Summer Loving

She tensed when a female voice returned the greeting. The rapid flow of Italian was too much for her to follow, but her tension escalated as he spoke in low, intimate tones.

Ava’s fists tightened further when he settled back and made himself more comfortable. The movement brought him closer, his powerful thigh brushing hers as he widened his legs. She was trying to shift away from the torturous contact when he turned and held out the phone.

‘Celine wishes to speak to you.’

She drew in a quick breath. ‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘We never got round to making that phone call. I tried to apologise on your behalf but she wants to make sure there are no bad feelings.’

She snatched the phone from him and placed her palm over the speaker. ‘How dare you apologise on my behalf? I’m not some child whose behaviour has to be excused.’

He regarded her coolly. ‘Well, this is your chance. You can hang up or you can speak to her. Your choice.’

Futile irritation welled up inside her. ‘God, I really hate you sometimes.’

He merely smiled.

She cleared her throat and removed her hand. ‘Celine, hello.’

‘Ciao, Ava,’ she answered. Her tone was warm, totally devoid of censure, which made Ava feel worse.

‘Look, I’m sorry about the other night...’ As she made her apologies, it occurred to her that she’d made a lot of them in the last hour.

‘...being married to a man like Cesare would make any woman guard her place in his heart. He’s very special.’

The arrogant upward curve of his mouth told her Cesare had heard Celine’s words.

‘He’s also stubborn and extremely infuriating,’ Ava muttered.

Celine laughed. ‘You won’t hear any arguments from me. But his heart is in the right place. Please remember that.’

The vehemence in Celine’s tone made Ava frown. She watched Cesare put his tablet away and couldn’t look away from the elegant hand he rested on his thighs. The memory of those hands on her skin hit her sideways. Her fingers clenched around the phone; Celine’s words were lost in a jumble as heat surged through her.

She glanced up to find Cesare’s eyes on her. Unable to pull her gaze away, she pressed her lips together to stop them tingling. After a few seconds his eyes flicked to the phone, his brow raised.

Celine was calling her name. Embarrassed, she apologized—again—then forced herself to conduct a somewhat coherent conversation. Minutes later, she gratefully disconnected the call.

Cesare laughed under his breath.

‘Smugness is an unattractive trait,’ she snapped, her voice disgustingly husky from the feelings rampaging through her.

His smile only widened. ‘But it does my heart good to watch you eat humble pie,’ he returned.

‘Well, before I dig in, you should know I’ve accepted an invitation for Celine’s birthday tonight.’ She named the club. ‘She’s texting me the details shortly.’

His smile disappeared. Cesare hated nightclubs.

With a satisfied smile of her own, she held out his phone. ‘Not so smug now, huh, caro?’

* * *

Cesare let himself into his apartment just before seven that evening and was immediately struck by the silence. It was different from this afternoon, when the sound of Annabelle’s laughter coupled with Ava’s huskier laugh had bounced off the walls. Realising how badly he missed it, he dropped his briefcase and loosened his tie.

Nothing was going according to plan. The business he’d thought he would have concluded by mid-afternoon today had stretched well into the evening. He knew his lack of concentration had been mostly to blame. He hadn’t missed the surreptitious glances his board executives had exchanged when they’d thought he wasn’t aware.

How could they know he was dreading the next few hours? This was the first time he’d be alone—truly alone—with Ava. And he didn’t trust himself one iota.

Stalking to the cabinet, he plucked a glass from the shelf and contemplated the extensive array of drinks. He poured a shot of cognac, knocked it back and slammed the glass down.

Get a grip!

He eyed his briefcase. Part of the answer to his problems lay in there. All he had to do was sign the divorce papers his lawyers had drawn up and Ava would be out of his life.

He stepped forward and stopped when something soft gave way underfoot. Bending down, he picked up Annabelle’s teddy. With a pang, he clutched the toy and clenched his gut against the pain shooting through him.

He loved his child beyond imagining, and yet he’d never been able to celebrate that love without a heavy dose of guilt. How could he when his actions had deprived Roberto of the same joy of being a father?

Cesare placed the teddy on the table. A sound behind him made him turn.

Ava stood at the entrance to the hallway, dressed in a long satin robe, her freshly washed and shining hair falling over one shoulder in an innocently seductive gesture that made his head swim. His chest tightened and he forced himself to remain still, to fight the urge to drag her close, imprison that trim waist and devour her lips with his.

‘I thought I heard someone in here.’ She moved into the room. As hard as he fought, he couldn’t stop his gaze straying to the sensual sway of her hips.

His whole body tautened so tight he was sure he’d snap in two.

Santa cielo! A year without sex was messing with his mind. Only monks took perpetual vows of celibacy. And his body was reminding him in the most elemental, primitive way possible that he was no monk.

He turned away to hide his growing hard-on.

‘I just got in. Did my parents get away with Annabelle okay?’

Her robe whispered as she came closer. He closed his eyes. Before long her scent would reach him. Mingled dread and fierce anticipation scythed through him.

‘Yes.’ He heard the smile in her voice. ‘I’m not sure which one of them was more excited. Their plans for tomorrow exhausted me and all I did was listen to them.’

‘She left her teddy.’ He needed to fill the silence or give in to the urge to touch her.

‘Hmm, I know. I called Carmela and offered to take it over but she said no. I think I handed her the perfect excuse to take Annabelle shopping for another one.’

Unable to resist any longer, he turned. Her smile was breathtaking. Dio mio, everything about her was breathtaking. Shoving one hand through his hair, he pulled his tie away completely with the other.

‘What time is Celine’s thing?’ Getting out of here might help with this unrelenting obsession to keep checking out his future ex-wife.

‘Eight o’clock for drinks and dinner, then on to the club.’

He grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to socialise to the beat of thumping music. But anywhere else was preferable to being cooped up in this apartment, alone with Ava and his shockingly impure thoughts.

‘Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.’

Her fingers toyed with the knot in her robe belt. He directed his gaze elsewhere.

‘I’d hoped you’d return earlier. You said we needed to talk?’ she ventured.

‘I’m sorry, I was delayed. Unavoid—’ He stopped when her smile dimmed. ‘We don’t have to stay long at Celine’s party. We’ll talk when we get back, sì?’

Her lips firmed. ‘We’d better. The suspense is killing me.’

Twenty minutes later, he was seriously contemplating calling off the evening. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he disappointed Celine.

Grimly, he slid silver cufflinks into his black silk shirt, shrugged on his dinner jacket and emerged from his room just as Ava shut the door to the guest room.

His couldn’t describe the miasma of emotions that fizzed through him.

The emerald-green thigh-length sheath she wore had no back. He knew this because her skin was exhibited in soft, gleaming peach-perfect invitation.

‘Are you missing something?’ His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

She performed a perfect pirouette and then stared wide-eyed at him. The tingle of satisfaction he felt that she still found him attractive disappeared underneath the seething idea of other men seeing her in that piece of nothing.

She made a show of touching her fingers to the diamond studs in her lobes and the stylish pendant around her throat before checking the silver open-toed heels on her feet.

‘No, I think I’m all set.’ Her hair gleamed in the light as she raised her gaze to his.

‘Are you sure, because you look stunning, but I think you’re missing several yards of material at the back of your dress.’

Despite the surge of blood reddening her cheeks, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, and suddenly you care how I look, Cesare?’

His gut tightened at the blow. ‘Sì, I care. We aren’t divorced...yet. I don’t want other men to get ideas about you.’

‘Just be a gentleman and stick to compliments. I spent a small fortune on my dress.’

‘Ava, you look breathtaking. That is always a given. But the caveman in me would love to see you in something...else.’ A shroud-like something that wouldn’t make any red-blooded male wonder if her skin felt as soft and velvety as it looked.

She planted a hand on her hip, a pulse-heating smile playing on her glossy lips. ‘What exactly is wrong with it?’ she challenged, her eyes sparking fire at him.

His frustration escalated. ‘Aside from the fact that it barely covers your backside and is missing a back, you mean?’ It was just too damn shimmery.

‘But I look hot?’ she pressed with a smile that now dripped pure mischief.

‘You look hot. You look like a pure, sinfully tempting fantasy. Is that gentlemanly enough for you?’ The material caressed her thighs, brought attention to legs that seemed to go on for ever. And she’d done something to her toes. ‘What’s that?’ he rasped, barely able to take a full breath.

She followed his gaze. ‘It’s a toe ring,’ she replied. ‘Cesare, we have twenty-five minutes to get there. Will you be able to handle me looking like this or are we going to be late because you’ve suddenly developed a dislike for any other man seeing me in a short dress?’

He swallowed, tried to speak and ended up just shaking his head as her gaze wandered over him.

‘Oh, and for the record, you look hot too. I could tell you to button your shirt all the way up so no woman can see your manly, mouth-watering chest, but see, I’m a grown-up, so I’ll just suck it up. Now, shall we go?’ Her eyes had grown dark when she raised her gaze to his.

Their expression and the knowledge that she felt an iota of the feelings rampaging through him made him feel marginally better.

‘Celine will be made aware in no uncertain terms that she owes me big for this.’ He strolled over to her and held out his arm.

‘Behave yourself, Cesare.’ At his snarled, pithy response, she laughed. ‘This is going to be a long, trying evening, isn’t it?’

He took in the thrust of her chin, the hectic race of the pulse in her throat and an all too familiar spike of lust raced to his groin. ‘Sì, it is.’

Cesare knew he was being ridiculous. Jealousy had no place in his feelings because he knew by rights he had no hold on her. Besides, he would bet his sizable fortune that most of the women at the club tonight would be similarly dressed.

But most women weren’t his wife!

Another growl emerged before he could stifle it. Cursing the possessiveness that had sprung from nowhere, he grabbed her arm and stalked down the hall. ‘I don’t begrudge you the dress, cara. My only wish is that you’d received more of it for your efforts.’

She bared her teeth in a fake smile. ‘Well, keep wishing, tesoro. Who knows, Santa might come early.’

* * *

Ava was only half-listening to the guest whose name she’d forgotten. That he didn’t speak more than a dozen words of English made it easy. Her eyes tracked Cesare, who she’d smugly believed hated nightclubs and would hate this evening.

No. Far from smouldering arrogantly the way she remembered him to, he was on the dance floor, enjoying the attentions of the blonde who’d attached herself to him the moment they’d walked in the door.

She glanced down at her dress, and again wondered if she’d been wise to listen to the saleslady at the shop on the Via Condotti who’d insisted the green dress was perfect for her.

Compared to Cesare’s dance-partner’s dress, Ava’s was downright demure. The woman could easily be mistaken for a runway model. Her bone structure alone was enough to make the men here salivate with lust. The fact that she was currently breathing the same air as Cesare didn’t seem to deter other men from watching her.

A fist of jealousy lodged in her chest, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.

It didn’t help that all day she’d felt on tenterhooks.

She couldn’t help but feel her life would unravel even further once she and Cesare finally had their talk.

‘You mustn’t worry, il mio amico. Giuliana is a man-eater, but trust Cesare.’

She turned to find Celine watching her with an expression sickeningly close to pity.

Ava forced out a laugh. ‘I’m not worried.’

‘I hope it’s because you trust him.’ Celine’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘You know he will not deliberately hurt you?’

Anxiety and confusion warred through her. ‘Unfortunately, I know nothing of the sort.’ Cesare’s withdrawal from her had shattered the foundations of her belief.

‘Hang in there. Di Goia men don’t give their love easily.’ Sadness clouded Celine’s eyes.

Ava touched her arm. ‘Cesare told me about you and Roberto...and Valentina.’

Celine’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

She gave a slight grimace. ‘I demanded to know his connection to you.’

Celine’s smile wobbled. ‘I’m glad he told you. Even though he loved my sister, Roberto was the love of my life. A part of me is angry he died before I got my chance with him. But it’s not too late for you two. Whatever happens, hang on with everything you’ve got.’

Several minutes after she’d left, Ava remained rooted to the spot, Celine’s words echoing through her mind.

She didn’t deny Cesare held tremendous sway over her emotions. One smile was enough to light up her whole day. The occasional glimpses of pain she saw flash through his eyes caused her heart to echo his pain over losing his brother.

But, no matter how she felt about him, she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d only married her because she’d been pregnant; that he’d tolerated her because she was the mother of his child. Despair rose like a riptide, threatening to suck her down.

The music ended and she watched Cesare and the stunning Giuliana head for the bar. As he plucked two champagne flutes from the counter, his eyes met Ava’s. His gaze raked over her, sending her pulse into overdrive.

Suddenly annoyed with his effortless power over her emotions, she lifted her glass in mock salute.

There was no future to hang on to. At least not where she and Cesare were concerned. She didn’t doubt his love for Annabelle and therefore didn’t doubt his capacity to love. But that love didn’t stretch to her.

The distress the thought produced made her glass tremble in her hand.

Setting it down, she found the guest she’d spoken to earlier next to her. Before she could excuse herself, he smiled. Racking her brain, she remembered Celine had introduced him as her second cousin. He was charmingly good-looking, with light brown hair and attractively boyish brown eyes. Not wishing to appear rude, she smiled in return.

He moved closer. ‘Drink?’ A champagne-serving waiter lingered nearby.

Hastily, she shook her head. She’d barely eaten more than a few mouthfuls at dinner. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea.

Her admirer set his glass down with a decisive click.

‘Balliamo?’ He gestured to the dance floor. When she hesitated, he clasped a dramatic hand over his heart. ‘Per favore?’

On a sudden whim, she nodded. She’d never been one to slink away to lick her wounds. As much as she wanted to shut herself off, preferably somewhere quiet, and indulge in a monster ice cream-fuelled pity party, she wouldn’t.

She was here because of Celine. The least she could do was pretend to enjoy herself.

‘Wait.’ She laughed when he tried to steer her towards the dance floor.

His face fell but when he saw her shucking off her shoes, his grin widened. The blaring hip-hop was the perfect antidote to her melancholy.

Mario—she remembered his name now—led her to the middle of the dance floor and proceeded to prove himself an energetic dance partner.

The next few songs flew by. Somewhere, during a twirl, her hair clasp slid off and disappeared. Feeling freer, she let go.

When the songs slowed, she stopped dancing, grateful for the chance to cool down. ‘Thank you, that was—’ She stuttered to a stop when his arms slid around her waist.

Just as quickly she was disengaged from him. She almost lost her balance as rough hands grabbed her from behind. The tingle along her nerve endings announced who held her before she heard his voice.

‘It’s time to leave.’

Without waiting for her agreement, he tucked her behind him, then murmured low, heated words to Mario. In the strobe light, Ava saw the younger man pale.

Cesare’s jaw was set as he straightened and manacled her wrist with one hand.

Before she could draw breath, he was tugging her off the dance floor.

‘Cesare, wait!’

He ignored her and headed towards the exit.

‘For goodness’ sake, stop! I need to get my shoes.’

He stopped so suddenly she careened into him. His hard body easily absorbed the impact, but she was left with a vivid imprint of his broad, bristling masculine form. With his fingers still imprisoning her wrist, his gaze dropped to her feet.

‘You danced barefoot?’ he grazed out.

‘Yes. Now I need to get my shoes.’

‘Why? You’ll only discard them at the earliest opportunity.’

‘That doesn’t mean I want to leave them behind. They cost me a bomb.’

His eyes glinted with danger. ‘Do not move from here.’

The crowd parted for him as he headed for the bar. He returned seconds later, her silver shoes dangling from his fingers. Wordlessly he thrust them at her. When she didn’t immediately put them on, his eyebrow shot up.

‘What? My feet are killing me.’

His gaze dropped again to her bare feet. For some reason, the sight of them seemed to annoy him further. When he glanced at her, his eyes were ablaze with a look that made her swallow and step back.

He advanced until she was backed into a corner. ‘What do you think you were playing at back there?’ he asked through clenched teeth.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

He bared his teeth, but nothing about his expression showed he was in a merry mood. ‘How long are we going to keep doing this? We’ve tested the theory a few times these past weeks. Per favore, Ava, you need to stop pushing my buttons because I’m hanging by a thread here, and I’m seriously scared of what the consequences will mean for us if I snap.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE INTENSITY BEHIND his words sent a wave of panic through Ava.

She swallowed, cleared her throat and shook her head. She couldn’t show him how his behaviour had affected her. ‘You were too busy renewing your various acquaintances to be bothered with me, so I decided to make my own friends.’

Tawny eyes darkened into stormy pools. ‘And you thought the best way to enjoy yourself is to let another man put his hands all over you?’ His fists were clenched and his pallor had faded a little underneath his tan. The tic beating a wild tattoo in his cheek made her belly swan dive.

‘We were just dancing. No big deal.’

His disbelieving laugh grated on her ears. ‘No big deal?’

‘What did you expect? That I’d sulk in a corner pining for you?’

He released a harsh breath. ‘Ava...’

‘You want to leave, so let’s go.’ Unable to withstand the pressure, she pushed past him and threw open the heavy oak doors that led outside.

The cool breeze after the nightclub’s cloying atmosphere was a refreshing welcome. Heaving lungfuls of air into her oxygen-starved body, she stopped beside the bronze and gold column that fronted the club. She sensed Cesare behind her but thought it safer not to turn around.

‘We can’t keep doing this to one another,’ he finally rasped in a fierce undertone.

‘I agree. We can’t. You’ve withdrawn from me completely, and yet you can’t stand it when another man comes within touching distance of me. Whatever is wrong with us, it’s driving me insane and I can’t stand this any more.’ Feelings she didn’t know how to deal with ricocheted through her at lightning speed.

She seethed with anger, she wanted to cry and she wanted to scream.

Plunging shaking hands into her hair, she lifted the suddenly heavy tresses off her heated shoulders. Tears prickled at her eyes but she furiously blinked them away.

Divorce, it seemed, was her only escape. And yet the thought of that final severing from the man she’d dreamed she would spend the rest of her life with brought a hard lump to her chest.

Her frenzied fingers twisted her hair into a rope at her nape.

Cesare drew closer, bringing a renewed rush of awareness. His relentless, all encompassing heat bored down on her. She sucked in a breath and held it in, afraid to let it out lest it somehow transmitted her turmoil.

Firm hands brushed hers away and his strong fingers replaced hers. Her breath grew laboured as his fingers glided through her hair. ‘It’s time we have that talk, carissima.’ His breath fanned her sensitive lobe.

A shiver went through her. She’d started to turn when a loud wolf-whistle shattered the air from a trio of men who’d just emerged from the club.

The sight of her—arms raised, bare feet and naked, seductively curved back—garnered very male interest that made Cesare growl low in his throat.

With jerky movements, he shrugged out of his jacket. ‘Basta! I don’t care if it offends your female sensibilities. Put this on, now,’ he hissed. Pulling her arms down, he draped the jacket around her shoulders.

His limo, which had pulled up while she’d been lost in thought, stood with Paolo holding the door open. Cesare ushered her into the back seat, climbed in beside her and yanked the door shut.

Rough fists clenched and unclenched on his thigh, but it wasn’t until the car was moving that he spoke.

‘It seems you’ve turned into quite the exhibitionist, cara mia.’ The cold endearment emerged more as a reproach than an affectionate term.

She flinched and tried to move away. Immediately he trapped her arms, stopping her sideways escape.

‘A lot of things have happened while you’ve been busy pretending I don’t exist, Cesare.’

His lips firmed. ‘I can see that. And I’m wondering how all this impacts on my daughter.’

She turned sharply. ‘Stop right there! You’d better erase that whiff of you’re a bad mother I hear in your voice, PDQ! And stop referring to her as your daughter. Up until very recently, your part in all this has merely been the biology. You chose to live away from us! You lost the right to be a father when you withdrew so far physically and emotionally from our daughter, she may as well have been dead to you!’

In the darkened interior of the car, his head went back as if she’d struck him. What little colour had remained left his face. She couldn’t have struck a deeper blow if she’d shot a bullet into his heart.

Immediately contrite, she reached out and grabbed his hand. It remained cold and unmoving beneath hers.

‘Cesare, I didn’t mean that—’

‘I deserved that. But I had good reason. Or I thought I had for a long time, well before the earthquake. What happened with Roberto and Valentina...I didn’t think I deserved a child when Roberto had lost his.’

‘Do you really think Roberto begrudged you a family?’

‘I didn’t think—I knew. He told me many times that I didn’t deserve a family—’ a tight edge of pain roughened his voice ‘—that I deserved to be alone the way he was.’