the sex will be like,.. Actually, I started wondering that about five seconds after I met him."

  When Sam had admitted with a touch of envy that she'd never met a stranger who had that effect on her, Emma had laughed and said with total conviction that she would one day.

  Though exposed on one side, the gazebo did offer some protection from the elements. Once inside, Alessandro took her by the shoulders and spun her to face him. Leaving his hands where they were, he looked down into her face.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Oh, God, did today have to be the day? And did he have to be this stranger?

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

  I was trying to imagine what it would be like having sex with you, was clearly out, and she wasn't sure if her voice even worked, so Sam shook her head, and inside his jacket carried on trembling. She had no intention of surrendering to her darkest urges even had the opportunity arisen. And she supposed to some people the gazebo, tucked away from prying eyes, might represent that opportunity.

  Actually, the fact she had dark urges at all was a bit of shock-horror revelation. The urges she felt for Jonny could not be described as dark, she mused. Those feelings were a lot more wholesome and easier to handle. Also, there was a certain safety in fantasizing about a man who had never noticed you had breasts.

  While Alessandro didn't like her, and actually seemed pretty much to despise her, Sam did get the impression he knew...

  "This situation is easily resolved. Just tell me what you know."

  Shamefully aware of the ache and burning tingle in her shamelessly engorged breasts, Sam crossed her hands across her chest in a protective gesture. "This is getting beyond ridiculous."

  "What is ridiculous is you thinking I'm going to let you go before you tell what you know about the problems in my sister's marriage. And don't tell me you don't know anything, because you look as guilty as hell."

  "And you look-!" She watched as his lashes dipped, casting a shadow across the slashing curve of his strong cheekbones, and the breath suddenly snagged in her throat. You look perfect, damn you!

  She stepped back, and his hands fell from her shoulders. Still feeling the imprint of his light touch on her skin, she squinted angrily up at him. "This isn't guilt," she said pointing at her face. This is fear for my safety. You are obviously a total lunatic."

  "Then I suggest you humor me."

  Sam swung away, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. Her low heels clicked on the wooden floor as she walked to the opposite side of the octagonal enclosure to put as much space as was humanly possible between them. A faintly pointless exercise, as the sound of footsteps behind her indicated the wretched man had followed her.

  "Fine!" she cried, throwing her hands up and turning to face him. "The problem with Kat's marriage? Yes, there's a problem." She jabbed a finger in the direction of his chest. "Like I said - you."

  Alessandro looked at the small finger and felt a sudden distracting desire to lift it to his lips. "I warn you, I will have an answer."

  "And I'm giving you one. Has Kat asked you to intervene in her marriage?"

  In the act of dragging a hand through his dark and tousled hair, Alessandro stopped and slung her an exasperated look. "What sort of question is that?"

  Sam ignored the interjection. "Well, has she?"

  "Of course she hasn't."

  "And would she feel able to come to you if she needed to?"

  He looked indignant. "Of course she would."

  "Then don't you think it might be a good idea to wait until then before you jump in with your..." she glanced at his feet and added, "...size twelves? Kat is twenty-one," she reminded him.

  "She was nineteen when she got married. At nineteen she should have been - "

  Sam actually felt a twinge of sympathy as he clamped his lips together and inhaled deeply through flared nostrils.

  "You thought she was too young to get married?"

  "Do you think at nineteen you should be deciding to commit yourself to one person?" he demanded scathingly. "What were you doing at nineteen?"

  She responded unthinkingly to the curious question. "I was training to be a teacher."

  "And would your parents have been happy if you'd turned up at home married to some beach bum?"

  "Jonny was not a beach bum - he was a champion surfer."

  "I stand corrected," he inserted drily. "Married to an ex-champion surfer."

  "My parents would have flipped," she admitted. "But it happened, so you just have to live with it. You know, I think Kat is pretty resourceful - and quite capable of sorting out her own life. It might be easier for her to do that if you weren't always there, hovering in the background like a bad smell." Actually, he smelt pretty wonderful - but she felt the occasion called for a little poetic licence. "Don't you think," she asked him gently, "that it's time you let
go? Doesn't Kat deserve the chance to make her own mistakes?"

  An expression of blank astonishment spread across Alessandro's face. "You think you are qualified to offer me advice?"

  "Not qualified, maybe," she conceded, flushing at his sneering tone. "But you asked. I know you have a close relationship with your sister - "

  "You know nothing about it."

  "I used to wish I wasn't an only child, but meeting you has made me realise what a lucky escape I've had. Let me spell it out. The fact is you are no longer the person she's meant to turn to for support. Couldn't you settle for being emergency back-up rather than the main man? Have you any idea," she wondered out loud, "how intimidating you must be to a younger man?"

  "Intimidating...?" he echoed, looking bewildered by her contention.

  "What man could compete with the marvelous Alessandro Di Livio?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

  His mobile lips thinned with displeasure. "Don't be ridiculous." Looking thoughtful despite his terse tone, he added, "It isn't a competition."

  "Not to you maybe... " she inserted drily.

  "I have never interfered in my sister's marriage."

  Sam stared at him, wondering how on earth he could say that with a straight face. "Oh, pardon me. I must have imagined the past..." she glanced at her watch, her eyes widening'.. .half an hour"

  "It has felt like longer," he gritted.

  Under the capacious folds of his jacket, Sam folded her arms across her chest. "You're being nasty because you know I'm right. You really shouldn't grind your teeth like that."

  She stood and listened in silent admiration as he loosed a flood of very angry-sounding Italian. If tone was anything to go by he seemed to have an extensive knowledge of expletives in his native tongue.

  "If you're in love with Trelevan surely it would be in your best interests to see his marriage fail?"

  The angry color in Sam's cheeks deepened. "Caring for someone obviously doesn't mean the same thing to you as it does to me. When you care for someone you want them to be happy."

  "Care...?" His lips twisted derisively as he spat the word. "I am not talking about caring. I am talking about passion... lust..."