had extracted from him as his life had ebbed away.
‘Your father thinks you should.’
It was as if an explosion had happened. As if a firework had gone off between them. She jumped back from him, the chair scratching the tiled floor noisily, her eyes flashing accusation at him.
‘My father?’ Her voice, laden with shock, crashed into his thoughts, bringing his mind well and truly back into focus. ‘You’ve spoken to my father?’
* * *
Charlie was numb with shock. How dare he speak to her father? And why had her father not mentioned it? Why hadn’t he warned her Alessandro Roselli, owner of one of Italy’s biggest car manufacturers, was looking for her, wanting her to do something he knew she couldn’t face yet? She’d only seen her father yesterday. He should have told her.
‘What exactly have you spoken about with my father?’ She kept her words firm, her fingers curled around the back of the chair as if the pine would anchor her, keep her thoughts focused and in control. Just moments ago she’d wondered what his kiss would be like, had revelled in the soft caress of his fingers like a star-struck teenager. What had she been thinking? ‘You had no right.’
‘I contacted him to ask if I could visit, to invite you to be at the launch. Your father knows it is what Seb wanted.’ He folded his arms across his broad chest and leant against a kitchen unit, his eyes never breaking contact with hers.
For the second time that morning her shoulders sagged in defeat. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes briefly. Hopefully, when she opened them he wouldn’t be watching so intently, so knowingly.
But it didn’t make any difference. Those bronze-flecked eyes, which strangely felt so familiar, now bored into her. Right into the very heart of her, as if probing for every secret she’d ever hidden.
She dropped her hands and gripped onto the back of the chair again. ‘You had no right to speak to my father. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what we’ve lost and I’m more than capable of deciding for myself if I want to see you or not or if I want to be involved in the launch.’
‘And do you?’ He raised his brows and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. The same lips she’d just imagined kissing her.
Did she what? Focus, Charlie. Her mind scrabbled to regain rational thought. She didn’t know what she wanted except not to allow this man, this prime specimen of raw maleness, to know how unsure and undecided she was.
‘I certainly didn’t want to see you.’ She raised her chin and injected calm control into her voice. ‘If you recall, I asked you to leave. I don’t want any part of the motor racing world any more.’
‘Is that why you’ve hidden yourself away in the depths of the English countryside?’
The curiosity in his voice was barely disguised and the question came rapidly on the heels of the confusion he’d caused just by being here. She found it difficult to think about such things, but this man’s presence was making it harder still.
‘I withdrew from the frenzy of the media out of respect for my brother. I’m not hiding,’ she said, aware of the curt tone of her voice. ‘I couldn’t continue to be on camera, promoting the team, not after Seb died.’
‘Do you think he’d want you to stay that way?’
As he leant against the kitchen unit, unable to help herself, her gaze flickered to his hips and strong thighs. A sizzle of sexual awareness shimmied over her. Why did she have to find this man, of all men, so undeniably attractive?
‘Meaning?’
‘The cottage is very nice, but a woman like you shouldn’t be ensconced here for ever.’
She looked back into his face, taking in the slant of his nose and the sensual curve of his lips. He looked directly into her eyes, almost knocking the breath from her body with the intensity.
Was he right? Would Seb want her to be involved? Then his last words finally registered in her mind. ‘What do you mean—a woman like me?’
He walked around the table, appearing confined within the small kitchen. A room she’d never thought of as so compact, not until Alessandro Roselli had walked into it. He stopped at the opposite side of the table and she was thankful to have something more substantial between them.
‘You live life in the fast lane—or did.’ His accent had turned into a sexy drawl and his eyes raked over her. Again she was conscious of her casual and slightly grubby clothes.
‘Well, now I don’t and I have no intention of going back to it. Nothing you—or my father—can say will change my mind.’
‘“Look after my little Charlie. She’d like you.”’ He spoke firmly and she knew exactly who he was quoting. Only Seb called her ‘little Charlie’.
He pulled out another chair and sat down. He was taking root, making it very clear he wasn’t leaving any time soon, but his words unsettled her. She could almost hear Seb saying them.
‘I don’t believe you.’ She folded her arms across her chest, trying to deflect his scrutiny, but she remembered the phone calls from Seb. He’d always tried to get her to date again, insisting that not all men were as heartless as her former fiancé. ‘He would never say that.’
Absently, he reached out and pulled last night’s local paper towards him. He looked as if he belonged in her home, in her kitchen. He looked comfortable.
‘It is true, cara.’
‘Charlotte to you.’ Her previous thoughts linked in too easily with his term of endearment and it unnerved her. She wished she’d never invited him to use ‘Charlie’.
‘Charlotte...’ he said, so slowly, so sexily he caressed each syllable. Heat speared through her body. She stood rigid, trying to ignore the heavy pulse of desire scorching through her. What the heck was the matter with her?
Maybe she’d been out of the fast lane, as he’d called it, for too long. Should she believe him, that Seb had wanted her involved? Not that she’d ever admit it to him, but those words could well have been spoken by her brother.
‘What exactly did my father say?’ She had to divert his attention. She couldn’t stand here any longer whilst his gaze ravished her. It was too unnerving.
He looked up at her, the paper forgotten, and the heat level within her rose higher still. She swallowed hard. Her brother had been right. She did like him, but purely on a primal level. It was just lust, nothing more. Something she would get over and she could do without that particular complication at the moment.
‘He said,’ he taunted her, his brows lifting a little too suggestively, ‘that it was time you got back in the driving seat.’
His words hung heavy in the air. Words which were true. Hadn’t her father said exactly that to her only a few weeks ago?
‘I wasn’t aware there was more to you than the glamorous façade you’ve always displayed on camera—that you’d been taught to drive high-powered cars.’ He watched her intently and she had the distinct impression he was trying to irritate her, push her into accepting that her brother had wanted her to be involved.
She thought of her job promoting Seb’s team, following them to every racetrack in the world and being interviewed by the press. It was a jet set lifestyle, one she’d enjoyed and had been good at. She’d got there by working her way up from the very bottom and had learnt all there was to know about cars and driving. Despite the glamorous image she portrayed to the world whilst on camera, she’d always felt safer, less exposed when she was doing what she really loved. Working on the cars and driving them—something her mother had been set against.
Was it time to stop hiding away and be part of that life again? She pondered the question, aware of his gaze on her, watching and taking in every move.
‘You’d