Craving Her Enemy's Touch. Rachael Thomas
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it many times in her line of work. Light-hearted flirting always led to more. Her mother had fallen victim to it, leaving her and Seb as teenagers whilst she pursued her latest love interest.
He raised a brow, his eyes sparking with sexy mischief, doing untold things to her pulse rate. It had to stop. She couldn’t stand here any longer beneath his scrutiny. She’d melt.
‘I hope I get to find out.’ His voice was almost a drawl, making her stomach clench.
‘Coffee?’ Diversion tactics were certainly required and coffee was the first thing to come to her mind.
* * *
‘Sì, grazie.’ The effect she was having made him slip automatically into Italian. Coffee was the last thing he wanted. Even a good cup of espresso wouldn’t distract him from the fire in his body.
She looked at him, her tongue sliding unconsciously over her lips, and he almost groaned with the effort of staying seated at the table when all he could do was watch her. Desiring a woman dressed in elegant evening wear was normal, but the way he wanted this casual and rumpled version of Charlie was totally new and unexpected. It was also extremely inconvenient.
He watched as she moved around the kitchen, taking in her curves as she turned her back to him to prepare the coffee. He liked the way her jeans clung to her thighs, accentuating the shape of her bottom. Her scruffy T-shirt couldn’t quite hide the indent of her waist, just as it hadn’t hidden the swell of her breasts from his hungry eyes moments ago.
She turned and passed over a mug of instant coffee, then sat at the table. Inwardly he grimaced. Not what he was used to, but if it meant he had time to convince her to at least be present at the launch then he would have to put up with it.
He took a sip, watching as she blew gently on hers, almost mesmerised by her lips. He had to rein in his libido. She was an attractive woman and in any other circumstances he would have wanted more—much more, at least long enough for the fire of lust to burn lower. But he had to remember she was Sebastian’s sister and, out of respect for his friend’s memory, she was off limits. He shouldn’t have allowed his attraction to show, shouldn’t have lit the fuse of attraction.
‘Back to business,’ he said tersely and put down his mug.
‘I wasn’t aware it was business,’ she said lightly. A little too lightly, giving away that she was battling with emotions, that she was stalling him. ‘I thought this was all about salving your conscience, freeing you of guilt.’
He did feel guilt over Seb’s death—who wouldn’t in the circumstances?—but it wasn’t what drove him, what had made him come here. He’d come because of the promise he’d made. ‘It is business, Charlotte. I want you to be at the launch of the car. Seb always wanted you there. He knew how good you were with the media.’
‘He never said anything to me about being at the launch.’ She put her mug down, pushing it away slightly, as if she too had no intention of drinking it.
He was about to say how much Seb had missed her. How he’d looked forward to her going to Italy. Anything to persuade her, when her next words jolted him with the raw pain entwined in them.
‘But I suppose he didn’t know he was going to die.’
He nodded, fighting his conscience and sensing she was coming to the right decision by herself. He just needed to give her a little more time. ‘Sadly, that is true.’
‘When is the launch?’
Her eyes, slightly misted with held-back tears, met his. Despite his earlier thoughts, he did feel guilt. Guilt for her sadness, and worse. He felt compelled to make it right, to bring happiness back to her life. After all, she wouldn’t be hiding away from the world, the racing world in particular, if she wasn’t unhappy.
‘Friday.’
‘But that’s only two days away! Thanks for the advance warning.’ Her tone was sharp and he saw a spark of determination in her eyes that he recognised and related to.
‘Bene, you will be there?’
‘Yes, I will,’ she said as she pushed back her chair and stood up. Dismissing him, he realised. ‘But on my terms.’
‘WHAT TERMS?’ ALESSANDRO asked suspiciously, looking up at her from where he’d remained sitting at the table.
Charlie watched his jaw clench and his eyes narrow slightly. He hadn’t expected that. It annoyed her that he’d thought he could just turn up at the last moment and ask her to go to the launch of the car, as if she was merely an afterthought. Until now she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the car, but she’d started to realise that by being involved she might be able to find answers to the questions she still had about the accident.
She mulled the idea over, trying to ignore his scrutiny. If—and that was a big if at the moment—she did go, she’d want much more than just being a last-minute guest. One invited only because Alessandro’s conscience had been nudged. She’d want to know all there was to know about the car.
She regretted deeply that she hadn’t seen Seb in the months before the accident. If she had gone to Italy to see the car as it had turned from dream into reality, would she have been able to prevent the fateful night of the accident?
The launch could be the exact catalyst she needed to regain control of her life. It was time to put the past to rest, but she could only do that if she had answers. This could be the only opportunity she’d get to find out what had really happened to her brother. He had been, after all, a professional driver, trained to the highest standard, and for Charlie his accident was shrouded in questions.
‘Before we discuss my terms, I need to know what happened that night.’ She folded her arms in a subconscious gesture of self-protection and leant against the kitchen cupboards, watching intently for his reaction.
She’d expected guilt to cloud his face, to darken the handsome features, but his steady gaze met hers and a flicker of doubt entered her mind. She’d always held him responsible, blamed him, but right now that notion was as unstable as a newborn foal.
‘What do you want to know?’ His calm voice conflicted with her pounding heart. The questions she’d wanted answers to since the night of the accident clamoured in her mind. The answers now tantalisingly close after having eluded her for so long.
‘Why was he even in the car? It wasn’t fit to be driven—at least that’s what I heard.’ She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, desperately trying to appear in control. She was far from that, and deep down she knew it wasn’t just because she had to face the man she blamed. It was the man himself.
Alessandro Roselli’s powerful aura of domination and control filled the kitchen, but she couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated. She met it head-on, with determination and courage. She would find out the truth, one way or another. She was convinced it hadn’t yet been revealed and she wanted to put that right.
He sat back in his seat, studying her, and she had the distinct impression he was stalling her in an attempt to divert her attention. It was almost working. She’d never been under such a hot spotlight before. Think of Seb, she reminded herself, not wanting to waste this opportunity.
‘Do you always believe gossip?’ He folded his arms, looking more relaxed than he had a right to. Far too self-assured.
She frowned, irritation at his attitude growing. ‘No, of course I don’t.’
‘So if I tell you there was nothing wrong with the car, would you believe me?’ He unfolded his arms and turned in his seat, stretching his long legs out, one arm leaning casually on the table. But he was far from casual. His body might be relaxed but, looking into those dark eyes, she knew he was all alertness. Like a hunting cat, lulling its quarry into a false sense of security. But