Innocent of His Claim Read online

  If only she could fully trust that she would walk away from this in total control of her business. But she couldn’t.

  Her father had used her. If Marco had told the truth, then her mother had lied. Even then, there was the fact that Marco refused to believe her.

  She bit her lower lip, trying to get entranced by the ribbons of sun streaming over the undulating hills. If only she could find more appeal in this sunset instead of the man beside her.

  Impossible to do with him behind the wheel of the powerful red sports car. Ferrari? Bugatti? She hadn’t a clue.

  No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept flicking back to his hands on the leather-wrapped wheel. Hands that she remembered all too well coaxing oh-too-ready responses from her body with equal ease.

  “You will have absolute privacy here,” he said.

  Twilight bathed the hills in shades of amber and crimson by the time they reached the walled hamlet of Montiforte. An ancient castle dominated one end of town and an equally aged church filled the other.

  In between rose a collection of oddly shaped buildings, some standing nearly atop the other. All faced a small square piazza where a lichen-covered god stood on an equally aged stepped pedestal next to an old well.

  “I didn’t expect Montiforte to be so small and medieval,” she said.

  “It is one of the oldest settlements in Umbria. Come, the village market is still open. You will need supplies at the villa.”

  She climbed out before he could assist her this time and walked with him to the lone shop. The sweet fragrance of ripe grapes hung in the air, but Marco’s spicy scent dominated. Just like the man.

  The shopkeeper greeted him by name, but the rest was lost to her as they lapsed into a rapid flow of Italian. She took the time while they visited to wander around the small shop.

  The savory smells were feasts in themselves. Balls, ropes and small wheels of cheese hung amid an array of sausages.

  Canted tables held an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. She leaned over a baker’s case filled with baguettes, fat rounds of breads and a selection of rolls. One round loaf caught her eye.

  “The torta di testo is delicious toasted and drizzled with olive oil,” Marco said, standing beside her holding two cheeses and a string of sausage. “It is good for sandwiches as well.”

  The shopkeeper nodded and brought out a basket filled with the round flat bread. His smile encouraged her to choose.

  “Thank you,” she said, selecting several and trying not to recall a similar day outside London when she and Marco had stopped in a shop for a takeaway lunch, deciding spontaneously to turn it into a picnic instead.

  And they’d feasted the better part of the day on sweets and savories and hot kisses, getting more intoxicated on each other than on the wine. One look at him now was proof he could do so again.

  A hot swirl of heat curled low in her belly and she frowned, annoyed her thoughts always splintered off into something torrid with him. It would be so easy to fall into his arms, his bed.

  But with pleasure came heartache. She’d learned that lesson well. Even the unspoken promise of pleasure she glimpsed in his eyes could turn on her like a viper.

  “This is really more than enough,” she said.

  “Who knows? You may have company.”

  Like him? Her throat went dry at the thought of entertaining Marco in a villa, just the two of them. There had been a time when she would have done anything to get him alone.

  “I’m sure I’ll be far too busy working to receive guests,” she said, pulling out her wallet to pay for her purchases.

  “Meals are included in your contract,” he said, giving the shopkeeper a look that had the man turning from her.

  There wasn’t a thing in the contract regarding meals and they both knew it, but again arguing would only raise another passion. Best to let that issue rest.

  She was already tired from the journey and stressed to the max by being with Marco again. “Thank you then.”

  Outside her gaze drifted over the stone buildings and narrow streets and walkways rising like steps up the hillside. There was just enough sun to give the village a Monet aura with bluing shadows creeping over stucco washed a mellow gold by the setting sun.

  “There is a bistro near the castle that serves amazing food,” he said as he joined her, his shadow swallowing her whole much as she knew his passion would do if she surrendered to it. “I suggest we eat before you retire to your residence.”

  And wouldn’t that be cozy? Her sharing an intimate meal with the man she still found far too desirable.

  She diverted her eyes from the magnetic draw of his. “I’m far too weary from the journey to enjoy it. Besides I have ample food to sustain me should I get hungry.”

  Over the thud of her own heart she heard the melodic strains of a mandolin, the music floating on a cooling breeze. But she felt no chill, not with Marco standing so close, not when his nearness warmed her from the inside out.

  “Very well then,” he said. “Another time.”

  Not if she could avoid it.

  He pressed a hand to her back and she swallowed a gasp as heat flooded her, spiraling out from his splayed fingers to flow through her in sultry waves. No, she had to keep her distance from this man who was already taking far too many liberties.

  She hurried to the car and climbed in, not waiting for him to assist her. He hissed a curse and closed the door after her, and she took a breath then another as he walked around the front of the car, one strong, well-boned hand riding the sleek hood.

  In moments he threw himself behind the wheel and they were off, the car winding up the hills lined with poplar and flanked by fields of grapes, their leaves a burnished gold hiding grapes that looked black this time of day.

  Marco handled the powerful car with ease, seeming so arrogantly sure of himself that her nerves tightened another notch. She was no match for him. Never had been.

  How funny that he accused her of betraying him, using him, when she’d been the vulnerable one, caught up in the magnetic pull of the dashing Italian. In the span of several weeks, he’d romanced her and proposed marriage.

  While she desperately waited for him to come for her, he’d deserted her without explanation. Left her to believe her family’s lies.

  She’d lost her heart and her will to trust in love again. Lost control of her company and her life. Regaining it had became her goal. Her only vow was to avoid Marco should their paths ever cross again.

  Yet here she was with him again, trying valiantly to subdue the stirrings of need inside her. She searched for gaping holes in everything he told her yet found nothing more than shadowed valleys.

  She wanted to hate him, but her heart wouldn’t let her. So she hated herself for her inability to get over him, for not purging him from her system long ago.

  “We’re here.” He stopped the car in front of a villa bathed in a burnished gold swath of sunset.

  Her stomach tightened. “Is this a bed and breakfast?”

  “No.” His shirt glowed white with the sleeves rolled up and his tanned muscular forearms bared. “It is a private villa above Montiforte.”

  “A rental then?” she asked, thinking the fee must be exorbitant and glad she didn’t have to pay the cost.

  “It is yours for your stay here.”

  He extracted himself from behind the wheel with predatory grace and she stole a deep breath to steady her nerves, her entire body surrendering to a tremble as she blew it out. The trunk opened and closed, jarring her to move. But her door opened just as her hand was reaching for it.

  She stared up into his eyes that were darker than sin and for the life of her she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

  His hand reached for her and she froze, forgetting to breathe. “I won’t bite.”

  Ah, but he had. Delicious nibbles along her limbs that she remembered with sensual clarity.

  For the second time she placed her hand in his and left the car. Thankfully
he let go of her first, reaching for the bag of groceries she clutched in one hand.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, stepping back.

  He stared at her another moment before he motioned to the villa, his teeth wickedly white in the fading light. “Let’s get you settled. A housekeeper comes twice a week. She’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Her skin tingled, nerves pinging wildly as she marched up the winding walk to the arched door. What was the matter with her that she couldn’t squash thoughts of them entangled?

  It was over. Done. She was here to do a job. Nothing more.

  Her fingers closed around the antique brass knob but the door was locked. He reached around her to work a key into the lock, his spicy scent enveloping her and sending her senses on another spiraling jolt.

  She turned, thinking to scoot away and give him room to open the door. Instead he caged her in with an arm to the door at her back and his hard unyielding length at her front.

  His warm breath fanned her cheek and she bit back a moan. “Back off.”

  “No way.”

  His teeth flashed in a wolf’s smile a heartbeat before he claimed her mouth with a possessive hunger that sparked a firestorm in her blood, that flung her right back to when Marco had first swept into her life like a hot tropical storm and spun her static existence on its head.

  Distantly she heard a muffled thump. Her bag? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  His arms banded around her, hauling her close, molding her to his length. His gaze burned into hers, melting her resolve. Every nerve in her body came awake, snapping and sizzling.

  She wanted his kiss even though she knew it was wrong of her, even though she knew it could throw open the door to old pain. Her palms pressed against the unforgiving wall of his chest, but instead of shoving him away, they relearned the impressive contours of toned muscles.

  His kiss commanded. Consumed. Her rigid admonition to keep him at arm’s length caught fire and burned to ash as her fingers splayed, exploring the breadth of the man who haunted her dreams.

  He was broader, more muscled, more dominant than before. More arrogantly male than any man she’d ever met, but she couldn’t find the strength or reason to resist him, couldn’t do anything but press against him and return his kisses with a matching heat, like a flower unfurling its petals to the glory of the sun.

  One hand held her head just so, fingers threaded through her hair while the other stroked down her side, grazing the side of her breast, the dip of her waist and flare of her hip, setting off sensations she’d hadn’t felt in too long.

  She stirred, restless for him to do more than tease. To slip a hand between her thighs and ease the ache building inside her to the point she feared she would explode.

  But he did nothing more than hold her tight and plumb the cay of her mouth. The spicy taste of him on her tongue was a delicious bubble that fizzed through her blood like champagne.

  And popped as he pulled away, his smile smug. Victorious.

  Why shouldn’t he be since he’d beaten down her defenses with little effort?

  Her face burned but her body chilled. She pushed away from him and stormed inside, whirling to face him, fingers taking a punishing grip on the open door.

  “Leave me be, Marco. Get it through your head that I want nothing to do with you.”

  Near-black eyes drilled into her, his desire evident. “Then why did you kiss me?”

  “Consider it a weak moment that won’t happen again,” she said. It could lead nowhere but to more hurt for her because she wasn’t one who could have an affair without emotions. “I’m here to do a job. Not to delve into casual sex with a former lover.”

  He smirked. “You could have fooled me.”

  She hiked her chin up and shoved the door shut, refusing to dignify that remark. All she wanted now was privacy so she could sort through the tangle of emotions tugging at her.

  He caught the heavy panel before it arced halfway and pushed it wide. “We aren’t done yet.”

  “I disagree. Now please leave so I can focus on your sister’s wedding, or have you forgotten that’s why you forced me to come here?” She swept up her bag of groceries and stormed into the salon, hoping the kitchen lay through the wide arched opening ahead.

  Her instincts were right, amazing considering the steady thud of his steps on the terra-cotta tiles that should have sent her running. Despite the dark open-beamed ceilings, the villa was surprisingly light, the kitchen especially so thanks to arched double doors that opened onto the terrace to let the last rays of the setting sun arrow through their multi-paned glass panels.

  “I have not forgotten,” he said, his voice so close that she knew he was right on her heels.

  She placed her bag from the market on the large brick bar topped with the same warm terra-cotta tiles and whirled to face him. “Then please, leave me in peace.”

  His lips pulled into a thin line, but it was the windows slamming down on his desire at the same time as rigidity stole over his features that fascinated her. He looked every inch the unforgiving ruthless businessman.

  To think she’d been so close to letting him command her body again. Far too close to risk being in his company much longer.

  “How long do you really think you can go on denying what we both want?” he asked.

  “Forever,” she shot back.

  He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “You will change your mind.”

  Damn his arrogance! Damn it that he was right! If she spent much time with him she would crumble into his arms, into his bed. That kiss had proved just how weak she was around him.

  That admission shamed her. Hadn’t the pain of having her father and then Marco betray her been enough?

  And if he was telling the truth? If Mother did lie to him that night, sending him away with the belief that Delanie had been in league with her father?

  She shook her head. What did it matter? True love wouldn’t dissolve at the first sign of trouble.

  Marco should have believed her. He should have returned to her, confronting her with what her mother had said, because if he had …

  She would have left with Marco that night. She wouldn’t have wasted the last ten years of her life.

  If she could believe Marco …

  “I won’t change my mind,” she said, painfully aware she couldn’t turn back the hands of time, that she couldn’t regain what had been lost.

  He deposited her overnight bag on the terra-cotta floor, his gaze riveted on her. A few feet separated them but the magnetic pull between them was just as strong as ever.

  “We’ll see,” he said, the firm lips that had ravished hers curving in a knowing smile.

  That’s all it took to set off a deep quiver that arced between her hipbones and mocked her ability to refuse him for long. They both knew her mind could say no but her body was a traitor, wanting him still.

  She grabbed her overnight case and stormed toward the back of the house, hoping she would find a bedroom with a solid door. “Thank you for arranging for me to stay here. You know the way out.”

  That was met with silence which didn’t surprise her. She just prayed he would leave, that he wouldn’t remain here to tear down the already shaky wall surrounding her defenses.

  Escape through the first door to the right seemed most prudent. She closed it behind her and ran home the old-fashioned bolt to keep Marco out.

  And then, finally, she took a deep quivery breath and sagged against the door. The bag slipped from her hands and dropped. She closed her eyes and listened.

  A lifetime seemed to pass before she heard the purr of a powerful engine. It had to be Marco leaving as she’d asked, though the only way to know would be to return to the dining area.

  She grabbed her bag and pushed away from the door, then simply stared at the huge bed that dominated the room. A bit much for a rental and far larger than what she needed, but she wasn’t about to complain
.

  Once she’d put her change of clothes in a dresser drawer, she ventured back into the dining area. The house was quiet with one lamp on in the salon. Nobody was here but her and her lingering memories.

  Still, she opened the front door and stepped out onto the terrace, scanning the area shrouded in shadows. Lights winked at her from the village below, but there was no sign of Marco’s flashy red car.

  He’d left.

  She trudged inside and secured the locks on the door, then moved to the ones off the dining area and did the same. A yawn slipped from her followed by another.

  When had she eaten last? She couldn’t remember. Her stomach had been in too tight a coil on the flight to risk food. Now she was simply too tired.

  She needed sleep, but first needed to deal with the food she’d bought. Or Marco had bought. Did it matter at this stage?

  It took a moment to put the fresh vegetables and fruit on a plate. Another to slip the cheese and sausage into the refrigerator.

  That already had food in it? She blinked. Straightened.

  Was this an added service like posh hotels? You pay for what you use? Or forgotten items from the last renter?

  She shook her head and let loose another yawn. It was a matter she could deal with tomorrow.

  Moments later she secluded herself in the big bed, on the verge of exhaustion. A muffled sound threatened to snap her out of it, but the sleep pulling at her was too great for her to stay alert.

  Quiet. All was quiet. The doors were locked. Marco was gone from the house. She hoped he would be absent from her dreams as well this night.

  The decisive closing of a door brought Delanie wide awake. She sat up in the sumptuous bed and blinked, stunned that the sun was already up.

  The echo of footsteps on the tiles drifted to her. She tensed. Alert. Someone else was in the villa.

  It took a moment for her mind to clear. It must be the housekeeper Marco had mentioned.

  She let out the breath she’d sucked in and headed for the en suite facilities. A quick shower would wash away the last dregs of sleep, a necessity since she did need to get started planning Bella’s wedding today.

  With luck her path would rarely cross a certain arousing Italian’s for the next two weeks. Now if she could just keep him from intruding on her thoughts.