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which she immediately rectified. ‘Or else you’re married.’

      For a moment Jake looked astonished, then he laughed, but the humour didn’t reach his eyes. ‘How like a woman to blame the man.’ His cool dark gaze held hers. ‘But you are wrong. My fiancée left me, and spent the money on something else. So, no, I am not married, nor ever likely to be. It is not an institution I believe in.’

      Feeling foolish, Charlie realised appearance could be deceptive. She could not imagine any woman turning Jake down, but she had been wrong, and that long-ago rejection must have hurt. Her soft heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Don’t be. I am not. But enough about me. Tell me how you learned to speak fluent French—and do you speak any other language?’

      ‘No, just French.’ She accepted his change of subject. Obviously it still hurt him to talk about his ex-fiancée, and it made him seem more human somehow. ‘I learned French at school, but I became fluent mainly because from the age of eleven I used to spend a few weeks’ holiday every year with my father at his home in France. Not so often in recent years, but I did stay with him last year, a little while before he died.’

      ‘Ah, yes, your father. I should have guessed.’ He dropped her hand, and a shadow seemed to pass over his face. Charlie wondered what she had said to cause it—or perhaps he was still thinking of his ex-fiancée? Then the wine waiter arrived with a bottle of Cristal champagne and filled two glasses before placing the bottle in the champagne cooler and leaving, and she banished the dark moment to the back of her mind.

      ‘To us and the start of a long friendship,’ Jake said, raising his glass, and Charlie reciprocated, her blue eyes shining into his as another waiter arrived with their food.

      ‘So tell me, have you any other family?’ Jake asked casually as they both tucked into their first course.

      ‘My mother died when I was eleven, my grandmother when I was seventeen and my grandfather three years later. My father was an orphan, so I’m alone in the world now he’s died.’

      ‘With a father like yours, can you be certain of that?’ Jake queried sardonically.

      ‘Yes, I’m certain.’ She glanced up, surprised by his cynical question, and thought she saw a bitter look in the dark eyes, but she must have been mistaken, as the next moment he grinned.

      ‘Ah, another illusion bites the dust. I should have known the exploits of your father were more fiction than fact—probably circulated to increase the price of his work.’

      ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Charlie murmured, pushing her empty plate away. There was something in the tone of his seemingly jocular comment that struck a discordant note and made her wary. Plus she was not comfortable talking about her father or about money.

      ‘No, of course you wouldn’t,’ Jake agreed smoothly, and for the rest of the meal he endeavoured to keep the conversation general while trying to discover more about the woman before him. Though he was loath to admit it, Charlotte was beginning to intrigue him more than any woman he had met in a long time.

      For Charlie the next hour passed in a hazy bubble of happiness. Jake was a great conversationalist and, without her realising it, she had soon told him where she lived and how, after the death of her grandmother, she had left school to help her grandfather run the small family hotel overlooking Lake Windermere.

      ‘And you inherited the hotel, of course,’ Jake prompted when she fell silent for a moment.

      ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ The thought of the family she had lost dulled the sparkle in her eyes for a moment.

      ‘Lucky you,’ Jake said. Charlie frowned and she was about to argue there was nothing lucky about losing one’s family, when he added, ‘But I was very lucky in a way,’ and to her surprise proceeded to tell her more of his own past. After the death of his mother when he was eight, he had been placed in an orphanage and got involved with a bad crowd. But miraculously he had been fostered at the age of ten by a man whose pocket he had tried to pick. It had saved him from a life of crime and had been the incentive he had needed to study and become a marine engineer, and owner of his own company. His foster-parents were still alive and he visited them regularly.

      Charlie simply beamed at him, and thought how kind. He must have a very caring nature.

      Also a very sensual nature, because as they ate the meal and drank the bottle of champagne Jake subtly managed to keep her in a state of simmering sexual tension. A forkful of his food offered to her willingly parted lips, a casual touch of his hand, an intimate smile. By the time they got to the coffee stage Charlie was unaware she had consumed the lion’s share of the champagne, and as she spooned sugar into her cup and added cream any resistance to his sophisticated charm was well and truly vanquished.

      ‘I am glad to see you are not one of these women who have to watch their figure all the time,’ Jake said, glancing at her coffee cup, then allowing his gaze to glide slowly up over her high firm breasts and to her beautiful if slightly flushed face. A lazy smile curved his sensuous lips as his dark eyes finally met and held Charlie’s. ‘Though it is well worth watching—quite perfect,’ he declared throatily.

      She recognised the male appreciation and the suggestion of more on offer in his gleaming dark eyes. She wasn’t totally naive; she had experienced sexual chemistry before, but never as potent as this. Her pulse started to thud under her skin, and instinctively she lifted her hand to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her tongue slipped out to lick over her suddenly dry lips and she saw Jake’s gaze drop to her mouth, and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

      ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he commanded suddenly, rising to his feet and dropping a pile of notes on the table. He reached a hand around her upper arm and almost hauled her to her feet, muttering something in Italian under his breath.

      ‘Why the rush?’ she queried as he hustled her out of the restaurant, tension in every line of his long body.

      ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know, Charlotte,’ he said, his voice raw and thick with a sensual hunger that made Charlie shiver. Then he dropped her arm and curved his own around her waist in a possessive hold that thrilled and slightly frightened her as he led her to the car.

      ‘Get in,’ Jake said, wrenching open the passenger door and guiding Charlotte inside. Walking around the bonnet, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He had nothing but contempt for her type of woman, and yet he found her incredibly desirable. To his unemotional, analytical mind it did not make sense. But right now all his thinking processes seemed to be centred below his waist, and the quicker he got her into bed, the quicker his problem would be solved.

      Alone for a moment, Charlie began to wonder what on earth she was doing, but seconds later, when Jake slid into the driving seat and reached for her, she knew.

      His hand slid around the back of her head as he covered her mouth with his, his tongue thrusting between her softly parted lips with a hunger that awakened the same fierce need in Charlie.

      She slid her hands around his neck, all of a sudden wild with wanting something she had never had. Her fingers tangled in his thick dark hair, and her entire body trembled as one strong hand stroked down her throat and over the proud swell of her breasts. His dark head lifted and her dazed blue eyes meshed with molten black. ‘Jake.’ She breathed his name.

      It had been a very long time since any woman had turned Jake d’Amato on so fast or so fiercely. Hard as a rock and hurting, he felt her tremble, heard the plea in her tone, and he wanted to rip the all-encasing black dress from her body and take her hard and fast. But while his hot-blooded nature was urging him to do just that, the sound of a police siren growing to ear-splitting levels brought him back to his senses.

      His dark head jerking up, he saw the police car flash past. He cursed under his breath in Italian and, thrusting Charlotte back against the seat, he slammed back in his own.

      ‘Damn!’ He ran a hand through his dark hair, and glanced at the woman beside him. ‘I haven’t made out in a car since I was a

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