‘I did,’ she said, instinctively wary.
‘I didn’t hear you come home last night. I wasn’t sure...’
Gracie smiled even as she blushed with embarrassment. At least she had someone in her life who cared about her. And that was nice. ‘It was a late night. I ended up staying at a friend’s house.’
There was a twinkle in Alex’s eye. ‘Sofia’s niece Stella swung by after the fireworks and showed us some photos from the palazzo’s event on her phone.’
Photos? Gracie had forgotten that people might’ve taken pictures.
‘You went to the palazzo for the festival.’ Alex finally got to his point.
‘Yes.’ She abandoned any fleeting hope of keeping her exact whereabouts secret. ‘I met the villa’s owner when watering the roses and he invited me. I could hardly say no to the chance to get inside the palazzo.’
‘Of course not.’ Alex’s expression sharpened. ‘Was he nice?’
Gracie wasn’t entirely sure that ‘nice’ was the best adjective to describe Rafael, but it would do. ‘He seemed to be.’
‘So my roses will be safe.’
Gracie laughed. ‘He’d be crazy to touch them. I think he’s all about preserving his assets and he knows their value.’
‘I guess that’s good.’ But the old man didn’t smile. ‘Could you check on them again tonight, please? It’s going to be even hotter today.’
‘Are you sure you need me to?’ Gracie was mortified at the thought of going back there. Rafael would assume she’d become another of his ‘stalkers’.
‘Yes.’ Alex sat down heavily in his outdoor seat by his container garden and coughed a couple of times. ‘I really appreciate your help on this, Gracie,’ he wheezed. ‘It doesn’t take much for them to dehydrate.’
She narrowed her gaze but as he peered up at her she sighed. Alex was incorrigible, but she was fond of him and now he’d taken a seat she could see he was truly struggling for breath. He was the first and best friend she’d made here, and she’d do anything for him.
* * *
Rafael couldn’t get away from the villa fast enough. Overrun with leggy models, make-up artists, the photographer and his many intrusive assistants, his quiet had been shattered. Worse was the lingering thread of temptation that Grace had left—unravelling the last peace left in his mind. And he couldn’t help but agree with her assertion that pastries were better fresh, not frozen. It took only an hour of noisy distraction and interruption from all the officious assistants before he gave in and drove to Bellezzo.
It wasn’t the largest village—merely a haphazard collection of old buildings clinging to the hillside right on the lakefront. According to the boundary sign, it had a population of just under six hundred people and apparently every last one of them was currently queuing in the town’s only pasticceria. It was a bar, bakery and café all bundled into one small shop on the corner of the central square. After parking the car, he glimpsed a familiar ancient bike propped against the wall of the alley next door but the delicious smell propelled him into the tiny café itself. He paused in the doorway, blinking at the number of people waiting to be served, all apparently unfazed by the length of the queue. The pastries had to be stellar because it wasn’t just tourists queuing, but locals as well. He couldn’t see through the crowd to scope the food in cabinets, but he could see above them to the staff behind the counter.
Grace’s hair was swept back in a neat braid and that fresh, sparkling smile was on her lips as she expertly filled delicate-looking pastries. She wasn’t serving but baking. As she worked, she helped the tourists who spoke little Italian with their orders—translating, interpreting, laughing. It was crowded and busy and looked and smelled insanely delicious. His stomach growled.
‘I need another dozen, Gracie,’ an older Italian woman, clearly the boss, called.
‘On it.’
Gracie. It suited her. He ignored the curious glances of other customers and watched her work. Everyone watching was salivating, including him. But he had some other reactions that weren’t anywhere near as appropriate for a public place. Breathing out, he rested his eyes by looking around. There were a few small tables crammed inside—all occupied by satisfied customers drinking coffee and eating. A few more were leaning against a tall counter.
Pictures of the lake hung on the walls, a few signs advertised the specials of the day—it seemed the place opened till lunch and then opened again at night for coffee and pizza. A couple of newer-looking signs advertised their catering service and also picnic packing for those hiring boats for a float on the lake. Clearly the business was aiming to make the most of the summer season and the influx of people.
He glanced again at the queue ahead of him. A couple of guys—clearly tourists—were watching Grace with the same kind of hunger he was desperately trying to suppress.
She was so skilled he knew she’d had serious training. After another two trays were done, she helped serve.
Rafael watched with increasing dismay as the pastry cabinet was depleted by the million customers ahead of him. His mouth was watering and his stomach was rumbling worse than hers had been first thing this morning. But worse was the thrum of blood beating around his body. Finally he got to the front—and met her gaze.
‘Oh.’
Rafe smiled at the flush that immediately mottled her skin.
‘I really need food,’ he all but begged her before she could speak. ‘Enough for me and those fashion-shoot people.’
‘Fashion-shoot people?’ Her eyebrows lifted sceptically. ‘I didn’t think models ate anything... I definitely wouldn’t have thought they’d eat pastries filled with custard and cream.’
‘These pastries would tempt anyone.’ He was dying of hunger. For everything. Recklessness fired in his blood. ‘You made them. You’re the temptress.’
That colour built in her cheeks again, but before she could speak, he put in another plea. ‘They’re going fast. I really don’t want to miss out.’
‘We always sell out before lunchtime.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ He smiled at the pride in her voice.
‘You’d like a selection?’
Right now he’d take anything she cared to toss his way. ‘Enough for nine people. And me.’
‘You have a particularly large appetite?’ A mischievous smile tugged the corners of her mouth.
Was she flirting with him?
‘I’d call it healthy.’ He watched her lift the pastries into a large box. ‘Did you give Alex the roses?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Her smile bloomed to one of true delight. ‘He was satisfied with their condition.’ She bit her lip as she closed the lid of the box. ‘I think he was worried you’re going to rip them out.’
‘Why would I do that?’ He was taken aback. ‘I like beautiful things.’
She laughed. ‘You like to collect them.’
He wasn’t going to deny it, neither was he going to apologise for the fact. ‘Who doesn’t like spending time with beauty?’ He wanted lots of time with her. ‘Beauty and her roses.’
She carefully put a sticker on the box to secure the lid. ‘You don’t need to try so hard,’ she said so quietly he leaned closer to hear. ‘You know you’d only have to crook your little finger.’
He was so staggered by the fierce satisfaction her unsolicited admission gave him he actually put a hand on the counter to steady himself. ‘Actually, I didn’t know that.’ He waited for her to look at him again. ‘You just don’t do anything the way I expect.’
‘Don’t I?’
‘You’re unpredictable. Definitely not like any other women I’ve met.’
‘You’ve met many and they’re all predictable?’ She looked at him with such disappointment.
‘Not gonna lie.’ He grinned unashamedly. ‘What is it that’s made you so different?’
Sh
e pushed the box on the counter towards him and whispered conspiratorially, ‘I didn’t have a normal childhood.’
‘Now, that is predictable.’ He laughed. ‘Because who does?’
She smiled brightly and nudged the box another inch towards him. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Have a great day,’ she said brightly.
He smiled as he scooped up the box of deliciousness. ‘Oh, I intend to.’
* * *
Have a great day? Did she think she was working in some giant fast-food company? Did she think she could actually flirt with the guy and get somewhere? Had she really just told him, You’d only have to crook your little finger?
Why had she said that? Why did her brain go AWOL the second he appeared?
And all that he’d done in response was to walk out without a backwards glance.
The fizz of electricity she’d felt on seeing him again was now snuffed out as she remembered just what Rafael Vitale had planned for his day—models, pastries, sunshine, models...all at a beautiful lakeside villa with an infinity pool and an award-winning heritage garden...and had she mentioned models?
Of course he was going to have the best day ever. And her involvement in it was over already. He might’ve kissed her last night but it had probably been out of boredom. Then she’d made a fool of herself by falling asleep on him and followed it up with another trivial medical issue this morning. He’d made no attempt to kiss her again. Now she’d just admitted she fancied him and he’d walked out.
‘Are you okay, Gracie?’ Francesca interrupted her thoughts. ‘I need you to—’
‘I know, I’m on it. Sorry.’
Francesca’s smile widened. ‘Who was he?’
‘No one.’ Gracie sighed. And she never wanted to see him again, right?
She’d have to tell Alex he needed to check on the roses himself tonight. She wasn’t going near the Villa Rosetta ever again.
* * *
Eight hours later she quickly walked along the curved, crossing paths of the stunning villa gardens, cursing Alex beneath her breath. He’d played the invalid card again at lunchtime and begged her to water the roses. Fortunately for him it was her other night off the evening shift at the pasticceria, so she could do this. But it was only for him. And this was absolutely the last time.
She’d biked slowly because it was still hot and because she really didn’t want to be seen by anyone. The place was probably still overrun with models. They’d probably have moved on from photos to frolicking—and it was too awkward. But when she’d walked down the driveway, the air was still and the villa grounds silent. Perhaps they’d all gone out on the lake? She got the hose out and swiftly started watering the beautiful plants.
‘I was hoping you’d come.’
He was behind her, sneaking up in that impossibly silent way of his. But she switched the hose off before turning this time—refusing to make that mistake again, refusing to blush at the juvenile double entendre her one-track mind read into his statement. But she failed on that second one. ‘Rafael.’
For some reason the guy was barefoot, yet he was still intimidatingly tall. Slacks, a white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to reveal tanned, muscular forearms.
‘Call me Rafe, Gracie.’ He glanced at the hose she still held. ‘Why isn’t it on an automated hydration system?’
She swallowed, flustered by the way the intimate version of her name rolled off his tongue so easily. ‘Alex likes to do things slowly and properly. By hand. He likes to check on every plant every day.’ She glanced behind him to the villa—still and silent. Unfortunately, she could be neither still nor silent. She fidgeted. ‘The photo shoot is over?’
‘Yes. They’ve returned to Milan.’
‘And you’re not having an orgy with all the models?’ The stupid question slipped out before she could stop it.
‘It’s a nice idea but wasn’t my preference for tonight.’ His wicked grin flashed. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’
Oh, she wasn’t disappointed and she couldn’t help smiling. Her heart rate wouldn’t settle and he closed the gap until he was right in front of her.
‘What?’ she asked, suddenly wary.
‘I’m not sure if you remember, but you kissed me last night. I was hoping you might do it again.’
Shock impacted her body. Remembrance of that kiss—she’d been trying not to think of it.
‘I kissed you?’ She was stunned by his interpretation of events.
‘Yes.’ His sudden smile was unnervingly boyish. ‘I liked it.’
She stared, now speechless. But the rest of her reacted intensely. Sensation ignited deep in her muscles, rendering it impossible for her to remain still.
‘I thought you might appreciate my honesty,’ he added simply. ‘Did you even remember that we kissed?’
‘I didn’t hit my head.’ She breathlessly backed up a pace. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’
‘But you didn’t say anything.’
‘Neither did you.’
There was a long moment of silence when she couldn’t think what to say, she was so surprised. He simply looked at her, and the longer he looked at her, the warmer she became, the more tense. The more...wanting.
‘Do you think you’d consider kissing me again?’ he finally asked quietly. ‘I’ve been hoping you will. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day.’
His statement shocked her so much she spoke before thinking. ‘Not even with all those models here to distract you?’
‘I don’t give a damn about any models. I just want you.’
His vehemence rendered her immobile. Intensity flared as all the memories she’d tried so hard to suppress all day came fizzing back.
‘If I kiss you again, will you kiss me back?’ she whispered.
‘Count on it.’
She couldn’t hold back her smile. ‘What else will you do?’
‘Anything you’ll allow me to.’ He cocked his head and looked at her with those wicked, experienced eyes. ‘Ideally everything.’
Fire flickered along her veins. He’d just promised her everything she’d never had. All she had to do was reach out and take it. And that reckless part of her now took control.
‘Come closer so I can kiss you, then,’ she commanded huskily.
Arrogant pleasure gleamed in his eyes as he obediently stepped nearer. But any sense of her being the boss in this was laughable. She was like a puppet on a string—he’d pulled her to do as he’d wanted. But she wanted it too. And she’d have it—him. She’d be mad not to.
She rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. True to his word, he kissed her back. But it was a feather-light kiss, as if he was afraid she might step away at any moment. She had no intention of doing any such thing. She crept closer, throwing the hose to the ground so she could wrap her arms around his neck. The second she did that, he slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Her lips parted in pleasure at the press of his body and he took advantage, stroking into her mouth, lusciously deepening the kiss.
She was instantly lost—spilling straight back into that overwhelming spell he’d cast over her last night. So the fizzing she’d felt in every cell hadn’t been from the champagne? This instant, incandescent response hadn’t been a dream?
No. Being kissed by Rafael Vitale was categorically the most pleasurable experience of her life. She didn’t want him ever to stop. Her body was somehow so boneless she had to lean against his hard muscles...tripping easily to absolute acquiescence. With seemingly superhuman strength he kept kissing her while actually lifting her—up and then down to the close-cropped, perfect grass. He tumbled her back and knelt over her, his hands loosening her hair, freeing every last one of her inhibitions in seconds.
He sat back a second to wrench his T off and she simply stared at his bea
uty and inhaled that delicious woodsy scent of him. What with the grass, the roses, the sweet summer heat...she didn’t need champagne to make her giddy. She just needed him. He paused for the merest moment, his eye catching hers, and his low laugh was wicked and knowing.
She had no chance to reply. He rained kisses across her face and jaw, his hands stroking—deftly, softly, surely. She shivered with pleasure as she felt the warmth of the late sun on her skin...vaguely registering that her blouse was unbuttoned and her breasts unfettered because her bra was already undone... In moments both items were scattered either side of them. So the man knew how to get a girl out of her clothes? Fantastic. That was just...fantastic.
He reached up and snapped a large rose from the bush beside them and shook it so the petals fell like sweet-scented snowflakes—showering her with soft pieces of scented silk. Playful and spontaneous and strong, he swept her along with his swift seduction. She smiled blindly as he bent his head and fastened his hot mouth around her tightly budded nipple and tugged—shooting a flame of pure eroticism deep into her belly. At the force of it she moaned, her hips instinctively lifting.
‘Beauty and her roses.’ He rolled a petal against her skin. ‘I want your fireworks tonight, Gracie.’
Given her body was three steps ahead of her brain, it seemed that wasn’t going to be a problem.
‘But I like to do things properly too,’ he added, lifting his head to catch her eyes with his dark, glinting gaze. ‘Slowly and by hand.’ He slid his palm beneath her skirt and pushed it up.
Gracie could barely breathe as the sensation of warm air brushed her thighs and she watched him lower his shockingly handsome face towards an even more shocking destination. Was she going to let him...?
Yes...yes, she was. Because suddenly she didn’t want slow. She didn’t want gentle. She just wanted it all. Now.
‘There’s something to be said for fast.’ She quivered at the light rasping heat of his stubble on her thighs.
‘Not in this instance.’
Awakening His Innocent Cinderella Page 7
