Beth had noticed that his concentration was not as sharp as usual and had teased him that maybe he did not find Sophie as irritating as he insisted, and that in fact he was attracted to her. He had denied it, but Beth was one of his closest friends and knew him better than anyone.
They had first met many years ago when she had visited her brother, Michael, in the burns unit where Nicolo was also being treated. Beth had been twelve when her seventeen-year-old brother had been severely burned in a house fire. Michael had told Nicolo that he was thankful his sister and mother had been out when a fire had destroyed their home. It was the last conversation Nicolo had had with the young man before he had died.
Beth had been heartbroken by her brother’s death but she had continued to visit Nicolo while he was in hospital. They had kept in touch, and eight years ago she had given her full support to the Michael Morris Burns Support Foundation that Nicolo set up in her brother’s name.
At least something positive had come from the horror of the penthouse fire, Nicolo brooded. But he could never escape the fact that he had been to blame and that he was responsible for destroying the chambermaid Marissa Bisek’s life. No amount of money he raised for the charity could atone for his actions.
There was no point in raking over old memories, he reminded himself. The past was not somewhere he wanted to visit. He always found this a difficult time, with the anniversary of the fire looming. He felt more unsettled this year than usual, and he knew why. Sophie Ashdown stirred emotions in him that he had buried deep. She had forced him to think about his family, the Chatsfield Hotel business—and his father.
For years he had blamed his father for all the things that had gone wrong in his life. But according to Sophie, Gene loved his children and wanted to help them. Nicolo grimaced. It was certainly true that—like him—all his brothers and sisters had gone off the rails in one way or another and had issues in their lives which needed to be resolved. But appointing a stranger as CEO of the Chatsfield had only served to alienate them still further.
His thoughts were distracted as he walked past the walled garden and noticed the gate was ajar. He pushed it open and came to an abrupt halt.
Emotions linked to his past were not the only thing Sophie stirred in him, he acknowledged derisively. Desire jackknifed through him as he studied the enticing vision of a blonde Venus, wearing tiny shorts and two triangles of material stretched across her pert breasts. Her head was resting against the back of the bench she was sitting on and her eyes were closed. He wondered if she’d had as little sleep as he’d had the previous night. His common sense told him to leave without disturbing her, but his feet were already crunching softly on the gravel path.
A shadow moved in front of the sun and Sophie’s eyelids fluttered open. For a few seconds she was gripped with fear as a dark figure loomed over her, but as she shrugged off sleep and recognised Nicolo’s lean, handsome face she felt a sharp tug of sexual awareness in the pit of her stomach.
‘You startled me.’ For some reason her voice emerged as a husky whisper—like a femme fatale from an old-fashioned movie, she thought, flushing with embarrassment. She held her hands to her hot face. ‘I think I’ve had too much sun. It’s lucky you woke me.’
Nicolo gave her a sardonic look and unsettled her even more when he sat down next to her on the bench.
‘I searched the whole estate for you. I thought you said Giatrakos urgently needs you to find the documents in my father’s office?’
Sophie flared at the accusation in his voice. ‘I’m not playing hooky, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I’ve spent hours sorting through Gene’s filing system but I came out here to do some work on my laptop. I know you want me to leave Chatsfield House.’ She tried to ignore the stupid feeling of hurt that he resented her presence. ‘I promise that the second you agree to attend the shareholders’ meeting I’ll be on my way.’
‘Then it looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other indefinitely, because as I have already told you, I have no desire to play my father and Giatrakos’s game,’ Nicolo drawled.
Strangely, he did not sound angry, and he seemed relaxed, unlike Sophie, who was even more disconcerted when he stretched his arm out along the back of the bench and idly wound a strand of her hair around his fingers. He was wearing his usual black jeans and leather boots, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing his olive-skinned throat. With his dark hair falling past his collar and the customary stubble shading his jaw he was dangerously sexy. Sophie hoped he could not tell that her heart was beating painfully fast beneath her ribs.
‘You seem edgy,’ he murmured.
‘I’m not edgy,’ she denied quickly. ‘Why should I be edgy?’ The spicy scent of his aftershave teased her senses. She surreptitiously tried to slide along the bench away from him but found herself wedged up against the armrest as Nicolo splayed his legs so that his muscular thigh was pressed against hers.
‘This walled garden is a sun-trap,’ she said desperately as she dragged her eyes from the amused glint in his. He knew exactly what effect he was having on her, damn him! ‘It reminds me of a garden I visited in Tuscany.’
‘This was my mother’s garden. She designed it and used to call it her little slice of Italy.’
Sophie heard pain in his voice and shot him a quick look. ‘Is that why you look after it—because it reminds you of your mother?’
Nicolo stiffened. Sophie was too insightful for comfort, he thought grimly. He never spoke about his mother. Like so many painful things in his past, he kept the memories buried deep inside him. Sophie was watching him with a gentle expression in her hazel eyes, and something cracked a little inside him.
‘I imagine she would be very different to the person I remember,’ he said heavily. ‘It’s nearly twenty years since I last saw her and she would be an elderly lady now. If she is still alive.’
Sophie drew a sharp breath. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘Many attempts to discover her whereabouts were made by my father, and later by me and the other members of my family. But my mother’s disappearance is a mystery I fear will never be solved.’
‘That’s so sad.’ Sophie felt a lump in her throat. It must be awful for all the Chatsfield children not to know if their mother was alive or dead, but particularly for Nicolo, who had obviously adored Liliana and had needed her support when he had been burned. She could only guess how desperately he must have missed his mother when she had left.
It had been bad enough when her parents had split up, Sophie thought. She had been heartbroken when her father had moved away to Scotland, but at least she had been able to visit him. Nicolo must have felt completely abandoned by his mother, and perhaps that was why he seemed so cold and remote. As a teenager his trust had been shattered by someone he loved and Sophie knew how painful that felt.
Feeling an instinctive need to show him that she understood, she put her hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘I hope you find your mother one day.’ She hesitated. ‘You know your father really does care about you.’
Nicolo gave a harsh laugh and pulled his arm from beneath her fingers, silently calling himself a bloody fool, because for a few moments he had actually thought the compassion in her eyes was genuine.
‘Is that another tactic to persuade me to go to the shareholders’ meeting? You’re wasting your time trying to tug on my heartstrings, because I don’t have any.’
‘I wasn’t …’ Sophie sighed. ‘Why are you so angry with your father?’
‘I have my reasons,’ Nicolo said curtly. He had never told anyone the discovery he had made about his father when he had been thirteen, and he was certainly not going to reveal the secret he had kept all these years to Sophie.
He glanced at his watch. ‘I came to find you to tell you that Beth and I will be eating out tonight, so if you were planning to cook you’ll only need to make dinner for yourself.’
‘Fine.’ Her voice was as curt as his. She had forgotten abou
t Nicolo’s friend. She wondered how long beautiful Beth was planning to stay at Chatsfield House—and where she would be sleeping. It was none of her business if Beth was Nicolo’s mistress, Sophie told herself angrily.
‘Beth had intended to stay here for a couple of days—’ Nicolo unknowingly answered one of Sophie’s questions ‘—but her husband phoned to say that one of the boys is ill with suspected chickenpox. She is trying to arrange to fly back to Dublin later tonight.’
‘Husband?’ Sophie stared at him. ‘I didn’t realise Beth is married.’
‘She married an Irishman. Liam is busy on their farm at this time of year and he stayed in Connemara with their two sons.’
‘I thought that you and she …’ She spoke unthinkingly. Realising she was giving away too much she broke off, flushing hotly.
‘You thought Beth and I were in a relationship?’ Nicolo frowned. ‘I would not have invited a lover here the day after I kissed you. What kind of man do you think I am?’
‘A few years ago you had a reputation as a playboy,’ Sophie reminded him. ‘Just because you’re no longer pictured in the newspapers with a different woman every week doesn’t mean that you might not still be a womaniser. Maybe you simply take more care to avoid the paparazzi.’
Nicolo’s jaw tightened. ‘There are many things in my past that I am not proud of,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ve changed from the person I was then.’
Was he saying that when he had kissed her last night he had not automatically assumed it would lead to casual sex? Sophie’s brow furrowed.
‘Why did you kiss me?’ she blurted out.
‘Why do you think?’
The question hung between them. His voice had changed; no longer clipped and cold, but soft and deep—like the rich, warm tones of a cello, Sophie thought. The air in the walled garden was strangely still and utterly silent so that she was sure Nicolo must be able to hear the frantic thud of her heart.
She froze as he moved his hand from the back of the bench and placed it heavily on her shoulder.
‘Look at me,’ he murmured.
Slowly she turned her head and found him watching her from beneath heavy lids that did not wholly hide the hard glitter in his eyes. She had seen the same predatory expression in his eyes last night, just before he had kissed her. Anticipation licked through Sophie’s veins like wildfire and she unknowingly knotted her fingers together in her lap as she waited for his head to descend.
‘You’re not naive, Sophie. You know what is happening between us,’ he said softly.
Last night Nicolo had been unable to sleep while his mind had replayed the kiss he had shared with Sophie—shared being the crucial word. She had responded to him with a passion that could not have been faked, and he had seen desire in her eyes. It had not been pity, as he had later believed.
Now he was in no doubt that it was desire darkening her hazel eyes, and as he slid his hand beneath her hair and cupped her nape he felt the tremor that shook her slender frame.
‘You feel the chemistry that exists between us, just as I do,’ he insisted. He sensed she was going to deny it, and before she could speak he bent his head and covered her lips with his.
‘Oh.’ Sophie made a muffled sound as the first touch of Nicolo’s mouth sent pleasure cascading through her. He had spoken of chemistry, and that was exactly what it was, she thought dazedly. The mysterious alchemy of sexual attraction was impossible to define but it burned white-hot as he kissed her with a hunger he did not try to hide.
She closed her eyes against the glare of the sun and her senses became attuned to the feel of his lips sliding over hers, the sensual musk of male pheromones mixed with the scent of his cologne, and the ragged sound of his breathing, hers, as their mutual excitement heightened.
Despite the heat in the walled garden she shivered as he trailed his mouth over her throat, her shoulder, the upper slope of one breast. She was aware only of Nicolo’s strong hands on her body, his lips caressing her skin. Her breath left her in a gasp as he undid the halter ties of her bikini top and peeled the stretchy material down until he had bared her breasts.
‘You’re so bloody beautiful,’ he said harshly. The words were like the man—bold and blunt, with a raw honesty that thrilled Sophie more than any flowery compliment could have done. He cradled her breasts in his big hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. Her flesh responded eagerly, her nipples swelling to hard points, and she gave a keening cry as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue across one peak and then the other.
Dizzy with desire and trembling with need, Sophie arched her back. ‘Please …’ she whispered. She curled her fingers into his thick hair as he drew one nipple into his mouth and suckled her. The sensations shooting down to her pelvis were beyond anything she had experienced before. She could hear a feral panting sound and realised it was coming from her, but as Nicolo closed his mouth around her other nipple all rational thought faded from her mind and she pressed her quivering body urgently up against him.
Nicolo shifted position to try and ease the throb of his erection straining beneath his trousers. In his mind he was imagining sliding his arousal between Sophie’s slim thighs and thrusting into her, giving them the release they both craved. He knew she shared his eagerness. Her response to him was unguarded and honest, like Sophie was herself, he acknowledged. There was no pretence with Sophie. He might not like some of the things she said but did not doubt that she always spoke the truth and he trusted her integrity. The realisation shook him.
He trailed his lips over her satiny skin and claimed her mouth once again. A groan escaped him when she parted her lips and kissed him with passion and an underlying tenderness that made his gut ache. One part of his brain was debating whether he could make love to her here in the walled garden. The house was far away and it would take too long to reach his bedroom. Why not pull her down onto the cool green grass and take her now, before his body exploded with frustration?
He tried to block out the voice inside him that was urging him to show restraint and control his hunger. An unwelcome memory slid into his head of how Sophie had reminded him that he had once been a womaniser. He had told her the truth when he’d said he had changed and was no longer the man he had been in his twenties. He did not have one-night stands or treat women as playthings and he was ashamed of how he had once behaved.
So why was he planning to have sex with a woman he barely knew? Nicolo tensed. In the past few years he had clawed back a little self-respect. It was a testament to Sophie’s allure that he was tempted to throw away his hard-won esteem by having casual sex with her. Because what else could it be other than a few moments of meaningless carnal pleasure? he thought grimly.
He did not want an affair with her. He was too bound to his past to be able to offer her any kind of relationship. But he felt instinctively that, for Sophie, sex would never be a casual act. Right now she was caught up in the heat of passion, and Nicolo sensed that if he took things further and made love to her in the secluded garden she would be willing. But afterwards it was likely that she would feel disappointed with herself, particularly when she realised that a brief physical union was all he wanted.
He looked down at her beautiful, rose-flushed face and felt his resistance waver when he saw the invitation in her soft, hazel eyes. Dio, how could it be wrong when it felt so right? He had never ached to make love to any woman the way he was aching now.
He closed his eyes and another face flashed into his mind. Marissa had suffered third-degree burns to her face in the Chatsfield penthouse fire and had been left horrifically disfigured. Ashamed of the way she looked, she hid herself away and had developed the panic disorder agoraphobia, which had made her a prisoner of her own home. On the night that Marissa had visited him at Chatsfield House she had been trembling with fear, but a desperate need for his help had forced her to overcome her panic attack.
Sophie was unaware of the terrible secret he carried, the burden of guilt about Marissa that haunted him.
It would not be fair to make love to Sophie without telling her the truth about himself, and then surely she would recoil from him in horror and disgust. Nicolo gave a silent groan. How could she understand his torment? He guessed from Sophie’s cheerful nature that she had never experienced a traumatic event in her life. She was like a pure, golden light that had briefly lightened his darkness and he could not bear to taint her with the blackness of his soul.
He should have listened to his common sense and left her alone in the garden. Instead he had created a situation that was fast spiralling out of control. It took all his willpower to tear his mouth from Sophie’s, and guilt clawed in his gut when he saw the confusion in her eyes as he dropped his arms to his sides.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said brusquely, stepping away from her. ‘It’s not you.’ He stared at her stunned face for another minute and then turned abruptly and strode along the gravel path.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CLICK OF the garden gate closing told Sophie that Nicolo had gone. Only then did she realise that she had been holding her breath, and she released it on a shuddering half sigh, half sob. Even though she felt utterly humiliated there was a part of her that wanted to run after him and beg him to finish what he had started. Her body was screaming for sexual release and every nerve-ending felt ultrasensitive.
It’s not you, he’d said. She gave a mirthless laugh. Of course it was her fault that he had stopped making love to her. Nicolo had rejected her and the only explanation Sophie could think of was that she did not turn him on. He had aroused her with his passionate kisses, but clearly she had not excited him. Rather than embarrass her, he had made the excuse that it was not her fault. But his abrupt departure from the garden made her feel a failure as a woman.
Perhaps she lacked some vital ingredient that would induce men to stay with her, she thought bitterly. Richard had broken off their relationship because of her inability to have children, but maybe her infertility had only been part of the problem.
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