by Various
‘You mean once I’ve resigned myself to marrying you?’ Annie said with patent disgust.
Luc raised dark, arrogant brows. ‘Exactly.’
She gave a derisive snort. ‘You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.’
‘As are you,’ he murmured appreciatively.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘So what’s the plan, Luc? We remain here and continue arguing the point until one of us—namely me—sees reason?’
He grimaced. ‘Staying on at the hotel would not be practical when my business here is complete and you have arrangements to leave here on Monday.’
‘So what are you suggesting?’ She eyed him warily.
‘I had originally planned to spend several days at the de Salvatore vineyard near Venice once I left here. If you were to come with me—’
‘You want me to come to Venice with you?’ Annie gasped. Venice was supposed to be one of the most romantic cities in the world, wasn’t it?
‘The de Salvatore vineyards are in the hills above Venice,’ Luc corrected.
Venice itself, or the hills above the city, what did it really matter when Annie would be alone there with Luca de Salvatore! When this evening had already shown her how dangerous it was for her to be alone with him anywhere!
She shook her head. ‘I don’t—’
‘The alternative is for me to accompany you back to England as originally suggested,’ Luc pointed out coolly.
One look at the utter determination on Luc’s face was enough to tell Annie that he meant the threat.
As if she had ever doubted it!
‘What if, after these several days, we still haven’t managed to find a compromise over Oliver’s future?’ she challenged.
Those black eyes were cold and merciless. ‘I am confident that we will have done so.’
Annie felt as if she were up to her neck in quicksand. As if the whole of the world she had so painstakingly built for herself and Oliver these past four years was in jeopardy.
It was in jeopardy! It had been in jeopardy since the moment Luca de Salvatore learnt that Oliver was his son!
She swallowed hard. ‘Very well, Luc. I’ll come to your vineyard with you tomorrow. But only on the understanding that…that there will be no repeat of…of this evening’s behaviour.’ Embarrassed colour burned Annie’s cheeks just at the thought of the intimacies they had shared earlier.
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Do you believe that to be possible?’
‘It had better be, or I’m not coming to Venice with you!’ Annie insisted stubbornly.
Luc studied her between narrowed lids as he once again noted the disarray of her hair, her lips swollen from the force of the kisses they had shared and the press of her breasts against that body-hugging white T-shirt, the nipples still hard and aroused.
This woman had caught fire in his arms in the lift this afternoon. And she’d continued to burn only a short time ago, when she had been so aroused by their lovemaking she had reached a climax that had shaken the whole of her body with its intensity.
Just as he had almost done as she’d kissed and caressed him…
Even during those wild years of his youth Luc could not remember being as aroused, so out of his own control, as he had been when Annie Balfour touched him with her hands and mouth.
Such loss of control had no place in the rigidly self-disciplined life of Luca de Salvatore!
He nodded. ‘If that is your price for accompanying me to Venice, then I agree.’
She eyed him warily as she voiced her concern. ‘A little too readily perhaps?’
He shrugged. ‘I am acknowledging that, for the moment, physical intimacy between us only…confuses the issue, shall we say.’
Her cheeks coloured hotly. ‘Might I remind you that you’re the one who forced your way into my hotel suite this evening, Luc. You threatened both myself and my son—’
‘Our son!’
‘—before proceeding to make love to me in order to prove that you still can!’ Annie continued fiercely, her eyes shooting sparks at him.
His jaw tightened. ‘I did not—’
‘Yes, you did, damn you!’ She could never remember being this angry before. With anyone. ‘Well, you’ve proved your point, Luc, and I’ve agreed to come to Venice with you tomorrow, now would you just go?’
Luc had no doubts that if he stayed they would just continue to argue. Or make love again. Neither of which was acceptable to him in his present mood.
Annie Balfour had managed to pierce his guard this evening. More than that, her caresses had driven him to the edge of a complete loss of control. He could not, would not, allow that to happen again.
He nodded coldly. ‘I have your word that you will not leave the hotel and attempt to go back to England without me?’
Her eyes pierced him with their scorn. ‘The Balfours have never run away from a fight either!’
‘It is your intention to continue fighting me, then?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she stated confidently.
Luc shook his head. How could they possibly reach any sort of compromise, some agreement on the future, if they continued to argue and insult each other?
‘Do you ever smile any more, Luc?’ Annie eyed him curiously from behind her dark sunglasses.
She had been packed and ready to leave when Luc came to her suite shortly after ten o’clock, the grimness of his expression not in the least conducive to conversation. He had continued that grim silence as the convertible sports car he was driving ate up the miles to Venice, the beauty of the surrounding scenery obviously completely wasted on him.
And the longer that silence continued the more Annie became aware of him. Of how the darkness of his hair had become ruffled from the warmth of the breeze, giving him a boyish look so at odds with the coldness of his expression. Of the width of his shoulders beneath the black polo shirt he wore. The flatness of his abdomen. The long length of his muscled legs stretched out beside her own. The subtle male smell of him—an elusively tangy aftershave and raw masculinity—that was all Luc.
Damn it, Annie was just aware of everything about him!
‘I smile when the occasion warrants it,’ Luc answered her quietly.
‘Really?’ Annie jeered. ‘Only I seem to remember you as being a lot more fun four years ago,’ she added.
Black sunglasses hid the expression in Luc’s eyes as he glanced at her. ‘You gave me the impression yesterday evening that my conversation was not to your liking.’
‘Not that conversation, no.’ She grimaced. ‘But a little polite conversation would be nice.’
‘Polite conversation?’ he repeated drily.
With the obvious implication that the two of them were incapable of being polite to each other.
Which they probably were, Annie acknowledged ruefully. Every conversation they now had seemed to come back to Oliver, and that was a subject on which they would never agree!
But not talking to each other at all certainly wasn’t going to bring an end to that particular impasse.
‘Yes, Luc, polite conversation,’ she said. ‘You comment on the warmth of the weather. I concur. You remark on the beauty of the countryside. I concur—’
‘I do not believe you capable of concurring with me twice in the course of a single conversation,’ Luc goaded back.
‘No. Well. You’re probably right about that.’ She sighed. ‘OK, then we’ll just agree that the scenery is beautiful.’
‘The scenery is beautiful,’ Luc repeated mockingly.
‘You know, coming from you, that almost counted as a joke,’ Annie remarked lightly as she settled back in the leather seat. Arguing with Luc hadn’t succeeded in making her any less physically aware of him, but it was certainly a diversion from that awkward silence!
Luc eyed her guardedly. ‘You seem less…antagonistic, this morning.’
Something he found extremely suspicious after the way they had parted last night, when Annie had given him the distinct impression that she inte
nded fighting him to the bitter end.
She looked both confident and beautiful this morning in a pale cream knee-length sundress that showed off her tanned arms and legs, the red lights in her hair appearing deeper in the warmth of the sun and her face bare of make-up.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Never heard of trying to make the best of a bad situation?’
Oh, yes, Luc had heard of it—he just found it disconcerting after her assurances yesterday evening that she intended making his life a living hell. Of course, she had also said that would come after he had forced her to marry him.
‘And making the best of this bad situation involves you being pleasant to me for a change?’ he asked.
‘Telling you that you’re no fun any more is being pleasant.’
‘It is an improvement on being called a bastard, yes,’ Luc drawled.
Her cheeks coloured warmly. ‘As I recall, you were behaving like one at the time.’
Luc’s mouth tightened. ‘You gave me no choice.’
‘Oh, you had a choice, Luc,’ she snapped. ‘I think you just enjoy being like that!’
‘Do I take it that our attempt at polite conversation is over now?’ he taunted.
‘Without a doubt!’ Annie turned to look out of the window beside her.
She had lain awake for hours last night trying to find a solution to this problem. A solution that was acceptable to both of them, and not just to Luc.
She had known yesterday evening that returning to England without him was a non-starter; he would only follow her there, and in doing so no doubt create the scandal Annie was trying so hard to avoid.
The insults and accusations they’d hurled at each other during their arguments certainly wasn’t helping the situation either.
That left only reason. Calm, logical reason.
Annie didn’t want to marry Luca de Salvatore any more than he really wanted to marry her. Therefore there must be another, more acceptable, solution to this problem. One that could only be discussed in an atmosphere of calmness.
Which, as well as trying to dispel her total physical awareness of Luc, was what Annie had been trying to create a few minutes ago.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What?’ Annie frowned as she turned to look at Luc.
He sighed. ‘I said, I’m sorry. For being the cause of yet another argument between us,’ he expanded as she still looked puzzled.
‘That’s what I thought you meant…’
Luc’s mouth twisted at her obvious surprise at his apology. ‘You just did not believe it.’
‘Well, it’s a little unusual, you have to admit,’ she pointed out.
It was unusual for Luc to apologise. For anything. Making him every bit as arrogant as Annie had often accused him of being?
Had he always been this way? Annie didn’t seem to think so if her remark about him having been more fun four years ago was any indication.
Damn it, he hadn’t just been fun four years ago, he’d been reckless and totally lacking in all responsibility!
But what was he now?
According to Annie he was unsmiling, not fun and totally lacking in a sense of humour.
The time spent restoring the de Salvatore business empire to its former glory had consumed Luc’s every waking moment. Luca de Salvatore had found no time for smiles. Or fun. Let alone maintaining a sense of humour.
He had no time for them now either!
Just as he had no time whatsoever for the desire he felt for this woman that yesterday evening had threatened every barrier he’d placed about all of his softer emotions.
‘Perhaps,’ he answered curtly. ‘But I would not take it as the setting of a precedent.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,’ Annie assured him sarcastically. ‘I’m well aware that one apology from Luca de Salvatore has to go a long way.’
Luc’s mouth tightened. ‘You do not have a very good opinion of me, do you?’
She shrugged bare shoulders. ‘I don’t know you.’
‘And what little you do know you obviously do not like!’
‘I suggest you ask me that again in a couple of days.’
Luc very much doubted that anything he did or said during the next two days was going to change Annie Balfour’s opinion of him.
Chapter Eight
‘ADMIRING the view?’
That was exactly what Annie had been doing as she stood out on the balcony of the guest bedroom one of the maids had shown her to a few minutes ago. And she felt reluctant to turn from admiring that view—miles and miles of heady sweet-smelling vineyards as far as the eye could see, with the waterways and graceful architecture of Venice glittering in the distance.
The de Salvatore villa itself was set on the hillside, a beautiful two-storey terracotta-coloured house, built in a hacienda style, and surrounded by terraced gardens filled with an array of heady perfumed flowers, and a huge swimming pool sparkling temptingly behind the villa itself.
It was all so beautiful—the villa itself, the surrounding hills covered in vines and the mystery of Venice as tempting as a jewel.
Only Annie’s reason for being here stopped her from fully enjoying them!
She sighed wistfully before turning to face Luc as he stood in the doorway from the bedroom out onto the balcony. ‘Is it all yours?’
‘As far as the eye can see.’ He nodded. ‘Perhaps you would like to go for a ride after lunch?’
‘On horseback, quad bikes or motorbikes?’ she prompted interestedly, having seen the employees in the vineyards use all three as transport during the past few minutes as she watched them moving from one set of vines to another.
‘Any or all of them.’ Luc stepped fully out onto the balcony, and Annie saw that he had changed out of the black trousers and shirt he had worn for travelling, and into a pair of cream linen trousers and a brown short-sleeved shirt that emphasised the powerful width of his shoulders and muscled arms, and left his feet bare on the cool marble.
Dark sunglasses were pushed up into the dark thickness of hair still damp from the shower he had obviously taken before changing, allowing Annie an unimpeded view of those enigmatic dark eyes, and the harsh beauty of his face.
All in all, Luc looked good enough to eat!
Warm colour flared in Annie’s cheeks as she remembered how close she had come to doing exactly that the evening before. ‘I don’t mind which,’ she answered him abruptly, making no move to step away from the balustrade, knowing that if she did she might just forget her need to keep her physical distance from this man.
Something she hadn’t succeeded in doing too well earlier in the confines of the car, their brief conversation having done very little to alleviate her discomfort. By the time they reached the villa Annie was so aware of her need to touch Luc that as soon as the maid left her alone in the bedroom she had rushed to the adjoining bathroom to splash cold water on her face in an effort to cool that fevered longing.
A need that had returned the moment Luc stepped out onto the balcony. In fact, the only thing holding Annie back from the evergrowing urge to go to him and curve her body intimately into his before taking his mouth was the painful thought that Oliver’s future rested on what transpired between herself and Luc in the next few days.
Luc shrugged. ‘Quad bikes or motorbikes, then. It will still be a little too warm for the horses immediately after lunch.’
‘Fine.’
He frowned at her shortness. ‘You seem…a little tense.’
Annie moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Do I?’
She wasn’t tense—she was just painfully aware of Luc! Totally, achingly physically aware of him.
Luc studied her through narrowed lids. ‘This bedroom is not to your liking?’
Having grown up either living or staying in one of the Balfour homes—several houses in London, the apartment in New York, a chalet at Klosters, even a privately owned Caribbean island—Annie was used to being surrounded by luxury.
Even so, the bedroom
she had been given in the de Salvatore villa was something else—peach-coloured marble floors, beautiful white and gold antique furniture, including a four-poster bed draped in silk curtains. And the adjoining marble-floored bathroom was equally as magnificent, dominated as it was by a huge sunken bath surrounded by plants and statuary.
‘What’s not to like?’ Annie replied honestly.
‘Then perhaps you are just hungry for your lunch?’ Luc persisted with concern.
‘Maybe,’ she said evasively, knowing ruefully that he was what she really hungered for. ‘I need to call my mother and tell her where I am first though.’
‘I should have thought earlier.’ Luc looked annoyed with himself. ‘There is a telephone downstairs in my study you may use for your call when you are ready.’
‘Do I have time to freshen up and change before we eat?’
‘But of course.’ Luc nodded, sure that he was not imagining the return of Annie’s caution around him. She almost seemed afraid of his proximity. ‘As we parted some while ago I had thought you would have had time to have already done so.’
‘I’m a woman, Luc,’ she pointed out tartly. ‘Worse than that, a Balfour woman! There are only three bathrooms at the chalet at Klosters,’ she went on to explain as Luc raised a questioning brow. ‘One of which my father, as the only male, claims for himself. When all the sisters are there together you should hear the fights over who gets to use the other two bathrooms first!’
Luc found himself smiling slightly at the image she presented. ‘I wouldn’t know—I’m an only child.’
Annie eyed him curiously. ‘Isn’t that unusual in an Italian family?’
He nodded. ‘My mother was unable to have any more children after I was born.’ His jaw tightened. ‘A fact that probably contributed to my being a spoilt brat.’
‘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.’
