The Italian's Blackmailed Mistress. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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by her choice of partner.’ He cast a glance at the blond-headed Venus in question, his mouth curling in a cynical smile. ‘But I’m not surprised.’
Always a man of action, Max was not given to moods of reflection. But now, as he ate the food put before him, he found it hard to concentrate on the present when the woman responsible for so many painful memories of his past was seated just a few yards away. Seeing Sophie again had brought to mind in every vivid detail perhaps the worst episode in his life all those years ago….
Max had left Gina outside the restaurant, his mind in flux, and slowly walked back in the direction of his office. For a self-confident man who prided himself on always being in control, a man who made business decisions involving millions on a daily basis and never doubted his course of action, it had been sobering to realise he was just as susceptible as the next man to the unfamiliar emotions of doubt and fear. He enjoyed his work, was very successful and very wealthy, and he had gone his own way for years with very little thought to the future. But now he’d been forced to face the fact he might not have one, and suddenly everything he had achieved didn’t amount to much.
If he dropped dead tomorrow his family and a couple of friends might grieve for a while, but eventually it would be as though he’d never existed.
A few days before Max had thought he had all the time in the world, that marriage and children were something he wouldn’t have to consider for years. He had thought in his arrogance that the timing had not been right for an affair with Sophie—that he didn’t need her. But with the threat of serious illness hanging over him time had suddenly become vitally important.
Impulsively he had called his pilot, and an hour later had been flying back to Sicily—and Sophie. Alex be damned! He needed Sophie’s uncomplicated company, her open adoration, her stunning body, and he wasn’t going to wait. He was going to have her—and she might just be the last woman he had in this life.
Max had glanced around the familiar view of the hotel gardens. His dark eyes had narrowed on a group of three young boys in the swimming pool, playing water polo with a girl. The girl had been Sophie, and as he’d watched she had hauled herself out of the water and flopped down on a sunbed, the young boys sprawling on the ground around her.
The mere sight of her in the familiar pink bikini had knocked any lingering doubt from his brain and he’d felt his body stir and strode towards her.
‘Hello, Sophie. Still playing around, I see,’ he drawled mockingly, and tugged lightly on the long wet braid of her hair falling down her back.
Her head turned and her green eyes widened to their fullest extent. ‘Max—you’re back! I didn’t know.’ And the rush of colour and the welcoming smile on her face were all Max could have hoped for and more.
‘Dare I ask if you are free for the evening?’ Of course her answer would be yes. He never doubted it for a moment. And the events of the morning in Rome were pushed to the back of his mind as his dark gaze lingered over her scantily clad form. ‘I thought a drive along the coast, and a picnic, perhaps?’ He wondered why he had denied his own desire the day he met her, three weeks ago.
‘I’d love it,’ she said, a smile curving her luscious mouth, and he couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
Lifting his head, his brown eyes dark with need, he searched her lovely face. Dio! How he wanted this woman. There was certainly nothing wrong with his testosterone levels. In fact, if he didn’t get away fast the rest of the guests around the pool would be well aware of that, too.
He sucked in a deep, steadying breath and gently pulled her away from him. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’ And he turned and walked away.
Sophie watched Max’s departure, her eyes drifting lovingly over him, the misery and doubt of the last week forgotten in her euphoria at seeing Max again.
Later that evening Max helped her out of the car and, lifting a hamper from the back, he took her hand firmly in his.
‘Where are we?’ Sophie asked. He had stopped the car at the harbour of a small town, and she glanced around her with pleasure. Coloured lights danced in the darkness, following the curve of the harbour that had a dozen yachts bobbing in gently lapping water.
‘La Porto Piccolo,’ he said, looking down at her with a reminiscent smile on his starkly handsome face. ‘It was a favourite haunt of my friend Franco and I when we were younger. We bought our first yacht together when we were nineteen and hoping to impress the girls. We have always kept it here, away from our families’ prying eyes. It is small, but we had some great times.’ Taking her hand, he helped her on board.
Sophie wasn’t sure she liked the implication in his words. Was this some kind of love boat? And just how many girls had Max entertained on board? But then she spotted a table and two chairs set out on the polished wood deck. ‘We are eating here?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ He placed the hamper on the table and drew her gently into his arms. ‘It is a beautiful night, and I thought you would appreciate dining on the deck.’ He brushed his lips against her hair. ‘You have no idea how much I want to please you, in every way.’ His lips lowered to brush gently against her mouth and she was stunned by the gentleness in his gaze.
Max cared, he really cared for her, and involuntarily Sophie raised her hand to rest on his broad chest. ‘You already do,’ she said with blunt honesty. ‘I missed you so much when you were away. I missed your unruly black hair, your teasing smile…’ She flicked a silken lock from his brow. ‘I’m glad you are back.’
‘You can show me how much later.’ Max covered her hand on his chest with his own and bent his dark head so that his mouth lightly nuzzled her neck. Sophie shuddered when she felt the flick of his tongue against her sensitive skin. ‘But first a tour of the yacht, and then food,’ he prompted.
With his arm around her waist, his fingers splayed across the soft skin of her midriff, Sophie was too aware of the magic of his touch to notice the boat. She had a fleeting view of one small cabin, and heard Max’s comment about ‘two berths’, and then he was opening a door into the only other cabin.
‘Duck your head,’ he instructed, ushering her inside and closing the door behind them. The cabin was tiny, and lit only by the lights of the harbour, which were casting flickering shadows on the double bunk that almost filled the space. ‘It is only for sleeping,’ he murmured, his breath warm against her brow.
Sophie had never felt less like sleeping. And when Max’s hand tightened on her waist and turned her to face him all she felt was breathless. She looked up, every nerve-ending tingling at the close proximity of his great body, and stared as if mesmerised by his glittering dark eyes, any thought of caution vanished.
Then his mouth found hers, his tongue moving within it with a deeply erotic passion, and Sophie was lost to everything but the incredible sensations shooting through her body.
He lifted his head and looked searchingly down at her. ‘You want this?’ he prompted huskily, his voice barely audible as he gently brushed a strand of silken hair from her cheek.
‘Yes,’ she gasped, and in moments they were naked on the bed.
A long time later Sophie lay collapsed on top of him, breathless and shaking—she had never known such pleasure existed. Max gently lifted her chin with his index finger. ‘You should have told me I was your first.’
‘And my only,’ she sighed. ‘I love you so much.’
‘Oh, Sophie, I adore you. You are truly priceless—don’t ever change,’ he drawled softly.
‘I am changed now, thanks to you,’ she whispered.
‘I know.’ Max kissed her swollen lips again—he couldn’t help himself. ‘But it is I who should be thanking you. You have given me something precious and worth much more than you can ever imagine.’
Never before had he made love to a virgin, and never before had he met with such a wild reciprocal passion. He had lost touch