“And the necklace?” she asked.
“Ah...” He released her hand and said, “That, Paulo and I sold for our first fortune.”
“You’re not sorry at all, are you?”
“For being a thief?” he asked and when he saw that was what she meant, he said, “No. I was very good at what I did. I worked at it for years and I never hurt anyone—just their insurance companies.” His lips curved. “I won’t be sorry for who I am, who I come from or the choices made. What would be the point? The past is done, being sorry changes nothing.”
“But—”
“Don’t mistake my newfound path for shame at my past.” Gianni cupped the back of her neck in his palm and leaned into her. “I am a Coretti and I will never be ashamed of my family or my heritage. How I choose to live my life now has nothing to do with that past, beyond a brief moment of epiphany that sent me in a new direction. I am, at my heart, a thief, Marie.”
She shook her head and speared his gaze with hers. “You’re not, Gianni. At your heart, you’re so much more.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” he warned, though he loved the warmth he read in her eyes. She was looking at him now and seeing the man—not the thief—and he enjoyed it. He wanted her to see him as more than his profession. But he couldn’t let her believe that the thief no longer existed inside the man. Because he did. Gianni would always feel that tug of interest, of want, when he saw diamonds. When he saw the opportunity for a job that appealed to him. That desire would always be a part of him.
“Don’t believe I’m more than what you see,” he said softly. “I am the man whose apartment you broke in to. The one you despised.”
“I didn’t despise you—”
One eyebrow lifted at that statement. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “You did. And that’s all right. Probably better that you focus on that feeling. It will help you remember that this engagement between us is nothing more than the charade we agreed on.”
She covered his hand with her own. “I’m not the one having trouble remembering that, Gianni.”
The truth of that statement startled him enough that he released her and took a healthy step backward. He was in trouble. He had forgotten, at least temporarily, how this thing between them had started and just why exactly they were there, on Tesoro. She was his blackmailer, nothing more. She held his family’s safety in her hands and instead of keeping that thought firmly in mind, he was spending far too much time thinking about getting her into bed. About getting his hands on her.
“Mr. Coretti?”
Grateful for the interruption, he looked up to see a tall man with a shaven head and sharp blue eyes approaching. No doubt Rico’s head of security and Gianni had to give his brother-in-law credit. As a professional thief, Gianni could recognize the danger in this man. He would be a formidable enemy.
“Yes. Franklin Hicks?”
“That’s me,” the man said with a nod. Looking to Marie, he said, “Ms. O’Hara. Mr. King asked that I show the two of you the security system for the upcoming show and answer any questions you might have.”
Gianni didn’t much care for the way the bald giant was scrutinizing Marie. There was a gleam in his eye that was pure male appreciation and it made Gianni want to throw her behind him and protect her from the other man’s gaze.
“Thank you.” Marie glanced at Gianni then turned her attention back to the other man. “We’d appreciate that.”
As Hicks led the way across the showroom floor, Gianni brought up the rear behind the other two. And, of course, whether he wanted to admit it or not, his gaze dropped to the curve of Marie’s behind. Didn’t seem to matter how often he told himself to keep his mind on the job at hand. Clearly, his body was more interested in other things.
* * *
“The bed’s more than wide enough for us both.” Gianni sprawled across the mattress and opened his arms as if to welcome her.
Marie took a deep breath and locked her knees so she couldn’t give in to temptation even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. Really. It was just that she hadn’t had any sleep in days. That’s why the bed looked so good. It wasn’t because of the gorgeous man lying across it.
Glancing around the sumptuous room, Marie took it all in and tried to look casual. She felt Gianni’s eyes on her and deliberately avoided looking back at him. Instead, she noted the open French doors leading to a patio that overlooked an awe-inspiring ocean view. The bamboo floor shone in the sunlight and was softened by rugs in jewel tones scattered around the room. There was a sitting area in front of a gas fireplace and a silver bucket holding champagne on a small table between the matching chairs. Beside the glass wall, a peach-colored chaise offered a spot to curl up and watch the ocean. The walls were cream-colored, but enlivened by bright, tropical paintings and filmy curtains that waved in the ever-present wind like fluttering spirits.
There was a huge attached bath with a tub big enough to hold four people comfortably and a shower area that was open to the room and boasted six jets. But Marie had to admit that the star of the show was the bed.
It was gigantic, covered in a duvet of sea-foam green and stacked with pillows against the honey-colored wood headboard. But it was the man on top of it that looked irresistible. Gianni’s dark hair looked as black as midnight against the stark white of the pillows. His chest was broad, his grin enticing, and she was having a very hard time resisting the urge to toss herself across that chest.
“We’re not sharing that bed,” she said firmly and wondered if she were trying to convince him or herself.
“Up to you,” he said and his Italian accent became thicker, more alluring. “But I don’t think you’ll be very comfortable on that chaise.”
Marie blinked at him. “If you were a gentleman, you’d offer to sleep on the chaise.”
“Ah, but I’m not a gentleman, am I?” He tucked his arms behind his head and snuggled into the pillows at his back. “I’m a thief.”
“So you’re going to let me sleep on that?” she asked.
“I’ve invited you to share my bed,” he pointed out.
Marie gritted her teeth. He was enjoying this. And why shouldn’t he? Gianni would be sleeping very well on a wide, spectacular bed and she would be curled up on one side trying not to roll off a chaise that looked a lot more narrow all of a sudden.
“We are engaged after all,” he said softly, his voice a tempting purr.
That twist of hot and achy need throbbed inside her again, and Marie took a deep breath to steady herself. It didn’t really help, but it was all she had.
“You’re the one who warned me not to forget that this was all a charade, Gianni,” she said.
His features tightened, eyes narrowed and the sexy smile faded away. “You’re right. I did. Then by all means, Marie. Keep your distance. Because,” he added, gaze locked on hers, “if you share this bed with me, it won’t be for sleeping, I promise you.”
* * *
Two days later, Marie lazed in the sun and felt the lovely trade winds caressing her skin as the sunlight warmed her through. The view of the ocean soothed her twisted nerves and the privacy was like a balm. Being here at Teresa and Rico’s private pool atop the hotel was a gift. Here, she could relax her guard—somewhat. She still had to maintain her cover as Gianni’s fiancée in front of Teresa, of course. But at least she was getting a break from the constant barrage of sensations she had to fight against when she was with Gianni.
She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she’d begun this whole adventure. And the situation had only gotten more difficult since they’d arrived on Tesoro. Sharing that opulent, sensual suite with him was shredding what was left of Marie’s self-control.
Gianni’s promise kept resonating in her mind.... It won’t be for sleeping. Her mind had conjured all sorts of delicious scenarios that k
ept her awake and aching all night—while he seemed to be sleeping just fine! She listened to his deep, even breathing and wanted to shriek in frustration. Instead, she lay on that narrow, uncomfortable chaise and counted all the ways in which it would be a bad idea to have sex with Gianni.
Sadly, though, those very logical reasons were disappearing into a flood of want that kept rising inside her. She was so tempted to surrender, it was tearing her in two to keep from joining him on the bed, giving in to what she wanted and finally easing the torment that was with her every waking minute.
Shaking her head, she told herself to be strong. She could do this. Tonight was the first event for the jewelry show. Designers and customers would be meeting in the showroom for cocktails and music at the grand opening. In three days, she’d attend the baby’s christening and then once the jewelry show ended, she and Gianni would leave for Monaco to find Jean Luc and the Contessa. Then this would all be over. She could go back to her staid, boring life and forget all about this blip on her own personal radar.
“What’s really going on between you and Gianni?”
Marie jolted and looked over at Teresa. Sitting poolside, they were sharing snacks and a really amazing sparkling peach drink that Marie suddenly wished had a lot of vodka in it. The baby was sleeping inside and it was just she and Teresa here on the patio.
“What do you mean?”
Teresa laughed shortly and tipped her sunglasses down to peer at her. “Oh, come on, Marie. I know something’s up. I’ve never seen Gianni so on edge. I mean, for a man in love he looks like a tortured soul around you.”
“He does?”
Teresa smiled gently. “And so do you. So what’s going on?”
Good question, she thought. It made her feel better to think that Gianni wasn’t quite as cool and calm as she had believed him to be. And knowing Teresa was suspicious suddenly took the pressure of keeping up the pretense off her shoulders. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything, but the opportunity to actually talk to someone about all of this made it impossible to resist.
Marie thought about it for another ten whole seconds and then she made her decision and started talking. She only half noticed the expressions chasing themselves across Teresa’s features while she talked. They ranged from shock to fear to amusement and back again, but Marie kept talking. It was such a relief to say it all out loud, she hadn’t really considered how the whole blackmail thing would sound to the daughter of the man Marie was threatening. When she finally wound down, she waited for Teresa’s reaction. She didn’t wait long.
“You have evidence against my father?”
Flushing, Marie admitted, “Yes.” She swung her legs off the chaise and faced the other woman. “I do. But I don’t want to use it.”
Hearing that said out loud, Marie could admit to herself that it was true. She didn’t want to hurt the Coretti family. Didn’t want to turn an old man into the police so that he lived the rest of his life in a prison cell. She wasn’t a cop anymore—she didn’t owe it to society. But at the same time, she wanted and needed to be able to return the necklace to Abigail Wainwright. For her own sense of rightness. Justice.
“But you blackmailed Gianni with it?”
“I didn’t really have a choice, Teresa. He never would have helped me catch Jean Luc if I didn’t have some leverage.”
“Yes, I understand that.” Teresa blew out a breath. “But Papa...”
Marie tried to explain. “I know how it sounds. But the theft in New York? It was my fault. I let Jean Luc charm me into relaxing my guard and he used the opportunity to steal from a lovely old woman who didn’t deserve to have her home invaded and her property stolen.”
Teresa frowned. “No, she didn’t. And I even understand how Jean Luc could charm you if you didn’t really know the man.” Frowning, she sat up, too, and faced Marie. “I can’t say that I am thrilled with the fact that you’re threatening my father, but I understand the sense of honor that’s driving you.”
“Thank you,” Marie said, relieved now not only to have the truth out, but to also have Teresa appreciate just what a spot she’d been in to have sunk to blackmail in the first place. She really liked these people. Had felt envy for the life Teresa had—oh, not the money so much, but the doting husband and adorable baby. For having her place in the world defined and the people she loved with her.
Marie hadn’t had that in a long time and seeing it play out before her eyes was enough to make her long for the same things.
“I believe,” Teresa said, “that you don’t really want to put Papa in jail, either, but only used what you had to get what you needed.”
“Exactly. And really, the more I learn about Gianni and the rest of you, the less interested I am in seeing your father put behind bars. But there’s no stopping now. I have to go through with this and if I gave the evidence to Gianni, why would he help me?”
“You might be surprised,” Teresa said thoughtfully. Then she asked, “But what happens when you find Jean Luc? When you retrieve the stolen property? What happens between you and Gianni then?”
“We go back to our lives,” Marie said softly.
“That easily?” Teresa shook her head, reached out and took one of Marie’s hands in hers. “I don’t think so. However this started, there is more between the two of you now than either of you wish to acknowledge.”
“You’re wrong,” Marie insisted, though that curl of heat and desire and need throbbed deep inside just as relentlessly as it had for the last several days.
“I disagree. Let me tell you a story,” Teresa said, keeping Marie’s hand in hers. “It is about Rico and me and mistakes made.”
While Teresa talked, Marie listened and was amazed that Rico and Teresa had been able to work things out and build such a strong marriage and family now. Their lives had begun on a lie and somehow, they’d found a way past it.
“I know what it is to hold honor so high you lose sight of everything else that is equally important,” Teresa told her. “To protect my father and brothers, I gave up Rico and for five years, I missed him, died every day without him. And when finally we came together again it was my family’s honor that almost kept us apart once more.” She squeezed Marie’s hand.
“The difference was, you and Rico loved each other in spite of everything,” Marie said.
“And you love my brother.”
“What?” Marie tugged her hand free of Teresa’s grip, shook her head and blindly grabbed for her frothy, girlie drink that so needed a shot or two of vodka. Teresa’s words slapped at her, insisting they be recognized, but she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t look that closely at what she’d been feeling for days.
She and Gianni didn’t have a real relationship. What they had was a charade that was quickly hurtling toward its conclusion. So feeling anything would be a huge mistake.
“You’re wrong. I hardly know Gianni. I certainly don’t love him.”
“You think I don’t recognize the signs?” Teresa smiled at her in sympathy. “You watch him whenever he comes into a room. You tremble when he touches you and he infuriates you so easily, there must be love at the heart of it. The only people who can push us over the edge so completely are those we care about.”
“Care is one thing,” Marie grabbed onto the word care like a life raft in a churning sea. Of course she cared about Gianni. He was warm and kind and funny along with being irritating. And of course she wanted him. A woman would have to be dead for a year to not want him. “Love is another.”
Love didn’t come on in a flash of heat. It grew slowly, quietly, with two people learning about each other, finding places in each other’s lives. There had to be common interests, friendship as well as attraction. There had to be...more.
“This isn’t about love, Teresa,” she argued, determined to keep her mind focused. “Lust, maybe, but not love.”
“I know my brother,” Teresa said. “He is protective of our family. Even with the threat you posed, he would never have brought you here, to the island, if he didn’t feel—”
“There you are!” Gianni’s voice cut off Teresa before she could finish her sentence.
Which left Marie internally shrieking What? If he didn’t feel what?
Rico was right behind Gianni and the two men converged on them with a few hurried strides. Gianni looked down at Marie and she felt the heat in his gaze as he looked her up and down and then back up again. She was wearing a new bikini, purchased in London, and she knew the lime-green scraps of fabric looked pretty good on her. Judging by Gianni’s expression now, maybe it looked even better than pretty good.
He stared at her for a couple more seconds, until Teresa chuckled. The sound shook him out of the trance he seemed to be in. Meeting Marie’s eyes he said simply, “We found Jean Luc. He’s here. On the island.”
Nine
A half hour later, they were in their suite. Gianni stared down Marie and waited for her to back off from her ridiculous argument. But she wouldn’t and he should have expected it. The woman had been absolutely uncooperative since the moment he’d caught her searching his bedroom. Why did he enjoy it so much?
“I should be there. I can help you look for Jean Luc.”
He shoved one hand through his hair and wished to hell she would put on a robe or something. It was damned hard to concentrate on an argument when distracted by the luscious curves so openly displayed by that tiny, lime-green bikini.
His body was tight and hard, and looking at her had his blood pumping and his heart racing. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about Jean Luc Baptiste and in fact would have happily cursed the man to the bottom of the ocean. But since he couldn’t do that, he was forced to deal with the fact that Jean Luc was here, on Tesoro, and they had to protect the jewelry show from his all-too sticky fingers. And, if possible, keep him from seeing Marie here. Jean Luc wasn’t the most brilliant thief on the planet, but he was smart enough to realize that she didn’t belong here.
The Fiancée Caper Page 11
