Because as she continued to approach and he continued to watch, her face came better into focus and he saw that she was more than merely attractive. She was stunning. Sunlight bounced off choppy blonde hair that surrounded a heart-shaped face. Even at this distance he could see that her eyes, fixed unwaveringly on him, were light, possibly green, and fringed with thick dark lashes.
He couldn’t have looked away even if he’d wanted to. All his attention was focused on the desire that was beginning to stir and fizz in the pit of his stomach, sending darts of heat speeding along his veins, igniting the sparks of awareness and accelerating his pulse. A dose of adrenaline shot through him and his muscles tightened as if bracing themselves for the most thrilling of attacks. And, despite the fact that her mouth was currently set in a firm, uncompromising line, he was filled with the hot, hard urge to draw her back into the shadows with him, pin her up against the tree and find out what she tasted like.
Parking that unexpectedly fierce response for later analysis and getting a swift grip on his control, since now was neither the time nor the place to find out how fully he’d recovered in that department, Rico unfolded his arms and pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans to cover the inevitable effect she was having on him and levered himself off the tree trunk. He stepped forwards, out of the shadows and into the sunlight, stifling a wince as the muscles of his right leg spasmed, and at that exact same moment, a couple of feet in front of him, the woman came to an abrupt halt.
Every inch of her stilled. For the longest moment she just stared at him, as if frozen in shock. Then she raked her shimmering green gaze over him from head to toe and back up again, her eyes widening, her face paling and her mouth dropping open on a soft gasp.
‘Oh, dear God,’ she breathed in a way that momentarily fractured his control and filled his head with scorching images of her tangled in his sheets and moaning his name despite his intention to ignore her allure.
‘Not quite,’ he drawled, ruthlessly obliterating the images and focusing.
‘Who are you?’
‘Federico Rossi. My friends call me Rico.’ Well, they would if he had any.
‘Where did you come from?’
Originally, who knew? Who cared? He didn’t. ‘Venice.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘With unexpected ease,’ he said, remembering how he’d sailed through the gates and up the drive. ‘Someone left the gates open.’
‘For the coming and going of staff.’
‘Finn should take his security more seriously.’
‘I’ll let him know.’ She gave her head a quick shake in an apparent effort to pull herself together. ‘I can’t quite believe it,’ she said, nevertheless still sounding slightly stunned and appealingly breathy. ‘What are you doing here?’
Well, now, there was a question. On the most superficial of levels Rico was here to find out if what he suspected was true. On every other level, however, he had no idea, which was confusing as hell. All he knew was that ever since he’d come across that photo in the financial press he’d been perusing while laid up in hospital, drifting in and out of pain, his broken bones recently pinned and splinted, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace.
Initially, he’d dismissed the electrifying jolt that had rocked through him on first seeing the face that could almost have been his staring out at him from his laptop. He’d ignored too the strange, unsettling notion that a missing piece of him had suddenly slotted into place.
Nothing was missing from his life, he’d reassured himself while willing his heart rate to slow down and his head to clear. He had everything he could ever wish for. He neither needed nor wanted to know who this man who looked so like him might be.
However, with the interminable passing of the days that turned into weeks, the sensation swelled until it was gnawing at his gut day and night, refusing to stay unacknowledged and relentlessly taunting him with the unwelcome suggestion that here might possibly be a blood relative, whether he wanted one or not.
Eventually he hadn’t been able to stand it any longer. The growing pressure to do something about it had borne down on him with increasing intensity until he’d had no choice but to give in to the instinct he hadn’t yet had cause to mistrust, and take action.
An internet search of Finn Calvert had turned up nothing in the way of personal details, so he’d hired an investigation agency, which, last week, had. The seismic revelation that Finn’s date of birth matched his own, leading to the conclusion that they might be more than just blood relatives, they might be brothers and quite possibly twins at that, had shaken him to the core. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock and he certainly hadn’t had the head space or time to contemplate the implications.
Not that he was telling this woman any of that. He’d sound ridiculous. He didn’t have a quick answer that made any sense, so instead, with a slight smile and half a step towards her, he went for one that did.
‘Right now,’ he murmured, out of habit letting his gaze drift over her and noticing with interest the sudden tell-tale leap of the pulse at the base of her neck and the rush of colour that hit her pale cheeks, ‘I’m admiring the scenery.’
For the briefest of moments her eyes dropped to his mouth, a flash of heat sparking in their depths. He thought he caught the tiniest hitch of her breath and sensed her moving minutely in his direction, briefly dizzying him with her scent, and it hit him like a punch to the gut that instead of suppressing the nuclear reaction going on inside him he ought to be encouraging it. Because, while he didn’t fully understand the strange, primitive instinct that had compelled him to come here, to this house and its owner, he well understood desire.
He’d gone without sex for the last twelve painful weeks, and he’d missed the fierce buzz of attraction, the sizzling heat of electrifying chemistry and the blessed oblivion that inevitably followed. Here was a potential opportunity to rectify that. He hadn’t planned to stay overnight in the country, intending instead to return home to Venice once he was done, but he was adaptable. He’d change his plans and invite the goddess before him to dinner in London. And afterwards, if she was amenable, he’d take her back to the penthouse apartment he owned there, tumble her into bed and prove to anyone who cared to know just how well he’d recovered from the BASE jumping accident that had nearly killed him. It would be a satisfying and enjoyable way of getting through the hours, if nothing else.
The swiftness with which she appeared to be rallying, jerking back with a quick, tiny frown, was disappointing but no great obstacle. Her captivating gaze might have turned cool, her breathing steadying and the pretty blush on her cheeks receding, but he knew what he’d seen. He knew what he’d heard. And he was going to capitalise on it.
‘I meant, why the tree?’ she said with impressive composure, as if she hadn’t even noticed the chemistry let alone responded to it, which perversely made him only more determined to get her to agree to a date.
‘What?’
‘Why are you out here by a tree? What was wrong with the front door?’
Ah.
He’d had his driver park the car in front of the house at the end of a line of half a dozen others. Realising there had to be a party going on, since the investigation he’d commissioned had thrown up no suggestion that Finn was particularly into fast cars, he’d decided to assess the situation first instead of barging in. He’d walked round the side of the house, skirting the tall, wide hedge, unnoticed and surprisingly unchallenged, before identifying this tree as the best spot from which to observe the man he’d come to see, and taken up a position in the shadows, a place he was very familiar with and very comfortable in. ‘Gate-crashing a party’s not my style.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘But skulking is?’
‘Skulking?’ It wasn’t a word he’d heard before.
‘Lurking. Loi
tering. Hiding.’
‘I prefer to think of it as...observing from a distance,’ he said, dismissing the flicker of apprehension that came when he realised with hindsight that perhaps he should have hidden, because now he’d been caught there was no backing out. No leaving without anyone being the wiser. No coming back another, quieter time. Or not at all. It was too late for regrets. He’d set these events in motion. He’d see them through. And in the meantime he’d distract himself by pursuing the beautiful woman before him.
‘You’re here to meet Finn.’
‘I am,’ he said, giving her a practised smile and feeling a surge of satisfaction when her gaze once again dipped to his mouth for a second as if she just couldn’t help herself.
‘Your brother.’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘Then you’d better come with me.’
CHAPTER TWO
WHILE CARLA HAD been making her way over, buzzing with a surge of adrenaline that wiped out her weariness and put a bounce in her step, a number of options with regard to the identity and purpose of the stranger lurking in the shadows had spun through her mind.
He was a curious neighbour, maybe. A paparazzo with pound signs in his eyes. Or something a tad more sinister, perhaps. Finn was a billionaire who owed a string of hotels, restaurants and nightclubs. Some kind of personal attack wasn’t out of the question. Josh was tiny and precious and the threat of a kidnapping was real.
Never in a million years would she have guessed the truth. It was almost unbelievable. But not quite, because that this individual, this Federico Rossi, was one of Finn’s long-lost brothers was undeniable.
He had to be.
They were identical.
Well, almost identical.
They might share eye and hair colour and possess the same imposing breadth of shoulders and towering height, but Finn didn’t have the scar that featured on this man’s face. His nose had never been broken and no accent tinged his English. Finn too lacked the deep tan, and sharp angles and hard lines in the bone structure department. Other than all that, though, the likeness was uncanny.
So why the man falling in beside her as she turned and set off on a discreet route back to the house should have triggered such an unexpected and intense reaction inside her when all she felt for Finn was a vague sort of fondness, Carla had no idea.
Was it the lazy confidence? The deep, gravelly, insanely sexy voice? The air of danger and the accompanying notion that, despite the laid-back exterior, Federico Rossi was a man who did and took what he wanted when he wanted and to hell with the consequences?
Whatever it was, once she’d got over her shock at his obvious identity, she’d experienced a jolt of an entirely different kind. He’d smiled at her, a slow, smouldering, stomach-melting smile, and a rush of heat had stormed through her, igniting her nerve endings and setting fire to her blood. His intense navy gaze had roamed all over her, and in its wake tiny explosions had detonated beneath her skin. By the time he’d finished his leisurely yet thorough perusal of her entire body, desire had been pounding through her and for one brief, mad moment she’d wanted to press herself up against him and seal her mouth to his.
But then some tiny nugget of self-preservation, recognising what was going on as attraction of the most lethal and inadvisable kind, to be neither entertained nor underestimated, had burst into her consciousness and she’d taken a sharp step back from the brink of madness while wondering what on earth she’d been thinking.
Everything about this man, every instinct she had, urged her to proceed with utmost caution, and that was exactly what she was going to do because she got the feeling that he wasn’t to be entertained or underestimated either.
When it came to the opposite sex she never allowed her emotions to run riot and dictate her actions. She’d done so once before, as an affection-starved teenager who thought she’d found love where she absolutely hadn’t, and that was enough. If Rico Rossi could threaten the iron-clad control she kept on her feelings with just a smile, he could be beyond dangerous, and she had zero interest in prodding the beast.
She did, however, have an interest in keeping him away from Finn and Georgie’s guests, who by now were presumably having lunch but couldn’t fail to be curious should he march straight into the party, the spitting image of their host, only dressed in faded blue jeans and a black polo shirt instead of a suit. So she’d deposit him in the study and then go in search of Finn to impart the surprising yet excellent news that one of his brothers had turned up, and from that moment on she need have nothing to do with him directly ever again.
‘So you know my name,’ he said, shortening his stride to match hers, a move that put him so close she caught a trace of his scent—male, spicy, dizzyingly intoxicating—so close she could reach out and touch him should she wish to do so, which she very definitely did not. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Carla Blake.’
‘Carla,’ he echoed, rolling the ‘r’ around his mouth in a way that sent an involuntary shiver rippling down her spine.
‘That’s right,’ she said with a brisk nod, deciding to inhale through her mouth and keep her eyes ahead to lessen his impact on her senses while upping her pace so that they might reach their destination that little bit quicker.
‘And this party?’
‘A christening. Your nephew’s, probably. I’m a godparent. Georgie is my best friend. She’s Josh’s mother and, I’d hazard a guess, your sister-in-law.’
‘A family occasion,’ he muttered in a way that suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, which was no concern of hers.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a beautiful day for it.’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘It’s a beautiful day for many things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Making new acquaintances.’
‘Your brother and his family?’
‘I actually meant you, tesoro.’
In response to the slight deepening of his voice and the hint of silky seduction that accompanied his words, Carla’s stomach tightened while heat flooded her veins.
Was he flirting with her?
Feeling strangely trembly inside, she glanced over at him to find him looking back at her, the intensity of the heat she saw in his glittering gaze nearly knocking her off her heels.
‘I have plenty of acquaintances,’ she said, a lot more breathlessly than she’d have preferred.
‘Any like me?’
Attractive enough to turn her into a puddle of insensibility and lay siege to her control? In possession of a smile that commanded her attention against her will and rendered her all hot and quivery? Thankfully, no. ‘One or two.’
The expression on his face now suggested he didn’t believe her and that knowing arrogance—even if he was spot-on with that assumption—was enough to blast the sense back into her.
Enough was enough, she told herself sternly as she led him towards an arch in the hedge. The reaction going on inside her was ridiculous. She didn’t do flustered. Ever. She was cool in a crisis. She was the eye of the storm. She was not a pulsating mass of desire, completely at the mercy of her hormones, no matter how great the provocation.
‘What are you doing when the party’s over?’ he asked, standing aside to let her pass through the arch ahead of him.
‘Going home and crashing out,’ she replied, taking great care not to let any part of her body touch any part of his on her way.
Rico ducked his head and followed her through onto the stretch of gravel that led to the house. ‘That doesn’t sound like much fun.’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘I can think of far more entertaining things to be getting up to.’
As if on cue, before she could even think to prevent it, her head filled with images of Rico grabbing her arm right now, drawing her into the shadows, pulling
her into a tight embrace and lowering his head to give her a mind-blowing kiss while she pressed eagerly against him.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said tightly, grinding her teeth in frustration as the gravel crunched beneath her feet and her body temperature rocketed. ‘Nevertheless, it’s what I’m doing.’
‘How about dinner?’
‘Toast,’ she said bluntly. ‘I may go wild and smash an avocado to have with it.’
‘I meant you having it with me.’
‘I know you did.’
‘Well?’
She shook her head decisively and set her sights on the door in the side wall of the house. ‘I think not.’
‘Another evening, then.’
‘No.’
‘Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Not my thing.’
‘Then why not?’
She gave the door a shove to open it and marched in. ‘Do I have to have a reason?’
‘Don’t you?’ he said, sounding genuinely curious and at the same time impossibly conceited.
Well, no, of course she didn’t have to, although obviously she did. Rico’s invitation to dinner might be shockingly and appallingly tempting, despite her attempts to convince herself otherwise, but she knew first-hand the risk confident, self-assured men like him posed. How all-consuming and seductive they could be. She knew what it was like to succumb to the power and charm until you no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. To lose your identity along with your inhibitions. To be persuaded to make unwise choices and to believe that you were happy about making them.
She had no intention of making the same mistake twice. She was more than content with the steady, careful, safe life she’d created for herself. She would allow nothing to upset it. Never again would she be rendered powerless, vulnerable and helpless by a man. Never again would she be manipulated into willingly giving up her freedom and her independence, things she hadn’t had the maturity then to value.
Harlequin Presents--July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 52
