Hiring Cupid (8 page)

"Am I? Think about it. You relax, you begin to enjoy yourself, and then you want to hide away, to not think, to not feel. You are scared of feeling."

"Am not,” Carly denied hotly, realizing at the same time she sounded like a petulant child.

But Marco merely smiled, the soft lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling, sending blood rushing to her temples. Beneath her shirt her breasts thrust against the constraints of her lacy bra. This was pure, unadulterated heat—and lust.

He stood close by. Too close for comfort.

And yes, she wanted to run—sort of.

"Last night you didn't run from my touch. You welcomed my arms around you."

"I was cold."

Marco chuckled, his tone richly bold and inviting. “Hmm, but you warmed under my touch."

"I'm not my sisters, Marco Valente. Nor my mother. Don't even think I'll have a fling with you. I've worked hard and hauled myself out from the cyclic environment of my family. I've succeeded beyond my dreams.” Carly broke her monologue and gasped for air. She felt Marco's eyes bore down on her and folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin up with defiance.

"But what about your wildest dreams,
cara
? What about those."

"I don't have any."

"Liar,” he whispered. His intense gaze speared right through her and she tried to look away, but his fingers gripped her chin, holding it fast.

"Everyone has dreams, Carly. Even you. Dreams. Fantasies. What about them?"

Her lips pursed into a thin, disapproving line.

"Don't deny it,
cara
. Dig a little deeper, search for them."

And she did. Her mind whirred with images, provocative and exciting, igniting flights of fancy she thought buried long ago. The very thought of them flung her into a forgotten world, tingling with an intensity that brought her to life. Seconds ticked by and she thought she couldn't stand another moment, that her overwhelming need to touch and feel, to taste Marco's lips on hers, would send her over the edge.

But what on earth was she thinking?

An affair with a stranger? That wasn't her.

With a sharp groan, she wrenched herself from his grip and spun on her heels, racing for her room and slammed the door so hard it rocked on its hinges with a fierce shudder.

Wake up. This is paradise, fake reality.
Carly sank down onto a cane chair and dropped her head into her hands. Heaven help her, she was just like her mother and sisters.

For a long, silent while she shut herself in her room sitting beside the window overlooking the golden sand. She hugged a cushion to her chest and stared numbly out at the view. A seagull, perched atop a craggy rock pool uncovered by low tide, cawed several times before flapping its wingspan and taking to the clear skies. Such a peaceful existence. No worries, no cares.

No dreams!

Carly sprang up. She didn't want to think about dreams, wild or otherwise. She had goals—clear, determined, get-out-of-my-way-I'm-coming sort of goals. Goals that didn't include a fantasy four-day fling, or any other sort of fling for that matter, and definitely not with a stranger.

With shoulders squared, and a determined set to her jaw once more, she eyed her reflection in the mirror. Wild hair haloed her elfin face and she screwed her nose up in distaste as she spied the light spattering of sun kisses.

Eyes, the color of deepest emerald and flecked with shards of gold stared back. They were alive with excitement.

Outside she heard Marco moving about and for a moment she stared at the closed bedroom door. She couldn't stay locked away. She had to go out and face her demons.

And right now, Marco Valente was her demon.

A tentative smile tilted the soft curve of her mouth. She scraped the pad of her thumb over her lips and for a fraction of a second her eyes shuttered as she remembered his touch, the feel of his body pressed against hers. His lips on hers, pliant and inviting, and definitely delicious. Oh yes, he was a demon to be handled with kid gloves. He needed a sign tattooed on his forehead—
handle with care
. She hadn't been prepared for Marco Valente.

"Feeding time at the zoo,” she announced as she opened the door with a flourish.

"I thought you had gone into hibernation?” he called as she stepped out from her sanctuary.

"Just a minor set back."

"Set back?” His eyes darkened. “I hope nothing serious."

"Nope. Everything is fine, absolutely dandy, and back on track."

"Back on track?"

Carly laughed. “Do you always repeat what people say?"

But he didn't smile. His expression was deadly serious. “Only when I'm completely lost as to the change in a person.” He turned away abruptly.

"Where are you going?"

"Out.” He shot back over his shoulder. “This genie is taking a break."

"Trust a man,” Carly muttered. “Can't stand the heat in the kitchen, they take off."

Damn it. Where had she heard that before? Heard it, and lived it.

"You don't know the meaning of
heat
,” Marco snarled. “Perhaps I should show you.” In two long strides he closed the gap between them and pulled her to him, crushing her in the circle of his arms. “Heat,
cara
, is this.” Swiftly, his lips sought hers. Hard and demanding it sent a shiver spiraling up and down her spine, easing only a fraction when he nibbled the corner of her mouth, his tongue flicking over the kiss-swollen pad of her bottom lip.

Full-blown pleasure radiated to the very tips of Carly's fingers. She laced her arms around his neck, and slid the tips of her fingers through is silky hair. It was so soft. She let out a mewling gasp of delight.

It was all the invitation Marco needed and his tongue teased a sensuous dance with hers, hands caressing her back, cupping the curve of her buttocks, pressing her into his hardness.

Carly felt it all and it thrilled her. Her heart raced and her pulses sang with a passion and seductive sensuality she had never felt before. Liquid heat beat a path to her loins, moistening her center, melting in its intensity.

Outside, the sounds of crashing waves reached up the beach, sharply breaking the barrier of her wanton need for more. A jolt of ice laced around her heart and she stilled.

"
Cara
?"

"No,” she pleaded, refusing to even look at him. She wrapped her arms around her as a protective coat of armor. “Don't say anything."

Marco's fingers caressed her shoulder, but Carly yanked herself out of his reach. “Please, Marco. Just leave me."

"You tease,
cara
."

"Tease?” Carly accused. “You started this Marco. It was you who kissed me."

"You can't deny you liked my touch."

"I do deny it. Don't touch me, Marco. Ever.” Unable to stop the tears, they streamed down her face.

"So you run away again, Carly Mason. Run from life, from living, from your fantasies."

"You're not my fantasy."

"Am I not?"

Carly heard the challenge in his voice and shivered. She was no match for him. “You're my paid employee, remember?” she shot back.

"Your gigolo?"

"The hired help, Marco. Paid to be attentive. But remember, I call the shots."

"Well see about that.” Gritting his teeth, his face steely and eyes darkly menacing he spun on his heels and stomped from the room.

"Heat,” Marco spat out as he stormed up the beach. “She doesn't know what she's talking about.” He'd done everything he could to make her days a pleasure and then she went and froze him out. The moment he thought he'd broken through her self-imposed shell, the reserve she hid behind, she iced up and retreated.

Heat. Hell, his body was on fire like Mount Vesuvius and ready to explode. He bit back his hunger and passion. Held it in check. He was a man. He had to have control. Marco let out an agonizing groan and ran a hand through his hair. He was wrestling with his desire as never before.

Why on earth had he come here? He didn't need this. Playing cupid for some uptight woman who preferred a laptop on the beach to having a life; so much so, Marco reasoned, she had to hire a man to pose as her boyfriend.

Yeah, but you didn't have to agree to do it.

"That's a lie,” he spoke aloud. From the moment he saw Carly he would have done anything to meet her again. This oddball chance was a fortuitous bonus. Well, it would have been if he weren't so frustrated that he wanted to behave like Tarzan and carry Jane off to the treetops and make wild, passionate love to her.

Rounding the corner of the cove, Marco headed for one of the sand dunes and sat down. He yanked his mobile out of his pocket and a wave of guilt flashed over him. He'd told Carly he didn't have one. The opportunity to stay alone with her had been fervently overwhelming, so he had lied. Only a small one he rationalized, though somehow it didn't make him feel a whole lot better, simply worse.

Flicking the phone on he called his office, ensuring everything with the hotel plans were on course. Chad Burns reassured him, but as he hit the off button, a niggling worry twisted his gut.

It'd be okay. Only two more days. Then back to business. Back to what he knew and what he felt comfortable with.

"I thought I'd managed to rid you of that accessory."

Carly threw a guilty look over her shoulder and struggled to douse the flutter in her stomach elicited the second she heard the heart-stopping timbre of Marco's voice. “You sneaking up on me again?"

Marco strode towards her and her tummy performed another series of flip-flops, the ever-present butterflies dancing an unbridled tango without so much as a whiff of concern for her sanity. It seemed every time he came within an inch of her, those same butterflies erupted into wild abandon whether she liked it or not.

As he came alongside he offered her a luminous smile, a flick of his dark hair falling across his forehead. Her fingers itched to touch it, brush it back, to...

Stop it!

She clenched her jaw, gnawing at her bottom lip and her hands balled to fists at her side. Her nerves were shot.

"How much longer are you going to stay attached to that toy? You're wasting a beautiful day,” Marco advised as his gaze scanned the sun now high in the sky

"Not long.” Sighing, Carly turned back to her laptop, saved the document and sat back. “All finished. Satisfied?” She gave him an impish grin.

"Woman, don't you know about relaxing?"

"Sure I do. We did that yesterday. Besides I slept like a log, so I must have been relaxed, sort of, while you on the other hand Mr. Genie, paced up and down for hours.” Carly refused to listen to the silent nagging of her conscience. Truthfully, she hadn't slept a wink either. And it wasn't because of the heat. No siree. Marco Valente had a lot to answer for.

But this morning, as she stared up at him and a smile twisted the corners of his full mouth, she decided it best to ignore their heated ‘discussion’ from last night. Best to ignore the fire that raced through her every time he came within ten feet.

Carly laughed at his sheepish grin. “At least you have the decency to look guilty. How's a girl to get her beauty sleep with a genie waltzing around all hours of the night?"

For a moment Marco didn't speak, but when he did his voice was tinged with a velvety sexual undertone.

"
Cara mia.
You don't need beauty sleep. You
are
beautiful."

Sudden tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Marco. No one has ever said that to me before you."

"Never? What about boyfriends?"

"Boyfriend, singular. I don't have time to date.” Embarrassed and suddenly feeling defensive, she looked away, but Marco leaned forward and when his fingers grazed her cheek, his middle finger tipping her chin up so that her gaze was caught in the rich cerulean intensity of his, she didn't flinch.

"Look at me, Carly.” His authoritative tone was one she couldn't ignore and as a physical heat passed from the tips of his fingers to her own sensitive skin, she obeyed. It was as if he pierced her soul and could see right through the layers, the facade, and her defenses.

"You are a successful business woman,
si
?"

She nodded.

"One boyfriend, a hundred.
Dio mio
it does not matter. What matters is you have pride. Pride in yourself. You have that, do you not, Carly Mason?"

Emotion, thick and choking, caught in her throat and she simply nodded.

"Good. That is all that is required,” he said matter-of-factly. But the term pride goeth before a fall came unbidden to Carly's mind. Did she have too much pride?

"Let's go.” Marco stood with the ease of a finely tuned animal, unfurling long legs, tall, proud and powerful. He held a bronzed hand out to her. “Time to have some fun."

For a second Carly stared at him and hesitated.

Only two days left. What are you going to do?
her sub-conscious demanded.

Then she smiled at him, and the world that hung on her shoulders vanished. “The genie has spoken."

With Marco at her heels, she spent the morning in glorious abandonment, trekking over the golden sands circling the island, delighting in the myriad of small fish seen from the rocky peninsula.

By mid-day they decided to settle at the water's edge.

Walking around the island, laughing and chatting had been almost easy. Sitting alongside Marco now, intensely aware of his closeness, was something Carly hadn't counted on. Suddenly, a sense of excitement tangled with nerves and heat and ... lust, all rolled into one enormous ball in the pit of her stomach and threatened to overwhelm her. Keeping her gaze lowered, she made a great fuss of laying her towel down on the golden sand, flicking any minute speck of sand from its edges.

"Your perfectionism is showing,” Marco drawled, snagging Carly from her lust-crazed thoughts. Her head snapped up.

Oh, dear Lord. Her jaw dropped, blood pounding through her veins at breakneck speed as her gaze leveled on Marco.

He was bare.

Well, okay, not quite naked—but bare chested, bare, down his beautifully muscled torso, to that little dip below his belly button, where a smattering of dark wiry hair peeked above.