Wanton Heat (A Feel the Heat Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (2 page)

“You’re right, you are blunt and persistent.” He scowled. “But you forgot to add ‘pain in the ass’ to the list of your dubious attributes.”

“You didn’t seem to find my
attributes
so repugnant five minutes ago.” She thrust out her chest for good measure in a purely childish “so there.” The part where her nipples hardened beneath his potent stare kinda undermined the point she’d been trying to make.

“Bag. Please?” He softened his command this time, and she didn’t know what was worse. The way she couldn’t stop staring at his bare chest, or the way his cajoling manner made her feel a little gooey inside.

“Fine.” She handed the bag over, silently cheering at not having to lug the thing around any more. “While we’re listing attributes, why don’t we come up with a few for you?”

She snapped her fingers. “Let’s start with domineering and demanding.”

He shrugged. “Valuable in my line of work.”

“What work’s that? Ordering subordinates to do your bidding or polishing the crown jewels?”

The second the retort popped out, Zoe wished she could take it back. She hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, because when guys “polished” their “crown jewels”…ah, hell. She may as well reboard the ferry and head back to Naples now.

She heard a stifled snort, and when she shot him a quick sideways glance, he wore the smug grin of a guy who wasn’t going to let her get away with that one.

“Polishing the crown jewels can be a lot of fun,” he said, his grin widening as she picked up the pace a little. Maybe if she broke into a run, she could ditch him completely.

“I’ll take your word for it.” She tilted her nose higher, knowing it was way too late for aloofness now.

“Maybe you’d like to help—”

“Stop right there.” She came to an abrupt halt and held up her hand. “We need to clear the air.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “What happened back there when we first met? A mistake.”

She waved her hand between them. “You and me? We’re both strong personalities used to getting our own way. So stands to reason we’re going to butt heads and verbally spar for the next week.”

Intrigue darkened his eyes to midnight. “Go on.”

“I’m a natural flirt. It’s my thing. But you…” She shook her head. “You’re the prince of Osturo, and as long as you don’t agree to my business proposal, you’re also the enemy. So quit trying to unnerve me with your hot and cold act, and your lame-ass innuendoes, got it?”

Before he could respond, she pointed to his chest. “And for fuck’s sake, put some clothes on.”

She expected him to bristle or glower or order her the hell off his property. Instead, he tilted his head, as if studying her, before giving her a brisk nod.

“If your presentation is as interesting as you, guess it wouldn’t hurt to hear you out.” With another deliberately insolent stare that swept her from head to foot, he strode away, leaving her with a tantalizing view of a firm ass she yearned to kick. Hard.

…

While their houseguest freshened up, Dominic paced the rooftop conservatory.

When he’d been a child needing to escape
the adult cheek-pinchers at the many lavish parties his parents hosted, he’d head for this room. Perched on the third floor at the farthest corner of the west wing, it had the best views of the island and surrounding ocean. And on a clear day, if he squinted really hard, he swore he could see his favorite place on the planet.

Ancora.

He’d traveled the world many times, had spent several years studying economics at Oxford and later living in London, but no place was home like Ancora.

As a young boy, the weekends his parents would whisk him away there were the happiest of his life, and later, in his teens, he’d make time to chill there whenever he needed R&R. He’d spent a week there after his parents’ death, and a month after Lilia’s. Grieving. Remembering. Forgiving.

It was his sanctuary.

And if Zoe Keaton had her way, it would be swarming with tourists.

Merda.

He continued pacing, oblivious to the polished marble-tiled floor and massive arched windows that let in the light from dawn to dusk, only pausing to stab at a button to open the retractable roof that brought the outdoors in. He liked that, the feeling of not being boxed in and confined. Freedom.

He yearned for it. A life without the heritage of hundreds of years dogging his every decision. But if the tragedy of the last five years had taught him anything, it was no use wishing for life to be different. He had to cope with the hand he’d been dealt and get on with the job. The job of ensuring that Osturo, his birthplace, and the adjoining island that his family owned, Ancora, prospered.

He’d been doing a shitty job of it so far, but that was all about to change according to that brazen American woman who’d strutted onto the castle grounds as if she were the queen instead of Catarina.

He should’ve known she was trouble the moment he caught sight of her blatantly ogling him. He should’ve given her marching orders. She was just like everyone else who entered his sphere: she wanted something.

In her case, she planned to bring tourists to Ancora. Yeah, like he’d allow that to happen. Destroying such a beautiful part of the world was sacrilege, even if he hadn’t made a promise to himself to maintain it as is. His father’s plans for the islands had been simple: preserve their pristine beauty, especially that of wild Ancora. And in honor of his dad’s memory, Dominic hadn’t touched a thing. He owed his father that much. So Kaluna’s proposed expansion and worldwide ad campaign? Not going to happen.

But because of the way she’d sparked his sexual interest, for an insane moment he’d wished she were different, that she didn’t want something from him.

He’d endured schemers his entire life and had learned over the years that people would go to any lengths to get what they wanted.

Oxford students who’d sucked up to him for entry into his world. London businessman who’d done the same. Women at parties who deliberately targeted him in the hope of gaining more than a bed partner for the night.

He’d learned to protect himself well, discounting his disastrous engagement to Lilia.

Now, a bold, attractive woman had stormed his castle, wanting something he wasn’t prepared to give. He should’ve definitely thrown her out. Instead, he’d flirted with her, and his cock had joined the party.

He’d deliberately gone for an ocean swim half an hour before her scheduled arrival, wanting to keep her waiting. He liked his adversaries off guard. But his plan had gone awry when she’d been early, and he’d been caught with his pants down. Literally.

He hadn’t expected her to be so…so…bold. The way she’d looked at him, the way she’d touched him…damn, he was hard just thinking about it.

The sooner he heard what she had to say and he sent her on her way, the better. He had no intention of letting her stay a week, despite what his meddling Nonna wanted. Zoe could check out Kaluna’s resort on Ancora, then take the ferry straight back to Naples.

And in the meantime, he’d get a PI he often used in business dealings to investigate Kaluna’s plans for Ancora. Better to be prepared than blindsided. After Lilia’s treachery? He’d never make that mistake again.

He slid his smartphone out of his suit jacket pocket, found the PI’s details, and fired off an e-mail.

No way would anyone take him for a fool again.

“I saw you chatting to our guest earlier.” His grandmother strode into the room, a nimble seventy-five and as mentally sharp as anyone half her age. “What’s she like?”

He gritted his teeth against the urge to blurt exactly what he thought of Zoe Keaton. “She’s pushy and obnoxious.”

“She’s also beautiful.” Catarina took a seat at a wrought iron table, poured herself a glass of water, and added a slice of lemon. “Smart too, if she has you this wound up.”

He accepted the glass of water she poured for him and sat opposite. “We need to be on good terms with the Kaluna Resort, and that’s the only reason I’ll meet her.”

“Yet you’re agreeing to let her stay a week?” Catarina tapped her bottom lip, pretending to ponder, while Dominic ignored that telltale matchmaking gleam in her eyes. “Interesting.”

“I only allowed that because you blackmailed me into it.” He shook his head. “If you don’t let your cardiologist check you over more regularly, I’ll kill you myself.”

Catarina tsk-tsked. “Don’t waste your Italian theatrics on me.” She grinned. “Save your zeal for someone who deserves it, someone like our pretty visitor—”

“Nonna…” His warning fell on deaf ears as she reached over and patted his hand.

“Darling boy, I haven’t seen you look so…riled in a long time.” She squeezed his hand and released it. “It means this woman has sparked something inside you. A passion that has been lacking for too long—”

“It’s business, Nonna, nothing more.” He had to interrupt, before she ventured into territory he’d rather avoid.

He knew she meant well, but on the rare occasion Catarina brought up the subject of his dead fiancée and how he’d lost the love of his life, it took all his willpower not to blurt the sorry truth. His grandmother had been through enough pain in losing her sole surviving son a few years ago—no point adding to it. Besides, speaking ill of the dead would gain nothing. Best to leave the past in the past and hope to God he never made the same mistakes again.

“You spend too much time focusing on business.” She tut-tutted. “These islands don’t have to be your responsibility. Allowing Kaluna to increase tourism will allow you the freedom to explore your other ventures overseas and—”

“I’m not going anywhere, so stop trying to get rid of me.”

Dominic knew the archaic royalty system that once dominated these islands was obsolete. The Italian government had more influence than he ever would. But the Ricci family owned land on Osturo and Ancora—a lot of it—and no matter how outdated the royals were here, his father had wanted to maintain the tradition of doing what was best for the people of the islands. So that’s what he would do, too.

But he didn’t want to argue with Catarina, either. His grandmother had doted on Franco, her eldest son, and Dominic wanted to make her proud of him, too. She deserved that much for the hardships she’d faced.

It had been bad enough she’d suffered two heart attacks following his father’s death. He didn’t want her having a third one that could prove fatal. He’d seen a few worrying signs lately: her occasional pallor and an increasing frequency of angina that she tried valiantly to hide. And despite her reassurances, he wanted her to have more regular checkups.

“Well, if you’re not leaving the island to go in search of a little fun, maybe the fun can come to you.” She raised her glass in a silent cheer as he struggled not to think about how much fun Zoe Keaton might be.

The woman was a menace, but he had to admit, she was an exceptionally sexy menace. The type of woman to make a man forget his past. A woman who could make a man forget his own damn name.

She was not his type. But for several long minutes in the gardens earlier, he’d almost wished she could be.

“Nonna, how many poor saps have you tried to pair up on this island over the years?”

Catarina screwed up her brow, pretending to think. “Hmm…let me see. Six marriages. Four engagements. And several very happy tourist hookups—”

“You need to stop trying to fix me up.” He bit back a grin at her wounded expression. Truth was, his nonna was more famous for her role as matchmaker on Osturo than she was as a figurehead queen. “It never ends well.”

Catarina pouted. “Maybe because you’re so closed off you won’t let any woman close. Maybe those cool blondes you prefer, the ones I’ve tried to set you up with, aren’t right for you. Maybe I should find a different type of woman for you. Someone to challenge you. Someone like Z—”

“You should stop meddling in my personal life and concentrate on more important things, like your health.” He pointed at her heart. “You’re seeing that cardiologist in Naples next month if I have to kidnap you to do it.”

Catarina huffed and crossed her arms. “I said I would, if you let Zoe see Ancora so she can refine her campaign over the next week, listen to what she has to say, and keep an open mind.”

He nodded. “I’ll listen to her business proposal, organize a tour of Ancora with one of the guides, then send her back to the mainland.” He thumped the table for emphasis. “That’s it.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out.” Catarina finished her drink, set her glass on the table, and stood. “I’ll let you have your meeting in peace.”

She paused at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “But don’t forget what I said.” She turned away, but not before Dominic heard her murmur, “You need to start living again.”

Dominic had a life. Not the one he’d envisioned, but a life nonetheless.

A life under serious threat of being disrupted by a beautiful, tousle-haired blonde with a lush mouth and sinful eyes.

Dio mio.

The sooner he kicked her cute ass off his island, the better.

…

Zoe could get used to this.

She padded into the bedroom, her bare feet leaving water smears. If the rain shower in the lavish, pale-gold marble bathroom had been impressive, it had nothing on the gues
t room she’d been assigned for the next week.

It was divine. From the ice-blue walls to the cool ivory marble-tiled floor, from the mini-chandelier to the cherub-embossed cornices, every item in the room had exquisite attention to detail. Classy without being overbearing. She’d bet Catarina was behind the decor. As for the king-size bed covered in opulent cream sheets offset by plump turquoise cushions, she could spend her entire time in here alone.