Larenzo's Christmas Baby. Кейт Хьюит
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yet...
‘Fine,’ she said, and, shrugging off her sweater, she dived fully clothed into the deep end.
She surfaced, sucking in a hard breath, because the water really was cold. ‘And now I’m getting out,’ she told him as she trod water. ‘It’s as freezing as I thought it would be.’
‘I didn’t think you’d do it,’ he said, laughter threading his voice, and Emma was glad that she’d managed to distract him from whatever had been bothering him, even if she got hypothermia in the process.
‘You thought wrong,’ she said, and swam towards the edge of the pool. With her wet clothes weighing her down it was hard to haul herself up on the pool’s edge.
And then she felt Larenzo behind her, his hands on her shoulders, the strength and heat of him just inches from her back. She sucked in a shocked breath as he slid his hands to her waist and helped her up.
She flopped inelegantly on the side of the pool and then scrambled to her knees, amazed at how much that one little touch had affected her. She shivered, for with her soaked clothes the night air now felt icy.
‘Here.’ Larenzo hauled himself up and went to the heated cupboard for several towels. ‘Wrap yourself up.’
‘I should really change,’ she said. She glanced down at herself and saw that her T-shirt was sticking to her skin, revealing even the floral pattern on her bra, her nipples peaked from the cold. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, and clutched the towel to her chest.
Larenzo’s gaze hadn’t dropped to her chest, but his mouth curved all the same and again Emma felt another kick of excitement. She retreated back to the table, the towel still clutched to her chest.
‘I should go to bed.’
‘Don’t go quite yet,’ Larenzo answered. He slung the towel over his shoulders and sat down across from her, pouring them both more wine. Emma eyed the full glass and Larenzo’s bare chest, his perfectly formed pecs flexing as he moved, and felt as if she’d just jumped into the deep end of an entirely different kind of pool.
‘I’m freezing—’ she began and he nodded towards the cupboard.
‘There are towelling robes in there. Change out of your wet things. I don’t want you catching cold.’
‘Larenzo...’ Emma began, although she didn’t know what she was going to say. Why was she protesting so much, anyway? Chatting in the moonlight with a devastatingly attractive man was no hardship. And it wasn’t as if Larenzo was going to make a move. He might have dared her to jump in the pool, but she was pretty sure her boss didn’t mix business with pleasure.
Even if she wanted him to...
‘Fine,’ she said, and retreated to the towelling cupboard. With the door serving as a screen between her and Larenzo, she tugged off her wet clothes and wrapped herself in the heated dressing gown. The sleeves hung past her hands and the sash trailed the ground, but at least she was warm again. She doubted she’d provide any sort of temptation to Larenzo now.
‘Tell me your favourite place you lived in as a child,’ Larenzo commanded as she sat down across from him and picked up her wine glass—he’d filled it again, while she’d been changing.
Emma considered for a moment. Answering questions, at least, kept her from gawping at Larenzo’s chest. Why on earth she was feeling this unwelcome attraction for him now, she had no idea. Perhaps it was simply the strangeness of the evening, his unexpected arrival, his demand for her company. ‘Krakow, I suppose,’ she said finally. ‘I spent two years there when I was ten. It’s a beautiful city.’ And those years had been the last ones where she’d felt part of a family, before her mother had announced her decision to leave. But she didn’t want to think, much less talk, about that. ‘Where did you grow up?’ she asked, and Larenzo swirled the wine in his glass, his expression hardening slightly as he gazed down into its ruby depths.
‘Palermo.’
‘Hence the villa in Sicily, I suppose.’
‘It is my home.’
‘But you live most of the time in Rome.’
‘Cavelli Enterprises is headquartered there.’ He paused, his shuttered gaze on the darkened mountains, the moon casting a lambent glow over the wooded hills. ‘In any case, I never much liked Palermo.’
‘Why not?’
He pressed his lips together. ‘Too many hard memories.’
He didn’t seem inclined to say anything more, and Emma eyed him curiously, wondering at this enigmatic man who clearly had secrets she’d never even guessed at before.
Larenzo gazed round the terrace, the patio furniture now no more than shadowy shapes in the darkness, and then turned to look once more at the mountains. ‘I’ll miss it here,’ he said, so quietly Emma almost didn’t hear him.
‘So you are thinking of leaving,’ she said, and Larenzo didn’t answer for a long moment.
‘Not thinking of it, no,’ he said, and then seemed to shake off his weary mood, his gaze snapping back to her. ‘Thank you, Emma, for the food and also for your company. You’ve done more for me than you could possibly know.’
Emma stared at him helplessly. ‘If there’s anything else I can do...’
To her shock he touched her cheek with his hand, his fingers cool against her flushed face. ‘Bellissima,’ he whispered, and the endearment stole right through her. ‘No,’ he said, and dropped his hand from her face. ‘You’ve done enough. Thank you.’ And then, taking his plate and his glass, he rose from his chair and left her sitting on the terrace alone.
Emma sat there for a few moments, shivering a little in the chilly air despite the dressing gown. She wished she could have comforted Larenzo somehow, but she had no idea what was going on, and she wasn’t sure he’d welcome her sympathy anyway. He was a proud, hard man, caught in a moment of weakness. He’d probably regret their whole conversation tomorrow.
Sighing, she took the wine bottle and glasses from the table and headed inside. Larenzo had already gone upstairs; the lights were off, the house locked up. After rinsing out the dishes and switching on the dishwasher Emma went upstairs as well.
She paused for a moment on the landing; Larenzo’s master bedroom was to the right, her own smaller room the last on the left. She heard nothing but the wind high up in the trees, and she couldn’t see any light underneath Larenzo’s doorway. Even so she had a mad urge to knock on his door, to say something. But what? They didn’t have that kind of relationship, not remotely, and knocking on Larenzo’s bedroom door, seeing him answer it with his hair rumpled and damp, his chest still bare...
No. That was taking this strange evening a step too far.
Still she hesitated, glancing towards his doorway, and then with a sigh she turned and went to her own bedroom, closing the door behind her.
HE COULDN’T SLEEP. Hardly a surprise, considering all that had happened in the last few days. Larenzo stared gritty-eyed at the ceiling before, with a sigh, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed.
All around him the house was still and silent. It was nearly two in the morning, and he wondered how long he had left. Would they come for him at dawn, or would they wait for the more civilised hour of eight or nine o’clock in the morning? Either way, it wouldn’t be long. Bertrano had made sure of that.
Letting out another sigh at the thought of the man he’d considered as good as a father, Larenzo slipped from the bedroom and walked downstairs. The rooms of the villa were silent, dark, and empty, and he was loath to turn on a light and disturb the peacefulness. He could have stayed in Rome, but he’d hated the thought of simply