Captivated by Her Innocence

by Kim Lawrence

  Her lashes lying in a dark protective filigree against the flush of her smooth cheeks, she listened to the series of colourful bilingual curses.

  Then silence.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TOSSING AND TURNING, replaying the conversation in her head, Anna lasted until one a.m., at which point she switched on the bedside lamp and, pushing her feet into a pair of slippers, padded through to Angel’s sitting room.

  Switching on the television for background noise, she went into the adjoining kitchen to warm some milk. Catching her reflection in the mirrored surface of a cabinet, she winced. Several disturbed nights had left their mark. The circles under her eyes were dark purple.

  Carrying her drink back, she curled up on the sofa. She was halfway through the mug of cocoa before she tuned into the programme that was playing in time to see terror on the faces of people on the ground as they watched a person strapped to a parachute hurtle towards the ground. Their cheer when it inflated at the very last minute was echoed by the trio of presenters sitting in the studio.

  ‘A worthy number four, I’m sure you’ll agree. And now the crash survivor voted number three by the viewers was—’

  Anna didn’t want to know. With a sound of disgust she picked up the remote, grimacing at the exploitative nature of the programme. How long before they were compiling lists about fatal crashes?

  In her eagerness to change the channel she hit the wrong button and instead of switching channels the volume went up to a deafening level in time for her to hear the presenter’s reveal, ‘Cesare Urquart. Who among us can forget the famous crash that ended his driving career?’

  Hand extended towards the television, Anna froze as the sound of cars screeching around the track through driving rain filled the screen. A second later the scene was transformed into a wet version of hell as the car being lapped swerved, causing the one behind to hit it. The second car sailed into the air before landing yards away upside down...then just as Anna was about to breathe again more cars ploughed into the second car, one after the other until nothing was left but a twisted mass of metal. Then unbelievably from the twisted mass a figure appeared. He climbed out of the wreckage, took several steps before pulling off his helmet and crumpling to the ground, just as the wreckage exploded sending a fireball into the air. It was at that point that the emergency vehicles that had arrived en masse then cut the solitary figure off from the camera’s lens until he reappeared on a stretcher. Anna couldn’t take her eyes off the seemingly lifeless hand that skimmed the ground, leaving a trail of blood.

  The presenter was speaking again, his magnified voice bouncing off the walls of the room, but Anna didn’t hear what he was saying. Her eyes were welded to the screen. She couldn’t even blink as they replayed the crash, this time in slow, sickening motion that magnified each horrific blood-chilling moment.

  It was the loud imperative banging on the door that enabled her to break the connection with the screen. She was shaking her head just as Cesare walked into the room, still dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing earlier. He was looking a lot less pristine, though, even with his jaw dusted with a thick layer of stubble, his cropped dark hair standing up in spiky tufts and his eyes slightly bloodshot, he managed to put the sexy into haggard.

  ‘What the hell is going on? You’ve woken half the building.’ A slight exaggeration, actually a massive exaggeration. The thickness of the walls meant that it was unlikely anyone but him had heard the blast of noise emanating from the apartment, unless that person had been sleepwalking along the corridor just below.

  After the silence of the previous three hours it had shocked him out of his skin seeing her sitting there in one piece and not the victim of some noisy accident. His concern turned to anger.

  She didn’t answer him, just looked from him to the screen where a programme still played. He followed the direction of her stare, his frown deepening as he recognised the rerun of the programme that had outraged his sister so much a few months earlier.

  Swearing softly, he walked across to the wall and pulled out the plug.

  After the deafening noise the smothering silence was profound. Anna could hear her own heartbeat.

  ‘What are you watching that rubbish for?’ His deep accusing voice sounded loud in the sudden silence. He extended his hand, impatiently flicking the cuff of his shirt so that he could read the time on the face of the silver wristwatch. ‘It’s half one in the morning. Why aren’t you asleep?’

  ‘Why aren’t you?’ She laughed. How typical of Cesare to blame her for something that was not her fault.

  ‘What is funny?’ He had spent the last three hours fighting the impulse to walk through that door. Now he had and the question was, would he be able to walk back out? Did he even want to?

  Stupid question, of course he didn’t want to, but a man could not always have what he wanted even when it was within grabbing distance. Soft, warm and sweet-smelling and within... His jaw clenched down hard as he bit out a savage epithet.

  His anger rolled over her, but she didn’t mind. It was proof that he was alive, that she was alive. A fact that should, she realised, be celebrated, not taken for granted. Cesare was standing there and he very nearly had not been. A miracle, they’d called it, and they were right. It was a miracle. Life was so fragile. Anna had never realised just how fragile until that moment.

  It had taken seeing him almost die, a glimpse of a world that did not contain arrogant, unreasonable, breathtakingly beautiful Cesare Urquart, for her to realise that she wasn’t just in lust with him. Somehow she had fallen in love.

  ‘Did you hear me? It’s half past one in the morning.’ Conscious he was repeating himself, he lowered his gaze and found his attention drawn to the silky curve of smooth skin, exposed where the baggy neckline of the skimpy nightshirt she wore had slipped over her shoulder. He was unable to halt his hungry scrutiny and it travelled down, lingering on the length of slim, shapely leg. In his head he saw himself sliding his hand beneath the hem to cup her smooth, rounded bottom before tugging the shirt over her head to reveal those soft, sinuous curves.

  Grinding his teeth, he swallowed and dragged his eyes back to her face. No make-up, hair a burnished messy tangle and faint purplish shadows under her bluer than blue eyes. It should have been a massive turn-off for a man who expected nothing less than perfect grooming from the women who shared his bed. Should be but wasn’t. Somehow she managed to look more soul-destroyingly sexy than any woman he had ever seen.

  Anna got to her feet still reeling from the emotive impact of her shocking self-discovery. She was horrified and delighted then, with a dramatic change of mood, hotly furious.

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’ Wasn’t life dangerous enough without going out looking for ways to kill yourself...to the extent of choosing a career that involved risking your neck on a daily basis?

  ‘Do what?’ The nightshirt was short—very short. Distracted, he did not register her expression until she was close enough to touch him, and she did, but not in the way he had imagined. She threw a punch that landed in the centre of his chest. For a tiny thing she was strong.

  ‘What the...? He caught her wrists before she could repeat the performance.

  Her eyes wild, she struggled for about ten seconds before she collapsed without warning against his chest and gave one dry, pain-filled sob that felt like a knife sinking into his chest.

  Cesare wondered if he might have had a clue what was going on if he hadn’t been struggling to control his baser instincts. As it was he didn’t. He didn’t know what to do. He had known what to do since he was fourteen and since that moment had rarely experienced a second of indecision. As he looked down at the top of her flame-bright head pressed into his chest, Cesare heard himself blurt, ‘I didn’t mean to yell.’

  She lifted her head and stepped backwards, conscious of a feeling of d
eprivation as she lost contact with his hard warmth. ‘I suppose you didn’t mean to nearly kill yourself either?’ Her swimming azure eyes slid of their own volition to the blank television screen; a deep shudder stole through her body and she looked away quickly.

  ‘Oh, that.’ He tore his thoughts away from sex and focused on an argument he had polished over the years. This was not the first time he had been called upon to defend his choice of profession, though possibly the first time anyone had made their argument quite so physically. ‘Statistically speaking these days Formula One is actually extremely safe. Now if you want to talk danger horse-racing is—’

  Statistics! Anna didn’t believe what she was hearing. She had made the most monumental discovery in her life and he was standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous talking about statistics and horses?

  ‘The fact is I could get killed crossing the road tomorrow.’

  If he carried on talking that way he wouldn’t have to wait that long, she thought grimly. She could see a dozen gaping holes in his spurious argument she could have challenged him on, but she made her point with a sarcastic, ‘That’s a very original argument.’

  His lips twitched.

  ‘I’m sorry if I was over the top but I’ve not been sleeping that well.’ Then, aware that sleep deprivation hardly satisfactorily explained her outburst, she tacked on reluctantly, ‘I was in a car crash when I was a kid.’

  ‘You have nightmares?’ The doctors had warned him that this might happen for him but it never had. He had put his escape down to a lack of imagination, although his imagination was putting in some overtime at the moment!

  Anna shook her head. ‘No, I don’t remember it, but my parents were killed and I suppose the idea of someone deliberately—’ She managed a shrug. ‘I guess it just hit a nerve seeing that. But that’s your choice. I had no right to go for you like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your parents.’

  He sounded sincere, not just like someone trotting out a response. Anna met his eyes and saw he was. She felt desire drift through her and looked away quickly before she walked across to one of the sofas and sank down. ‘You lost your parents too.’

  He came, not to sit down, but to stand behind the sofa opposite, his big hands on the brocade back. He had beautiful hands like the rest of him, strong and capable; his tapering fingers were sensitive and long. She felt a stab of sheer longing as she thought about how they would feel on her skin. ‘My mother is still alive.’

  Her gaze lifted. ‘Oh, yes, you said. I forgot. Does she live in Italy?’ Presumably he had family there? Anna had a mental vision of a big warm family with lots of babies...Cesare’s babies would be beautiful.

  ‘My mother does not live any place for long.’ He gave a quick smile but his voice was hard as he added, ‘She has a very low boredom threshold.’

  Anna recalled Angel using those exact same words. ‘You must have missed your father after the divorce.’

  The housekeeper normally guarded the family secrets as if they were the crown jewels, but in a rare garrulous moment Mrs Mack had unbent enough to reveal that Cesare had been nine when his parents had split up.

  ‘My mother was granted custody but Dad got us in the holidays.’

  ‘It must be hard for a woman to be apart from her children.’

  ‘My mother never had much time for her children.’

  It was the casual way he said it that shocked Anna almost more than what he said.

  ‘She only took us because she knew our father wanted us. Our wishes never even crossed her mind. When we were younger she treated us like fashion accessories and when we were older and less cute we were more encumbrances. But, unlike Angel, I was not competition.’ He stopped abruptly and Anna saw shock move across his lean face.

  He read the sympathy glowing in her expressive eyes and visibly winced. He did not invite sympathy; he was allergic to it.

  Anna could almost hear the sound of the shutters falling in place.

  ‘So I will leave you to get some sleep.’ It was a plan, definitely a plan, but somehow his feet stayed where they were.

  ‘I’m awake. You were right, you know, you do never know when it’s going to happen. I could walk under a bus tomorrow.’

  ‘I think it unlikely.’ There was a glitter in her eyes that he had never seen before. He found it mesmerising.

  ‘But it could happen. Perhaps it is a good idea to treat every day as though it’s your last?’

  ‘I didn’t say that, and you are not going to die tomorrow.’

  ‘But if I did,’ she mused, looking up at him through her lashes, ‘I’d be a virgin.’ She took a deep breath and lifted her chin, delivering a direct look. ‘I don’t want to die a virgin, Cesare.’

  ‘I think that unlikely,’ he rasped thickly. The seconds ticked by and Cesare could feel his control trickling away, like water down a drain.

  ‘Anna,’ he warned as she got up from the sofa. ‘Just stay over there, don’t...’ She didn’t stop, she just carried on coming until she was standing right there beside him. ‘This is a very bad idea. I’m not the sort of man—’

  ‘I know what sort of man you are, Cesare,’ she cut in, thinking how weirdly calm she sounded. Inside she was anything but. Inside she could not believe she was saying these things; she could not believe the person she was saying them to.

  He was the exact opposite of everything she found attractive in a man. She didn’t even like him yet she had fallen in love with him.

  ‘I’m a virgin, not stupid. Relax, I’m not asking you to marry me. I don’t want your mind or... Just have sex with me.’ She caught her plump lower lip between her teeth and husked, ‘If you want to?’

  The throaty whisper, the sultry pout... Want? Considering the need that was pounding through his body, under other circumstances he might have laughed, but he couldn’t even manage an ironic smile. His facial muscles were locked tight. It was taking every last ounce of his will power not to deliver what she was begging him for. This might be many men’s secret fantasy but not his. The reminder did not reach his raging arousal.

  ‘It’s not a question of want, Anna.’ But he did want her with an intensity that he had not felt in a long time, if ever. He struggled to think past the relentless raging need to touch, taste, possess.

  Anna shook her head, her eyelashes fluttering against her warm cheeks as she swallowed the hurt, hearing only irritation in his harsh response. ‘Fine, forget I said it.’

  Later he told himself that it was the shadow of uncertainty he saw deep in her violet-blue eyes, the realisation that her confident act was not even skin deep, that broke him.

  He allowed himself a mental image of them together in bed. He met the blue eyes lifted to his and, no longer thinking, just acting—Dio, but it was a relief to let the constraints go— he stepped towards her, bringing up one hand to rest on the indent of her waist as he brushed the knuckles of his free hand along her cheek. He felt her gasp and tremble.

  Anna watched his eyes darken with predatory intent and could hardly breathe, the excitement fizzing through her veins was so intense. She met him halfway as he pulled her into his body, letting her feel how much he wanted her.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ If she said no he might have to spend the night in a cold shower.

  Her lips almost brushed his skin as she reached up to whisper, ‘Totally.’

  Her body still stretched in an arc towards him, she linked her slim arms around his strong neck. He slid his hands down her narrow back until he reached her waist, then, splaying his fingers he cupped her deliciously firm bottom, pressing a kiss to the exposed curve of her neck before he lifted her until she was on eye level with him.

  Her breath was coming in fast, shallow, excited bursts as she wrapped her lovely long legs around his hips to secure her position. The casual display
of male strength—he had lifted her as if she weighed nothing—was quite incredibly arousing.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve never done this before?’ he slurred.

  The blue of her eyes was almost entirely obscured by the dilated pupils as she stared at him with the intensity of someone committing each feature, each angle and line of his face to memory.

  He stared back, feeling his blood heat as he gazed at the pouty, pink outline of her lips.

  ‘I’m a bad case of arrested development.’

  The barely leashed passion in his deep, drowning kiss made her moan, the sound lost in his mouth. Swept away by the dormant passion that stirred to life, she kissed him back, meeting his tongue with her own and feeling a dizzy rush as they connected. Deep in her belly, the ache intensified, the heat pooling in liquid warmth between her thighs, and her skin prickled with heat. She wanted him so much it hurt but a secret fear remained: the spectres of tall blonde goddesses still made her hold back.

  ‘I hope you’ll make some allowances, Cesare,’ she whispered into his mouth. ‘I’m not—’

  The throaty whisper, the sultry, scared little smile obliterated the last shreds of rational thought. Still carrying her, he strode towards the door. ‘You are a sexy, crazy little red-headed witch. I haven’t known down from up since I saw you.’

  ‘I am?’

  His reply was a drowning kiss that snapped her head back.

  ‘Can you taste how much I need you?’

  If that was what need tasted like it might become her favourite food. ‘Delicious. You taste delicious.’ She squeezed her eyes tight closed as she punctuated each fervent word with a kiss pressed to his beautiful mouth.

  It wasn’t until she opened her eyes that she realised they were no longer in the sitting room or the bedroom. ‘What, where...?’ she cried as he kicked the door open.

  ‘I’ve been seeing you in my bed since the moment I laid eyes on you.’

  ‘I’ve been seeing you naked.’

  Her bold admission was rewarded with a sizzling look from his darkened spiky-lashed eyes. ‘Looks like this is the night we have our wishes come true, cara.’