The Sicilian's Passion Read Free Page B

then, with a huge effort of will, pushed her green-eyed temptation to the very recesses of his mind.
    It was an endurance test of a meal which Kate forced herself to eat. Because if she pushed her food round and round her plate, wouldn’t he be able to tell how debilitated she felt in his presence? How aware she was of those long, olive fingers as they casually broke bread and then sensuously placed a fragment in his mouth? Why, she was in danger of acting like an overgrown schoolgirl, with a schoolgirl’s crush! At twenty-seven, for heaven’s sake!
    She cleared her throat and forced herself to look directly at him, unprepared for another sudden, sharp tug of longing. He isn’t your type, she told herself again. He isn’t!
    â€˜So are you just over here for business or for…for—’ shegot the next word out with some difficulty ‘—pleasure?’ she finished on a gulp.
    He noted the faltering quality of her voice without surprise, the tremble of her mouth which made him long to taste its sweetness, and was appalled at his own weakness. ‘Business brings me to England,’ he said, his accent deepening. ‘But it is always a pleasure to see my godmother.’
    Kate persevered, forcing herself to continue as if he were just anyone and she was networking. ‘And what is your business, exactly?’
    â€˜This!’ Lady St John waved an elegant hand at the solid silver candelabra which adorned the centre of the table and at the exquisitely fashioned knives and forks they were using. ‘The Calverri family exports silver all over the world,’ she said proudly.
    And suddenly Kate made the connection—if she hadn’t been quite so reluctantly dazzled by the man she might have made it a whole lot sooner. ‘Calverri silver?’ she asked him faintly. ‘You mean, the Calverri silver?’
    â€˜There is only one,’ he told her arrogantly.
    Which explained the outrageously expensive car and the outrageously expensive suit—his air of only being used to the very best. Because Calverri silver—recreating classic, antique pieces, or creating timeless new ones—was a must-have for anyone with taste and plenty of money.
    â€˜Your company is doing very well,’ Kate offered.
    â€˜But of course! Under Giovanni’s guiding hand, it has become truly international,’ said Lady St John, with another proud smile at her godson.
    He shrugged. ‘We have an exemplary workforce, Elisabeth,’ he murmured. ‘I am simply a small cog in a very well-oiled machine.’
    Kate thought that modesty did not become him, and something in the look of challenge which he glittered across the table at her told her that he probably had a good idea exactly what she was thinking. She broke the stare and looked downwith determination at her salmon instead. Was she going completely mad? Since when had anyone ever been able to read her mind?
    â€˜This is delicious,’ she said politely.
    Liar, thought Giovanni as she chewed without enthusiasm. You have barely touched a thing, angela mia .
    The plates had just been cleared away, when her mobile phone began shrilling from her bag, and Kate stared down at it in consternation as she heard Giovanni’s unmistakable click of annoyance. What had she been thinking of? She always switched her phone off when she was eating!
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she said, reaching down for her bag.
    â€˜The curse of technology,’ came his low, mocking response.
    â€˜You’d better answer it, hadn’t you?’ asked Lady St John mildly.
    â€˜If you don’t mind.’ Kate grabbed the bag and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll take it outside.’
    But she was happy to escape from that unsettling stare and equally unsettling presence, and even happier to discover that it was Lucy who was calling. Lucy, her beloved older sister, who worked for Kate and ran her life like clockwork.
    Kate