The Sicilian's Defiant Virgin

by Susan Stephens

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you, Signorina Sanderson?’

  She didn’t miss Luca’s calculating look. ‘I’m organised,’ she agreed. ‘That’s why you hired me, presumably.’

  She stood her ground. He couldn’t deny it, though, behind the professional manner, Jen’s eyes were as full of questions as his. Once again, he had to remind himself not to underestimate the unique and very surprising legatee of his brother’s will.

  * * *

  It was a relief to join the friendly housekeeper on a tour of the cottage and escape Luca’s burning presence. Signor Luca had appointed Maria Head Housekeeper, the friendly woman told her, as many of his father’s staff had left for Florida to accompany Don Tebaldi in his retirement.

  Jen couldn’t pretend she wasn’t relieved to be spared the scrutiny of the old don, and if all Luca’s employees were as friendly and helpful as Maria and Shirley, he couldn’t be all bad, she reasoned.

  ‘I feel very lucky to be here,’ she said honestly, when Maria asked if she’d had a pleasant journey. ‘Not that the flight was bad. In fact, quite the contrary, I had great company, and now I can’t wait to start work.’

  ‘Signor Luca is a wonderful man,’ Maria agreed as proudly as any mother. ‘I’ve known him since he was a little boy.’

  This explanation piqued Jen’s curiosity but Maria was keen to continue the tour.

  The cosy building had a rustic charm Jen hadn’t expected to find on a billionaire’s private estate. The walls were natural stone, softened by colourful tapestries, while beautiful ethnic rugs in warm jewel colours covered the floor. The furnishings inside each room she walked past looked both comfortable and inviting.

  ‘And your clothes have arrived,’ Maria announced.

  ‘Already?’ Jen exclaimed.

  ‘As if by magic,’ Maria said with a smile.

  It was only a couple of hours since Jen had spoken to Luca’s PA. She was fast coming to realise that things worked differently for billionaires. Luca didn’t have to stand in line, or wait around for things as she was used to doing. He had people whose job was to anticipate his smallest whim.

  ‘Your bedroom,’ Maria announced.

  ‘How beautiful,’ Jen exclaimed, turning full circle in the room. It seemed so big and airy, after her single bed tucked away in the corner of a bedsit.

  And she could hear the sea!

  The windows were open, and the shutters were back, allowing the rhythmical whisper of the waves to draw her across the room. She trailed her fingertips across the crisp white linen sheets on the big, sturdy bed, and only then realised how tired she was; tension, mostly, Jen thought, and now the desire to snuggle down and pull the sheets up to her chin was almost irresistible.

  ‘You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble for me,’ she told Maria, turning. There were fresh flowers on the dressing table and a jug full of fruit juice on a tray, with a plate of home-made biscuits.

  ‘It is my pleasure, signorina. You knew Raoul,’ Maria said, as if that was all it took for the friendly woman to take Jen to her heart.

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Jen frowned sadly as she remembered her lonely friend from the casino.

  ‘He was like a son to me,’ Maria told her. ‘I was a surrogate mother to both the boys when their mother died. I don’t think either of them ever got over her death, though Luca showed his grief in a very different way from Raoul.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Jen asked, hungry for the smallest piece of information.

  Maria made a gesture with her hand that suggested it was too soon to talk about things like that, and Jen had some sympathy. They hardly knew each other, and some things were too precious to share with a stranger, but she was gaining a sense of a complex family that had been cruelly torn apart.

  ‘I was very fond of Raoul,’ she told Maria, smiling her understanding into the older woman’s eyes.

  ‘You understood him too, I think,’ Maria said.

  ‘I like to think so,’ Jen agreed.

  ‘He was like a ray of sunshine until his mother died, when everything changed,’ Maria volunteered. Maria’s smile died too, as if she was fighting with the urge to tell Jen something more. ‘Luca was angry at the time—with his father, I mean,’ Maria explained with an awkward shrug as if she’d already said too much, but then she firmed her jaw and confided, ‘Their father was never kind to their mother.’

  ‘I gathered as much,’ Jen said quietly.

  ‘You can see both boys in this photograph,’ Maria added, more brightly now she’d changed the subject. She pointed to a framed photograph on the dressing table. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to settle in now,’ she added. ‘Would you like me to bring you some warm supper on a tray?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Jen said, smiling. ‘You’ve done more than enough for me already. I’m happy tonight with just a biscuit and a glass of juice.’

  As soon as Maria closed the door she crossed the room to study the family photograph. There was a beautiful woman in the forefront of the shot, standing between her two boys. The older boy was unmistakeable, and Jen smiled in recognition. Luca looked like a real handful, though he was probably only eight or nine at the time the photograph had been taken. His ruffled hair and mutinous expression suggested he’d been dragged in front of the camera against his will. His T-shirt had ridden up at one side, while his grubby shorts ended above battle-scarred knees. His brother Raoul, on the other hand, even at such a young age, was the picture of sartorial elegance. Raoul was gazing up adoringly at his mother, and with his neatly brushed hair and angelic expression, Raoul looked like the type of son who would put his mother on a pedestal, and never give her anything to worry about. Even his spotless shorts boasted a crease down the front, while Luca’s looked as if he’d been crawling around a coal mine. A man stood in the shadows behind the group. Jen guessed this was Don Tebaldi, who probably didn’t want to be in the photograph at all. A man as infamous as he’d been wouldn’t want to encourage too many photographs, she imagined. Shivering at the thought, she turned away, and wondered for the umpteenth time what on earth she’d got herself into.

  It was when she went to pour some juice that she noticed the note tucked beneath the jug. It was an invitation to choose anything she liked from the dressing room, as it was all hers to take away or leave, as she pleased, when she left the island. The note was signed ‘Shirley’.

  Talk about efficient!

  Wake up, Jen told herself impatiently. The note was further proof that Luca had been planning her visit to the island for quite some time.

  * * *

  Thunder rolled ominously in the distant hills. Luca asked the driver to stop the limousine short of the house. He needed to walk. He needed to think without distraction. He had to walk his frustration off. He could only hope that Jennifer Sanderson was suffering from frustration half as much as he. What had started as a cold-blooded plan had so quickly developed into something more. And he had never been able to trust his feelings. Right back to childhood, when he’d tried so hard to win his father’s favour, and had so obviously failed, he’d thought there was no point in even trying. Emotional isolation was a better bet. No one could reach him, touch him, or hurt him, and now he supposed that habit had stuck.

  He still wasn’t sure what to make of Jen, and he had always prided himself on his ability to assess people quickly. It was one of his most notable strengths in business, but Jen/Jennifer, asset/threat, was still largely an unknown quantity. When she had chatted to Shirley on the jet it had sounded as if the two women had known each other for years, and that was largely thanks to Jen, who certainly had the ability to win people round. It was an admirable quality, but one that could count against her when he tallied up the points for and against the main beneficiary of his brother’s will. Raoul had been needy, and Jen had conveniently been there for his brother. Was that planned? Or was it coincidence?

  And then there were his personal feelings. The prospect of seducing Jen was far more tempt
ing than showing her a hoard of sterile gems, but Jen wore her pride like a soft cloak that a man would have to be crass to remove. When the limousine had pulled away from the cottage, she had strode purposefully up the neat little path to greet his housekeeper, when he was used to women fawning over him. She’d made him realise that entitlement was a dangerous thing, because it led to expectations. He laughed out loud, remembering how she’d gambolled across the stage at the casino. She had certainly attracted his attention with that performance.

  And would lose it, once he understood his brother’s will.

  Would she?

  He stopped and stared around. He hadn’t realised he’d walked so far, he’d been so busy thinking about Jen. He was standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, and she was all he could think about.

  The first thin streaks of dawn were showing on the horizon in stripes of salmon-pink. It was the main feast day on the island tomorrow, he remembered, a day that would hardly soothe his senses. With its theme of rebirth, and excess, this was the time of year when the islanders indulged themselves. As a youth he had taken it as an excuse to overindulge himself, though he had never needed much encouragement where that was concerned. The traditions of the feast day were many and various, as they had been contributed to by sailors of many nationalities who had anchored in one of the island’s many bays. One thing remained constant, and that was the fact that around ninety per cent of the island’s population was born nine months after the last mask and costume had been put away. With that sort of promise in the air it was all too easy to picture Jen whimpering with pleasure in his arms. Balanced against that was his suspicion about her relationship with Raoul.

  He turned from the spectacular dawn to take the path back to the house.

  What would today hold? One thing was certain. There would be a lot to pack into his favourite day of the year.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DÉJÀ-VU WAS A beautiful thing. Jen had discovered this shortly after dawn on her first morning on the island. She woke slowly, taking in every impression while she was still warm and snug in the comfortable bed. The memory she’d woken up to was like a strand of smoke, gone before she could grab hold of it, but after a few moments she realised it was the sound of the surf and the scent of the sea, reminding her of family holidays. The echo of sharing a bed with Lyddie, and both of them waking with excitement at what the day might hold, was enough to catapult her out of bed.

  Crossing the room, she leaned out of the open window. Her heart pounded at the sight of the beach. And the beach wasn’t empty, because Luca was striding across it towards the sea. Wearing just black swimming shorts, he was a magnificent sight to wake up to. Get out there! Jen imagined Lyddie whispering in her ear. She didn’t need any encouragement, though she lingered to watch Luca until he plunged into the aquamarine sea. She should take an early morning swim. It would be rude not to.

  * * *

  His heart was aching. He hadn’t anticipated such a rush of emotion, but this was his first morning on the island since Raoul’s funeral. As he plunged into the sea, the dash of cold water reminded him that everything he was doing now, he’d done with Raoul, but they would never swim together, or laugh together again.

  How had it come to this? How could Raoul possibly be dead?

  Treading water, he glanced up the cliff path towards the guest cottage where he guessed Jen would still be fast asleep. It stung him to think she knew more about Raoul than he did. He wanted to question her and demand answers, and not just about the will, but he had no right to do that. He’d lost that right when he lost touch with his brother.

  He powered out to sea, still thinking about Jen. His hunger for her refused to be subdued. Turning his face into the surf, he dived deep. He had to get rid of his energy somehow. Even the darker, cooler water couldn’t help him. No matter what he did, Jen was still at the forefront of his mind, and the urge to hold her, touch her, and watch her respond as he pleasured her, was all it took to keep him painfully aroused.

  * * *

  The beach! At last, the beach! What was it about a beach that filled her with such excitement? Freedom, Jen concluded. Fresh air, wide spaces and the anticipation of discovering pirate treasure—or maybe just a curious crab scuttling sideways in a rock pool. The same thoughts she’d had as a child filled her now. Lyddie would have loved this.

  Running barefoot towards the sea, she emptied her mind of everything but the glorious sense of freedom. She was eager for the shock of the chilly, early-morning waves closing around her sleep-warmed body. For a city dweller this was luxury indeed. The sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the sand was soft beneath her feet, and the sea looked absolutely perfect. As smooth as glass, it was as inviting as a cool bath on a hot day.

  She had barely spared any time to investigate her dressing room, and had just rushed in and flung open all the drawers in a frenzy of excitement in the hunt for a swimsuit. Grabbing the first one she found, she had exclaimed with relief when she’d put it on and found it was reasonably modest, and in the nice bright blue that she loved. It fitted her perfectly too. Throwing a sundress over it, she had run out of the cottage, calling good morning to Maria, who was just arriving as she ran.

  ‘I’ll cook breakfast,’ she’d called out. ‘Don’t you worry about it, Maria. Take the morning off—see you later!’ And with that, she had run and run and run.

  Stopping on the shoreline at the edge of the sparkling surf’s big lace frill, she turned her face up to the sky. Closing her eyes, she dragged deep on the ozone-packed air. She was tempted to stand and bask in the warming rays of the sun a few minutes longer, but the sea was calling to her—

  ‘Jen—’

  She swung around with shock. ‘Luca!’ He was dripping with seawater, his bronzed body gleaming. ‘You startled me.’

  Black swimming shorts clung wetly to his taut, muscular thighs. His legs were lean and long, and muscles flexed on the wide spread of his shoulders. The thought of pressing against him and feeling her soft curves yield to his steel perfection shouldn’t be anywhere in her mind, but it was right up there, and her nipples inconveniently peaked. Crossing her arms over her chest, she brazened it out. ‘Good morning—I hope you slept well?’

  ‘Extremely well, thank you.’

  Liar, she thought, noting the dark circles beneath Luca’s eyes. It must have been hard for him coming back here after his brother’s funeral, she reasoned.

  ‘And you?’ he pressed.

  ‘I slept very well, thank you,’ she confirmed, leaving out the bit where Luca had taken a starring role in all her erotic dreams. His physical presence half naked was enough to scramble the clearest of minds. ‘Have you finished swimming for the day?’

  ‘I had.’

  As his face grew thoughtful, she said gently, ‘You must miss Raoul. I miss Lyddie.’ She gazed around. ‘She would have loved it here.’

  ‘Life moves on,’ Luca said abruptly.

  She didn’t believe his apparent detachment for a single second. ‘Sometimes it’s good to remember, even if memories make us sad.’

  This garnered her a long, searching look, but he made no comment.

  ‘If you’re going back in the sea, would you like to race me?’ she suggested.

  His answer to this was an incredulous look.

  ‘I’m not bad in the water,’ she confessed. ‘But, if you don’t feel up to it,’ she teased in an attempt to shake him out of his dark mood.

  ‘Not up to it?’ Luca said, frowning.

  He was standing within touching distance. He towered over her. He blotted out the sun. She was tiny by comparison to Luca, but no smaller in spirit, Jen determined.

  ‘Well, I’m ready to go swimming,’ she said, stepping back—straight onto the sharp edge of a shell!

  As she yowled with pain Luca grabbed hold of her. His reactions were whip-fast, and suddenly she was in his arms. Pressed up hard against him was everything she had dreamed about—and everything that her sensible se
lf should avoid. Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her breathing, and with that her imagination took flight. Would he kiss her?

  What a ridiculous thought! Jen scowled as she quickly pulled away.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Luca asked with concern.

  ‘I’m fine, but thanks for the save. I owe you.’

  ‘The next time I fall over, I’ll know who to call.’

  His eyes were dancing with laughter, while her cheeks blazed red. Her body took some time to stop resonating to the possibility of a kiss, though that chance was long gone now. And thank goodness, she thought.

  ‘Let me see your foot,’ Luca insisted.

  ‘I’ve told you—I’m fine.’

  ‘Let me see it—’

  Before she could argue, Luca was on his knees in front of her.

  ‘Rest your hands on my shoulders,’ he insisted, ‘while I take a proper look.’

  He glanced up to make sure she was going to do as he said, Jen presumed. Those eyes...and his shoulders felt so warm beneath her touch. She could feel the play of muscle beneath his tanned skin when he moved.

  Taking hold of her ankle, Luca rested her foot on his thigh. His touch was so gentle it surprised her. It was a long time since anyone had shown her this sort of care, and her emotions rushed to the surface.

  As he examined Jen’s foot he marvelled at how tiny her feet were, and how soft. Her toenails were like tiny pink shells.

  ‘No damage done,’ he confirmed, springing up. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t break the skin.’

  ‘Thanks for checking,’ she said brightly, and then her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  She wanted him to kiss her, he guessed, but her eyes were troubled. Her body yearned for comfort, while her mind yearned for something more. ‘You proposed a race?’ he said, turning to face the sea. ‘To that red buoy and back? I’ll give you a head start.’