Nicolo stared at her intently. Sophie noticed that his unusual two-toned eyes were almost completely green tonight and his black pupils were fathomless and seemed to be able to look into her soul.
He glanced down at her hand lying on his chest. ‘Aren’t you repulsed?’ he said gruffly.
‘No, of course not.’ She held his gaze, her expression open and honest.
A soft breeze blew through the French doors, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and orange blossom in from the garden. In the silence Sophie could hear the slight unevenness of her breath. Gradually she became conscious of a subtle shift in the atmosphere between her and Nicolo, and beneath her palm she felt the hard thud of his heart.
Suddenly it seemed shockingly intimate to be touching him. She knew she should lift her hand from his chest but some invisible force was preventing her. Nicolo’s eyes narrowed, as if he felt the same tension that gripped Sophie’s body. He placed his hand on her shoulder and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger.
‘You have beautiful hair,’ he murmured.
The compliment stirred her emotions. Never had she been more thankful that her hair had grown back after the chemotherapy. The loss of such an important part of her femininity had devastated her confidence when she had been sixteen. Ten years later she appeared self-assured but deep down she was still the girl who had been worried that she would never have a boyfriend because she was unattractive.
Nicolo brought his other hand up to her face and cupped her jaw. Slowly he lowered his head and Sophie’s stomach muscles clenched as she realised he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She could not deny the truth to herself. She had imagined him kissing her practically from the moment she had first seen him, and now, as she felt his warm breath on her lips, her heart slammed against her ribs.
Nicolo did not know exactly when his anger with Sophie had changed to desire. Deep down, he acknowledged that he had sensed an undercurrent of sexual awareness between them when he had carried her out of the house the previous day. Since then he had done his best to ignore her, but Sophie Ashdown was not easy to ignore. It was a long time since he had felt such a fierce urgency to kiss a woman. As a tremor ran through her, Nicolo sensed she was feeling as confused as he was.
Her hair felt like silk as he threaded his fingers into the honey-gold layers. She drew a sharp breath—as if she was about to tell him to stop—but before she could speak he lowered his head and crushed her mouth beneath his, kissing her with demanding passion.
Sophie’s protest died in her throat and she dissolved at the first brush of Nicolo’s lips across hers. Part of her was shocked by how quickly she had capitulated, but as he deepened the kiss and slid his arms around her, pulling her hard against him, nothing seemed to matter except that he should continue his sensual assault.
She framed his face with her hands and felt the slight abrasion of his rough jaw against her palms. He roamed his lips over her cheeks, her eyelids, before returning to her mouth and kissing her with a wild hunger that she found shockingly thrilling. Like the highwayman she had imagined him to be he was bold and determined, mercilessly taking what he wanted. The hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her pelvis left her in no doubt that he wanted her.
At last he released her lips, and as she snatched a ragged breath a tiny piece of her sanity returned. She was close to being completely swept away by Nicolo’s raw passion. Her blood had turned to molten liquid in her veins and she was aware of a betraying dampness between her legs. He was moving his hands restlessly over her body, shaping the contours of her hips and sliding up to cup her breasts. She felt the warmth of his palm through her dress, and when he lightly flicked his fingers over her swollen nipples she gave a choked gasp and felt as if there was an invisible cord between her breasts and the pleasure spot between her legs.
It was all happening too fast, Sophie thought as Nicolo slanted his mouth over hers once more. The feel of his tongue pushing between her lips was intensely erotic but it crossed a line that she had mentally drawn in the sand. She was not ready for this level of intimacy. After all, they were virtual strangers. Thinking of how little she really knew about Nicolo was a stark reminder of why she had come to Chatsfield House. Christos had sent her here to carry out a specific task. What had happened to her professionalism? she asked herself scathingly.
She pulled her mouth from Nicolo’s, breathing hard as she tried to regain control of herself and the situation. He seemed unaware of her sudden hesitancy and pressed his lips to the base of her throat, trailing kisses down to the valley between her breasts. Sophie caught her breath as he slipped his fingers beneath the neckline of her dress and stroked her breast through her bra. Her body was on fire and yearned for him to push his hand beneath her bra and caress her naked flesh, but her brain had finally regained control.
‘We should talk,’ she said huskily, turning her head to prevent him from claiming her mouth again.
Nicolo frowned as her words pushed into his brain. He was intoxicated by the fragrance of her skin and by the honeyed throb of desire coursing through his veins.
‘Talk about what?’ he murmured. He did not want to talk. He wanted to make love. He tried to kid himself that the reason he was so massively turned on was because he hadn’t had sex for a while. He hadn’t been in a relationship for well over a year. Not that his affair with an air hostess who had worked the Heathrow to Hong Kong route had been a relationship as such. Sexual frustration had to be the reason why he was shaking like a teenager on a first date as he anticipated taking Sophie to bed, Nicolo assured himself. But deep down he knew it was something more. When Sophie had touched his scars he had felt a jolt of emotion that had been an almost physical pain. He had felt cleansed somehow by the expression in her eyes. There had been neither revulsion nor pity in her unfaltering gaze, simply an acceptance of his damaged body.
There had also been desire in her hazel eyes. The realisation that she was not about to reject him because of how he looked had allowed him to lower his barriers and give in to the hunger clawing in his gut. When he had kissed her their mutual passion had been explosive, so why was she pulling back, and what did she want to talk about that was more important than assuaging the need they both felt?
Sophie pulled out of Nicolo’s arms and stepped away from him, feeling marginally more in control now that she was not pressed up against his muscular, half-naked body. The two sides of his shirt hung open and she quickly dragged her eyes from the dark hairs that arrowed down over his abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.
They were both in the grip of heightened emotions and in that kind of situation people often acted rashly. No doubt that was why Nicolo had kissed her—and why she had responded to him.
It was time for a reality check, Sophie decided. ‘I think we should focus on the reason I came to Chatsfield House,’ she told him. ‘Things will only get more complicated if we get … sidetracked.’
Nicolo’s eyes narrowed. His body ached with frustration and he was in no mood to play word games. ‘Sidetracked from what?’ he demanded.
‘From the issue of the shareholders’ meeting that Christos wants you to attend.’
‘You want to discuss Giatrakos now?’ His voice was deceptively soft, dangerously soft, but Sophie did not immediately recognise his anger. She was relieved that she had managed to avert a difficult situation. If Nicolo had suggested that they should have sex she would obviously have refused and it might have made things awkward between them. She ignored the little voice inside her head which whispered that she was fooling herself. If he had kissed her one more time she would have been putty in his hands and might have agreed to any sexual demand he cared to make.
‘I think we can agree that we both acted out of character tonight. Christos sent me here to persuade you to go to the meeting.’
‘Dio! Did you come on to me in the hope of getting me to agree to jump through Giatrakos’s hoop?’ Bitterness congealed in the pit of Nic
olo’s stomach. ‘Was kissing me part of your persuasion tactics?’
‘No!’ Sophie was stunned by his accusation. ‘And I didn’t come on to you. You kissed me.’
‘At your invitation,’ he bit out. ‘When you touched me, when you placed your hand on my bare chest …’ He had thought he had seen desire in her eyes, but now he realised he had been mistaken and her expression had been pity for his disfigurement.
Sophie had certainly fooled him with her apparently eager response when he had kissed her. He had been sure the attraction was mutual. Sickened by his stupidity Nicolo swung away from her and stepped through the open French doors onto the terrace, dragging in a lungful of the sweet air as if it could sweeten his bitter mood.
Bringing up the subject of the shareholders’ meeting had been a mistake, Sophie thought ruefully. But she had done so because she had felt shaken by how Nicolo had made her feel, the passion that had blazed between. Although she and Richard had been lovers she had never felt the same fire that had heated her blood when she had been in Nicolo’s arms. She had been out of her depth with Nicolo, and had sought refuge in the safety of her job, which was the one area in which she felt totally confident of her abilities.
She followed him outside to the terrace. He was standing with his back to her, but she could tell from the rigid line of his shoulders that he was furious.
‘I’ll go and serve dinner. The potatoes are probably burnt to cinders….’ She broke off abruptly, realising that it was tactless to talk about things being burned.
‘Serve dinner for yourself by all means,’ he said curtly. ‘But not for me. I’m not hungry.’
Sophie bit her lip. ‘But you haven’t eaten all day. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the casserole….’
‘Dio! Do you ever listen, woman?’ Nicolo’s harsh voice cut through the air like a rapier. ‘Go away and leave me in peace. Even better, do us both a favour and go back to London.’
Sophie bit her lip. ‘I can’t. I have to stay and look for the documents in your father’s office.’
‘Then let’s make a deal.’ Nicolo strode back across the terrace and stared down at her startled face. ‘Chatsfield is a big house. You keep out of my way, and I’ll keep out of yours. That should ensure we’ll both be happy.’
CHAPTER SIX
AT THREE O’CLOCK the following morning Sophie was unable to sleep as she thought about Nicolo’s extreme reaction when she had lit the candle. Now that she’d had time to dwell on what happened afterwards she could understand why he had accused her of kissing him in an attempt to persuade him to attend the shareholders’ meeting. The passion that had blazed between them had been scorching, but she had called a halt because she had been afraid of where it might lead—Nicolo’s bed had seemed a likely place, she thought ruefully.
It had been crass of her to mention Christos, she now realised. But to refute Nicolo’s accusation she would have had to admit that she’d responded to his kiss because she had been unable to resist him. Nicolo aroused feelings in her that she had not felt for a long time. Even now, hours later, she could taste him, and every time she closed her eyes she pictured his chiseled face and his cynical mouth curving into a faint smile as he slanted his lips over hers.
She wondered why he had kissed her. He’d had every right to be furious with her. He obviously had a phobia of fire and even the tiny flame of a candle must have triggered terrible memories for him. Perhaps kissing her had been an outlet for his heightened adrenalin? What other explanation could there be? It was unlikely he was attracted to her when he did not even seem to like her very much.
Sophie did not know why the thought made her feel like a lead weight had settled in the pit of her stomach. The next time she saw him she would apologise to him again for all the trouble she had caused, but she acknowledged that her chances of persuading Nicolo to attend the shareholders’ meeting were currently zero.
She was woken at seven-thirty by the sound of her phone ringing. Only one person was likely to call her so early and she did her best to sound alert when she spoke to Christos.
‘I’m going to be out of the office, and so all my calls will automatically divert to your cell phone. You can manage things from Chatsfield House for a few days,’ he told her before he dictated several letters for her to type up and email back to him. ‘I’ve also emailed you a report, and a list of changes I need you to make to it. Have you found the documents I asked you to search for in Gene’s office?’
‘Not all of them,’ Sophie admitted, flexing her wrist after taking notes in shorthand at record speed. ‘I’ll continue looking for them today.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not having much luck with Nicolo either. He’s adamant he won’t show up at the meeting.’
‘I’m sure you’ll think of some way to persuade him,’ Christos replied unhelpfully. ‘I’m counting on you, Sophie. One of the reasons I picked you to be my PA is because I have complete faith in your ability to solve even the most difficult problems.’
So, no pressure, she thought drily as Christos ended the call, just the possibility that her job could be on the line if she failed to get Nicolo to the all-important meeting.
There was no sign of him downstairs and she guessed he was already working in his study, but to her surprise the study door was open, and when she looked in, Nicolo wasn’t there. Another puzzle was the car parked next to hers on the driveway. It did not belong to Nicolo. Sophie knew he drove a battered-looking Jeep around the Chatsfield estate.
Back in the room that had once been Gene’s office she spent the morning typing up the letters Christos had dictated before she resumed her search of the paperwork he had asked for. At lunchtime she took a break and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Glancing out of the window, she was startled to see Nicolo and a woman walking across the garden.
Not just a woman, but an exceptionally beautiful woman, she noted as the brunette followed Nicolo into the kitchen.
Nicolo’s eyes narrowed when he saw Sophie. He turned to his female companion.
‘Beth, this is Sophie Ashdown, who is staying here for a couple of days,’ he drawled in a tone as dry as Death Valley.
Before he could complete the introductions the woman stepped forward and held out her hand.
‘Sophie, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Beth Doyle—an old friend of Nicolo.’
Dorcha bounded into the kitchen and ran up to Beth. ‘Hello, you big softie,’ she said as she rubbed his shaggy head. ‘I breed Irish wolfhounds on a farm in Ireland,’ she explained to Sophie. She turned to Nicolo. ‘You must visit again. Bring Dorcha—I’m sure he’d like to meet up with his mother.’
‘I’ll try and come soon,’ he murmured.
Sophie felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach when she saw the affectionate look that passed between Nicolo and Beth. They were obviously close friends, she thought as he slipped his arm around the young woman’s shoulders.
‘We had better get on with some work, as my visit is only a flying one this time,’ Beth murmured.
Nicolo sent a brief glance towards Sophie. ‘Have you finished sorting through the paperwork in my father’s office?’
It was his unsubtle way of asking if she would be leaving Chatsfield House soon, she realised. She gave him a saccharine smile.
‘I’m afraid not. It looks like I’ll have to stay here for ages yet.’
Sophie watched him escort his friend into the study and close the door firmly behind them. If they worked together, then presumably Beth was a financial genius as well as having the stunning looks of a top model, she brooded as she returned to Gene’s office and the mountain of files awaiting her attention. Her eyes felt scratchy from lack of sleep and she couldn’t concentrate.
Was Beth’s visit to Chatsfield House simply coincidence? she wondered. Or had he invited the beautiful woman to show Sophie that kissing her had been an aberration he did not intend to repeat?
By mid-afternoon the bright sunshine streaming through the windows made Gene’s o
ffice feel like a greenhouse, and Sophie was wilting. She decided to take her laptop into the garden to work on the report Christos had sent her. Her skirt and blouse were sticking to her as she ran up to her bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a bikini top that she had brought with her expecting that she would be able to use the pool. Swimming in the algae-covered water was out of the question, but on her exploration of the grounds yesterday she had discovered a secluded area of garden that looked a pleasant place to sit in.
It was a secret garden, she thought fifteen minutes later as she opened a gate in a high wall and stepped into a charming knot garden where clipped box hedges grew in an intricate design intertwined with narrow gravel pathways. At the centre of the garden was a rectangular pool with water so clear that she could see goldfish darting beneath the lily pads.
The private garden was well maintained and Sophie wondered who took care of it. As Nicolo was the only person living at Chatsfield she guessed it must be him, but why was this little garden important to him when he did not bother with the rest of the estate? It was another puzzle to add to the many other things about him that fired Sophie’s curiosity.
The scent of lavender growing in terracotta pots filled the air with a heady fragrance, and the only sound was the hum of bees busily searching for nectar. Sophie sat down on a bench and lifted her face to the sun. In a minute she would open her laptop, she promised herself, but her eyelids felt heavy and it was an effort to keep them open.
Nicolo strode through the overgrown garden, wondering where Sophie had disappeared to. Her car was parked on the driveway so she must still be at Chatsfield House, even though he had made it clear that he found her continued presence annoying. Dio, in the past two days she had pushed him into the weed-clogged swimming pool, and worse, when she had lit a candle she had triggered his deepest fear of fire. The woman was a menace, he thought grimly. But although he hated to admit it, she was also a threat to his peace of mind.
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