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He smiled benignly. “It’s quite all right.”
She wasn’t in the mood for a drink, but a little caffeine might give her some energy. “Do you have iced tea?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He left as quickly and quietly as he’d arrived, brought her drink and disappeared again. She sipped her tea, then flipped over so she didn’t get too burned.
But even before she settled on the chaise, she had the strangest feeling. Like someone was watching her.
She sat up and glanced at the house. The entire back of the first floor of the renovated house looked to be a wall of windows. Because of the framing, she guessed some of the ‘windows’ were actually double doors. But the angle of the sun made the glass dark. She couldn’t see inside.
She adjusted the strap on her suit, smoothed her hands down her legs, unable to shake the feeling of being exposed.
She frowned. Of course, she was exposed. She was outside. Lounging on the patio of a house that had at least one maid, a butler and a driver. There was probably a cook and a gardener, too. Four people could be gawking at her if they wanted to be. But why would they want to?
It was stupid to be paranoid. A better explanation for what she was feeling was guilt that Tucker and Constanzo were working and she wasn’t. She hadn’t come to Italy to lie about. As it was, Tucker Engle didn’t like having her along. Even if the trip had been grueling and she was tired, she had to get to work. Plus, she’d had a nice little nap. She had her brain back.
After gathering her cover-up, she padded to her room, put on her plain trousers and yellow shirt and headed downstairs again.
The house was a maze of corridors and beautifully decorated rooms. She could have stopped in every parlor to examine the furnishings and art she was sure was real, but needing to find Tucker and Constanzo, she kept looking until she found the pair in a den.
Playing darts. Drinking beer.
She shook her head. “You know, I was out by the pool, feeling bad because I wasn’t working, and here’s where I find you guys? Playing darts.”
Tucker faced her. His suit coat lay across the back of an overstuffed recliner. His white shirt sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, his black-and-silver striped tie loosened. He looked so casually gorgeous, she swallowed hard.
Her foolish attraction was growing, but at least now she understood why. He’d grown up poor, but he was successful now. Just as she wanted to be. They had common ground. He wasn’t just a good-looking guy. He was somebody she wanted to know.
“Vivi, come in! Do you throw?”
Glad for the distraction of Constanzo, she settled herself on the arm of an overstuffed chair beside the pool table. The room wasn’t dripping with diamonds or gold the way one might expect a billionaire’s house might be. Instead it seemed to exist for Constanzo’s comfort. Which, she supposed, was the way a billionaire should live.
“No, I don’t throw.”
“Your boss is beating me.”
She laughed. But Tucker kept his attention focused on the dart game. She hoped he wasn’t angry with her. He was the one who had suggested she sit by the pool while he and Constanzo talked. So he couldn’t be angry with her.
She let her gaze drift around the room but she stopped suddenly when she saw the chaise lounge with the empty iced-tea glass sitting on the table beside it.
Her gazed jerked to Tucker’s. This time he didn’t look away. His perfect emerald eyes heated.Her breath leached out in a slow hiss. Pinpricks of awareness skittered down her spine. He’d seen her in the bathing suit.
She tried to be Zen about it, because, really, it was a one-piece suit. So what if he’d seen her legs? It meant nothing.
But he didn’t let go of her gaze and she couldn’t let go of his.
Okay. So it meant something.
He picked up a dart and tossed it toward the board. It landed with a thud that mirrored the thudding of her heart. She didn’t want to like another guy who was so far out of her stratosphere...but how did she stop this? Her feelings for him were unexpected. So natural she didn’t have any warning they were going to pop up until they did. And his?
She had no idea.
CHAPTER SIX (#u6879cbc6-655c-52b9-9f40-379f3c2fefbd)
PLEADING A NEED to get some work done, Tucker left the den shortly after Olivia arrived and she didn’t see him again until he entered the dining room for dinner that evening.
As Tucker walked in one door, Constanzo entered from the other side. Concern wrinkled his forehead and turned his mouth into a frown. “I’m so sorry. There’s a problem at one of my companies. We are video conferencing in ten minutes. I would tell you that I’ll return shortly and join you for dinner, but the problem is significant.”
Vivi’s heart stuttered. She and Tucker Engle had to eat alone?
Tucker said, “I understand.”
She just barely kept herself from groaning. It absolutely looked as if they were eating alone.
“Excellent. You and Vivi enjoy dinner.”
He scurried out of the dining room and Tucker faced her.
As always, he wore a dark suit that looked to have been made for him, white silk shirt and silver tie. She wore a light-weight floral dress with thin straps, something she’d bought at the end of the season the year before and paid less than half price for. Her hair hung straight—freshly washed, but just straight. His shiny dark hair had been combed to perfection.
If that wasn’t a reminder that they lived in two different worlds she didn’t know what was. He’d never make a pass at her and, if he did, she’d never flirt back because they did not belong together. They were too different.
But even before she finished that thought, he loosened his tie and pulled it off then undid the top two buttons of his shirt.
“Good evening, Miss Prentiss.”
Oh, Lord. He was dressing down for her. And casually, so he wouldn’t embarrass her. It was the sweetest thing, but she reminded herself they weren’t a good match. He might be the first guy she was attracted to since Cord, but he wasn’t interested in her. He was only being polite. A man who was interested wouldn’t call her Miss Prentiss.
“Good evening, Mr. Engle.”
He motioned toward a chair and she walked over. He pulled it out and she sat.
Ambling to the seat across the table from hers, he asked, “Do you know what Constanzo’s cook prepared?”
“This afternoon he told me she was making a lasagna as lasagna is supposed to be made.”
He laughed. “Leave it to him to be melodramatic.”
“If it tastes as good as it smells, I think he’s allowed a little melodrama.”
As servants filled their glasses with water, Olivia struggled to think of something to say. Thick with the protocol of servants and a long row of silverware, the scene reminded her yet again that she and Tucker Engle had nothing in common.
When the servants left, she took a quiet breath and said, “Constanzo beat me in four games of pool this afternoon.”
“It was kind of you to entertain him.”
“He says it’s boring for an old man to sit around his house with nothing to do. He says he should have grandkids and be teaching a little girl how to swim and a little boy how to hustle pretty girls in pool.”
He laughed.
Her chest loosened a bit. This wouldn’t be so bad. All she had to do was keep talking. “I think he was just distracting me with chitchat so I wouldn’t notice how badly he was beating me.”
Servants arrived with salad and bread and they dug in. For the next few minutes conversation revolved around how delicious the crusty bread was, then the table grew quiet.
She scoured her brain to think of something to say and couldn’t come up with anything. Seconds ticking off the clock felt like hours, reminding her yet again that she shouldn’t be attracted to a man with whom she had nothing in common.
The main course came. At the first bite they groaned in ecstasy and complimented the lasagna, but the conversation stopped again. The longer they were quiet, the more obvious it was that they had nothing to say to each other and that any attraction she felt for him was foolish.
When she finished her dessert, she looked at her watch. Not even nine o’clock.
Across the table, Tucker surreptitiously looked at his watch, too.
For two people with palpable chemistry, they were certainly eager to get away from each other.
Tucker rose from his seat, tossing his napkin to his empty dessert plate. “So how about if you and I play a few games of pool?”
Her head snapped up. “Really?”
“If we go to bed now, we’ll be up at four o’clock. Do you want to sit around with nothing to do for hours and hours?”
“I was kind of thinking if we went to bed now I’d sleep for hours and hours.”
He laughed. “Are you ready to retire for the night?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think your idea of staying up a few more hours might be better.”
“Great.”
They walked to the den in silence. As she chose her pool stick, Tucker racked the balls. With a nod toward the table, he let her break. She dropped one of the striped balls into the pocket but missed her second shot and Tucker took over. The den filled with the crack of his stick against the balls and the plop, plop, plop of ball after ball falling into a pocket.
In the face of the beating she was taking, she forgot all about the quiet. Why was it she could beat any group of guys in a bar, but not whip the butts of two billionaires?
“Okay. I wasn’t quite ready to play. Rack the balls again. This time I won’t be so easy.”
He laughed. “We’ll see.”
“Ah, smug, this time around?”
Tucker arranged the balls on the table. “Not smug. I just watched how you play. My technique is better.”
“Right.”
He motioned to the table as he walked behind the bar to pour himself a draft. “Go ahead. I’ll give you the advantage. Break again.”
She strolled up to the table, aimed her stick and broke with a resounding crack that echoed around them. Two solid balls dropped. She faced him with a grin. “I have you now.”
He leaned against the bar. “What? You think solid is going to be lucky for you?”
“Yes.” She walked around the table considering her next shot. When she found it, she bent across the table to take aim.
But Tucker shook his head. “Your form is all wrong.”
“My form is fine.”
“No. Look at your stick. It wobbles.” He walked behind her and leaned down with her so he could adjust her arm. “See? Isn’t that better?”
The feeling of his chest along her back sent waves of awareness flowing from her back to her toes. He stepped away, as if totally oblivious and, shell shocked, she took the shot.
Miraculously, the ball she aimed for fell. She jumped up with a whoop of joy. “I did it!”
He motioned at the table. “Keep going.”
She picked a shot and leaned over the table, but again he shook his head.
“Your stick still wobbles.” Positioning himself over her, he leaned down and straightened her arm. Then he froze.
The room grew quiet.
Warmth radiated from him into her and would have sent a shudder through her if she hadn’t ruthlessly stopped it. She turned her head slightly to catch his gaze. His green eyes smoldered.
Oh, boy. This wasn’t good.
* * *
Tucker stayed frozen. The woman was the softest thing he’d ever touched. Every hormone in his body awakened at the feel of her skin sliding against his. His hand itched to leave her pool stick and cruise along the curve of her waist, to turn her around, so he could kiss her.
The instinct was so strong, so natural that it shook him to his core and brought him back to planet earth. She was an employee. Smart executives did not kiss employees.
He stepped away and ambled back to the bar, pretending nothing had happened, confused that he couldn’t seem to get himself under control around her.
As he picked up his beer from the bar, Constanzo walked in.
“Great! I see I’m just in time! I’ll play the winner.”
Olivia took her next shot but missed this time. Without looking at him, she said, “Your shot.”
He licked his suddenly dry lips. Okay. That thing between them? He now had confirmation she felt it, too. But he could handle this. They could handle this. They’d just pretend it hadn’t happened.
He set down his beer, picked up his pool cue and walked to the table. He got two balls in then missed, surprising Olivia who quietly walked up to the table again. She hit the remainder of her balls into the pockets, beating him soundly.
“Looks like you and me, Vivi,” Constanzo said, happily rubbing his hands together.
But Olivia yawned. “You and Mr. Engle play. I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”
He didn’t know if she really was tired or trying to get away from him, but he breathed a sigh of relief.
Until Constanzo said, “Tucker will walk you to your room.”
