Back In The Italian's Bed Read Free Page A

CAN see, the beach is completely private.’ Fabrizio watched Jenna gesture towards the secluded cove of pristine sand between the headlands before turning briskly back to the path.
    His ex-lover was nervous. From the moment he’d arrived she hadn’t been still.
    Did she have any idea how movement turned her prim dark suit from corporate camouflage to pure enticement? He doubted it. She wore a distant expression and kept twitching her collar together as if the conservatively cut business shirt was too revealing.
    But following her through the manicured gardens to the sea, he’d been in a perfect position to appreciate the way her skirt clung to her taut backside and gently swelling hips with every step. She’d negotiated the stairs in her high-gloss heels, more suited to a trendy office in Rome, or drinks on a secluded city terrace before a long, friendly, shared siesta.
    He dragged his mind back to the purpose of his visit.
    Face it, Fabrizio, she
is
the reason for the visit.
    One of his staff could have done the final check of the hotel. But from the moment he’d realised Jenna MacDonald was working for De Laurentis, managing the place, there’d been no question but he’d take care of this himself.
    Fabrizio didn’t like unfinished business and Jenna MacDonald was precisely that.
    He resented it. Before her his life had been so simple. Business was serious and women were for pleasure. That had always worked for him and it was the way he intended it to work in future. But she’d upset the neat balance of his life, invading his thoughts when he should have been concentrating on bringing off yet another commercial coup.
    She swung round and for the first time their eyes met. Heat soldered his gut to his pelvis as that aquamarine stare drilled into him. It was the same enticing colour as the sea fringing the golden sand. How often had he lost himself in those liquid depths as he’d surrendered himself to ecstasy?
    Possessiveness roared through him. No matter what she said, she hadn’t finished with him. That surge of attraction wasn’t dead. He saw it in her eyes, in the rapid pulse beating in her throat, in the flush washing over her collarbone.
    So why had she run from him?
    ‘Are you coming?’ she challenged.
    Fabrizio clamped his jaw on a description of exactly how he’d like to come, hard and fast inside her. She’d be gasping his name, those sexy heels locked behind him as he drove her to heaven, recanting her lie that she’d grown bored with him.
    ‘Of course. I don’t want to miss a moment.’
    Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Our clients enjoy it here as much for the seclusion as for the coast, but there’s a spectacular view of the sea from every guest room.’
    ‘So you can listen to the waves from your bed? I understand it’s supposed to be very soothing.’
    Her eyes widened. Obviously she remembered telling him that when he’d once taken her to Sorrento for the weekend. The closest they’d got to the sea was the balcony of their bedroom as they feasted on seafood and wine before abandoning the meal in favour of their bed.
    Fabrizio swallowed a growl of protest at what she’d thrown away. As lovers they’d been spectacular together. Even out of bed, chatting easily, finding shared likes and dislikes, they’d been remarkably…compatible.
    ‘As you say, Villa Bellini is the ultimate in luxury relaxation. It’s an excellent investment.’ She turned and began climbing the rock-cut steps up the cliff.
    He stood back and enjoyed the view. His fingers prickled and his pulse revved at the temptation of that ripe peach bottom lovingly outlined with every step she took.
    Fabrizio shook himself. He was here because he wanted answers.
    And vengeance, though he was unsure what form that would take.
    Now he realised all that could wait.
    What he wanted most urgently was Jenna.
    Fabrizio took the stairs three at a time, halting close behind her as she reached the cliff top, crowding her so she