Unnoticed and Untouched (4 page)

“The last thing you need is another woman puffing up your already-outrageous ego,” she stated firmly. “So, if you don’t mind, while I am certain you could charm the panties off a nun, I’d prefer if you didn’t attempt it on me.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. Faith couldn’t believe she’d actually said that to him. She was not unaffected by his male beauty, no matter how she protested otherwise. But he didn’t need to know that, did he?

Except he wasn’t a stupid man. When he’d touched her, she’d felt the blush bloom across her cheeks. Surely he’d seen it. Just as he’d no doubt heard the breathy note in her voice when she’d asked if he was flirting with her.

She’d denied she was affected, but it was a lie. What living, breathing woman wouldn’t be attracted to this man?

Faith wanted to snort in disgust. Really,
she
should be the woman who wasn’t because she’d watched him go through at least five girlfriends since she’d worked for him. Not only that, but she’d also seen the tabloid reports
on his notorious love-them-and-leave-them lifestyle. How could she ever find a man like him attractive?

And yet she did.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever charmed a nun,” he said, his voice containing a hint of steel beneath the silk. “I only charm those who wish to be charmed.”

“Then I’ll consider myself safe.” The tops of her ears burned.

“For now,” he said.

Faith tried to concentrate on the ropes of muscle beneath her hands. It would be so much easier if she could touch his skin instead of his trousers, but this was definitely safer. Seeing his body, touching his skin—it made curls of heat sizzle into her just thinking of it. Even now, though there was fabric between her skin and his, it wasn’t quite enough to block the sensuality of touching him.

Concentrate
.

Faith pressed her thumbs into the muscle and worked at the knots. She wasn’t a true massage therapist, but she’d thought she could help him by using a couple of the things that Elaine had taught her before moving back to Ohio.

What else could she do? She couldn’t let him stand out there in the hall, and she couldn’t let him go back downstairs when he was in such pain.

“Should I go down and tell Stefan what’s happened?” she asked, suddenly remembering the uniformed man they’d left on the street.

“I’ll call.” Renzo took his phone out of his pocket.

“He can come up, if you like.”

Renzo’s eyes were flat. “No, that is not necessary.”

Faith supposed Stefan was quite used to waiting outside women’s apartments. The thought did not cheer her. Would the man think his boss was up here getting cozy with her? Did she care?

Renzo made the call, told Stefan to go home while Faith tried not to swallow her tongue, and then hung up and gave her an even look.

“Don’t look so worried,” he told her. “I’ll take a taxi home.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and told herself it didn’t matter if Stefan thought Renzo was spending the night with her. It was getting late and Stefan would want to return home, so it was kind of Renzo not to make him wait.

“Is this helping at all?” she asked, still pressing her thumbs into his thigh muscle.

“
Si
, I think so.”

“How long has this been going on, Mr. D’Angeli?”

His icy blue eyes glittered. “I refuse to discuss this with you unless you call me Renzo.”

Faith’s cheeks heated. “I had thought it best if we go back to the way things were before the party tonight.”

Because she needed to put distance between them. She needed to remember that he was her boss, and not a man she could ever know more personally.

“And I disagree. If you wish to know about my leg, Faith, you will address me the way I have asked you to. It seems a bit ridiculous to call me Mr. D’Angeli considering where your hands are, yes?”

She barely resisted the urge to pinch him. “If this were a spa, I highly doubt you’d be asking the technician to call you Renzo.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Depends on how attractive she was, I imagine.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said.

“And possessed of an outrageous ego, I understand.”

Faith couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh dear. I’m sorry I said that.” It might be true, but she shouldn’t have said it. One evening pretending to be his date didn’t give her a license
to insult him. He was still her boss when everything was said and done.

“You aren’t sorry at all. And I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is true.”

“Will you tell me about your leg now?”

“Will you agree to call me Renzo?”

What else could she say? “Yes.”

“
Bene
.” He sighed. “It happens more lately than it used to. The doctors told me I would never walk without a limp, that I would always need a cane—but I proved them wrong. Except,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice, “that it seems as if my victory was only temporary.”

She stopped rubbing for half a second, her fingers going limp at the thought of this proud man needing a cane once more. “There is nothing that can be done?”

“Probably not. But I will not give in just yet.” He leaned toward her then, took her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “No one can know about this, Faith. It’s very important that no one knows.”

She could only blink at him. “I don’t see how you can keep it a secret if something like this happens again.”

He released her and sat back again. “I won’t let it happen.”

“That didn’t work so well for you tonight, did it?” She was growing angry, and not because he was stubborn, but because he frightened her. She knew where this conviction sprang from, knew what he did not say. The Viper. The Grand Prix circuit. Though he had a racing team, he didn’t feel anyone else could ride the bike to victory just yet. It was personal to him, though she did not quite know why.

The arrogant man intended to risk his neck on the track and to hell with everything else. It infuriated her.

She got to her feet, her entire body trembling with energy.
She needed to move, needed to do something, or she might explode.
Why did she care?

“Do you want something to drink?”

He was watching her carefully. “A brandy would be nice.”

She wanted to laugh, but she did not. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t the Ritz. I don’t have a liquor cabinet. I may have some vodka, though.”

Elaine had liked vodka and Faith was pretty sure she’d left half a bottle behind.

“And tonic water,” she added. “I know I have that.”

“Vodka and tonic would be fine,” he said. Faith turned and fled to the kitchen. She found the vodka shoved in the back of a cabinet. Then she filled a glass with ice, added some vodka and poured tonic water on top. For good measure, she made another for herself. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she had the feeling she needed something to take the edge off.

This night had been strange, to say the least.

Renzo was sitting where she’d left him, his leg still propped up, his head leaning back against the sofa cushion. His eyes were closed, and she took a moment to admire the symmetrical beauty of his face. His nose was long and lean, his cheekbones high, his lips full and firm. He had a mouth made to kiss, she thought. His top lip dipped in the center, just slightly, and she found herself wanting to nibble on that sexy little dip.

It was a sensual mouth. A cruel mouth. A mouth she wanted on hers even though she knew better. Just for a moment. Just so she could see for herself what made all those women so willing to put up with this man.

His eyes snapped open, then went unerringly to her face. The heat she saw there was unmistakable. It nearly fixed her feet to the spot, but she forced herself to move
as if nothing was any different. As if they were still Miss Black and Mr. D’Angeli, and this was simply a morning at the office and she was taking him coffee.

She crossed the distance between them and held out the drink. “
Grazie
,” he said, taking it from her and sitting it on the table beside him.

She set her own drink down and turned back to him, prepared to ask if he wanted her to continue rubbing his leg. But the look in his eyes scorched her.

Renzo reached up and took her hand in his. Her skin sizzled as fire snaked through her.

“You feel it, too,” he said. “I know you do.”

Faith could not speak. She did feel it, whatever
it
was. And she didn’t like it. It made her achy and jumpy and worried. He was the wrong man, the man who could destroy her present just as Jason Moore had destroyed her past.

With one tug, he pulled her down onto his lap, his arms going around her to cradle her close. “Renzo,” she started to protest, but he bent and fitted his gorgeous mouth to hers, silencing her.

S
O MANY
sensations crashed through Faith at once: confusion, fear, lust, passion, joy. She wanted to slide her arms around his neck, arch into him and beg him to show her what no man ever had before.

And she wanted to shove away from him, put as much distance between them as possible. She wanted him to go. And she wanted him to stay.

His mouth on hers was firm, sensual, demanding. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, enticing her, entreating her. She was determined not to give in to the invitation, but he caressed her cheek and she gasped. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, stroked against hers.

It was, in its own way, heaven. Her heart hammered so hard in her ears that she could hear nothing else.

Faith made a sound, realized it was a moan. It was a needy sound from deep in her throat, the kind of sound that invited a man to continue, to take it further.

No!
No, no, no. That was not at all what she wanted. She wanted it to stop—

And yet she made no move to stop it. In fact, she shivered in his embrace at the thought of more. The truth was that Renzo D’Angeli kissed like he’d been born to do so. His mouth moved over hers, fitted to hers, coaxed hers.
And she gave, gave as much as she was able, gave more than she thought she could.

She meant to push him away, but she wound her arms around his neck instead, let the hot sensations roll over her. She was electric, incandescent, her body sparking and tightening in ways she’d not thought possible. This was what drew the women, then.
This
.

A moment later she tilted, and then the world was shifting as he pressed her back onto the couch, his hard strong body pressing into hers. Panic shot through her. It suddenly reminded her of another time, another place, when she was young and innocent and thought she was in love. Jason had pressed her onto her parents’ couch just like this, his body rubbing hers almost painfully, his hands grasping and groping beneath her dress.

Renzo did nothing of the sort, and yet Faith couldn’t get the images out of her head. The fear, the panic.
A good girl wouldn’t do such a thing, Faith. A good girl keeps her body sacred until she enters into the bonds of matrimony
.

It was her father talking, but she suddenly couldn’t make the sainted Reverend Winston go away. And she couldn’t allow that ugliness to ruin whatever beautiful feeling was crashing through her because of Renzo.

She put her hands on Renzo’s shoulders and pushed. He lifted his head, a question in his blue eyes, and Faith took the opportunity to scramble out from under him. She fell onto the floor in a tangle of fabric, then shoved herself upright and retreated across the room.

Renzo stood, his features dark and alarmed. “Faith?”

Faith wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m sorry, but that was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, so please just forget it happened.”

He looked stormy, and so sexy she wanted to weep. Had
that gorgeous, gorgeous man really been kissing her? Little Faith Louise Winston of all damn people?

“Forget?” he asked dangerously. “I hardly think that is possible, Faith.”

“It was a mistake,” she said. “I work for you, and tomorrow I’ll be at the office like always, and you’ll be there doing what you always do, and it will be so awkward that I’ll want to scream. But I won’t. And you’ll find a new girlfriend soon, and then you can forget about kissing me.”

He shoved his hand through his hair, muttering in Italian, and then picked up his vodka and tonic and drained it. “Why would I want to forget it, Faith?”

“Because I’m nothing special,” she said. Good Lord, was the man dense?

“Don’t talk like that,” he commanded, his eyes flashing, and she laughed nervously.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m awful or anything. I
am
special, but in my world. Not in yours. You wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t dumped Katie Palmer today.”

“Katie Palmer has nothing to do with this,” he growled.

“But she does,” Faith said, hoping she sounded as cool and logical as she was trying so hard to be. She’d been kissing Lorenzo D’Angeli, motorcycle magnate, Grand Prix bad boy, right here in her humble little living room. If he weren’t still standing there in all his magnificently male glory, she’d think she was making the whole thing up. That the vodka and tonic she hadn’t even taken a sip of had gone to her head and made her hallucinate. “Katie Palmer is the kind of woman you prefer. All your girlfriends have looked like some version of her, you know.”

His gaze narrowed, but she tumbled on recklessly. “Tall, leggy, effortlessly beautiful, with long dark hair and perfect makeup and size zero bodies that could really probably use a hamburger or two a bit more often …” She cleared
her throat, waved a hand down her body. “As you can see, I am none of those things. I’m short, curvy and not in the least bit effortlessly beautiful. And I like to eat. Pasta, hamburgers, the occasional French fry. No, you should really go find that Lissa woman and make her your next fling.”

He looked utterly furious. “
Santo cielo
, I am not arguing with you over this.” He took his phone from his pocket. “Perhaps you are correct. Lissa would certainly not argue with me when I wanted to kiss her.”

“Not many women would,” Faith said, stung in spite of everything she’d said to push him away.

“But you did.” He made a call to a taxi company while she stood there feeling miserable, her heart squeezing tight as she wondered if she’d made a mistake.

Of course she hadn’t. He was her boss!

“I need our relationship to be professional,” she said when he finished his call, as much to convince herself as him. “I like my job and I don’t want to feel uncomfortable there.”

Renzo waved a hand as if it were nothing. Which, to him, it probably was. Women came and went with alarming regularity in his life. What was one more?

Indeed, his fury with her seemed forgotten as he moved toward the door with only the barest trace of a limp. “It never happened, Faith. Thank you for the massage, and for the drink. I will see you in the office tomorrow.”

And then he walked out and left her standing there, her lips still tingling and her body aching with thwarted desire. Either she was the bravest woman in the world, or the biggest fool to send him away.

The problem was that she wasn’t quite sure which.

Renzo got into the office early the next morning. Faith had not yet arrived when he walked past her desk and into his
office with the tall windows and custom decor. Low-slung Italian leather couches faced each other in front of his desk, and he dropped onto one of them to read the reports that were sitting on the table there.

The Viper was nearly ready to take to Italy. The thought should fill him with triumph, and yet it only made him worry about what else might go wrong. He’d taken a pain pill last night, and this morning he felt perfectly fine—but when was the next time his leg would give out? And what would his rivals do if they learned he was not at his best? Niccolo Gavretti was looking for a chance to cream him. If his biggest rival knew about his weakness, he would exploit it whenever and however possible.

And then there was Faith. Renzo rubbed his temples for a moment and then dropped the reports. Where had his world-renowned cool gone last night when he’d needed it? He’d succumbed to the temptation to kiss her because she’d bent over him and her scent had driven him insane. He’d wanted just a taste. One brief taste, to see if he was losing his mind in lusting after his PA, or if there was something more beneath that buttoned-up surface.

He could still remember the utter shock he’d felt when his mouth touched hers. The lightning bolt of excitement that had rocketed through him with the same force as a fast ride on a fast track. There was nothing more exhilarating than opening up the throttle and giving the bike gas.

But kissing Faith had compared to that feeling. He’d wanted her. His body had gone from zero to two hundred plus in a matter of seconds. Even thinking of it now made him hard.

He knew when a woman wanted him, and she definitely had. And he’d had every intention of taking advantage of the chemistry between them at that moment. He’d been unable
to stop himself from pressing her back on the couch when she’d kissed him with such fervor.

She was hot and sweet and more innocent than she seemed. She’d kissed him with all the finesse of a rank amateur, and yet it had done nothing but heat his blood. He usually liked his women polished and experienced, but Faith had managed to make him forget his preferences.

He’d wanted her and damn the consequences of sleeping with his PA. Hell, he still wanted her. He’d told her the kiss was forgotten, but he had forgotten nothing.

There was a knock on his door and he glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock on the dot, which meant it was probably Faith arriving. “Enter,” he said, standing up and crossing to his desk.

The door slid open and Faith stood there in a boxy black suit, short heels, and with her hair scraped back on her head as always. “I wasn’t sure if you were here,” she said briskly. “Would you like coffee, Mr. D’Angeli?”

A trickle of annoyance filtered through him. “
Si
, that would be good, thank you.”

She turned away.

“Faith,” he called, and she stopped, pivoted to face him again.

“Yes sir?”

The formality grated on him, but he knew she did it to keep him at a distance. He wanted to tell her to take her hair down. To take off that ridiculous boxy jacket and unbutton her blouse to show some cleavage. To come over and wrap her arms around him so he could fit her body to his and kiss her thoroughly.

He would, of course, say none of those things. Another woman would smile and pout and do exactly what he wanted. But not Faith. If he said those things to her, she
would slay him with a cold stare. And then she would walk out of his office and he’d be lucky if she ever came back.

“We’re leaving for Italy in a week. Please make arrangements.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment he thought she would refuse. He waited for it, wondered how he would command her to go once she’d turned him down. Because he wanted her there with him. Because,
maledizione
, he
wanted
her. She intrigued him like no one else with her hidden beauty and prickly demeanor.

And her secrets. He wanted to know her secrets. What had made sweet Faith turn her back on her family?

Color bloomed on her cheeks, brought life and sparkle to her glorious eyes. She hesitated for a long minute. “Yes sir,” she said. “I will.”

Faith had never been outside of the United States before. She had her passport, because it had been required when she’d started working for D’Angeli Motors, but she’d never actually thought she would have reason to use it.

Now, as she stood in her apartment and looked around to make sure she’d forgotten nothing, she could hardly believe she was going. Renzo hadn’t been able to tell her how long they would be gone, but he’d told her to continue to pay her rent here if it made her comfortable since she would be provided housing in Italy at no extra charge.

In his house. Faith gulped. She would be living in his house, a stone’s throw away from him, for twenty-four hours a day. Why had she agreed to go? How could she live with him, as an employee, and watch him go about his life as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them? He had already forgotten it, as he’d assured her he would, while she could think of little else.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that she
imagined he would most certainly entertain women from time to time. In the same house she’d be living in. As an employee.

Faith made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a cry of distress. She’d meant to refuse to go. She’d meant to tell him that she couldn’t go to Italy and could she please have a transfer to another office, but she’d stood there and looked at his handsome face, at the mouth she’d been kissing only hours earlier, and felt all her resolve crumble into nothing.

She’d said yes, just like some besotted female. She was furious with herself over it. For hours, she’d debated going back in there and telling him no, telling him she’d made a mistake and she wanted to stay right here, thank you very much.

But she hadn’t. And now a car was waiting to take her to JFK for the flight to Italy. She took one last look around, and then locked the door behind her and headed down to the street. The driver had already taken her luggage down, so that when she emerged from the building, he popped out of the car and came around to open her door.

She slid into the plush interior of the black town car and belted herself in for the ride. It took nearly an hour in traffic to reach the airport, but once there she was ushered onto a huge Boeing business jet that belonged to D’Angeli Motors.

The interior was nothing like any plane she’d ever been on. She’d had no occasion to board the company’s international jet before, but now she gaped at the sumptuous interior. Renzo was a wealthy man indeed if he could afford all this. Rich wood grains, buttery leather chairs and couches, a bar, televisions and custom carpeting that had the D’Angeli Motors logo woven into it. It was all so stunning, and it only served to remind her of how ridiculous it was to think he’d actually wanted her the night of the
party. She was not the sort of sophisticated woman who matched this lifestyle.

In fact, she’d been thinking of other plane trips she’d taken in the past and she’d dressed for comfort with the typical economy class seating in mind. She wore stretchy jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and tennis shoes she could slip on and off without untying. In her carry-on backpack, she had a couple of books, an ereader, a music player and headphones, along with a few power bars and a bottle of water. She even had a travel pillow, which seemed silly since she was positive this jet was probably equipped with real pillows and blankets.

A sophisticated woman would have arrived wearing the latest fashions and carrying matching luggage—Louis Vuitton, no doubt—instead of dressed like a refugee and carrying snacks.