Italian Mavericks: In The Italian's Bed: Leonetti's Housekeeper Bride / Inherited by Ferranti / Best Man for the Bridesmaid. Кейт Хьюит
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against her lips. ‘We’re in a car in a public street. This is not cool at all, bella mia.’
‘It’s just lust,’ she tried to say lightly, dismissively, and she tried to summon a laugh but found she couldn’t because there was nothing funny about the power of the physical urges engulfing her or the nasty draining aftermath of blocking and denying those urges.
‘Lust has never made me behave like a randy teenager before,’ Gaetano growled. ‘Around you I have a constant hard-on.’
‘Stop it...stop talking about it!’ Poppy snapped, ramming her trembling hands into the pockets of her flying jacket.
‘That’s impossible when it’s all I can think about.’ With a stifled curse he fired the engine of the car. ‘But we have more important things to discuss.’
‘Yes. Rodolfo called your bluff,’ she breathed heavily, struggling to return to the real world again.
‘That’s not how I would describe what he did. I’ve been mulling it over all evening,’ Gaetano admitted grittily. ‘I’m afraid you hit the target last night when you accused me of ignoring the human dimension. I’m great with figures and strategy, not so good with people. But this afternoon looking at Rodolfo and listening to him talk I saw a man aware of his years and afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to see the next generation. All my adult life I’ve read him wrong. I thought all I had to do to please him was to become a success and be everything my father wasn’t but it wasn’t enough.’
‘How wasn’t it enough?’
‘Rodolfo would have been a much happier man if I’d married straight out of university and given him grandchildren,’ Gaetano breathed wryly.
‘Why regret what you can’t change? Obviously you didn’t meet anyone you wanted to marry.’
‘No, I didn’t want to get married,’ Gaetano contradicted drily. ‘I’ve seen too many of my friends’ marriages failing and my own parents fought like cat and dog.’
Poppy grimaced and said nothing. Gaetano was very literal, very black and white and uncompromising in his outlook. He had probably decided as a teenager that he would not get married and had never revisited the decision. But it did go some way towards explaining why he never seemed to stay very long with any woman because clearly none of his relationships had had the option of a future.
‘At some stage you must have met at least one woman who stood out from the rest?’ she commented.
‘I did...when I was at university. Serena ended up marrying a friend and I was their best man. They divorced last year,’ Gaetano volunteered with rich scorn. ‘When I heard about that, I was relieved I had backed off from her.’
‘That’s very cold and cynical. For all you know you and she could have made a success of marriage,’ Poppy commented tongue in cheek, mad with curiosity to know who Serena had been and whether he still had feelings for her now that she was free. Her face burned because she was so grateful he had not persevered with the wretched woman. She was just then discovering in consternation that she couldn’t bear to think of Gaetano with any other woman, let alone married to one. When had she become that sensitive, that possessive of him? She had no right to feel that way and that she did mortified her. Was this some pitiful hangover from her infatuation with him as a teenager?
As she walked into the hall Gaetano pushed the door open into a dimly lit reception room. ‘Before I went out I ordered supper for us. I thought you’d be hungry because unless you ate while you were working, you missed dinner.’
She was strangely touched that it had even occurred to Gaetano to consider her well-being. But then Poppy wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her. In recent years she had acted as counsellor and carer for her family. Neither her mother nor her brother had ever had the inclination to ask her how she was coping working two jobs or whether she needed anything. Removing her coat, she sank down into a comfy armchair, glancing round at the stylish appointments of the spacious room. An interior designer had probably been employed, she suspected, doubting that such classy chic was attainable in any other way. She poured the tea and filled her plate with sandwiches.
For a few minutes she simply ate to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside her. Only slowly did she let her attention roam back to Gaetano. The black stubble framed his jaw, accentuating the lush curve of his full mouth, and he could work magic with that mouth, she conceded, inwardly squirming at that intimate thought and the longing behind it while ducking her head to evade the cool gold intensity of his gaze. Her body, still taut and tender from feverish arousal, recalled the stroke of his fingers and she tingled, dying inside with chagrin that she had lost her control to that extent.
‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ she prompted in the humming silence.
‘I think you already know,’ Gaetano intoned very drily.
‘You have to decide what to do next,’ Poppy clarified reluctantly, disliking the fact that he read her with such accuracy and refused to allow her to play dumb when it suited her to do so.
After all, so much hung on the coming discussion and it was only natural that she should now be nervous. Of what further use could she be to Gaetano? Their fake engagement was worthless because Rodolfo Leonetti wanted much more than a fake couple could possibly deliver. They couldn’t set a wedding date because they weren’t going to get married. And if she was of no additional value to Gaetano, maybe he wanted her to leave his home and maybe, quite understandably, he would also expect to immediately stop paying the bills for her mother’s treatment at the clinic? A cold trickle of nervous perspiration ran down between Poppy’s breasts and suddenly she was furious with herself for not thinking through what Rodolfo’s declaration would ultimately mean to her and the lives of those who depended on her.
‘I had no problem deciding what to do next. I’m very decisive but unfortunately what I do next is heavily dependent on what you decide to do,’ Gaetano admitted quietly, disconcerting her while his extraordinarily beautiful eyes rested on her full force.
‘What I decide...?’
‘Only a fake fiancée can become a fake bride!’ Gaetano derided, watching her pale.
‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that we carry this masquerade as far as a wedding!’ Poppy exclaimed with a look of disbelief.
‘Rodolfo likes you. He’s really excited and happy about our relationship,’ Gaetano breathed grimly. ‘In fact it’s many years since I saw him this enthusiastic about anything or anyone. I would like to give him what he wants even if it’s not real and even though it can’t last.’
‘You love your grandfather. I understand that you don’t want to disappoint him, but—’
‘We could get married for a couple of years while I continue to pay for your mother’s care.’
Poppy leant forward to say sharply, ‘If Mum does well, she will probably be released from the clinic next month.’
Gaetano shook his handsome dark head slowly as if in wonder at her naivety. ‘Poppy... Jasmine is most probably a long-term rehabilitation project. To stay off alcohol for the foreseeable future she’s going to need regular ongoing professional support.’
It was true, Poppy conceded painfully. What Gaetano was saying was true, horribly true, but until that moment Poppy had not thought that far ahead. Indeed she had dreamt only of the day when she hoped and prayed that her newly sober parent would walk out of the clinic and back into the real world. Sadly, however, the real world offered challenges Jasmine Arnold might struggle to handle. And Poppy already knew that she did not have the power to stop her mother drinking because she had already tried that and had failed abysmally.
‘If you agree to marry me I will faithfully promise to take care of your mother’s needs for however long it takes for her to regain her health and sobriety,’ Gaetano swore. ‘At the same time I will make it possible for you to return to further education. That would mean that by the time we divorce you would be in a position to pursue any career