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Secret Heirs Collection. Коллектив авторов
Читать онлайн.Название Secret Heirs Collection
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008906894
Автор произведения Коллектив авторов
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Серия Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Издательство HarperCollins
Water splashed from the tap onto Rose’s dress and she was very aware of her casual attire and bare feet next to his suited glory. He must have been in business meetings…
She struggled to focus. ‘I told her I’d look after it— I wanted to try her lasagne recipe.’
She felt embarrassed now—exposed. As if it might be obvious that she’d been indulging in an extended version of that illicit little daydream she’d had, pretending that this was her home and she was cooking for people who loved her. This wasn’t her home and never would be. This was just a relocation of her gilded prison.
‘Is your hand okay?’
Zac’s voice broke through her fevered recriminations. She lifted it out from under the water and could see that the red was dying down to a faintly throbbing pink line. She turned off the tap. ‘It’ll be fine. The lasagne is almost cooked, if you want some—’
‘I didn’t bring you here to be my cook, Rose.’
She wrapped a damp towel around her hand and glared at him, hating his effect on her. ‘I know exactly why I’m here, Zac. I like cooking and I was making dinner for myself—and possibly you if you wanted it—that’s all.’
His eyes swept over her in a searing glance and she felt every particle of her skin prickle in reaction. And then he backed away, almost as if something about her was contagious. No doubt she presented a pretty picture: sweaty, burnt, smelling of food…
‘I’ve got tickets to the opera in Siena this evening. You eat, and we’ll leave in an hour.’
Rose opened her mouth to reject Zac’s non-offer, but he was already walking away from her before she could respond. And then she thought mutinously: Hang Zac Valenti. For whatever reason, he was offering her a night at the opera. She wouldn’t let him ruin a chance for her to get out and see more of this amazing country.
And as for her ridiculous daydreams of cooking for loved ones…? Well, cooking for one wasn’t so bad, and the rest of the lasagne would freeze well.
The fact that this brought back painful memories of the period after her mother’s death, when her father had taken to working late in order to avoid coming back to the house that reminded him of his wife’s absence, wasn’t so welcome. Because Zac Valenti was the last person who should be inspiring feelings of wanting to nourish and connect.
Zac had expected some equanimity to be restored once he’d got out of that kitchen and away from all the delicious smells of home cooking, and the even more tantalising and earthy image of Rose, fairly glowing with a kind of erotic domesticity that Zac had never encountered before.
He could remember stumbling into the kitchen of his grandparents’ house one day when he’d been about six and looking around in wonder at this alien place full of delicious smells and people and things. Until his nanny had come and scolded him for wandering off. That had literally been the first time he’d seen a kitchen.
For Rose to unlock some dark, repressed erotic kitchen fantasy was disturbing in the extreme.
He’d only invited her to the opera to shatter that image of her in the kitchen. Anything to put her back in an environment where he’d feel more in control.
But in spite of his best efforts, a sense of control eluded him. Rose sat beside him in the VIP section of Siena’s stunning opera house. It had undergone massive reconstruction in recent years—thanks to a major investment from him—and now the roof was open to the elements and the moon lit up the stage as the opera Tosca was performed.
Rose was wearing a black silk dress. The neckline was scooped, showing what appeared to Zac to be acres of soft pale cleavage, and then it fell from under her bust to the floor. Short capped sleeves drew the eye to her toned upper arms. On any other woman Zac would suspect they came from hours being honed at a gym, but he knew she’d earned them from hours of arduous menial work. As much as he’d prefer to think of her as being lazy or idle, he couldn’t fault her that.
For the first time, Zac had to admit to understanding a sliver of why someone like Rose might seize on a chance to get out of her situation. Yet he still hadn’t seen evidence of someone who was overly avaricious or greedy.
She’d refused to tell him anything about her agreement with his grandmother, so he had no way to know what she’d been promised. If she told him then he could negotiate. On the other hand, if she wanted to pit him against Jocelyn wouldn’t she have told him everything? Perhaps she’d been offered such a huge amount of money that she genuinely believed he couldn’t top it?
The circling questions irritated him intensely, because he was a man who dealt in knowns. Not unknowns. And worse than the questions circling in his head was the burning awareness of her. Her scent…those curves, more pronounced with her pregnancy. And this primal thing he felt—stronger every time now when he saw her belly. Mine.
It was too reminiscent of that night when he’d taken her innocence…when he’d wanted to brand her, mark her.
It was only when Zac saw Rose clapping enthusiastically, with suspiciously bright eyes, that he realised he’d all but missed the entire performance because he’d been so fixated on her. Again.
Rose had been so lost in the beautiful open-air performance that she’d almost been able to block out the man by her side. Almost. But every now and then his hard thigh had brushed hers, or their elbows had connected. His scent had reached her nostrils when he’d shifted in his seat—which he’d done a lot—and she’d had to grit her jaw to try and stop her body from responding with a fresh wave of awareness and desire. So really she hadn’t blocked him out at all.
Everyone was standing now, and moving, and Rose was embarrassed at the emotion that had taken her unawares. She stood and avoided Zac’s too shrewd eyes, feeling a little raw.
As they joined the throng of people making their way out to the street, someone stepped on Rose’s dress from behind, jerking her backwards. She let out a small yelp of surprise, and suddenly Zac was reaching for her and steadying her, pulling her into his arms. The older man who had stepped on her dress was effusive in his apologies and Rose smiled, saying that it was okay, more shaken by the man holding her now than the almost-fall.
After the apologetic man had left she looked up, heart pounding. Zac seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the crowd had to snake around them to go down the stairs, and that they were drawing more than a few looks.
Her body was slowly going on fire from the inside out…every curve pressed against that hard body. She felt panicky. Why wasn’t he moving back, letting her go? He would see in a second how much she wanted him, and she couldn’t bear that humiliation again.
She tried to pull back, but he only tightened his hold. She could feel the swell of her belly pressed against him, and then the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pushing against it. Her eyes widened as adrenaline and lust shot into her system.
Zac said mockingly, ‘Don’t look so shocked. It’s not as if you’re an innocent any more.’
The memory of that kiss came back…the way he’d looked so cool afterwards, unruffled, when she’d been standing there horribly exposed in her desire. ‘But I…I thought you didn’t…’
‘I think the evidence speaks for itself.’
He moved subtly and Rose almost moaned, hardly hearing his taut admission. She could recognise through the haze of desire that he obviously didn’t welcome it. That much was obvious in his grim expression. It was enough to make Rose jerk free and hurry down the steps.
Zac caught up with her, though, and took her hand, keeping her by his side. He