Once A Playboy.... Kate Hardy
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for Leo Valente, that was it.
Her mind flashed back to the way he had looked at her last night, and she ignored the shiver of awareness that coursed through her. Sure, he was an attractive man—she could hardly deny that. But she had spent the past five years ignoring countless attractive men and she wouldn’t be stopping now. Her career plan didn’t leave time for men, and she was quite happy to keep it that way.
‘Brushing up on current events, Dara?’
She snapped up her head in surprise, only to be pinned by a familiar smirking emerald gaze.
Leo raised a brow in silent question. ‘My “lonely heart” is apparently worthy of your attention this morning... I didn’t take you as the type to read gossip.’
Dara looked down and realised she was still holding the trashy magazine. ‘I don’t.’ She said it a little too quickly. ‘I’m just browsing while I wait for some travel information.’
She shoved the offending publication hastily back into the stand, straightening up to push an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.
He seemed taller and more imposing than he had the night before, if that was even possible. Dark jeans and a brown leather jacket accentuated the rough casual air that seemed to surround him wherever he went.
How had he known she was staying here? She didn’t remember mentioning the name of her hotel to him. And besides, his event wasn’t scheduled for another eight hours. Was he here to tell her he had decided not to give her a chance after all? Last night she had been lucky. She had caught him off guard, piqued his interest. Maybe he had woken up this morning and realised that this was one impulse he could erase.
She reflected on her black skinny jeans and warm woollen sweater, wishing she had worn something more professional. She had decided to be sensible today, choosing flat patent pumps for her plan of walking around the city. Now, as he stood in front of her, she felt short for the first time in her life. She was tall at five foot eight—especially by Italian standards. But she barely reached his chin.
Just then the kiosk attendant returned from behind the counter and placed a small tram card on the counter next to her bundle of maps and brochures.
‘She doesn’t need these any more.’ Leo pushed the items back towards the attendant with a polite nod. The poor girl was clearly starstruck, with her head bobbing up and down and two bright pink spots on either cheek.
Dara groaned. Was that what she had looked like last night? She needed to remind herself to think sad thoughts when her painfully pale Irish skin decided to play up.
‘I was planning to use those.’ She reached towards the documents on the counter. She didn’t care who he was—she wasn’t going to let him hijack her day on another of his whims.
‘The last time I checked you were mine for today.’ His eyes glittered as he leaned casually on the counter. ‘Like you said last night, Dara, I’m an impulsive man. If you want to work with me so badly, you need to learn to live by my rules. If I decide to take you to lunch, you drop your plans.’
Dara felt a shiver run down the back of her neck. This was ridiculous. He was practically ordering her to obey. She tried to think of a witty retort—something to wipe away that confident lift of his brow. Nothing came. She was here to audition for a role, and therefore she had to play his game. If that meant dropping her plans at his request, then so be it.
‘Consider them dropped.’ She fitted her bag under her arm and tilted her chin in what she hoped was a confident expression. ‘I’m entirely at your disposal.’
One corner of his mouth tilted upwards, ‘Congratulations. You just passed the first test. But I don’t intend to dispose of you, Dara—not just yet.’
* * *
Leo had never thought he would get such satisfaction in seeing a woman eat. The rooftop trattoria was a little gem he liked to visit when he was in Milan, but he couldn’t remember ever being so transfixed by a female companion before. She ate so carefully, spinning each forkful of spaghetti until it was wound tight before sliding it into her mouth. She refused to speak with a full mouth, and looked positively horrified when he did so without thought.
She had chosen spaghetti with fresh mixed seafood after enquiring about the specialities. She hadn’t asked for a menu, and had graciously accepted the waiter’s recommendations for a mixed appetiser platter they could share. The silver-haired Tuscan had positively beamed with delight at her accent when she spoke. Such a polite blonde foreigner with a clear Sicilian dialect—she was quite the novelty.
He took a sip of his sparkling water, watching as she placed the last forkful into her mouth. She had been eating so delicately he had hardly noticed that she had demolished the entire dish.
‘Food is another passion of yours, I see.’ He smiled.
She dabbed the napkin lightly at her mouth. ‘Since I moved here—definitely.’
He followed the neat little movement of her hands as she placed her fork across the plate. The waiter promptly came and cleared the table, offering them an array of desserts which they both politely declined.
She sighed and sat back unselfconsciously in her seat, satisfied by the large meal. He imagined that might be how she looked after other types of satisfaction, and his stomach clenched at the thought.
Distracting himself, he stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘A woman who likes to eat is a rarity in my world.’
She turned her head to look out of the window, across the dull Milanese skyline. ‘The women in your world must be very sad and hungry.’
Leo smiled. ‘The siciliani must have thought they were dreaming to find such a beautiful woman in their company who finishes a full meal.’ He took a sip of the coffee, feeling the familiar strength hit his tastebuds.
She ignored his compliment. ‘Actually, when I first moved to Syracuse all I ate were ham sandwiches and spaghetti in tomato sauce.’
‘That’s punishable by law in this country,’ he scolded.
She smiled, nodding her head. ‘I found that out soon enough. I think I lasted about a week before a colleague dragged me to her grandmother’s house and made me confess my crimes.’
‘Italian grandmothers are not known to be forgiving—especially when it involves food. I’m surprised you survived.’
Leo thought of his own upbringing. The array of servants in the castle kitchen. The silent meals alone with his nanny. Surprising himself with the direction of his thoughts, he sat forward, focusing on Dara’s smiling features.
‘It wasn’t a laughing matter. That woman cooked twelve different types of pasta in the space of one hour.’ She shook her head. ‘It was the most dramatic reaction to food I have ever encountered.’
‘My countrymen are not known for their delicate sensibilities.’ He finished his coffee, regarding her as she sat still looking pensively out of the window. ‘Tell the truth: have you eaten a plain tomato sauce since then?’
That earned him a smile. ‘Not if my life depended on it.’
‘Then you’ve passed the second test,’ he proclaimed.
He watched as her expression drifted, all trace of their playful conversation melting away.
‘Exactly how many tests do you have in store for me?’ she asked as she took a sip from her water.
He leaned back into his seat, casual and in control. ‘I don’t like to put a limit on progress, Dara. As a businesswoman I’m sure you can understand that.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, actually. I was considering showing you some ideas that struck me for your event tonight.’ She reached for her handbag, then paused. ‘Unless that violates my role as your temporary consultant?’ She raised a brow.
Leo sighed. The woman was hell-bent