The Good, the Bad and the Wild (20 page)

‘Or I’m going to make you prove it.’

And then he did.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘T
HERE
you are. What are you hiding in here for?’

Eva looked up from the exquisite parchment that had the Alegria family tree hand-drawn on it by fourteenth-century monks, to see Nick striding into the palazzo’s library with a frown on his face and a picnic basket under his arm.

‘Studying your ancestors,’ she replied, acknowledging the flutter of excitement that always gripped her when she saw him again.

‘Don’t start. I’ve already had a lecture about my so-called ancestors from Don Vincenzo today,’ he said, but to her joy he sounded exasperated rather than upset.

It had been over a week since she’d eavesdropped on his lunch with Don Vincenzo—and since then she’d enjoyed watching his relationship with his grandfather soften and grow. She knew Nick was still opposed to inheriting the palazzo, but Don Vincenzo had proved to be patient and kind and surprisingly astute—and he’d worn down Nick’s resistance to him on every
other front. The two men had a lot in common, despite Nick’s attempts to dwell on their differences, and it had been sweet to see him struggling to cope with his growing affection for the old man. She wondered if he knew he was making an attachment here he would find it hard to break.

‘I thought you had a whole day of meetings with Don Vincenzo’s lawyers in Milan?’ she said, inordinately pleased to see him back so soon.

‘Not any more.’ Grabbing her wrist, he hauled her out of the chair. ‘I gave them the slip,’ he said, dragging her out of the room and down the corridor. ‘We’re playing hooky for the rest of the day.’

‘We are?’ she asked, excitement making her voice rise.

He squeezed her hand and grinned. ‘Yeah, we are.’ He lifted the wicket basket. ‘And I’ve bought supplies so we don’t have to come back till we start to starve.’

She giggled, like a child escaping from the classroom, as he led her out of the palazzo’s back door, then climbed the steeply terraced ornamental gardens towards an overgrown orchard of lemon trees. As they trekked down the country lane through the trees Eva struggled to keep pace with his long strides and control the ecstatic flutter of her heartbeat at the promise of a new adventure.

She’d become addicted to the adrenaline rush of being Nick Delisantro’s lover. Their time together had rushed past in a haze of hot passion-filled nights and long lazy days as they explored Lake Garda and its surrounding towns and villages—and every inch of each other’s bodies. He never ceased to surprise her, to arouse her, to provoke and excite her—and she’d found herself conquering every challenge and rejoicing in every risk.

In fact, she was a little bit afraid she might have become as wild as he was. But she couldn’t seem to find the will to worry about it too much. And if there were moments when she held him a little too tightly, when she had to bite back the urge to ask him to confide more about himself and the demons that she knew still haunted him, or wondered about how she was going to cope back in her old life when their time was up, she refused to dwell on them. This was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure that had already changed her for ever. She’d become so much bolder, so much more independent and she was loving the new, improved, devil-may-care Eva Redmond far too much to force her back into her shell even when her dangerous lover was no longer by her side to tempt her into trouble.

And she didn’t need to know about Nick’s past, because she’d already come to terms with the fact that they had no future together. There were only two days left until he returned to San
Francisco and she went back to London. And while neither of them had mentioned it, they both knew it was coming.

Eventually they reached a sloping meadow, a good mile above the palazzo, edged by ancient trees, and carpeted with wild flowers. She toed off her sandals and let her bare toes sink into the course grass and fragrant blooms. A light breeze tempered the scorching heat of the summer sun.

Dumping the basket on the ground, Nick flopped down on his back beside it. ‘We’re stopping here,’ he said, hooking his hands behind his head. ‘That thing weighs a bloody ton.’

Eva laughed. ‘Fine by me, Romeo,’ she teased.

‘Hey, don’t get cocky. I wheedled lunch out of Maria, didn’t I?’ he grumbled, mentioning the palazzo’s chef, just one of the many members of staff who Eva knew adored him—so she doubted much wheedling had been involved. ‘And hefted it all the way up here,’ he finished.

‘Fair enough.’ She grinned, kneeling next to him to open the basket. ‘I’ll carry it back.’

‘Big deal,’ he said, lifting up on an elbow to pluck out a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio, while Eva laid out the checkered cloth Maria had packed. ‘It’ll be empty by then.’

She snorted out an unladylike laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face as she laid out the array of mouth-watering anti-pasti dishes.

Finding a corkscrew, he twisted it into the bottle in a few efficient strokes and yanked the
cork with a satisfying pop. ‘Laugh all you want, sweetheart, but I intend to exact a high price for all my hard work.’

He handed her a chilled glass of the pale amber wine.

‘Oh, goodie!’ she said cheekily, enjoying the way his eyes darkened dangerously as she took a fortifying sip.

Nick watched Eva eat as he devoured his meal—and thought about devouring her. The agonising sexual tension tightened deliciously every time she flicked him a flirtatious glance over the rim of her wine glass, or when she tore open a ripe fig and bit into the succulent fruit or licked the sweet juice off her lips.

God, she was so gorgeous. So lush and sexy and playful and provocative. She turned him on to the point of madness, simply by breathing. And yet she’d proved to be a surprisingly calming influence when it came to dealing with all the tangled emotions that the time he spent with his grandfather seemed to bring to the surface.

Even on that day over a week ago, when he’d overreacted so spectacularly to Don Vincenzo’s decision to leave his estate to him, having her on the boat beside him, being able to lose himself in her had been enough to take the turmoil and the anger away.

He still didn’t want the damn inheritance, not that Don Vincenzo would listen to any of his
objections, but he didn’t feel nearly so trapped now, so scared of accepting the old man’s affection. And the main reason for that had been Eva’s presence. He didn’t know how or why. But he did know he was going to miss her when he had to go back to San Francisco alone—her bright sense of humour, her easy affection, even her foolish concern for his feelings about this reunion or her misplaced faith in his integrity, not to mention her sexy, responsive little body. She made him feel lighter and more carefree than he had since he was a boy.

He hurled the hunk of ciabatta he’d been eating into the underbrush. No need to worry about their parting yet, he still had another couple of days to enjoy her. Brushing his hands on his hiking shorts, he crooked a finger at her. ‘Picnic’s over, sweetheart. It’s payback time.’

Putting down her paper plate slowly, she darted a glance to her right. ‘Only if you catch me first,’ she said, then, to his amazement, leapt onto her feet in one fluid movement and shot off like a gazelle.

He swore and levered himself up to chase after her. She was a lot faster than he would have given her credit for, plus he had a belly full of food to contend with. So they were both breathless and laughing hard when he finally tagged her round the waist and slung her to the ground, rolling over to take the brunt of the fall and then settling on top of her.

Holding her wrists in one hand, he levered them above her head and looked down into her laughing eyes as she wriggled furiously trying to buck him off. ‘So finally I know how you stayed a virgin so long,’ he joked. ‘You run faster than an Olympic sprinter.’

Her body stilled and she looked away, the flags of colour on her cheeks flying high.

‘Hey, I’m kidding,’ he said. He’d embarrassed her and he hadn’t meant to.

She looked back. ‘That’s okay.’

‘No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘It’s nothing,’ she said, but the vivid colour on her cheeks said otherwise.

He let go of her wrists, but kept her pinned to the ground. ‘It’s not nothing. What did I say?’

He saw her swallow, knew that shuttered look that meant she was building up the courage to ask something. ‘Does it still bother you? That I was a virgin?’

He wanted to laugh off the question. Say of course it didn’t bother him. But the problem was it did. Now more than ever. Because however hard he’d tried he couldn’t explain away the feeling of responsibility towards her that kept growing every time they made love. Every time she clung to him and begged him for release. Every time she sobbed out his name while reaching orgasm. Every time he taught her a new way to please him, or showed her a new way he could please her. The truth was he loved knowing he
was the first man who had ever made her feel that way—and apart from making him feel like a Neanderthal jerk, it scared the hell out of him, because it made no sense at all. He didn’t have any claim on her, any more than she did on him, and he didn’t want to have, so why did he feel so possessive?

‘Fine.’ He forced a self-deprecating smile to his lips. ‘It does bother me a bit.’ His hands settled on her waist, the thin satin of her dress brushing his palms. ‘I want to know why it took you so long.’

‘If I tell you,’ she began, her hands covering his, her eyes thoughtful, ‘would you tell me something about yourself in return?’

Damn, he should have seen that one coming. But instead of evading her, as he had always done before, he nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’ Holding her hands, he leant forward and kissed the warm sun-kissed skin on the tip of her nose. ‘So what’s your answer?’

‘You have to promise not to laugh,’ she added, colouring again, and looking so vulnerable his heart lurched in his chest.

‘I won’t laugh,’ he said, and he knew he wouldn’t. Whatever reasons she had for denying the passion inside her for so long, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like them.

‘Can I sit up?’

He wanted to say no, but could see she needed the distance. ‘All right.’ He lifted off her.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she looked out into the meadow at the afternoon sun dipping towards the trees. ‘Actually it’s remarkably boring,’ she said carefully. ‘I didn’t do much socialising when I was a teenager.’

‘Why not?’

She jerked her shoulder looking surprised at the question. Although he didn’t know why she would be. She was such a lively, engaging person.

‘I was horribly nerdy. My parents were academics and they wanted me to concentrate on my studies. And I wanted to please them.’

She made it sound simple. But he wasn’t convinced. Why had she been so dead set on pleasing them?

‘By the time I got to university I was two years ahead of my peers. And I didn’t know the first thing about boys.’ She gave a hopeless little laugh. ‘Plus I think my love of pirate fantasies may have given me some unrealistic expectations. And by the time I got over that, and realised that swashbuckling sex gods are quite thin on the ground in real life, I was stuck in such a huge rut it took someone spectacular to kick me out of it.’

The shy smile she sent him had his heart tripping over. He skimmed his thumb down her cheek. ‘Please tell me you don’t mean me.’

No one had ever thought he was spectacular
before. And he knew he wasn’t. So why did it feel so good to hear her say it?

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘Only in a sexual sense, you understand.’

‘You little tease,’ he said softly, framing her face. Then he kissed her.

Her lips softened, and he fed on the sweet, heady taste of figs and innocence. The soft sigh that issued against his cheek made it hard to focus. But he forced himself to draw back. Not to take her in the quick greedy gulps he wanted to.

‘It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?’ he said, trying to lighten the mood and dispel the feeling of hopelessness that threatened to engulf him. ‘That you were a good girl and did what your parents wanted, while I was a rebel and did the opposite. And yet we both ended up regretting it.’

Her eyes flickered with something that looked like sadness. ‘Why
did
you run away from home?’

The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question
, he thought grimly.

‘Was that your question?’ he asked, stalling.

She nodded. He debated giving her a sanitised version. Or making something up that would deflect her from the truth about who he really was. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lied to a woman after all.

But as he met her trusting gaze he knew he couldn’t lie to her. Better to take the stars out of her eyes, once and for all.

‘When my dad came home from the hospital the night Mum died, I was fourteen,’ he began, the horror of that long ago summer night making his gut churn. ‘I thought my whole world had collapsed. But it hadn’t. Not yet.’