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But Ben moved with arrogant grace, his eyes glinting as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Which he probably did. The man possessed an uncanny ability to read her mind. Know her heart.
Swallowing, Natalia looked away. Even amidst the safety of a crowd, she felt this magnetic pull, this insane craving to pull him closer, to lose herself in him. And if she did that … what would be left?
A few minutes after they started dancing the music suddenly changed to a low, lazy tune that had everyone pulling partners close. Natalia hesitated, half-wanting to run off the dance floor rather than face the fierce temptation of slow dancing with Ben. Or what if he walked off the floor first? He may have wanted to kiss her on a bet, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dance with her. Be with her.
But already he was pulling her towards him, his hands firm on her hips, fingers splayed along her backside as he nestled her close against him. His lips brushed her hair as her arms twined round his neck almost of their own accord, so desperate was she for this contact. This closeness.
Natalia was barely aware of the music as she felt Ben’s body against her own: his thigh against her hip, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her middle, his jaw almost touching her lips. Her body felt as if it were buzzing with awareness, pulsing with need. She pulled him closer, let her lips brush the stubble on his jaw, inhaled the clean, male scent of him as her senses swam and she heard—and felt—Ben shudder in response.
It felt so natural, so obvious to angle her head for the kiss they’d denied themselves all day. The kiss they surely both craved. Natalia’s lips parted and Ben’s mouth hovered above her own as she waited, aching, her whole body crying out for him to touch her.
‘It could be a draw,’ she whispered, her mouth so close to his they were almost—almost—kissing anyway. Her fingers curled round his shoulders as she swayed, not to the music, but from the desire flooding through her in a relentless river, sweeping her senses along with it. ‘We both control the kiss,’ she clarified huskily. She felt Ben’s hands tighten on her hips, his fingers so strong and sure. ‘We both win.’
She saw his lips curve in an answering smile, felt him pull her even closer, her breasts pressed against his chest, but he didn’t bend his head. Didn’t kiss her. Natalia flicked her gaze upwards, and although he was still smiling—a little—she saw the struggle in his eyes. The frustration, and maybe even the anger. Or was it despair?
Whatever stormy emotion battled in his eyes, it was one Natalia wished she hadn’t seen. Wished Ben didn’t feel.
He didn’t want to kiss her.
Oh, he wanted her all right, wanted her perhaps as desperately as she wanted him. But he didn’t want to want her, and that thought made sudden tears sting her eyes. With effort, despite the desire still coursing treacherously through her, she made herself pull away from him and walked off the dance floor.
Ben felt Natalia slip away from him and he cursed under his breath. He’d been so close to kissing her. So close to giving in, letting himself be swept away like he never had before. He knew, instinctively, elementally, that kissing Natalia would be like that. Kissing Natalia would change him, and he didn’t want to be changed.
He should be relieved she’d broken it before he did, but he wasn’t. He was annoyed and disappointed and incredibly sexually frustrated. Raking a hand through his hair, he followed her off the dance floor, searching the crowds for her familiar lithe frame.
He found her by the coat check, slipping on her snug little jacket. ‘Is the fun over, then?’ he asked lightly, and she didn’t look at him as she answered.
‘It most certainly is.’
Ben felt a flicker of guilty regret along with every other emotion twisting inside him and frying his brain. Why did this woman make him feel so much? He wasn’t used to it. Didn’t like it. Couldn’t have it.
Yet he knew in that moment on the dance floor he’d hurt her somehow. Maybe she’d sensed his reluctance. Maybe—and this thought actually frightened him—she understood him better than he thought.
Neither of them spoke as Ben opened the passenger door for her, and then slid into the driver’s seat. He thought about explaining, or apologizing, or something, but his thoughts were too tangled up inside him to separate, much less speak.
As the gate of the palazzo swung smoothly open and he drove up to the front of the magnificent building, he decided silence was better. Surely saying anything—explaining anything—would just drag them in deeper to this mess they’d found themselves in.
This mess of emotion and desire and need that Ben had never let himself feel before. The kind of mess his father made, and his mother endured. The kind of mess he never wanted for himself.
‘Well.’ Natalia cleared her throat, then shot him a cool smile. ‘What can I say? It was fun.’
Ben nodded tersely. ‘See you on the football pitch,’ he said and for a second something flashed in her eyes, something Ben suspected was hurt, or perhaps sorrow. Her smile suddenly seemed brittle.
‘See you then,’ she said, and slipped out of the car.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u78816f2d-d684-5be8-b889-a2ef682a309d)
NATALIA blinked in the bright sunlight of Santina’s football stadium and smoothed her hands down the sides of her baggy shorts. She felt ridiculously sloppy wearing what felt like a school PE kit, but Ben had been insistent that she dress appropriately for the first day of camp.
‘And,’ he’d told her, his mouth quirking upwards in that way she now recognised, ‘that does not mean a miniskirt and stilettos.’
She would have felt better in a skirt, Natalia thought with a flicker of resentment. Safer and stronger. Fashion was one thing she got, one small way she felt successful.
‘Ready to really work?’ Ben asked, jogging up to her. He wore the same thing she did, and yet somehow it looked amazing on him. The T-shirt clung to the six-pack abs hiding under the thin fabric, and he wore his shorts slung low on his hips. Natalia could see his strong, muscular thighs and calves and she jerked her gaze upwards. She did not need any reminders of how his body had felt against hers; she’d been remembering all weekend. Yet clearly Ben was back to professional mode today, and if she hadn’t experienced it herself, she wouldn’t have believed he’d held her so close, he’d almost kissed her.
Almost.
‘Are you saying I haven’t been working already?’ she enquired. ‘Because I think a thousand envelopes would disagree.’
‘Today you’re going to really work. And get tired and muddy and sweaty.’ Natalia wrinkled her nose, and Ben grinned, so obviously enjoying this. ‘Come on, Princess. Let’s get going. The kids are about to arrive.’ And without any warning he tossed her a football. Natalia caught it out of instinct, but she heard the distinct sound of a nail breaking and with a little yelp she dropped the ball to inspect the damage.
‘There goes your manicure,’ Ben murmured as he walked by her. ‘Can’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Can’t say you’re a complete arse,’ Natalia muttered back. ‘Oh wait, I can.’
Ben just chuckled, his good humour clearly impossible to deflate. He was like a different man today, Natalia thought, alive and invigorated in a way she’d never seen him before. Except when he’d held her in his arms … he’d seemed pretty invigorated then. Yet Ben clearly wanted to forget that entire episode, and Natalia knew she should too. Unfortunately she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Remembering. Wanting. Sighing, Natalia picked up the football and followed him to the front of the stadium. Dozens of children swarmed the gates, and several tables were set up for registration. Ben, she saw, was greeting each child with warm enthusiasm, an easy smile or a ruffle of their hair, his attitude laid-back and natural.
He glanced back at her, and then jerked his head towards one of the tables. ‘Why don’t you take names?’
‘Take names?’
‘Just write them down, Princess.’ He turned back to the stream of kids coming through the gates, and Natalia made her way over to the makeshift table. Fabio was already there, taking children’s names and writing them on a form. He pointed to a stack of name tags. ‘Could you fill out those?’
‘Certainly,’ Natalia said after a moment. ‘Of course.’ She sat down next to Fabio and pulled a stack of name tags towards her and uncapped a pen. Then, smiling brightly, although her heart had started to thud with hard, painful beats, she looked up at the first child who came towards her, hesitant and shy. ‘Como ti chiami?’
‘Paulo.’
‘Ciao, Paulo.’ Biting her lip hard in concentration, she started to write a P. And then an A. She had to think carefully about each stroke, knowing she was taking far too long, sensing the backup of kids restlessly waiting for their tags. Prickly heat burst all over her body and she knew she was going blotchy again. Fabulous. She bit down hard on her lip, willed that all-too-telling flush to fade. Finally she finished and passed the tag over to Paulo. He took it with murmured thanks, and Natalia saw it looked like it had been written by a child younger than he was.
The next child came forward. ‘Gabriella.’
So many letters. Natalia started again. She could do this. She wasn’t normally this slow, but the panic of performing in public, of knowing that any moment Ben might come over and demand why the princess was taking so long and couldn’t she even write made her fingers tremble and the letters dance before her eyes.
She glanced up at Gabriella, a solemn-eyed little girl with a cloud of dark hair. ‘You know what? I’m sure it would be faster if you did this.’ She grabbed a handful of pens and started passing them out to each child, who gladly took them and began to write their own names on the tags.
Natalia slumped back in her chair in trembling relief. That had been a close one. Too close. She’d hid her disability for so long, first out of confusion and then from shame, and finally on command. She wasn’t about to have it ripped out in the open now. Not by Ben. Not by anyone.
The kids had started to trickle away from the table, and she straightened, glancing over at Ben, who was organising the children into lines. She watched him covertly, noticing how confidently he strode across the pitch, how much he seemed to be enjoying this. She had never seen him look so relaxed or so … happy. She’d seen him look amused, or entertained, or interested, but he’d never actually seemed happy.
And neither had she.
‘Natalia?’ She started at the sound of her name. Ben was calling to her, and she stood, smoothing her T-shirt and shorts as if she could magically turn them into a silk blouse and tailored skirt. ‘Would you help me show the kids how to dribble?’
Dribble? As if she had any idea what he was even talking about. She didn’t even like watching football. ‘Of course,’ she said, giving him her gracious princess smile, and strode up to the pitch where Ben stood, the children all lined up neatly on one side. Ben explained to the children, in careful Italian which both surprised and touched her, how to dribble the ball, which, Natalia discovered, meant just kicking it with your feet. Then Ben punted the ball upwards off his foot and bounced it off his head, garnering a giggle from the crowd. He turned to Natalia, smiling, yet with the steel of challenge in his eyes. He could have chosen any of the other volunteers for this little exercise, but he’d chosen her. Of course. The children weren’t the only ones Ben wanted to learn a lesson.
‘Simple, right?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Natalia assured him. ‘Simple.’ Simpler, in any case, than writing name tags. She straightened, ready to show Ben just how well she could kick. Or dribble. Or whatever.
Ben dribbled the ball neatly between his feet and then sent a kick over to her. Natalia tensed, tried to kick it back, but the ball rolled right past her while her foot arced widely through the air, connecting with nothing. She heard a few snickers from the crowd of children, and felt her face burn.
She hated being laughed at. Hated, hated, hated it. It made her feel twelve years old again, her first year of boarding school, standing in front of her entire class while the teacher proclaimed in ringing tones, Natalia Santina is the slowest girl in this school! She writes like a six-year-old!
She still felt the shame. Slow. Stupid.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched over to where the ball had come to a stop. Then she gave it a satisfyingly hard kick back towards Ben. He trapped it neatly between his feet, his eyebrows raised in question as he glanced her. As usual, he was able to guess something of her mood.
‘Shall we try again?’
Natalia just shrugged. She felt unbearably tense and brittle, as if she might snap right in half. Ben kicked the ball again, slow this time, an obviously easy shot so she’d be able to kick it back.
She didn’t.
Once again the ball rolled by her and her foot swung through the air. She heard a few children giggle from behind their hands.
Tears of frustration burned beneath her lids. Couldn’t she do anything right? Ben was probably enjoying this, she thought savagely as she went to retrieve the ball. He’d probably been dreaming of this—Princess Natalia, humiliated on his football pitch! She grabbed the ball and threw it back to him, forgetting that in this wretched sport you weren’t supposed to use your hands.
Ben caught the ball easily, giving her a quick, frowning look of concern before he turned back to the crowd of children. ‘You get the idea?’ he asked in his careful Italian. ‘Why don’t you pair up and practise dribbling and then kicking the ball back and forth.’ He glanced back at her again, and Natalia knew he was wondering just what was going on. She folded her arms and did her best to look bored. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how that little episode had rattled her.
The children quickly paired up and Ben strolled between them, offering pointers and encouragement. After a few moments he glanced back at her again and she could tell he wanted her to do something. But what? What could she do? She was so bloody useless. She’d never minded so much before.
Then she saw Ben’s glance move to a little girl standing off to the side, one long dark strand of hair twirled around a finger. She was watching the kids all in pairs, happily dribbling and kicking away, and nobody noticed she was all alone. Natalia knew how that felt. She might be the party princess now, but she’d been the big loser in school.
Without even thinking about what she was doing, she jogged over to her and crouched down so she was eye-level. ‘Gabriella, sì?’ The girl nodded solemnly. ‘You want to practice dribbling?’ She shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care, but Natalia saw the eagerness in her eyes. She knew all about that too. Pretending you didn’t care when you were dying inside. ‘I don’t have a partner,’ Natalia said. ‘Will you be my partner?’ The girl shrugged again, clearly not wanting her pity. Another thing Natalia understood. ‘Because,’ she continued, ‘you saw how terrible I was, didn’t you? I can’t even kick the ball, never mind this dribbling.’ She was rewarded with a tiny smile. ‘I think I’m the worst player on the pitch, so I hope you don’t mind being my partner.’
A long moment passed where Gabriella just gazed at her with those sad, dark eyes. ‘I don’t mind,’ she finally whispered, and she followed Natalia out onto the pitch. Natalia forced her own self-consciousness back as she attempted to dribble the ball between her feet before passing it to Gabriella. It really was harder than it looked. A lot harder. They managed a tentative back and forth for a few minutes and then Natalia went to give a big kick, missed the ball completely and fell flat on her back.
She lay there for a moment, the wind knocked right out of her, and blinked slowly up at the cloudless blue sky. Then she heard someone jogging towards her, and suddenly she was looking into Ben’s face, close enough so she could see the sunlight glinting off the faint stubble on his chin. He gazed down at her, and Natalia saw a shadow of anxious concern in his eyes. He touched her cheek once, gently, before pulling his hand quickly away. He’d surprised them both by touching her. Staring up at him, Natalia suddenly felt breathless for an entirely different reason.
Ben sat back on his heels. ‘You OK, Princess?’
She spread her arms and legs out as far as she could and managed a sunny smile. ‘Never better.’
His mouth quirked upwards. ‘That was quite a fall.’
‘I know, it took me a long time to perfect it.’ She moved, experimentally, wincing a little bit at how her back hurt. Ben frowned, placed a hand on her shoulder. Even in her bruised state she felt another jolt of awareness.
‘Stay still. You might have hurt something.’
‘I know I hurt something. But nothing’s broken.’
She eased herself up into a sitting position. ‘Trust me, I’m a complete coward when it comes to pain.’
Ben was giving her a rather strange look. His hand remained on her shoulder. ‘Somehow I doubt that.’
Discomfited, Natalia looked away from him and saw that the productivity on the pitch—all that dribbling and kicking—had come to a complete halt as a hundred pairs of eyes stared at her with a mixture of concern and amusement. Talk about humiliation.
Yet as Gabriella walked up to her, her eyes wide, Natalia found, to her own amazement, that she didn’t really mind. Not this time. Not if it made just one child feel a little bit better about herself. She winked at Gabriella. ‘I told you I was terrible, didn’t I?’ Gabriella gave a little laugh, and this time Natalia didn’t feel like she was being laughed at. She had made the joke, not been the butt of it. She stood, trying not to wince because her back did really hurt, and held the ball out to Gabriella. ‘Your turn, I think.’
‘Maybe you should sit out—’ Ben offered. He still looked rather touchingly concerned. Probably just his overblown sense of responsibility, Natalia told herself. It would be stupid to read anything more into it. To want more. She gave him a mocking look.
‘Don’t coddle the princess, hotshot. I can do it.’
A surprised smile quirked the corner of his mouth and his expression lightened. ‘I know you can,’ he said.
Ben watched Natalia walk away and felt a surprising surge of admiration—and maybe something else. Something deeper. The tangle of emotions he’d felt inside him since the day spent with Natalia had tuned into a knot that seemed to be taking over his body. His thoughts. His heart.
He’d spent far too much time thinking about that almost-kiss, as if it had meant something. As if it could have. In a desperate attempt at distraction he’d gone into the office on Sunday, hoping that piles of paperwork would keep him from remembering just how perfect Natalia had fit against him, how right she’d felt in his arms.
And it had worked, for a little while. Until he’d seen her again, and he’d been desperate to touch her, and then when she’d fallen he’d felt as if his world had spun on its axis and he’d run over to her, his heart pounding, his mouth dry with fear.
This woman made him feel too much. Want too much. And after witnessing his father’s three marriages and his mother’s ongoing heartbreak as she turned a determinedly blind eye to his philandering, Ben didn’t want to feel or want anything, for any woman.
Do you believe in true love?
He believed in love, he just didn’t like it. Or want it. His mother’s love for his father certainly hadn’t helped her any. He did not intend to fall into the same terrible trap.
And certainly not with Princess Natalia.
Ben watched the little girl kick the ball back to Natalia, and this time she actually stopped it with her foot—His thoughts came to a screeching halt. Why was he thinking about Natalia and love at all? She was a spoilt princess, shallow, vain, publicity-seeking. Everything he hated.
Except maybe she wasn’t. He was starting to wonder if there really was something underneath that brittle la-di-da facade, to believe there was a real woman with a tender and vulnerable heart.
The thought both appalled and terrified him.
He wanted Natalia Santina to be exactly what he’d thought she was: shallow, selfish, spoilt and vain. It would be so much easier. He wouldn’t have to wonder, or want, or find excuses to spend more time with her. He wouldn’t be interested in her at all.
But he was, and knew he had been from the first moment she’d sauntered over to him at Allegra’s engagement party. He’d sensed the spark between them then, and asking her to volunteer had been, he was afraid, just a way to spend time with her.
And the more time he spent with her, the more he wondered. The more he wanted. And he felt his precious control slipping notch by notch, until he’d lose it completely and nothing would keep him from taking her in his arms and demanding she tell him all her secrets. He wanted to know her … inside and out, and that thought scared him more than anything else.
By the end of the day Natalia’s whole body ached. Ben was right. This was really working, and all she wanted was to fall into bed, tired, muddy and sweaty, just as Ben had promised she would be—and now was.
The children and most of the other volunteers had trooped out of the stadium at five o’clock, tired and happy, if as muddy as she was. Natalia hovered by the registration table, shuffling forms into piles and putting the pens back in the jar. She knew she should leave and yet she was strangely reluctant to. Despite the aches and pains, the dirt and mud, even the humiliation, she’d enjoyed today. She’d felt productive and useful, engaged and energised. Not that she’d ever let Ben Jackson know it. Still, the thought of returning to the palazzo with all of its expectations and strictures almost made her want to start kicking the ball around again. ‘Not bad, Princess,’ Ben said, and Natalia turned to see him coming back from the front of the stadium. She felt a frisson of awareness shiver up her spine as she took in his long-legged stride, his easy smile. Mud streaked his long, muscled legs and Natalia saw a splotch of it on his cheek.
‘Not bad?’ she repeated, arching an eyebrow. ‘I’ve completely ruined my manicure and that’s all you can say?’
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat coming from his body, inhale the tangy and not unpleasant scent of aftershave and male sweat.
‘Let’s see,’ he said, and took one of her hands in his. Natalia tried to ignore the treacherous and tempting warmth that stole through her body at the feel of his roughened fingers touching her own. His thumb caressed her palm—surely he didn’t even realise he was doing it—as he studied her now broken and chipped nails. He glanced up, and she saw the glints in his navy eyes, fixated on the quirk of that incredibly sensual and mobile mouth. ‘A noble sacrifice,’ he murmured. He didn’t let go of her hand. Natalia heard her breath come out in something halfway to a shudder. Had Ben noticed? Did he realise what this simple hand-holding was doing to her?
She saw his pupils flare and dilate and with a thrill she realised he was as aware—and affected—as she was. The thought made her knees weaken in a way that had nothing to do with how exhausted and achey she was, and everything to do with the electric attraction that pulsed silently between them.
‘I quite agree,’ she said in a voice that bordered on shaky, and with both reluctance and determination tugged her hand from his own. This was way too dangerous.
Ben took a step back, raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. She really wasn’t into all that macho male stuff—she’d always preferred men to be well-groomed and elegant—but right now she didn’t think she’d seen anything half as sexy as Ben Jackson in his muddy football kit. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘you were amazing today.’
Natalia tried to ignore the rush of emotion his sincere praise caused to blaze through her. Emotion was just as dangerous as passion, maybe even more so. She didn’t get close to anyone, not physically, not emotionally. She’d learned those lessons, at least. Yet right now Ben was breaching all of her defenses, leaving her completely exposed and wanting, and that knowledge made her go on the attack. ‘That must have hurt,’ she mocked, and he simply raised his eyebrows in query. ‘Giving me a genuine compliment,’ she clarified tartly.
