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‘I don’t want to get to know you better. I already know you well enough.’
‘But didn’t you say that it was important to delve deeper?’
‘You’re twisting my words.’
‘I’m merely playing your own words back to you.’
She turned her head and looked at the ocean, but he could see the desperation in her eyes and she took several small breaths before turning back to him. ‘If you don’t need me to work immediately then perhaps you could lend me the file and I’ll go back to the villa and make some notes. At least then I’ll be prepared when he finally turns up. I can sign a confidentiality agreement if you think it’s necessary.’
He wondered what it would take to get her out of that navy skirt and away from her legal pad. ‘Do you sail?’
‘Sorry?’ She looked startled. ‘Why are you asking that?’
‘Because we need to find a way of passing the time until my client arrives. I have other suggestions, of course …’ Alessio allowed his sentence to remain unfinished, enjoying the confusion in her eyes.
‘I don’t need you to entertain me.’ Apparently that last remark was sufficient to make her reach for her drink. Lifting it to her lips, she took a large sip and then put the glass carefully back down on the table. ‘If you have no immediate need for me, I’ll just stay in my villa and take the odd swim. You carry on and do whatever it is you usually do when you’re here.’ Her tight voice suggested that she knew exactly what his usual form of entertainment was, and Alessio laughed.
‘You’re going to swim?’
‘Why is that funny?’
‘Because I’ve never seen anyone swimming in a navy skirt before. And you seem determined not to be parted from yours.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I just can’t imagine you relaxing enough to strip off.’
‘I’ve already told you—I’m perfectly capable of relaxing, Alessio.’
He studied her for a moment wondering what it was about her that was holding his attention. ‘In that case go and change out of those warm winter clothes and have a dip in the sea. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock for dinner.’
‘I don’t have anything to change into.’
‘My staff will have rectified that by now, I’m sure.’ He’d given them an exact brief on what he wanted and now he was waiting with interest to see how Lindsay reacted to her new wardrobe. He had a feeling that the clothes she wore were part of her defence.
What would happen to her rigid control when she was no longer protected by the comforting security of navy blue or black?
She was convinced she had the mental strength to resist the chemistry between them.
Alessio suddenly discovered just how much he was looking forward to proving her wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
LINDSAY stared at her reflection in despair.
When she’d returned to the villa to find the wardrobe stocked with a wide selection of summery clothes, she’d been relieved and grateful.
Reluctant though she’d been to admit as much to Alessio, she was boiling and had been finding her skirt scratchy and uncomfortable in the shimmering Caribbean heat.
Relief had turned to amazement as she’d examined the contents of her new wardrobe more closely.
Unaccustomed to such a degree of luxury, she was woman enough to feel a flare of excitement as she’d rifled through the dresses on the rail and sifted her way through beautifully folded tops and cardigans, all separated by tissue paper to minimise creasing. And it hadn’t just been clothes. There were shoes, all in her size, bags, accessories and a basket heaped with a selection of exclusive make-up, all new and still in the packaging.
But her laughter had faded as soon as she’d realised that none of the clothes was what she would have chosen. It was true that neither of the two skirts she had with her was suitable for a week on a Caribbean Island. For a start they were just too hot and, yes, she’d be the first to agree that they were also too formal.
But there was informal and then there was—romantic. Romantic and sexy. And the entire wardrobe that had been provided for her seemed to fall into that category. She’d spent half an hour rifling through the rail over and over again, searching for something that said ‘work in a warm climate’. But everything in front of her just seemed to shriek ‘take me, take me’.
The options had either been too short, too fitted, too low cut, or too dressy.
One dress in particular had caught her attention and she’d looked at it in despair, knowing that only an extremely sexually confident woman would dare to wear strapless, scarlet silk.
She certainly wasn’t that woman.
Which was why, in the end, she’d opted for the turquoise dress.
It shimmered in the light and had clearly been lovingly created by some top designer with seduction in mind.
It wasn’t quite as terrifying as the wicked scarlet dress, but it still made her feel uncomfortable.
How could she possibly join a man like Alessio Capelli for dinner wearing something like this?
It was asking for trouble.
For a start it was semi-transparent, presumably designed to be worn over glamorous underwear on an intimate occasion. Or possibly over a swimsuit, by someone so wealthy that shockingly expensive silk could be regarded as beachwear.
The rest of the wardrobe was much the same. Brightly coloured tops, beach dresses, long floating skirts—everything achingly feminine and designed for an ultra-romantic holiday.
But she wasn’t on holiday.
And knowing Alessio Capelli—knowing his ego and his arrogance—if she wore these clothes, he’d take it as a sign that she wanted to take their relationship a step further.
It was incredibly generous of him to have provided her with a suitable wardrobe, but—
Her eyes narrowed as a sudden thought struck her.
Generous? Was he being generous? Or was he testing her in some way?
Remembering the way he’d teased her, she suddenly realised that it was far more likely that there was a deeper, darker reason for the choice of clothes.
Angry with herself for being so naïve, she glared at her reflection in the mirror.
This wasn’t generosity on his part.
He wanted her to feel uncomfortable.
He wanted her out of her depth.
Apparently he found the unfortunate chemistry between them entertaining and he didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. But nor was he allowing her to pretend. He was upfront and straight about the attraction.
And she was honest enough with herself to admit that she was on dangerous ground. Alessio wasn’t a man that women could easily ignore. He was, quite simply, the most devastatingly attractive man she’d ever met. Sinfully handsome, he had a way of looking at a woman that made her think of nothing but sex.
And it wasn’t just looks. If it had been, perhaps she would have found him easier to resist, but his sharp intelligence made him stimulating company and she was finding it impossible to forget how kind he’d been to her on the plane when she’d been ill.
That kindness had been all the more surprising given his reputation.
If she was honest, the chemistry between them was starting to terrify her.
She, of all people, knew the dangers of that degree of chemistry—she knew just how easy it was to confuse overwhelming physical attraction with something deeper. And yet, even knowing that, her body still hummed and simmered and responded to the lazy, suggestive glint in his eyes.
And she didn’t want that. Dear God, she really, really didn’t want that.
She’d seen where that could lead.
Feeling intensely vulnerable and incredibly alone, Lindsay sank down on the edge of the bed and forced herself to do something that she never usually allowed herself to do.
She thought about her childhood.
Instead of blocking out those memories, she allowed them to filter through to her brain. What started as a trickle became a flood, and for a brief, horrible moment she was a little girl again, curled up in her tiny bed with her younger sister asleep in her arms. And she was listening to the sounds through the wall. Those sounds.
The sounds she hated.
The sounds that meant that her father would be coming back home for a while. ‘It’s all right, Lindsay, we’ll be a family again. Everything is going to be different now.’
Breathing rapidly, Lindsay rose to her feet, slamming the lid back down on her thoughts, appalled at how quickly she could regress from competent professional to needy child.
She was well aware of how vulnerable the needy child was. Look at Ruby. There was no doubt in her mind that her mixed up little sister flitted from one relationship to another because she was looking for the love and security she hadn’t had as a child.
Impatient with herself, Lindsay paced barefoot into the bathroom.
But she wasn’t going to do that.
Sex wasn’t love.
Sex wasn’t security.
Sex was just—well, sex.
Turning on the taps, she leaned over the washbasin, filled her palms with cold water and splashed her face as if washing her face might also wash away the memories that she’d conjured up.
It had only been a brief glimpse, but it was enough.
Enough to strengthen her resolve.
With the cool water came a feeling of calm and she blotted her face with a towel and stared in the mirror.
It didn’t matter what dress she chose to wear. It wasn’t going to make a difference to who she was or how she’d chosen to live her life. She was never, ever going to let sexual chemistry cloud her judgment.
Never. It just wasn’t going to happen. No matter how sexy the man. No matter what the temptation.
Having seen first-hand the devastation that such a relationship caused, there was no way she was going to make that mistake herself. And wearing a sexy dress and a pair of gorgeous shoes wasn’t going to change that.
She made decisions with her head and her brain, not with her body.
It didn’t matter that she was in paradise with a dangerously sexy man and a wardrobe to die for.
She was still using her brain. She was still in charge of her decisions.
She could wear any one of those sexy dresses and it wouldn’t make a difference to the outcome of the evening.
‘Let’s see which one of us suffers most, Alessio Capelli,’ she murmured under her breath as she selected a lip gloss from the basket of make-up that had been left for her use. Removing it from its packaging, she applied it to her lips and stared at herself with satisfaction.
Clothes and make-up didn’t dictate your choices in life.
She could be naked and she’d still be able to resist Alessio Capelli because that was what she wanted to do.
It was all about choices and she knew which choice she was going to make.
Alessio strolled up to the open door of the villa and paused, stunned by the vision that confronted him.
The door was open and he watched transfixed as Lindsay—
a vastly different Lindsay—twisted her hair into a knot and fastened it with a clasp made from a seashell.
Her slender form shimmered in turquoise silk, an exotic vision of femininity. His gaze lingered on the curve of her bottom and he felt an instantaneous surge of lust.
‘Well—’ without waiting for an invitation, he strolled into the living room ‘—you clearly didn’t have a problem finding something to wear in the wardrobe.’
And he’d expected her to. In fact he’d prepared himself for protests. But there was no protest. Instead she appeared almost serene.
‘Why would I have had a problem?’ Tilting her head, she checked her reflection in the mirror, as composed and controlled as ever. ‘It’s incredibly generous of you to lend me so many beautiful things. Thank you, Alessio.’ With a smile that appeared genuine, she slid her feet into a pair of sparkling jewelled shoes with heels so high that walking should have been impossible.
Scanning the length of her legs, Alessio was forced to admit that, yet again, Lindsay Lockheart had surprised him. He hadn’t expected a positive reaction to the wardrobe he’d provided. He’d instructed the staff to select glamorous clothes, designed to accommodate the needs of a relaxed woman on a beach holiday.
Lindsay wasn’t anyone’s idea of a relaxed woman.
Knowing what he knew about her desire to control every aspect of her life, he was astonished that she’d apparently embraced someone else’s choice of clothes—particularly when those clothes were a dramatic departure from her normal choice of dress. He had a strong suspicion that dressing in a boring and businesslike fashion was all part of her desperate urge to control her surroundings and the way everyone reacted to her. That being the case, he would have expected her to be uncomfortable parted from her crisp white shirt and her safe navy skirt. Instead she was reacting to her new look with decidedly feminine enjoyment.
Far from rejecting the clothes, she seemed to be revelling in them.
His experienced eye noted the subtle touches of make-up that drew attention to her soft, lush mouth and her smooth creamy skin.
And then something in her eyes caught his attention—a cool unspoken challenge that was at odds with a woman who was dressing up purely for pleasure.
And he knew then that she wasn’t relaxed.
He smiled to himself, deriving a certain satisfaction from the fact that he’d read her correctly after all. She wasn’t at all relaxed. But she was determined that he wouldn’t know it.
So why was she wearing the clothes?
