Expecting His Billion-Dollar Scandal (Once Upon a Temptation, Book 5)

by Cathy Williams

  She desperately hoped that he would think the former. She wanted him so badly.

  ‘You’re right,’ she whispered with gut-wrenching disappointment because this felt like a do-or-die situation. They would not relive this opportunity, not when they were back in the house and she was busy once again with the accounts and phone calls and making sure everything was okay with the house and the various things that needed to be done in it.

  ‘This is crazy.’ She blushed and looked away and felt the gentle touch of his finger under her chin.

  ‘Everyone needs a little crazy now and again. Don’t talk. I can’t talk. I just...want you...’

  Her whole body was trembling. So was his. He’d never felt anything like it before. He’d never felt this need before. It was like being in the grip of a tornado.

  He came inside her in one deep, satisfying thrust. Her tightness encased him perfectly and he groaned and moved, deeper, feeling his shaft sinking into her wetness.

  The sensation was so intense he wanted to pass out. There was no artistry in this lovemaking. It was frantic, driving and mind-blowing. She bucked underneath him, arching and stiffening and her short nails dug into his back. He came fast and hard. He could feel the swell and release as he pumped into her, sucking the wild energy out of him and leaving him breathing hard and deeply, shockingly sated.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. He lay flat on his back and shielded his eyes for a few seconds from the glare of the sun. Breathing normally was still a problem as his body came down from its high. ‘I’ve never been like that before.’ It was a struggle to think. ‘Was it...okay for you?’

  ‘More than okay,’ Cordelia whispered under her breath and he turned onto his side to look at her. She angled her body so that they were facing one another.

  It was so beautifully warm and the sound of the water lapping against the sand was hypnotic.

  ‘If I could bottle this,’ she confessed with honesty, ‘then I would.’ She stroked his cheek and edged closer to kiss his chin. Her whole body was still thrumming from where he had entered her. She’d felt a twinge of discomfort but her body had been ripe and ready for his entry and the bigness of him inside her, the way he’d moved, had taken her to places she’d never dreamed existed. She’d felt the surge of his orgasm meshing with her own. Their bodies had been as one, united. She couldn’t wait to touch him again, to make love again.

  How could they not when it had felt so good?

  There were no alarm bells ringing in her head. She was on cloud nine and it was only when their eyes met that she wondered whether too much honesty about how much she’d enjoyed what had just happened between them might not be such a great idea.

  ‘Cordelia,’ Luca murmured, clasping her hand between his and pensively stroking her chin with his thumb. He sighed. ‘That was better than great.’

  She beamed.

  ‘You have a smile that could light up a room,’ he said, distractedly.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.’

  ‘Maybe because there aren’t sufficient eligible men around here to notice it. But trust me, you have.’ He looked at her in silence for a few seconds. ‘What we did...we shouldn’t have done,’ he said bluntly, because beating round the bush had never been his thing. ‘I don’t know what happened. Things got out of hand. I...wanted you, wanted to feel myself in you. I was in the grip of...something bigger than common sense. I still don’t understand... It’s unheard of, if I’m being honest.’ He shook his head, genuinely bewildered. ‘I’m usually in control of...everything. I don’t get it.’

  ‘Of everything?’ Cordelia smiled, because what he was saying was music to her ears. ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘God, yes. I certainly have never lost control when it comes to sex, but I did this time and for that I apologise.’

  ‘Luca...don’t apologise. I...’ I absolutely adored it, loved it, was blown away by it... ‘I really enjoyed what we did.’

  She’d never thought about what sex might feel like. She’d vaguely assumed that it was something that would happen sooner or later, when she found someone she actually wanted to date, someone she could envisage sharing her life with. That such a person hadn’t come along yet had not filled her with any sense of disappointment. Frankly, looking around at the nearby talent, she’d felt relieved that marriage and everything it entailed wasn’t high on her agenda because the choice of candidates for the post of potential life partner was lamentably non-existent.

  Dreaming of the great, big world out there was a lot more fun.

  And now...the great, big world had landed on her doorstep!

  ‘It’s not just about losing control,’ Luca said roughly. ‘I’m no good for you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That was good sex.’ He decided that bringing it down to basics would kick the conversation off to a good start, put things in perspective for her. ‘Better than good,’ he amended. He thought back to the urgings that had prompted him to throw caution to the winds and taste, just for one wild moment, what it felt like to be inside her. Better than good didn’t come close to an adequate description. She’d been so unbelievably, fantastically tight around him. He frowned and focused.

  ‘But I need to remind you that this isn’t the start of...any kind of relationship. I’m not one of the local lads who’s going to come knocking on your father’s door to take you out on a date.’

  ‘I know that.’ She broke eye contact. The pulse in her neck was racing madly, and for some reason what he’d just said stung. She sat up abruptly and drew her knees up to her chin and stared out to sea. It was empty. No passing boats. No ship on the horizon. Nothing to make you think that you were anywhere but alone on an island in the middle of the ocean. When she glanced over her shoulder to him, it was to find him looking at her with pensive, brooding intensity.

  It was a ridiculous conversation to have when they were both naked, she thought with a spurt of anger.

  She felt suddenly vulnerable even though, lying there, he obviously couldn’t give a hoot whether he was clothed or not. She glanced down and immediately diverted her eyes. Erect or not, he was ridiculously impressive.

  She felt her body jerk into uninvited reaction and clicked her tongue with annoyance because she’d just been given the brush-off, in so many words, and the last thing she should be doing by way of response was getting worked up all over again.

  ‘Do you?’

  Cordelia gritted her teeth and ignored him completely as she sprang to her feet and hastily donned the swimsuit that had been shed with such enthusiasm less than an hour earlier.

  Much better.

  ‘Of course.’ Her voice was a lot more normal when she looked at him now, as were her pulse rate and the general state of her nervous system.

  ‘If you hadn’t ended up half drowning...’ she said.

  ‘Don’t remind me. Men have fragile egos when it comes to that kind of thing.’

  ‘We would never have met. But here you are and I don’t think, for a second, that this is the start of any kind of relationship. I’m not on the lookout for a relationship! But I don’t get to adventure much and this is fun.’

  ‘Good. So we understand one another.’

  ‘Does every woman you happen to sleep with need a warning just in case they start thinking that you’re interested in a long-term, full-time relationship?’ She folded her arms and stared at him. He raised his eyebrows, amused, and she blushed scarlet when she had visible proof that he was getting aroused once again.

  He idly took himself in his hand while he continued to look at her, and she reddened further.

  He took his time standing up but even then he didn’t put on the discarded swimming trunks, choosing instead to saunter down to the water, whereupon he turned to look at her.

  ‘Another swim? Or food?’

>   Cordelia frowned. She was fairly certain that this was a serious conversation that should be afforded a suitable amount of gravitas. Instead, that crooked half-smile of his held just the hint of an invitation, and she found herself walking towards him, pulled in his direction by invisible strings.

  She pictured him sitting on that rug in all his glory, tucking into the sandwiches she had made and wearing nothing but his birthday suit, and she strode into the water.

  ‘Well?’ She turned to him and folded her arms. ‘Do you always think that you have to warn women off in case they start expecting more than you want to give?’

  ‘More than I’m capable of giving,’ Luca surprised himself by saying.

  ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about me, Cordelia. Me, women and my experiences with them.’ He turned away and began swimming out, his strokes long and clean, and she followed until they were both out in the deep blue ocean, their bodies adjusted to the cold, cold water, which felt good in the burning heat of the midday sun.

  She flipped over onto her back and felt the sun pouring down over her. When she glanced across it was to find that he had done the same.

  For one fleeting second she questioned what she had got herself into. This wasn’t the boy next door. This wasn’t one of the local lads who drank at the same pub every weekend and followed their dad into the same family business. Those were the boys she knew and was accustomed to.

  This guy was all dark and dangerous and out of her league and if he was also funny and sharp and challenging, she knew that she should still never forget that there was a lot more to him than that.

  Maybe that was part and parcel of the tingle that rippled through her as she feasted her eyes on his averted profile.

  She’d never had a single experience with any man. He’d been her first.

  He’d obviously had so many experiences with women that he had built up a portfolio on their behaviour patterns and expectations when it came to relationships.

  Mingled with simmering excitement, a certain amount of unease nudged its way through but she blithely shoved that aside because, as he’d just reminded her, he was just passing through. People who were passing through didn’t cause problems. It was the ones who stuck around and made a nuisance of themselves you had to be wary of.

  ‘You sound like an old man,’ she half joked.

  ‘There are times I feel like one,’ Luca said heavily.

  ‘Don’t you believe in love?’

  ‘Strangely, I don’t believe anyone’s ever asked me that question directly before.’ He sounded surprised. ‘But now that you’ve asked, I don’t. I don’t believe in love, I don’t believe in the fairy tales people insist on telling that there’s such a thing as a happy-ever-after. You’re young, mi tesoro, which is why I felt that I should warn you off me.’

  ‘And like I’ve told you, there’s no need. Why don’t you? Believe in love and marriage, I mean?’ She thought of herself in a white dress floating down the aisle on her father’s arm, to meet the man of her dreams. Instantly, a few pedestrian details jarred the dreamy image. Firstly the thought of herself in a dress, which was an item of clothing she didn’t possess, and secondly the thought of what this man of her dreams would look like.

  Tall, dark and handsome.

  Like the one lying next to her floating on the gently rolling water.

  But, she hurriedly amended in her head, clearly not the one next to her. Maybe one similar.

  ‘Oh, but I do believe in marriage,’ Luca said wryly. He thought of Isabella, waiting for him back in Italy, and a sharp tug of guilt drove into him with the force of a serrated knife cutting through skin. There was nothing to feel guilty about. He knew that. At least, the cold, logical side of his brain knew that. He was on the same page as the woman floating alongside him so what if, besides the fact that he wouldn’t be sticking around, another very valid reason for him being the least suitable man on the planet for her lay in the fact that he was practically engaged to someone? Did that matter? No, of course it didn’t because a relationship wasn’t on the table and he’d been brutally honest in making that clear.

  Aside from which...he was fond of Isabella and she was perfect for him because she would never ask for what he couldn’t give. They would marry and two great families would unite and, of course, they would be careful about their outside interests because, under the guise of marriage, they would be as brother and sister. She and her girlfriend, Ella, would carry on seeing one another and he...he would discreetly do what any red-blooded man would have to do to satisfy his libido. For a man who did not believe or trust in love, it would be the ideal marriage.

  And yet...

  Suddenly restless, he began swimming back to shore, making sure that Cordelia was following him and then slinging his arm around her shoulders as they stepped out of the water. He retrieved the swimming trunks and put them on.

  ‘You just haven’t found the right woman? Is that it?’ Cordelia returned to the conversation as she began unpacking the picnic, carefully putting the contents of Tupperware containers on the rug and not looking directly at him.

  ‘There’s no such thing as the right woman. There is, however, such a thing as a suitable woman. I want to have a family as much as the next person,’ he confided with utmost honesty. ‘I also want to have a successful marriage and, as far as I’m concerned, those two things are perfectly possible provided there are no unreasonable expectations on either side.’ He paused and Isabella flashed into his head once again. For all her sexual proclivities, they would produce the requisite heir. A discreet consultant would easily facilitate that. The signatures weren’t exactly on the paper yet, but they would be by the time he returned to Italy.

  The business of love would never complicate matters. Luca wondered whether that was why he had returned to Cornwall, to remind himself of what he already knew. Love had destroyed his father and Cornwall was a symbol of that love. You could almost say that that was where the story began.

  ‘I don’t suppose that’s exactly your cup of tea, is it?’ He looked at her, appreciating, yet again, the white-blonde tangle of her hair flowing down her back and over her shoulders...the healthy gold of her skin, so much darker than where the sun didn’t touch...the intense violet of her eyes...the athleticism of her strong body. Jesus, was he hardening again?

  ‘Not at all,’ Cordelia admitted lightly. She passed him a chunky ham and cheese sandwich on a paper plate and sat back on her haunches to look at him for a few seconds. The glare was sharp and she was squinting into the sun. ‘Not many women would accept that sort of situation.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ Luca murmured in response. It felt as if he’d already said too much. Sitting here, talking about this touchy-feely stuff...made him vaguely uneasy. Something about her lulled him into feeling just so damned comfortable. ‘Nice sandwich.’ He changed the subject, steering firmly away from dangerous ground. ‘Generous.’

  Cordelia burst out laughing at his expression. ‘I’ve spent too many years making sandwiches for my dad and some of the other fishermen to switch from sandwiches like these to delicate little cucumber ones.’ She sobered up and settled into a more comfortable position. ‘Why don’t you believe in love? What happened?’

  Luca looked at her. Her expression was open and quizzical. No agenda there. She was so much a part of this wild, beautiful, Cornish slice of land and yet as trapped in it as he was trapped in his own privileged, rarefied world, if only she knew.

  He experienced a moment of such perfect oneness that he had to clear his throat and make a conscious effort to gather himself.

  ‘I don’t...’ Don’t talk about my private life to anyone, ever. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I’ve figured out over the years that my father’s disastrous personal life had something to do with it.’ He paused. There was an odd, swooping sensation in
the pit of his stomach that he had never experienced before. She was quietly working her way through her sandwich and thoroughly enjoying it. He’d brought champagne but he figured she would be the sort of girl who wouldn’t mind a pint now and again. He had an insane desire to introduce her to his wines, watch her taste the soft subtleties on her palate and, again, he had to shake himself back into the moment and remember, with relief, that in the blink of an eye he would walk away, back to reality, never to see her again.

  ‘I know how that feels.’ She smiled ruefully, prompting him to do the unthinkable and continue.

  ‘My mother died when I was young.’ His smile matched hers. ‘We may have more in common than you think because her death blew a hole in my father’s life and he was never the same since. Unlike your father, though, he didn’t emotionally retreat from the world and he certainly didn’t become overprotective of me. The opposite. My father has made a career out of trying to find a substitute for what he lost. Never succeeded.’

  ‘Do you have siblings?’

  ‘No. There’s just me.’

  No twin, as you had, to share the loneliness and grief, just a father walking away as he tried to carve a life of his own to fill his own void, leaving his only son to work things out for himself.

  ‘Holding the fort, so to speak.’ He thought of those vast acres of vineyards and the incomparable wealth, growing daily under his studious, watchful eye. Her idea of the fort in question would bear no resemblance to reality, that was for sure.

  ‘Working to keep things ticking over. Like me.’ She had a vision of him, so strong, labouring under the sun, watching out for his father the way she watched out for hers. ‘Do you live with your dad? You should count your blessings that your father has allowed you to get on with living your life. An overprotective dad can be more of a curse than a blessing sometimes.’

  ‘He lives nearby,’ Luca murmured.

  ‘Close enough to be a problem?’ She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

  ‘Close enough for me to keep an eye on him.’ Luca’s mouth twitched and he smiled back at her. The sandwiches, he thought, were bloody good. Wholesome. ‘The truth is life might have been better if he’d done what your father did, and retreated, at least for a decent amount of time. Instead, my father has entered into marriages with alarming regularity and none of the endings have been good ones.’