The Italian's Passionate Return (2 page)

Jemma hurried across the broken pathway to her small house, praying that Damien would just go away and leave her alone. She couldn’t handle him right now. Good grief, she hadn’t been able to handle him six years ago!

“Ready?” she asked, breathless when she stepped into the relative warmth of her tiny house.

Dylan already had his shoes on and his backpack ready. “Don’t forget your lunch,” she called out to him a moment before he was about to race out the door.

Dylan froze for a split second, then raced back to the counter where his brown bag was sitting. He grabbed it, stuffed it into his book bag – awkwardly, since he didn’t want to take the time to take his bag off of his shoulders – then raced out the door.

Jemma followed behind at a slower pace. She knew he was capable of getting to the bus stop on his own since it was just at the end of her driveway, but she preferred to make sure he stepped onto the bus safely. This area was too remote and she was a paranoid mother. So she walked down the tree lined drive, her arms crossed over her stomach because of both the cold and her reaction to seeing Damien again.

Dylan was her antidote, she thought, smiling as he raced to the end of the drive and looked down the street for the bus. He loved school, became irritated with the slower pace of the other students or the teacher but he was still very kind, normally helping his classmates to understand the concepts the teacher was explaining. He was a sweet little guy, but she worried about him not being challenged enough.

With a sigh, she smiled at his excitement when he spotted the bus. By the time it rolled to a stop in front of him, he’d already given her a hug, a cheeky grin and a big, sloppy kiss goodbye. Jumping onto the bus, he smiled to the bus driver who chuckled at his excitement.

“Hi Debbie!” Jemma called out to the bus driver. Debbie waved back even while she pulled the door closed. “See you this afternoon,” Debbie called back to Jemma.

The bus pulled away and Jemma sighed with happiness. Dylan was her life now. He was everything she needed.

Turning around, she looked back down the long driveway. She couldn’t see the barn or the black limousine because of the trees, but she suspected Damien was still there. If he’d left, she would have seen the car pull out onto the street but, other than the giant, yellow bus, the street was empty. This was rural Virginia, after all. Not many cars passed through this area. That was one of the reasons it was so ideal for her farm. It was quiet and remote, with enough cheap land to give her horses and dogs a chance to run around. She didn’t keep her horses trapped in stalls during the day. They came in for grain in the morning and evening, but other than that, they roamed the large, fenced in pasture where they could graze on healthy grasses and bask in the sunshine.

Looking back down her driveway, she squared her shoulders, gave herself a pep talk, and forced her mind and body to calm down. She wouldn’t be crazy, she wouldn’t lose her cool…she would just walk back, calmly tell him to be on his way and get him off her property.

And if he didn’t leave, she would call George, the sheriff, and ask him for help. She’d been on a few dates with George. He was a nice guy and she could picture a nice life with him. What was better, he took his job seriously. If she called asking for help, he’d be racing out here with sirens blaring. He was one of the good guys, she told herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

When she turned the corner of her driveway, she saw him there. Her feet stopped moving while they watched each other. Her heart, on the other hand, didn’t! At the first sight of his tall, muscular body, her heart and stomach both did little flips. Her heart was racing and she stood there, several feet away from him, just watching and trying to get her reaction back under control.

Taking a deep breath, she glared at him. “Why are you still here?” she demanded, not taking another step. She was actually afraid of him! He stood there, his dark eyes watching her, assessing. He couldn’t know!

Could he?

Suddenly, she was terrified for a whole different reason. Dylan! She had been so wrapped up in her fear of the attraction they had for each other that she didn’t realize how much he looked like Dylan. Had he seen the resemblance? Dylan was five, loving kindergarten. Damien was….well, she had no idea how old he was. It was pretty shocking that she’d been so intimate with this man but they had said very little to each other beyond exchanging names before falling into bed. Which was the whole reason she had snuck out the following morning. She’d been too embarrassed by her actions from the previous night and wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

But she was older and wiser now. And she wouldn’t let anything happen to her son!

“Why are you still here?” she asked, her stance shifting to belligerence.

One of his dark eyebrows went up and he moved closer. “I would think that was obvious,” he commented, his voice silky smooth. “Why are you not accepting it?”

She swallowed painfully, still not sure if he was talking about Dylan or this…thing…between them.

“Perhaps you should state your business and be on your way.”

Damien thought she was beautiful. The past six years had taken away the youthful innocence and left behind a soft, lovely woman filled with confidence and strength. He remembered her having long, brown hair that flew every which way and he’d liked it. Now it was tied back with one of those elastic bands which would normally make a woman look more tomboyish. But on Jemma, it only emphasized the beauty of her face: her high, prominent cheekbones and her beautiful, vulnerable, blue eyes. She was trying to stifle that vulnerability, but he could see it, could almost feel it. Jemma was worried about something and he hadn’t had a chance to protect her six years ago. He wouldn’t fail her this time.

Nor would he allow her out of his sight until they had worked through whatever had caused her to run away. No woman had ever measured up to this one. No one had ever created the aching, driving need that Jemma had done to him that one night. He remembered seeing her at the dance club, knowing that she was the one. He’d seen her first, had been struck by her long, slender legs and her tiny waist, her full breasts pushing against the thin cotton of her summer dress. And when she’d turned to face him, her eyes had given him a punch to the gut he’d never forgotten. Nor had he forgotten the intense passion between them that they’d generated with just a touch. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her that night. Every time they had satisfied their mutual, aching need, she would touch him, or laugh at something he said and he’d want her again.

And damn! She’d been so responsive. Every touch, every sigh, every writhing moment was permanently imprinted on his memory.

Even now, looking at her in the beaten up jeans that were too big for her slight frame and the baggy sweatshirt that did nothing to hide those full breasts underneath, he wanted her.

“I came to buy a puppy for my niece,” he finally explained, forcing his mind to start working again. “She’s three and I’ve been told by multiple sources that you are the person who has the best puppies.”

Jemma thought about shaking her head, telling him that she didn’t have any puppies. But he’d already seen them in her barn. That didn’t mean she was going to let him get one though. “They are fifteen hundred dollars,” she finally said, tripling her normal price for a yellow lab puppy.

Damien didn’t even blink. “Do they have all their shots?”

Jemma thought about telling him he was an idiot for paying that much for a puppy but she stopped herself just in time. If he wanted to pay that much, she’d let him have a puppy. Lord knows she and Dylan could use the money!

“They have all their shots – I have the documentation.” She nodded towards the barn. “You can pick one out, write the check and I’ll pull the records for that particular puppy.”

Damien almost laughed. “Will you help me pick one out?” he suggested and almost threw back his head with delight when she practically stomped her foot with frustration because he wasn’t doing what she wanted.

“Fine,” she finally said. With jerky movements, she walked over to the barn, making a wide circle so she didn’t get too close. When they were standing in front of the stall with all the wiggling puppies, most of them golden but a few of them more white than yellow, she stepped inside, picking one up and smiling as the little guy immediately tried to lick her nose. “They are all great little puppies, but none are house trained yet,” she cautioned. “You said this was for your niece?”

“Yes, she’s three. Or she will be in a few days. This is her birthday present.”

Jemma pulled the dog back, almost hiding him from Damien’s reach. “Have the parents agreed to the puppy? Puppies are a huge responsibility. They take time and they have so much energy, it will feel like a miracle when they finally sleep.”

Damien smiled down at her. “My niece is in my care,” he said softly. “Her parents died two years ago. So yes, I’m fine with her having a puppy.”

Jemma still wasn’t convinced. “Where do you live? How will you get the puppy to her?”

“In a plane,” he replied, smothering his amusement at her concern over a dog. She was very protective, which spoke well for her as a human being.

Jemma backed up, shaking her head vigorously. “No. Dogs don’t get to go in planes. They go in the cargo hold. And that’s just mean! Those areas don’t have any temperature control and the dogs get scared and don’t understand what’s happening to them.” He started to open his mouth to speak but she interrupted before he could say anything. “And don’t even think about drugging this little guy to get him through the flight! The medicine could wear off and he would need water immediately. If the medicine wears off mid-flight, the dog doesn’t have any ability to tell you what’s going on. And that’s not even discussing any kind of waste issues the dog might have while in flight.” She stepped back, cradling the wiggling puppy protectively. “No. Not going to happen. You need to get a puppy closer to wherever it is you live.”

“I live in Italy,” he replied, looking down at her with laughter unhidden now. “And the puppy won’t be in the cargo hold. He can be with me in the main cabin.” He stepped closer. “But if you feel the need to protect the little guy, you could come with me. You could hold him the whole trip home.” His fingers trailed down her face, tickling her ear and causing the breath to catch in her throat. “Perhaps not the whole time,” he corrected.

Jemma looked away, shocked at how quickly he had turned this conversation into an invitation instead of a sale. “I’m not going to Italy. And I doubt any airline would allow you to bring a puppy on the plane.”

He chuckled. “I don’t fly commercially, Jemma. I have my own plane.”

Jemma stepped back, stunned. “Of course you do,” she said with irritation. Then she realized she was being irrational. “Fine,” she spat out. “Tell me about your niece.”

He shrugged. “Why do you want to know about her?”

Jemma refrained from rolling her eyes. “Because each of the dogs have their own personality. For instance, this little one,” she said, lifting the puppy to her eye level and receiving a sniff and pink tongue again, “is the most exuberant. He would need a lot of space to run around.” She put that one down, not having named any of them because she knew she couldn’t afford to keep any of them. “This one, on the other hand, is a bit gentler. Once he grows up,” she explained, snuggling with the new puppy, “he’ll be calmer, needing running time, but not as much. Someone who takes the first one I showed you, will need to run around, throw the ball for the puppy throughout his whole life. All of them will need daily walks, preferably twice a day, and even more when they’re puppies. But once they mature, their exercise needs change. Just like ours do,” she explained.

Damien was impressed. “And you can tell all that about each of them while they are puppies?”

Jemma shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. I get to know them. I understand them.”

He looked around, noticing all the horses out in the pasture. “You’ve built up a good reputation for horses as well. Do you understand them like you do the puppies?”

Jemma put the puppy down carefully and stepped towards the stall door. “Horses are different, but yes. I understand them.”

“What do you understand?” he asked when she was once more beside him in the dark confines of the center aisle.

She looked up at him defiantly. “I understand when one of the males needs to be put in his place,” she told him with a secret smile. “I understand when they are being too arrogant and need to be taken down a peg or two.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through the air. “I bet the males love your soft, gentle hand stroking them.” He paused, his hand lifting her arm, his fingers tangling in hers. “I know that I liked it.”

Her blue eyes looked down at their fingers, her slender ones intertwined with his stronger ones. She was mesmerized by the sight, remembering their bodies intertwined in the same way. “You feel it too, don’t you?” he almost whispered.

Jemma tried to shake her head, but his fingers tightened slightly. “Don’t deny it. That won’t work because I can feel it right now.” His other hand moved higher, his fingers sliding against her waist, pulling her closer. A moment later, his lips were covering hers and he was kissing her. To Jemma, it felt like all of the passion and desire she’d been storing up after their last encounter was rushing out of her as she kissed him back. It was too much and she’d been without a man, without him, for too long. She couldn’t hold back any longer, her hands fisting in his shirt as she held him close, kissing him like she might just die if he stopped.

She felt his arms shift, lifting her up against him and she whimpered, afraid he would pull away from her. But he didn’t. He only lifted her higher into his arms. She felt the rough wood behind her and the heat of him in front of her and she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. It was just like it had been that one night.

No, she thought when he shifted against her again. It was better. She could feel more, knew what was to come this time and….

“No!” she gasped, her fingers changing from fists to pushing him away. “Damien, stop! We can’t do this!” she called out to him. She closed her eyes and groaned when his mouth moved to her throat, nibbling at the sensitive spot she’d forgotten existed. But she was able to pull herself out of that bliss. “Please!”

He heard the desperation in her voice and pulled back, his hands gentle but still merciless as his hands held her still. “What’s wrong, Jemma?” he asked, his voice even deeper than before.

She shook her head, begging him to understand. “I can’t do this. Not this time,” she explained.

“Why not? You’re an adult, so am I. We want each other,” he covered her mouth when she started to say something, “Don’t even try to deny that because we just proved that you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”

“It’s more complicated than that. We’re not animals,” she retorted. “We can’t just react to our baser instincts. I did that once and I didn’t like myself the next day.” She looked up into his eyes, trying to see if he understood. “I don’t want to feel that way ever again.”

Damien understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “So have dinner with me tonight. Let’s get to know each other.”

Jemma almost agreed, wanting to get to know this amazing, dynamic man. But then Dylan popped into her mind and she shook her head. “I can’t.” With that, she slipped around his large frame and put several feet between them. “Besides, I’m seeing someone else.”

Damien almost laughed out loud. The idea that she could be seeing another man after reacting to him like that was ludicrous. “Break it off with him,” he told her. “I don’t like to share.”

Jemma shook her head, astounded that he would command her to do something like that. “I’m not breaking it off. George is the kind of man who is steady and sweet, compassionate.”

“The implication being that I’m not.”