‘Were you a spoilt brat, Luc?’ she asked gently.
‘Like often recognises like, does it not?’ Luc goaded.
Her eyes widened. ‘If that was a dig at me, then you really don’t know me at all either!’
He looked at her closely. ‘Your clothes, even those business suits you wore over the weekend, have a designer label. Your hair is expertly—and no doubt expensively—styled. You go on family holidays to the family-owned chalet at Klosters and a private Caribbean island. You travel first class. Stay in exclusive suites in five-star hotels. You apparently know how to ride a horse, a quad bike and a motorbike, and no doubt many other things besides. I do not believe that the average young lady of twenty-four has the opportunity to do all, or perhaps any, of those things. So yes, I believe you are spoiled to a certain extent.’
Annie raised her chin challengingly. ‘My father believes that in business the look is everything, hence the clothes, the hair and the first-class travel and five-star hotels. He also owns the chalet in Klosters, and the Caribbean island, not me. My stepfather taught me to ride a horse when I was six. My older sisters, the quad bike and motorbike when I was ten or so. Along with sailing and surfing, rock climbing and abseiling—’
‘No wonder your father’s hair has turned white!’ Luc drawled.
‘—but I believe those things make me accomplished rather than a spoilt brat,’ Annie continued stubbornly. ‘I also studied hard to get three straight As in my A levels. I went to university and attained my degree in English—’
‘And became an unmarried mother three months later,’ Luc finished for her.
‘We’ve already had this conversation once, Luc,’ she reminded him irritably.
Because Luc had not given any thought to contraception the night they spent together. Because he had left her so abruptly the following day. Because he had not bothered to try to find her again once his father was out of danger and recovering from his heart attack. Because he had been too focused on salvaging and then rebuilding the de Salvatore business empire to give more than a cursory thought to the girl called Annie that he had made love to that night…
His expression was bleak. ‘I am doing everything I can to rectify that mistake—’
‘You believe Oliver was a mistake?’ Annie’s voice was dangerously calm—the calm before the storm, in fact.
‘I did not say that.’
‘Oh, yes, you did!’ Her eyes glittered deeply blue, and her hands were clenched at her sides. ‘No—’
‘Yes!’ Annie bit out furiously, finding a temporary release from her tension—and her physical awareness of Luc—in her anger.
His face darkened ominously. ‘You are becoming agitated…’
‘We mothers tend to do that when someone attacks or criticises our child,’ she pointed out.
A nerve pulsed in Luc’s tightly clenched jaw as he looked at her coldly. ‘I would never attack or criti cise either my son or his mother.’
Not Oliver and Annie, but ‘my son or his mother.’
Because Oliver as Luc’s son was still an unknown quantity to him, and Annie was merely the vessel by which he had acquired that son.
The anger left her as quickly as it had arrived, leaving her feeling strangely weary. ‘I really would like to take a shower and change my clothes now, Luc.’
It was impossible for him to miss the flatness of her tone. Or the sudden pallor of her cheeks. ‘It was never my intention to hurt you, Annie—’
‘Too late,’ she choked.
Luc could see the tears glistening on her long dark lashes now. Annie’s anger and sarcasm he could cope with; her tears were another matter entirely…
He took a step towards her. ‘Annie—’
‘Don’t touch me, Luc,’ she advised softly as she held up a hand to ward him off. ‘I’m hanging on by a thread here,’ she added shakily. ‘The least show of kindness on your part could result in my blubbering all over you.’
Luc gave a pained frown. ‘I believe my shoulders are strong enough to take it,’ he assured her gruffly.
‘I’m sure they are,’ she replied. ‘But my self-esteem isn’t,’ she added ruefully.
Luc looked at her wordlessly for several long seconds. He had been stunned yesterday when he learnt Annie had a son. furiously angry once he had looked at those photographs of that dark-haired little boy, and realised from his date of birth that Oliver was his son too.
He was only now beginning to see, to realise, what that discovery on his part—his demand that she marry him—meant to Annie.
By insisting on marriage Luc would be taking her and Oliver away from everything and everyone that was familiar to them, at the same time forcing her into a role she obviously wanted no part of.
But what choice did Luc have except to demand she marry him? Oliver was indisputably his son, and the de Salvatore heir. Luc could not, would not, give Oliver up just because Anna Balfour managed to shed a few tears at the idea of becoming his wife!
‘I will show you to my study so that you might telephone your mother when you come downstairs.’
Dark lashes fanned down on the paleness of her cheeks.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured huskily.
He looked momentarily confused. ‘For allowing you to use the telephone?’
‘No.’ Annie looked up to give him a tremulous smile. ‘For allowing me to keep my self-esteem.’
Luc drew in a ragged breath as he once again fought the urge to take Annie in his arms and offer her comfort. Knowing that if he held her in his arms it would not be comfort he offered her!
He wanted her. Wanted her with a fierceness that made the blood burn in his veins and his body ache. Wanted to make love to her, until both of them were too weak to do anything more but fall asleep in each other’s arms.
It was a feeling so at odds with the man he had become these past four years—cold, ruthless, in control of all his emotions—that Luc knew he had to get out of here. Now. Before he could no longer resist giving in to that impulse he had to lay Annie down naked on the bed before caressing and kissing every inch of her.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides at the thought of gazing into the misty unfocused blue of Annie’s eyes as she trembled and quaked in the throes of her climax. ‘Please believe me when I say I am no longer that spoilt young man who let you down, Annie,’ he said.
‘Why aren’t you?’
Luc’s mouth thinned. ‘It is a long story that does not reflect well on me.’
‘But maybe one that you’ll share with me someday?’ she pressed gently.
‘Perhaps.’ He nodded. ‘I will wait for you on the terrace.’ Luc turned on his heel and left, knowing that if Annie were ever to understand the man he was now, the man he had become, then he would have to tell her of those dark days after his father’s collapse. And then she’d know he was responsible for almost killing his own father.…
‘So which did you decide upon?’ Annie asked lightly once they had finished eating the delicious cold lunch Luc’s housekeeper had provided for them to enjoy on the terrace beside the sparkling blue pool.
She had kept her telephone call to Tilly deliberately brief, just telling her mother that she had met up with an old friend who had invited her to stay at their villa near Venice for a couple of days. As expected, Tilly had assured Annie she was more than happy to look after Oliver. With the added comment that a couple of days’ holiday would do Annie the world of good. Some holiday!
Annie had deliberately kept up a stream of inane chatter once she had joined Luc outside, more than a little embarrassed by the way she had almost broken down in front of him earlier. The reason for that emotional blip was obvious, of course—too much stress and too little sleep.
Along with that overwhelming attraction to Luc that was never far beneath the surface of her emotions.
Even now Annie was completely aware of everything about him. Of the way the darkness of his hair curled slightly from having dried in the warmth of th
e sun. How the hue of his olive skin had already deepened in the sunlight. Of the dark hair visible on his arms and at the V of his polo shirt. Of the way the thin material of that shirt emphasised the broadness of his shoulders and the washboard flatness of his abdomen.
As for his hands…
Annie found herself mesmerised by the lean strength of those long, tapered fingers as Luc ate, unable to stop herself from remembering how they’d felt on her body the evening before as he’d cupped her breasts before moving lower to caress her between her moist and aching thighs—
‘Quad bike or motorbike?’ she prompted again as her cheeks burned at the thought of what had happened next.
‘You choose,’ Luc invited as he sat back in his chair, the expression in his eyes once again hidden behind dark sunglasses.
‘Quad bikes can be fun, but I’d enjoy using mo tor-bikes, if that’s OK with you?’ She looked enquiringly at Luc.
‘Fine,’ Luc drawled. ‘Although I have to admit, I haven’t ridden one in years,’ he added ruefully.
Annie quirked a pointed brow. ‘Four and a half years to be precise?’
‘As it happens…yes.’
‘Hmm.’ She frowned slightly. ‘So what happened to change your lifestyle from that of irresponsible playboy to ruthless businessman?’
Luc scowled darkly at her perception. ‘Like you, I grew up,’ he brushed her off.
‘But there must have been a reason for it?’ she per-sisted. ‘Didn’t de Salvatore Enterprises hit a rough patch around that time?’ she said slowly.
Luc eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. ‘How do you know that?’
She gave a shrug. ‘I’m my father’s daughter, remember? Besides, it isn’t exactly a secret that you took over your father’s ailing company and made it bigger and better than ever.’
‘Not before I had almost ruined it!’ Luc grated. ‘At twenty-six I believed myself to be invincible,’ he explained bluntly. ‘I made many mistakes because of that belief. Mistakes that almost cost my father his life as well as his business empire.’
‘What do you mean?’ Annie gasped.
‘Because of my mistakes my father had a heart attack and almost died,’ Luc said bitterly. ‘Does that not fit in with your image of me as the monster who is trying to take your son away from you?’
She looked at him directly. ‘Oliver is your son too, Luc.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘As I tried to tell you last night, I have no wish to hurt you, Annie. I just—I would like to be a father to Oliver. To help him to understand that although he has a privileged life, it does not mean he should behave as recklessly as I did for so many years.’
‘You want to help him to not make the same mistakes that you did?’
‘That is exactly what I want, yes,’ he said. Luc had learned a hard lesson that he would never allow himself to forget.
Annie looked up at Luc quizzically, understanding the changes in him a little better now than she had. Understanding the compulsion he felt to be a full-time father to Oliver a little better than she had before too.
But still not enough to agree to marry him!
She gave a rueful sigh. ‘I’m ready if you are?’
‘You intend going out like that?’ He looked at the white shorts and tank top, which was the same colour blue as her eyes, Annie had changed into after taking her shower.
Annie laughed. ‘Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?’
His mouth compressed. ‘The employees at the vineyard would perhaps expect to see my future wife wearing something a little more…conservative, shall we say, than brief shorts and an even briefer top.’
‘Really?’ Annie said, unruffled. ‘Well, as that future wife isn’t going to be me, that expectation doesn’t apply, does it?’
‘It does apply to you—’
‘No,’ Annie cut in sharply. ‘No, Luc, it doesn’t,’ she repeated firmly. ‘Now are you ready to go out or not?’ she asked again.
Luc looked down at her in frustration. There was no doubting that Annie looked fresh and cool in the brief shorts and tank top that emphasised the full curve of her breasts, slender waist and curvy hips, and the long length of her bare and golden-tanned legs.
She also looked no older than the twenty she had been the day Luc first met her.
And just as desirable!
The fact that her hair was secured on the crown of her head in an untidy tumble of chestnut curls, her face completely bare of make-up, the sun having brought out an endearing sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of her nose, should have had the opposite effect. Instead Luc ached to release those red-brown curls and let them cascade onto the bareness of her shoulders. Longed to kiss each and every one of those freckles before capturing her mouth hungrily with his and kissing her senseless.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring Annie here, to the de Salvatore villa in the hills above Venice. Luc had done so with the intention of them being able to talk, to discuss Oliver’s future—and their own—without distractions.
He had not expected that same lack of distraction to have intensified his awareness of Annie, of her perfume and the smooth silkiness of her skin, skin he ached to touch to such a degree that Luc knew he had thought of little else but making love to her again since their arrival here.
He looked haughtily down the length of his nose at her. ‘If it does not bother you to parade yourself around in public half naked, then I see no reason why it should bother me either.’
Annie’s mouth tightened at what she knew to be a deliberate—and successful—attempt at an insult on Luc’s part. ‘Being seen half naked in public has never bothered a Balfour,’ she retorted naughtily. ‘In fact, being completely naked has never been too much of a problem for us either!’
Luc’s nostrils flared disdainfully. ‘Thank you for the timely reminder that you are a Balfour.’
‘No problem.’ She gave a breezy smile to hide how much it stung to hear the disgust in his voice. ‘Although you might want to actually get to know some of those Balfours before you look down your disapproving nose at all of us.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I know you, and that is enough.’
Annie drew in a sharp breath at this second deliberate and even more successful insult in as many minutes. ‘What a pity, then, that your son is also a Balfour.’
Luc scowled. ‘Not for too much longer.’
‘You might be surprised!’
‘I rarely am,’ Luc drawled confidently.
Annie shook her head in disbelief. He really was the most arrogant, pig-headed, son of a— ‘Then this could be a first,’ she snapped.
Just when she thought she might actually be starting to like Luc, he reverted to type once again!
He had been much softer earlier as they had talked on the balcony of her bedroom, and then again just now as he spoke of his father, so much so that Annie had almost forgotten her reason for being here with him.
They were obviously lapses that Luc regretted, because he was back to being a bastard with a vengeance now!
CHAPTER NINE
‘THAT was fun!’ Annie laughed glowingly up at Luc a couple of hours later as they parked the motorbikes back in the storage shed several terraces down from the villa where the hay for the horses was also stored.
It had been fun to ride the motorbikes around the estate, Luc acknowledged with a slight frown. It had felt good to feel the wind in his hair and the warmth of the sun on his face. It had brought it home to Luc that fun really hadn’t been a part of his life for a long time now.
Working twenty hours a day, enjoying the occasional woman in his bed, followed by yet more work, had been what was necessary to return the de Salvatore business empire back to the thriving concern it had once been.
That it now was.
Yet Luc still more often than not worked those twenty-hour days. Because, apart from his ageing parents, he’d had nothing else in his life?
something that no longer applied now that he knew h
e had a son.
Just as he was determined that Annie Balfour would soon become his wife. His to kiss and to touch whenever he wanted…
Having decided yesterday that such distractions only confused the situation, Luc had almost been driven mad with a desire to do both those things this afternoon as he watched Annie from behind the shield of his sunglasses. The way the bareness of her thighs had hugged either side of the leather seat of the motorbike. The creamy swell of firm, unconfined breasts visible above the low neckline of her top…
‘Luc?’ Annie prompted lightly at his continued silence.
He grimaced as he turned to face her, having pushed his sunglasses up into the dark thickness of his hair so that he could see in the gloom of the shed. ‘Sorry, I was thinking of something else.’
Well, of course he was, Annie acknowledged ruefully. No doubt wishing himself far away from here. And the inconvenience of having to entertain her.
She shrugged. ‘I could go for a swim now if there’s something else you would rather do?’
The intensity of his gaze swept over her, slowly, lingering on the curve of her breasts. ‘What did you have in mind?’ he asked huskily.
Annie found herself slightly unnerved by the heat in Luc’s eyes. Deep, fathomless dark eyes that she might drown in if she continued to look at him.
So she shifted her own gaze to a point over his left shoulder. ‘I thought maybe—’ She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘I’m sure the vineyard doesn’t run itself.’
‘No, I have a manager who does that,’ Luc drawled.
‘Oh.’ Annie was suddenly very aware of how alone they were in the cool gloom of the shed, and the delicious shiver that ran down the length of her spine was due to the heat of Luc’s gaze rather than that coolness.
He frowned. ‘You are cold—’
‘No, of course I’m not cold!’ Annie winced at the awkwardness of her reply. ‘I…well…maybe a little.’
It was just so eerily quiet in here—quiet and private. Annie doubted that anyone ever had reason to come down here at this time of day. ‘We should probably go back up to the villa now.’
Annie and the Red-Hot Italian Page 10
