The Sicilian's Passion Read Free Page A

When she worked she was focused, seeing nothing more than colour and texture taking shape before her eyes, and she put the dark-haired Sicilian out of her mind.
    She had just finished when she heard a soft footfall behind her, and she turned on her stepladder to find Giovanni standing there, his gaze arrested by the brilliant glimmer of deep blue and gold.
    And then the gaze was lifted almost reluctantly to her face, and Kate felt herself imprisoned—impaled, almost—by a shaft of blinding sapphire light.
    â€˜You look surprised,’ she observed in a low voice.
    He was. He had expected…what? That she was too modern, too up-to-the-minute, and that the fabric she chose would look shockingly out of place in this beautiful old house.
    â€˜A little,’ he conceded, with a very Sicilian shrug of his shoulders.
    â€˜You thought I would have poor taste?’
    He looked at her. She had perception, he noted. And such green eyes. And hair like fire. He felt some unknown andunwanted sensation washing over his skin. ‘You should not ask questions to which you do not wish to hear the answers.’
    How ridiculously old-fashioned he sounded! ‘I’m a big girl, Mr Calverri—’
    â€˜ Signor Calverri,’ he corrected softly.
    How could he possibly make his own name sound so beguiling? ‘And?’ she challenged in a husky voice she didn’t quite recognise as her own. ‘On the question of taste?’
    He saw the quickening of her breath, and felt it fire a rapid response in his heart. ‘Your taste is quite exquisite,’ he said quietly.
    Kate let her eyelids flutter down before he read the unwelcome hunger in her eyes. She didn’t like him! So why did she want to keep running his compliment round and round in her head like an old-fashioned record?
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said breathlessly, feeling as uncoordinated as a giraffe as she slowly stepped down off the ladder, unspeakably relieved to see his godmother appear, her face one of delight as she surveyed the finished effect.
    â€˜Oh, Kate! It’s perfect!’
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Better than I could have hoped for in my wildest dreams!’
    Kate found herself having some pretty wild dreams of her own—and most of them seemed to involve the unsmiling face of Giovanni Calverri, trying to imagine what it would be like to be undressed by him or to be kissed by those hard, sensuous lips.
    â€˜Why, Kate,’ said Lady St John, with a little frown of concern, ‘you’d better come and have some lunch—you’ve gone quite pale!’
    â€˜H-have I?’ She touched her fingertips to her cheeks, and prayed for co-ordination to return.
    The three of them walked to the light-filled room which overlooked the garden and Giovanni found his eyes being drawn to the graceful curve of her neck, feeling his sensesspring into life as he told himself that she was resistible. Easily resistible. But the sunlight that flooded through the windows had made her hair look even brighter—as though someone had put a flame to it, and the waves were made of dancing fire.
    He was unsmiling as he waited for the two women to sit down, and Kate thought that she had never seen a face quite so devoid of emotion. Or so compelling. And she became aware of the sudden soft rush of colour to her cheeks.
    Giovanni saw her blush, and interpreted the unmistakable reason behind it, feeling his heart begin to hammer in his chest as he realised how much she wanted him.
    â€˜Have a glass of wine, Kate,’ smiled Lady St John.
    Kate shook her head as she tried to avoid the clash of that blue stare, the small but knowing smile which was playing at the corners of a mouth which looked almost cruel . Wine was the very last thing she needed. ‘Just water for me, thanks— I’m driving. And I have to get back to London straight after lunch.’
    What a pity, Giovanni found himself thinking and