Mediterranean Tycoons: Tempting & Taken: The Italian's Runaway Bride / His Inherited Bride / Pregnancy of Revenge
gentled on hers, moving over and over against the lush fullness of her lips, and, to her shame, slowly she felt herself succumbing to the intense sensual pleasure his kiss aroused. Involuntarily her lips parted on a soft, needy sigh, and helplessly she accepted the probing invasion of his tongue.
His hand dropped from her chin to curve around the fullness of her breast, and time stopped. Heat flared through every vein in her body. Seduced by the touch of his hand, the heat of his kiss, the musky male scent of him, she melted against him. It had never happened to her before, sexual excitement overwhelming her mind and body.
When he finally broke the kiss and lifted his head she stared up at him in hazy puzzlement, wondering why he had stopped. His hand fell from her breast and he stared down at her with eyes black with anger. She felt the hard proof of his arousal against her belly, and suddenly she came to her senses. What was she inviting by her helpless surrender to his kiss?
Gianfranco, with the part of his brain that still functioned, wondered what the hell he was doing, making love to a crazy English girl on the lawn of his friends’ house in the middle of the day. Even though another much more basic part of him had responded instantly to the feel of her curvaceous body softening against him, it angered him. He was not the sort of man who ever lost control.
‘Please let me go,’ Kelly pleaded. Somehow he had inserted one long leg between her own and the heat and weight of him was no longer exciting but sexually threatening. This was a total stranger and a thief she was dealing with, and maybe worse, judging from the state of his body. ‘Stop now,’ she cried, fighting to stay calm. ‘You know, you could go to prison for years for rape.’
‘Santa Maria.’ Incredulous dark eyes stared down into the beautiful face of the woman beneath him. He had been accused of many things in his time, but a rapist certainly was not one of them. ‘Are you completely mad?’ he rasped scathingly.
‘No.’ The fact that his kiss had knocked her for a loop must have been an apparition, Kelly told herself. She knew what she had to do. He was angry and dangerous, she had to humour him until she got a chance to run.
‘Who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?’ Gianfranco demanded bluntly. Apart from driving him crazy, he thought wryly. He was very conscious of the soft subtle body…except it wasn’t soft, but stiff with tension. He looked into the bluest eyes he had ever seen in his life, and saw she really was frightened, but doing her best to hide it. She actually believed the rubbish she’d been spouting.
‘My name is Kelly McKenzie, and I am working here for the summer as a nanny to the owners’ child.’ If she could keep him talking, she had a better chance to escape. ‘No one heard me scream, so if you let me go now I promise I will not report you.’
‘Basta. Enough.’ This farce had gone on long enough. Report him, indeed! Gianfranco saw her flinch, and determinedly forced himself to lower his tone. ‘Well, Kelly McKenzie, I am not going to hurt you; I have never forced a woman in my life and I am not going to start with you. Understand?’ She looked up into the dark attractive face, and wanted to believe him. ‘Now, I am going to let go of you and we are going to sit up and discuss this mistake like two rational human beings. Agreed?’
She nodded, every muscle in her body tensing in anticipation of escape. The next moment he let go of her wrists and sat up, but before she could even move he had placed a strong arm around her slender shoulders and hauled her hard against him.
‘Neither am I a burglar,’ he continued quietly. ‘So sit still and listen.’
She didn’t have much option, with his hands linked in front of her, trapping her in the cage of his arms. But, with the imminent danger of rape fading from her mind, Kelly began to recover some of her usual feisty temperament.
‘So you make a habit of wandering around other people’s gardens with an iron bar?’ She turned her head and arched one delicate eyebrow sardonically. Did the man take her for a complete idiot? she wondered. But to her surprise he started to chuckle, a deep, throaty sound that did uncomfortable things to her pulse rate again.
‘Ah, Kelly, now I understand. I know Carlo Bertoni. I borrowed the tyre iron from him to fix a wheel on the boat trailer, down at the marina. I came around today to return it.’
She had never mentioned her employer’s name and yet this man knew it, and she also knew Signor Bertoni kept a boat in the marina. Kelly almost groaned out loud. Such a simple explanation, but she had jumped to the worst possible scenario. Her own father had always used to tell her she had too much imagination for her own good. This time she had surpassed herself. The man spoke English but with an Italian accent. Obviously he must work at the harbour in Desenzano, and as he continued she felt the colour rise in her face.
‘The security gate was open so I called at the door, and when no one answered I walked around the back with the intention of leaving the iron on the terrace. I didn’t want to take it back with me, because I have another call to make further around the lake at Bardolino. That was until I saw this wild woman come flying at me like a circus tumbler and she immediately accused me of being a thief.’
‘Oh, my God! I am sorry.’ Kelly swivelled around, raising very relieved sparkling blue eyes to his. ‘So you’re not a thief but a sailor, and you work at the port in town.’
Gianfranco’s lips quirked at the corners in the briefest of grins; he had never met a woman in his life before with the ability to jump to conclusions so readily. It crossed his mind to correct her but, looking down into her surprisingly guileless face, and lower to the soft thrust of her breasts, he remembered his earlier decision to have some fun. Plus, it still rankled she had floored him so easily.
‘Yes, I do sail, and I have been working on a boat all morning.’ He didn’t lie, but neither was he telling the truth.
‘I suppose this is the busiest time of year here on Lake Garda, what with all the tourists. Then, of course, there is the big race next week—the contestants come from all over the world, I understand.’ Her employer was going to sail in the twenty-four-hour race. ‘I suppose that is how you speak such good English.’ Kelly was babbling, she knew, but she was so relieved he wasn’t a criminal, just an ordinary person like herself. Now no longer afraid of him, she suddenly had a terrific urge to simply relax in the curve of his arm.
‘Maybe,’ he said with a smile, his dark brown eyes glittering as they met her trusting blue. ‘But allow me to introduce myself. Gianfranco…’
‘How do you do, Signor Franco?’ Nerves and a racing pulse made her jerk out her hand, a tentative smile illuminating her lovely face. ‘May I call you Gian?’
‘Gianni. I prefer Gianni.’ And, with her hand swallowed up in his, he dragged her to her feet. ‘So, Kelly, no more misunderstandings. Friends…as you English say, shake on it.’
Very formally they shook hands, but she could see the dancing lights in his deep brown eyes and she chuckled. Then she laughed out loud; the strength of his handclasp, the slight calluses she could feel against her soft palm, obviously from manual labour, convinced her he was telling the truth. ‘I can’t believe I thought you were a robber,’ she spluttered, and then the spluttering stopped as he drew her close into the long length of his body.
‘A kiss to seal our friendship.’ And his dark head swooped down, his mouth claiming hers in a long, tender kiss.
When he finally eased her away from him she was trembling, bemused; her dazed blue eyes sought his, and as she watched his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed, masking his expression, and just for a second she wondered if she had accepted his explanation a little too easily.
‘I am afraid I have to leave in a minute, but, now we have established we are friends, will you have dinner with me tonight? Or will Signor Bertoni object?’ Gianfranco asked lightly, tucking her hand under his arm and leading her slowly around the side of the house.
‘I’d love to,’ Kelly accepted with alacrity. ‘I have the next week free, because Signor Bertoni and his wife and son Andrea have gone to visit his parents in Rome.’ Her tongue was running away with her, she knew,