LITMIR.BIZ

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pulled him so far down and the drinking had gone from problem to illness and the damage to his mind and body had become irreparable. He couldn’t climb out of it and he didn’t want to. He simply shut down. Emily had taken over everything.

      ‘What happened then?’

      ‘I was eighteen. Kate was nearly thirteen. They let her stay with me. I left school and got a job.’

      Emily had been thinking of studying piano at university but instead she’d worked and they’d put all they had into Kate’s singing. Her younger sister had the looks, the talent and the drive. Now, nearly nineteen, she was determined to come overseas and make her break before, as she put it, she got ‘over the hill’. Emily was her accompanist—both in terms of playing the piano for her to sing, and in terms of support.

      ‘So you looked after Kate.’

      Emily shrugged. ‘We looked after each other.’ There was no one else.

      The silence was long and finally she looked at him. The darkness in his eyes reflected the dark days. Somehow he knew. He understood the struggle and the loneliness. And for a second there she thought she saw pity. Well, she didn’t want that—not today, not from him. She’d lived through it, she’d survived and so had Kate. Now they were off, heading towards that new horizon. Life was moving forward. And she was totally trying to ignore the fear thumping in the pit of her stomach. For the last six years she’d worked two jobs plus done all the household chores. She’d created stability, routine…now nothing was stable, there was no routine and she couldn’t foresee the future. All she knew was that she wanted more than what her life had been back home. A more satisfying job, a more satisfying social life… And sitting with this gorgeous man in this beautiful garden, it felt as if the chance to open up a new part of her life was being offered right now.

      ‘What about you?’ she asked, lightening her tone. ‘Where’s your family?’

      His face tightened and she knew the shadow was a match for her own. ‘Really?’

      ‘Cancer killed my mother when I was seven.’ He spoke bluntly but it was clear the pain was still sharp.

      ‘And your father?’

      He shrugged. ‘I went to boarding school straight after. We’re not close.’ The bare recitation spoke volumes.

      She sat back, shocked. He’d been sent away? To a whole other country where they didn’t even speak his first language?

      The slight smile in his eyes was all cynical. ‘I take after my mother. I think I was too painful a reminder.’

      So in a way they’d both been rejected by their surviving parent. Luca had been sent away, and Emily’s father had gone away himself—in mind and spirit anyway—leaving Emily to shoulder the burden of caring for his fading shell.

      ‘Where’s your dad now?’

      ‘He remarried. They live just outside Rome.’

      Their eyes met. Was that part of what had drawn them together? That somehow they’d recognised that they had shadows in common?

      She barely had the chance to process that when he sat up. ‘Enough gloom. The day is too short.’ He reached into the apparently bottomless basket. ‘Let’s try dessert.’

      Perhaps their pasts had nothing to do with the attraction. Perhaps it all came down to the fact that he was the most physically dynamic man she’d ever seen. And he was right. They didn’t need to share more in the way of gloom. Today was about holidays and sun.

      The dessert was some creamy confection. He held the spoon, his laughter a soft rumble as he made her lean closer to taste it.

      Oh, my. It was the taste of pure decadence.

      ‘Good, isn’t it?’ He had a spoonful and then offered her another.

      ‘Mmm-hmm.’

      She stretched out and lay back on the pillow then, giving herself over to the utter indulgence. Closing her eyes, letting her mind savour the flavour and soak up the heat. She wanted more of the sweet, wanted much more of him.

      ‘So all this time you’ve been looking after your sister,’ he spoke softly. ‘Now you need someone to satisfy your needs.’

      She turned her head and opened her eyes. His head was close, resting on the cushion right by hers. ‘What makes you think I haven’t got someone already?’

      ‘If you did, you wouldn’t be looking at me with those hungry eyes.’

      She lifted her head, a little on her dignity. ‘You don’t need to lay it on with a trowel, Luca. I’m not completely inexperienced.’

      ‘Only relatively, sì?’ He laughed. ‘What was he? Some young fool who wouldn’t know how to give pleasure to a woman even if she gave him step by step instructions and a map showing the way?’

      She felt the blush covering her cheeks and neck and she shut her eyes again to pretend it wasn’t happening. Her ex had been exactly like that.

      ‘Emily. I can offer you nothing but a memory.’ His voice was a little strained. ‘But I think it would be some memory.’

      She reopened her eyes then—drawn by the power behind his words.

      ‘When did you last do something you wanted to do?’ he asked. ‘Not something for someone else, or something you had to do. But something you wanted, just for you?’

      She couldn’t remember. And she knew he knew. ‘Is that what you’re offering? How generous of you, Luca,’ she mocked gently. ‘As if there’s nothing in it for you.’

      ‘There’s everything in it for me. I admit it.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m selfish. Be selfish with me.’ He raised himself back up on one elbow, rolling onto his side to face her. ‘We have more in common than you might think. I’ve been working hard too and you’ve worked hard for so long. Don’t you deserve a treat?’

      ‘Is that what you are?’

      He leaned closer. ‘You tell me.’ He reached across and took her hand, lifted it and pressed it to his chest. ‘Feel it? Accelerating?’

      The solid thump in his chest was strong and regular and hypnotic and her fingers wanted the fabric to disappear so she could feel his skin direct.

      ‘Is it like this for you, when we touch? When our arms brush as we walk side by side, does your body want more? Mine does.’ He still spoke quietly but she felt the force of his underlying feeling pierce through to her marrow. ‘What if I did that to you, Emily—would your heart start to race?’

      It already was—faster and faster with every word and the spiralling anticipation.

      ‘I think we should find out.’ He let her hand go and reached across to her, his fingers drawing along the line of her collarbone.

      ‘Luca…’ She shook her head but couldn’t deny the fire his touch ignited.

      His hand slid down, pressed against her tee shirt, pulling it close to her skin, so that her breast was displayed, and he looked at her tight, peaking nipple. He smiled as it jutted out for him; he didn’t need to feel her heart to know his effect on her.

      He looked back into her face, intensely determined. ‘Just one kiss.’

      One afternoon. One absolute temptation.

      He didn’t need to coax her mouth open. She met him halfway, already wet and pliant and seeking. She closed her eyes, able to focus on nothing but him. And there was nothing but his kiss. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue probing, tasting. Rapidly it became more insistent—plundering, taking. She raised her hands, sliding them into his hair. Surrendering and then beginning to make her own demands—opening wider, seeking deeper, harder.

      It was bliss. She wanted it to last, wanted to savour each stage. But too soon she wanted more. The need to move closer grew, she

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