Happy Mother's Day! (5 page)

Gianluca was used to ending it where affairs were concerned … and then only when his appetite had been fully sated. And this time it had not. It had not just left him wanting her—it had left him wanting her
more.
For once, he felt at some kind of disadvantage and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. His mouth flattened into an implacable line—he wanted to lash out at her for the frustration he still felt.

‘You took my
car,’
he said coldly.

Aisling’s heart kicked against her ribcage, hating herself for the terrible wave of disappointment which washed over her. What had she been expecting him to say? That he’d wanted to carry on holding her? That she was the kind of woman he’d spent his life waiting for? Oh, you idiot, Aisling. ‘How like a man,’ she lashed back. ‘To worry about his precious car.’

‘It’s not about the damned car!’ he gritted. ‘You made me look
a fool!
I woke in the morning and thought that you must have gone for awalk before breakfast.’ He shook his head as he remembered. ‘I went downstairs to find you but none of the maids had seen you. They looked at me in confusion, and then with embarrassment when they showed me your note.’

‘So you were worried about your reputation?’ Aisling queried acidly.

‘A concept which clearly does not concern
you.’
He enjoyed seeing her wince—damn it, she could wince some more!

‘I left the car at your office,’ she defended. ‘I only borrowed it.’

‘You shouldn’t have taken it in the first place!’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t—but what was I supposed to do? I had a flight to catch.’

He raised haughty black eyebrows in a gesture of disbelief. ‘You don’t think that I would have driven you back to Rome—or got you onto another flight? Or even chartered a plane to take you back to London?’

Aisling stared unseeingly at the neat, uncluttered expanse of her desk. How incongruous it would sound if she told him that she’d awoken with a feeling of shame that she could have so compromised their professional relationship. And she had panicked, wanting to keep what little was left of the tatters of her pride. Running away had seemed the only way out at the time.

Deep down she had known that she’d behaved badly—but now she could see that she had thrown a poor light on more than her reputation. Because a woman who so bitterly regretted having taken a lover would look like a very indiscriminate woman indeed …

‘I’m sorry I ran out like that. I’m sorry I took the car,’ she said baldly and looked up into the cold black eyes. ‘There. You have your apology. What else do you want me to do about it?’

Conflicting thoughts began to spin around in his head and for once in his life, Gianluca wasn’t sure.

He wanted to tell her to go to hell!

But he also wanted her to lift her hand and unclip her hair and let it fall all around her shoulders and … and …

He stifled a groan. Ultimately, what did he really want?

Yet he knew the answer to this. It had been eating away at him for weeks—ever since he had realised that she had no intention of contacting him again. A woman he had bedded not begging for more!

At first, he hadn’t believed it—he had thought that she was playing a game of cat and mouse, as women tended to. But no. The expected, slightly awkward phone call had not come—nor the e-mail purporting to be about business, but with a tell-tale ending like:
It was great to see your vineyard … and if ever you’re over in London …

Nothing! And like all men who had always had their every whim and hunger indulged—to be denied something was uniquely appealing. Did she know that? Was she playing some kind of elaborate game with him—knowing all the right buttons to press? Thinking that if she gave him just a taster and then retreated, he would be prowling round her like an alley-cat?

She was the best head-hunter he had ever employed, but this had nothing to do with her skill at
that.
He wanted to possess her one last time—enough to let her go without a backward glance—but he recognised that he was going about it the wrong way. The woman who sat behind the desk was now on her own territory and it wasn’t quite so easy to call the shots.

But she still worked for him, didn’t she?

For the first time since he’d walked into her office, he moved away from the door towards her, seeing her pupils dilate at the same time as her fingers flew up to her throat
in an instinctive gesture of sexual awareness, and his mouth twisted into a hard smile.

Did she think he was just going to go over to her and take her in his arms? With a certainty which had never failed him, he knew that if he began to kiss her then he would soon have her parting her legs and pleading with him to take her there and then.

The heavy beat of desire throbbed deep in his groin and briefly he contemplated taking such an action, but decided against it. Such a victory would be meaningless. The submission of her body too easy. She would submit with her mind and she would submit willingly! She wanted him, no matter what she protested to the contrary—and wouldn’t the triumph of such a conquest quell his anger as well as his desire?

‘Actually I wanted to talk to you about work,’ he said softly.

The taut sexual tension in the air shattered like a bubble being pierced by a needle and Aisling’s mouth opened and then closed again, his words taking her completely by surprise. ‘Work?’ she echoed dully.

Black eyes seared around her office like a laser-gun.
‘Sì, cara,’
he drawled sarcastically. ‘Work—that well-known four-letter word.’ His black gaze lanced into her and taunted her. ‘Shame on you, Aisling—has all your ambition deserted you? Sapped by a night of sex? I mean, I know I’m good—but
that
good? You
are
still in business, I suppose? I take it you still have staff wages to pay?’

‘Well, yes—of course I do. It’s just that I didn’t …’ Her voice trailed off, in a way which wasn’t her usual style at all.

‘Didn’t what, Aisling?’ he probed softly, wondering
what had made those ice-blue eyes suddenly grow darker—or could he guess?

She swallowed. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d still be wanting my services—’ She flinched. Of all the explanations she could have chosen, that must have been the worst—and, judging from his slow smile, he was enjoying every second of her discomfiture.

So pull yourself together. Stop letting
him
control the show.

For the first time since he’d walked into her office, she fixed him with a defiant look. ‘I wasn’t sure whether we would continue to be working together, in view of what happened.’

But even as she said the words Aisling realised how much the world must have turned upside down for her to even consider losing him.

If she lost Gianluca’s account, then she couldn’t afford to employ young Jason—and how would it make her feel to think that a promising young graduate could be thrown on the scrap heap simply because she’d allowed sexual hunger to sway her judgement?

Aisling’s business meant pretty much everything to her, and rightly so. It was her baby—and, the way things were panning out in her life, it was probably the only baby she was ever going to have. If she carried on the way she was doing, it would eventually provide her with the security she’d always yearned for. That was her target, anyway.

Was she really prepared to throw her most prestigious contract away, simply because she had allowed an ill-considered passion to take root? Especially if he seemed prepared to forget what had happened.

He was watching her closely—could see the indecision criss-crossing her pale face. ‘Oh, come on, Aisling. You said yourself, it’s nothing. And if it’s nothing, then it shouldn’t affect our professional relationship, should it?’

Aisling bit her lip. Could she go through with it—working with him again under this startling new set of circumstances? ‘You want to discuss the Miami project?’ she questioned.

‘No,
cara.
I do not. There is a hold-up with the planning application and so for the moment it’s not moving.’

So why was he here? ‘You mean there’s another job in the offing?’ she asked, her professional interest aroused in spite of the bizarre circumstances.

Gianluca gave a slow smile. So the lure had worked, just as he had known it would. The ice-queen would be unable to resist business, wouldn’t she? ‘Of course—and it’s an even bigger project. I’ve been in London all week on business. Why else did you think I was here?’ He glittered her a questioning look. ‘Surely you didn’t think I’d flown over especially to see you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Now she felt stupid. And hurt, too.
Had
she thought that? And he’d been in the same city for a whole week without contacting her. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wasn’t easy. ‘What kind of project?’ she asked.

He had thought about taking her out to dinner and then to bed, but now thought better of it. Let her wait and let her wonder. Let her drive herself crazy all night long remembering how it had felt to have Gianluca Palladio make love to her—and let her body ache for him until he was ready to make his move once more!

Deliberately, he glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late, and I’m tired. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

Their eyes met in a clash of wills. ‘And if I refuse?’

His smile was as cold as marble. ‘Then I will take your professional reputation and I will destroy it,’ he said, in a soft voice. ‘Be very sure of that,
cara.’

‘S
HALL
I show Signor Palladio in now?’ questioned Ginger.

‘Just give me five minutes, will you, Ginger?’ Aisling gave a grim kind of smile as she flicked up the switch of the intercom. This time he could wait. This time she wouldn’t buckle beneath his domineering ways. If they really were to continue working together, then he was going to have to show her a little respect—no matter what had gone on that night in Italy.
Il Tigre
wouldn’t scare her.

She would finish her coffee and reapply her lipstick and generally psych herself up to greet him. As if that might somehow magically repair the damage of a largely sleepless night.

Aisling gazed into the mirror. There were dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes and her face was pale. But so what—she wasn’t trying to impress him, was she?
Was
she?

Smoothing her fingers down over the already smooth cap of her hair, she went back to her desk, took a deep breath and buzzed Ginger.

‘Would you send Signor Palladio in now?’

‘Sure thing!’

Was it Aisling’s imagination, or did her assistant sound
a little
giddy?
But then the door opened and Ginger came in with an expression of such pleasure on her face that anyone would have thought she’d just won the national lottery. No, it hadn’t been Aisling’s imagination at all.

‘I’ll go and get you both some coffee,’ Ginger said, beaming up at Gianluca.

‘I don’t remember asking for any,’ said Aisling mildly.

Ginger wriggled her pale-green cashmere-clad shoulders and the titian hair which had provided her nickname shimmied all the way down her back. ‘No, but Gianluca looked so …
tired
… that I offered to make him some.’

Ginger was
gushing,
thought Aisling furiously. She was actually
gushing!
And just when had she been given permission to start calling him by his Christian name? ‘Thank you,’ she said crisply, and as the door closed behind her secretary Aisling dared look him in the eyes for the first time.

In a way it was easy to see why Ginger had been so uncharacteristically simpering towards him. He was dressed in a pale grey suit, which accentuated the golden glow of his skin and the jet-black gleam of his hair. The shadow around his jaw was fainter than usual and his black eyes were brilliant and gleaming.

He seemed so
alive
—exuding an air of vitality which set him apart from the usual men she met. Was it any wonder that she had acted the way she had?

‘Your assistant is very cute,
cara,’
murmured Gianluca, who had watched the little exchange between the two women with amusement.

‘She’s very good at her job,’ said Aisling defensively, and to her horror she felt a violent stab of something like envy.

He assumed an expression of shock. ‘Did I say she
wasn’t?’ he protested. ‘Just because a woman is warm and giving towards a man, doesn’t mean that she’s in any way inadequate.’

Was that a dig at her? And was she going to react to it? No, she was not. Aisling picked up her fountain pen and twirled it around between her perfectly manicured fingers like a mini-baton.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ she said coolly, watching as he spread his elegant frame in the chair and made it look as substantial as a piece of dolls’ house furniture. ‘And then we can discuss what you have in mind.’

He allowed himself the idle fantasy of telling her that what he really had in mind was to rip that horrible skirt from her body and to press his tongue into the little dip in the centre of her belly and to lick her there until she gasped with pleasure.

She stared at him with polite question in her eyes and reluctantly he dragged his thoughts away from the silken softness of her thighs to the infinitely more mundane subject of his recent takeover.

‘You remember that I said I was thinking of expanding further in England?’

Aisling nodded.

‘Well, the opportunity to do just that presented itself to me recently.’ He paused. ‘I’m in the process of buying a hotel and it’s all been very hush-hush. I would prefer you to say nothing until the official announcement is made.’

‘Oh?’ Concentrate on what he’s saying to you, and not on the high, proud slash of his cheekbones. ‘Which hotel?’

‘It’s the Vinoly,’ he said, seeing her blue eyes widen.

Aisling blinked. ‘You mean theVinoly in central London?’

‘I wasn’t aware there was more than one.’

‘Good heavens!’ she said faintly, putting the pen down on the desk. ‘It’s one of the city’s most famous landmarks!’ She blinked again. ‘In fact—it’s practically an
institution.’

‘But of course. That’s why I wanted it.’

Aisling gave a dry laugh. ‘Just like that?’

‘Why not? Acquisitions excite me.’

Something about the way he said it unsettled her. All successful businessmen were constantly seeking out the new. Like sharks, they were never still—the very best of them always looking out to make a killing, because you never stayed at the top by remaining stagnant.

Maybe that attitude had spilled over into his private life, too. Was that why he had never settled down with one woman—because he conducted his private life on a similar scale? Had she just been another, rather unexpected ‘acquisition'?

Angrily, she straightened the pen, so that it lay at a perfect right angle to the blotter.
This
was why people didn’t have affairs at work—because you started to think about everything in how it related to
you,
instead of how it related to the business!

‘Is something wrong, Aisling?’ he murmured.

‘Wrong? No. Why should anything be wrong?’

He shrugged, but, oh, he was enjoying this—watching Little Miss Prim try not to react to him and failing hopelessly. ‘You were
glaring.’

‘Was I?’ She shrugged right back and met his eyes defiantly. ‘Probably because I often glare when I concentrate.’

‘I see.’

Was he
laughing
at her? wondered Aisling furiously.

There was a knock on the door and Ginger brought in a tray of coffee. Aisling noted that, not only had she made a whole potful of the stuff, but she must have nipped out to the deli next door for some of their fancy biscuits.

‘What a lot of trouble you have gone to, Ginger,’ murmured Gianluca.

Had he deliberately exaggerated his accent to make the first syllable of her name rhyme with ‘jean'? wondered Aisling. And did Ginger really have to bat her eyelashes at him like some amateur vamp as she breathed out her breathless response?

‘Oh, it’s no trouble, Gianluca!’

Aisling wondered how he would have reacted if he had been given a mugful of the rather mediocre instant coffee which was what they
usually
drank, but she didn’t say anything. She waited until the door had closed behind her before picking up the pot and forcing her mind back to his hotel. ‘The Vinoly,’ she mused. ‘Second biggest hotel in London after the Granchester, and an architectural gem. I guess congratulations must be in order.’

His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘You sound doubtful,’ he observed.

‘Well, it’s a bit of a departure for you. You usually deal in smaller, boutique hotels.’ She poured him a cup of coffee and pushed it across the desk in front of him. ‘Biscuit?’

He shook his head.

Aisling poured her own. ‘Won’t this affect the industry’s view of you? Isn’t it a slightly risky strategy?’

Gianluca stared at her with something approaching admiration—at her icy blue eyes which gave away precisely nothing. Had he been expecting her to be cowed by his insistence
on this meeting? Perhaps for her to display irritation towards the secretary who was so obviously flirting with him? Or maybe to gush just a little, recognising that a man who could afford to buy the Vinoly must be a very rich man indeed—and he knew only too well how most women responded to wealth.

And hadn’t there been a tiny part of his mind which had wondered whether she might behave as other women in her position might have done? That, having known the pleasures of his body, she might lock the office door and slide off her panties and come over here and sit on his lap.

But no—the expression she presented to him was completely professional and the objections she voiced were exactly as they should be. And the cool expression on her face was starting to make him wonder whether he’d actually dreamt the whole seduction.

As a client he applauded it, while as a man, it irritated the hell out of him. There had been not one intimation—not a single hint—that they had shared a night of passion in his bed, and in truth he found that deeply insulting. Did she have no
feelings?

His mouth hardened. Perhaps she imagined that by remaining so composed in his presence she would make him want her even more.

And she was right, damn her!

He
was the one who usually compartmentalised—and it was not a trait he particularly admired in the opposite sex. He liked his women warm and soft and available—ready to juggle their schedules to fit in with
his
busy life.

He sipped the coffee, which was surprisingly good, finding himself in the curious position of having to force his mind
back to work instead of the memory of her pale, curving body revealed by his removal of that rather plain underwear.

‘You are doubting my ability to expand into this particular market?’ he demanded.

‘No, of course I’m not. And I can find whoever you need to staff it. I assume you’ll want a new general manager—someone who will put your own particular stamp on the place?’

‘Sì. But I don’t want to change too much, too quickly.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I want to be able to observe what works and what doesn’t, before I decide.’

Aisling hesitated. ‘You’ll be careful not to change
too
much, won’t you, Gianluca? One of the place’s biggest selling points is its very Britishness—the tourists love all that.’

She was unbelievable! ‘You think that I’ll serve only pizza in the restaurants from now on and start playing loud Italian opera?’ he queried sarcastically.

‘And plastic gondolas on sale in the foyer,’ she agreed, deadpan.

His mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. ‘Ah, Aisling,’ he sighed. ‘What is it that you object to in this deal?’

He paid for her judgement and her perception, didn’t he? And for the truth, too.

‘It’s just that this a departure from the Palladio brand,’ she said softly. ‘That’s all.’

‘A
brand?’
he echoed. ‘You think that Gianluca Palladio is a
brand?
What kind of a word is that? You are comparing me to a can of beans, perhaps?’

‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Gianluca—of course I’m not! I’m just telling you not to lose that special something for which you’re known.’

‘Ah!’ His eyes narrowed and a sudden sensation of friction became almost tangible in the air around them. His voice dipped. ‘And what special something would that be?’

Feeling as if she’d walked straight into a trap of her own making, Aisling felt her skin grow warm—the tightening of her breasts reminding her all too clearly of Gianluca the lover. How he had suckled them, teased them with his teeth, licked them.

She bit her lip. Oh,
why
remember something at a time like this? The colour in her cheeks intensified and she found she wanted to look away from him, but couldn’t. She swallowed. ‘Gianluca. Please, don’t.’

‘Don’t what,
cara?
Don’t desire you when it feels as natural to me as breathing? Don’t you know how lovely you look when you lose that frosty look of yours and smile? I saw you smile more times in my arms that night than I’ve done in almost two years of working with you.’

‘But that’s not why we’re here!’ she said quickly. ‘What happened that night was a moment of madness—a mistake.’

He stared at her disbelievingly. ‘And that’s all?’

‘That’s all,’ she agreed. Because what alternative did she have? Admit she’d done nothing but think about him—with images of his mocking face and hard body consuming her memory like a fever? ‘And we’re supposed to be working,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m your head-hunter and you asked my opinion.’

There was a pause but all he could think was how tantalising it was to be pushed away. ‘I know you are,’ he said softly. ‘And that’s why I want you to come to a cocktail party at the Vinoly this evening. This will be a good opportunity to observe how the hotel is being run with a
degree of relative anonymity. Once the sale goes through it will be impossible for me to fade in the background.’

Aisling swallowed. She felt he was playing with her. Pushing her around like a croupier sliding little plastic chips across a gaming table. ‘But if you take me with you, then won’t people guess?’

‘And what will they guess, cara?’ he taunted. ‘That we’re lovers, or that I’m buying the hotel?’

‘But we’re not lovers, Gianluca. Not any more.’

He smiled, but the curve of his lips was cynical and it made a perfect partner for the mockery in his eyes.
Aren’t we?
they seemed to say. ‘It’s at six, in the Thames Room. I’ll send a car here for you.’

She shook her head in frustration, feeling control begin to slip away, and it scared her. ‘I’m a London girl and I’m used to getting around the city on my own. There’s really no need to—’

He cut across her protest with an arrogant wave of his hand.

‘I will send a car,’ he repeated obstinately.