The Sicilian's Marriage Arrangement. Lucy Monroe
Читать онлайн книгу.
bags on the tour, but it looked gauche sitting on the cool leather seat of the ultra-luxurious limo.
She was also positive that her casual lemon yellow sundress and flat leather sandals were not de rigueur for the types of restaurants he frequented.
“I think it would be best if you took me back to my hotel,” she said at the same time as he asked, “Are you enjoying your holiday?”
Her eyes met Luciano’s in the well-lit interior of the car. Apparently neither one of them wanted to discuss the recent kiss.
His intense gaze mesmerized her. “I do not wish to take you back to your hotel.”
“I’m not dressed for dinner out.” She indicated her casual, day worn clothes with a wave of her hand.
“You look fine.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Where are we eating, a hot dog stand?”
“I do not think they have those in Athens, cara.”
“You know what I mean.”
She didn’t even want to think how her hair looked. She’d long ago given up trying for a chic hairstyle and wore her natural curls in an only slightly tamed riot. Most of the time it suited her, but she could imagine that after spending the day tramping the streets of Athens it probably looked like she’d never brushed her hair in her life.
“You must trust me, piccola. I would not embarrass you.”
That was rich, coming from him.
“Now, please, won’t you tell me how you are finding your holiday? I remember you looked forward to it very much.”
He had closed the privacy window between them and the front seat and turned on the tiny lights that ran the entire length of the roof, giving off a surprisingly illuminating glow. A glow that cast his features in stark relief. The genuine interest reflected in his expression prompted her to answer.
“It’s been wonderful.”
“And what has been your favorite stop so far?”
She couldn’t believe a man of his extensive experiences would truly be interested in her first taste of Europe, but she answered nonetheless. “I really can’t say.” She smiled, remembering all the incredible things she’d seen. “I’ve loved every moment. Well, maybe not the airports, but David and the others have made the waiting around in drab terminals fun.”
Luciano frowned at the mention of David’s name. “It is not serious between you two?”
“If it were, you put a spanner in the works tonight, didn’t you?” She might have preferred that spanner, but he didn’t know that and his behavior had been unreasonable.
He did not look in the least bit guilty. “He implied you might come back to his room tonight. Are you sleeping with him?”
“That’s none of your business!”
He leaned over her, the big torso of his six feet, four inch body intimidating at such close range. Suddenly he didn’t remind her of just any old jaguar, but a hungry one intent on hunting his prey and moving in for the kill.
She felt like the prey.
“Tell me.”
She was shy, but she wasn’t a coward, or so she reminded herself frequently. “No. And if you’re going to act like some kind of Neanderthal brute all evening, you may as well tell your chauffeur to take me back to my hotel right now.”
She’d said it so many times now, it was beginning to sound like an impotent litany.
Amazingly, he backed off. Physically anyway.
“I am no brute, but I admit the thought you share your body with him does not predispose me to good temper.”
“Why?”
“Surely after the kiss we shared only minutes ago, you do not have to ask this.”
“Are you saying you give the third degree to every woman you kiss?” She didn’t believe it.
“You are not every woman.”
“No. I’m the hopelessly introverted, hopelessly average and probably hopeless in bed granddaughter of your business associate.” The bitter memory rolled off her tongue before she became conscious what the word probably would reveal to him. Maybe he wouldn’t notice she’d all but told him she was not sleeping with David. “I don’t see where that makes me anything special to you.”
It seemed he hadn’t comprehended the implication of her words when he spoke. “You are not introverted with this David fellow. You were laughing with him and holding his hand.”
He made it sound like she’d been caught in flagrante delicto with David. “He’s my friend.”
“I also am your friend, but you do not hold my hand.”
“For Heaven’s sake, you wouldn’t hold a woman’s hand unless it was to lead her to bed.” Had she really said that?
“And are you trying to say this is not where your friend David was leading you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It is not ridiculous for me to think this. He looks at you with the eyes of a man who has claim to you.”
“There is such thing as the claim of friendship.”
“And friendship requires late night visits to his hotel room?”
“I’ve never been to his hotel room late at night, for goodness’ sake. I’m hardly the type to carry on a brief affair, or did you miss the hopeless-in-bed description?” As the words left her mouth, she realized with chagrin she’d given Luciano what he wanted—a definite answer to whether or not she was sleeping with David.
He didn’t look smug, however. He was too busy glaring at her. “Stop repeating that bitch’s words as if they are gospel. She knows nothing of you or your passions. You will be a consuming fire in my bed, of that I am certain.”
“Your bed?”
He sighed. “I have no plans to seduce you tonight, so you can relax.”
“But you do plan to seduce me?” She pinched the inside of her elbow to make sure she was not sleeping and having some bizarre dream. Pain radiated to her wrist. She was awake.
“Perhaps you will care to tell me what restaurant so caught your approval on your first day in the city?” he asked, ignoring her question.
Certain she’d had all the seduction talk she could take for one night, she eagerly accepted his change of subject. She told him about their visit to the nightlife of the Psiri where she’d sampled out of this world food at one of the many small cafés that did not even open until six in the evening.
“It was a lot like Soho, but I felt more comfortable in Psiri than I ever did visiting that section of New York City. Maybe that’s because I went there with my roommate from college. She was from Manhattan and her friends were all very gothic.” Hope could still remember how out of place she’d felt in the avant garde atmosphere.
“Psiri is fantastic and a lot more laid back. I didn’t feel like I was on display, if that makes any sense.” Her Boston manners and introverted ways had made her feel out of place in Soho, but the Psiri was patronized by so many different nationalities, no one person stood out.
Luciano shrugged, his broad shoulders moving fluidly in the typical European movement. “I have never been to Soho and it has been several years since I indulged in the nightlife of Athens.”
“I suppose it’s hard to do normal things like drink ouzo in a small bar on a busy street when you’ve got a security team trailing you.” Like the one in the nondescript car behind the limousine.
“Si, and there is the lack of time as well. I have spent