The Truth Behind his Touch (11 page)

Caroline went white at his brutal summary of everything she didn’t want to face. Her behaviour made no sense to her. She didn’t approve of him one bit, yet she had succumbed faster than she could ever have dreamt possible.

It was lust, pure and simple, and he wanted to drag that shameful admission out of her because he had an ego the
size of a liner and he didn’t care for the fact that she had rejected him. Had he thought that he was complimenting her when he told her that,
amazingly
, he found her attractive? Did he seriously think that it felt good to be somebody’s novelty for five minutes before he returned to the sort of woman he usually liked?

Warning bells were ringing so loudly in her head that she would have been a complete idiot not to listen to them. She found that she was gripping the sides of the salty plank of wood sufficiently hard for her knuckles to whiten.

Glancing across at her, Giancarlo could see the slow, painful realisation of the truth sinking in. He had never thought himself the kind of loser who tolerated a woman who blew hot and then blew cold. Women like that were a little too much like hard work. But this woman …

‘Okay.’ Caroline’s words tumbled over one another and she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the fast-approaching shoreline. ‘So I find you attractive. You’re right. Satisfied? But I’m glad you’ve dragged that out of me because it’s only lust and lust doesn’t mean anything. Not to me, anyway. So there. Now it’s out in the open and we can both forget about it.’

I
T WAS
after five by the time they were finally back at the villa. The outing on the lake had taken much longer than she had thought and then, despite its dramatic conclusion, Giancarlo had insisted on stopping somewhere for them to have a very late lunch.

To add insult to injury, he had proceeded to talk to her as naturally as though nothing had happened between them. He pointed out various interesting landmarks; he gave her an informative lecture on the Vezio Castle, asking her whether she had been there. She hadn’t. He seemed to know the history of a lot of the grand mansions, monuments to the rich and famous, and was a fount of information on all the local gossip surrounding the illustrious families.

Caroline just wanted to go home. She was bewildered, confused and in a state of sickening inner turmoil. As he had talked, gesticulating in a way that was peculiarly Italian, she had watched those hands and felt giddy at the thought of where they had been—on her naked body, touching and caressing her in a way that made her breathing quicken and brought a flush of hectic colour to her cheeks. She looked at his sensual mouth as he spoke and remembered in graphic detail the feel of his lips on her breasts, suckling her nipples until she had wanted to scream with pleasure.

How was she supposed to laugh and chat as though none of that had happened?

And yet, wasn’t that precisely what she wanted, what she had told him to do—pretend that nothing had happened? Sweep it all under the carpet and forget about it?

She hated the way he could still manage to penetrate her tight-lipped silence to make her smile at something he said. Obviously,
she
was the only one affected by what had happened out there on the lake.

‘Thank you for today,’ she told him politely as she opened the car door almost before he had had time to kill the engine.

‘Which bit of it are you thanking me for?’ Giancarlo rested glittering eyes on her and raised his eyebrows in a telling question that made her blush even more ferociously. She was the perfect portrait of a woman who couldn’t wait to flee his company. In fact, she had withstood his polite onslaught over an unnecessarily prolonged lunch with the stoicism of someone obliged to endure a cruel and unusual punishment and, perversely, the fiercer her long-suffering expression, the more he had become intent on obliterating it. Now and again he had succeeded, making her laugh even though he could see that she was fighting the impulse.

Giancarlo didn’t understand where his reaction to her was coming from.

She had made a great production of telling him just why she couldn’t possibly be attracted to a man like him—all lies, of course, as he had proceeded to prove. But she had had a valid point. Where was the common ground between them? She was gauche, unsophisticated and completely lacking in feminine wiles. In short, nothing like the sort of women he went out with. But, hell, she turned him on. She had even managed to turn him on when she had been sitting there, at the little trattoria, paying attention to everyone
around them and only reluctantly looking at him when she’d had no choice.

What was that about? Was his ego so inflated that he couldn’t abide the thought of wanting a woman and not having instant and willing gratification? It was not in his nature to dwell on anything, to be remotely introspective, so he quickly shelved that thorny slice of self-examination.

Instead, he chose to focus on the reality of the situation. He was here, dragged back to his past by circumstances he could never have foreseen. Although he had a mission to complete, one that had been handed to him on a plate, it was, he would now concede, a mission that would have to be accomplished with a certain amount of subtlety.

In the meantime, reluctant prisoner though he might be, he found himself in the company of a woman who seemed to possess the knack of wreaking havoc with his self-control. What was he to do about it? Like an itch that had to be scratched, Giancarlo found himself in the awkward and novel position of wanting her beyond reason and knowing that he was prepared to go beyond the call of duty to get her. It was frustrating that he knew she wanted him too and was yet reluctant to dip her toes in the water. Heck, they were both adults, weren’t they?

Now, faced with a direct question, she stared at him in mute, embarrassed silence.

‘I haven’t seen as much of the countryside around here as I would have liked,’ Caroline returned politely, averting her eyes to stare just behind his shoulder. ‘I have a driving licence, and of course Alberto said that I was more than welcome to use the car, but I haven’t been brave enough to do much more than potter into the nearest town. Before he fell ill, we did take a couple of drives out for lunch, but there’s still so much left to explore.’

Giancarlo smiled back at her through gritted teeth. He
wanted to turn her face to him and
make
her look him in the eyes. It got on his nerves the way she hovered, as if waiting for permission to be dismissed.

He also hated the way he could feel himself stirring into unwelcome arousal, getting hard at the sight of her, her soft, ultra-feminine curves and her stubborn, pouting full mouth. He wanted to snatch her to him and kiss her into submission, kiss her until she was begging him to have his way with her. He almost laughed at his sudden cavemanlike departure from his normal polished behaviour.

‘Any time,’ he said shortly and she reluctantly looked at him.

‘Oh, thanks very much, but I doubt the occasion will arise again. After all, you’re not here for much longer and I’ll be returning to my usual routine with Alberto from tomorrow. Do you need a hand taking anything in? It’s just that I’m really hot and sticky and dying to have a shower …’

‘In that case, off you go. I think I can manage a couple of towels and a cool bag.’

Caroline fled. She intended on ducking into the safety of her room, which would give her time to gather herself. Instead, she opened the front door to be confronted with a freshly laundered Alberto emerging from the kitchens, with Tessa in tow.

He paused in the middle of a testy row, which Tessa was enduring with a broad smile, to look shrewdly at Caroline from under beetling brows.

‘Been a long time out there, my girl. What have you been getting up to, eh? You look tousled.’

‘Leave the poor woman alone, Alberto. It’s none of your business
what
she’s been getting up to!’

‘I haven’t been getting up to
anything
!’ Caroline addressed both of them in a high voice. ‘I mean, it’s been a lovely day out …’

‘Sailing? I take it my son managed to cure your fear of water?’

‘I … I … Turns out I wasn’t as scared of the water as I’d thought. You know how it is … childhood trauma … long story. Anyway, I’m awfully hot and sticky. Are you going to be in the sitting-room, Alberto? Shall I join you there as soon as I’ve had my shower?’

‘Where’s Giancarlo?’

‘Oh, he’s just taking some stuff out of the car.’ The devil worked on idle hands, and a day spent lazing around had made Alberto frisky. Caroline could spot that devilish glint in his eyes a mile away and she eyed the staircase behind him with longing.

‘So you two got along, then, did you? Wasn’t sure if you would, as you seem very different characters, but you know what they say about opposites attracting …’ Inquisitive eyes twinkled at her as a tide of colour rose into her face. Next to him, Tessa was rolling her eyes to the ceiling and shooting her a look that said, ‘Just ignore him—he’s in one of his playful moods.’

‘I’m not in the
slightest
attracted to your son!’ Caroline felt compelled to set the record straight. ‘You’re one-hundred percent right. We’re completely different,
total
opposites. In fact, I’m
surprised
that I managed to put up with him for such a long time. I suppose I must have been so
engrossed
with the whole sailing business that
I barely noticed
him at all.’ By the time she had finished that ringing declaration, her voice was shrill and slightly hoarse. She was unaware of Giancarlo behind her and when he spoke it sent shivers of awareness racing up and down her spine, giving her goose bumps.

‘Now, now,’ he drawled softly. ‘It wasn’t as bad as all that, was it, Caroline?’

The way he spoke her name was like a caress. Alberto
was looking at them with unconcealed, lively interest. She had to put a stop to this nonsense straight away.

‘I never said it was bad. I had a lovely day. Now, if you’ll all excuse me …’ As an afterthought, she said to Tessa, ‘You’ll be joining us tonight for dinner, won’t you?’ But, as luck would have it, Tessa was going to visit her sister and would be back later, in time to make sure that Alberto took his medication—which at least diverted the conversation away from her. She left them to it, with Alberto informing Tessa that he was feeling better and better every day, and he would be in touch with the consultant to see whether he could stop the tablets.

‘And then, my dearest harridan, you’ll be back to the daily grind at the hospital, tormenting some other poor, innocent soul. You’ll miss me, of course, but don’t think for a moment that I’ll be missing you.’ Caroline left him crowing as she hurried towards the staircase.

She took her time having a long, luxurious bath and then carefully choosing what she would wear. Everything, even the most boring and innocuous garments, seemed to be flagrantly revealing. Her tee shirts stretched tautly across her breasts; her jeans clung too tightly to her legs; her blouses were all too low-cut and her skirts made her think how easy it would be for his hand to reach under to the bare skin of her thighs.

In the end she settled for a pair of leggings and a casual black top that screamed ‘matronly’.

She found them in the sitting-room where a tense silence greeted her arrival.

Alberto was in his usual position by the window and Giancarlo, on one of the upright chairs, was nursing what looked like a glass of whisky.

Caught off-guard by an atmosphere that was thick and
uncomfortable, Caroline hovered by the door until Alberto waved her impatiently in.

‘I can’t face the dining-room tonight,’ he declared, waving at a platter of snacks on the sideboard. ‘I got the girl to bring something light for us to nibble on here. For God’s sake, woman, stop standing there like a spectre at the feast and help yourself to something to drink. You know where it all is.’

Caroline slid her eyes across to Giancarlo. His long legs were stretched out, lightly crossed at the ankles. For all the world he looked like a man who was completely relaxed, but there was a threatening stillness about him that made her nervous.

She became even more nervous when Alberto said, with a barb to his voice, ‘My son and I were just discussing the state of the world. And, more specifically, the state of
my
world, as evidenced in my business interests.’

Giancarlo watched for her reaction with brooding, lazy interest. So the elephant in the room had been brought out into the open. Why not? If the dancing had to begin, why not be the one to start the music instead of waiting? So much easier to be the one in control and, of course, control was a weapon he had always wielded with ruthless efficiency.

‘Your colour’s up, Alberto,’ Caroline said worriedly. She glared at Giancarlo, who returned her stare evenly. ‘Perhaps this isn’t the right time to.’

‘There is no right time or wrong time when it comes to talking about money, my girl. But maybe we should carry on our little
discussion
later, eh, my boy?’ He impatiently gestured for Caroline to bring him the tray of snacks but his sharp eyes were on Giancarlo.

So he’d done it, Caroline thought in a daze, he’d
actually
gone and done it. She could feel it in her bones. Giancarlo
had tired of dancing around the purpose for his visit to the villa. Maybe her rejection had hastened thoughts of departure and he had decided that this would be as good a time as any to finally achieve what he had intended to achieve from the very start. Perhaps Alberto’s declarations of improving health had persuaded Giancarlo that there was no longer any need to beat around the bush. At any rate, Alberto’s flushed face and Giancarlo’s cool, guarded silence were saying it all.

Caroline felt crushed by the weight of bitter disappointment. She realised that there had been a part of her that had really hoped that Giancarlo would ditch his stupid desire for revenge and move on, underneath the posturing. She had glimpsed the three-dimensional, complex man behind the façade and had dared to expect more. God, she’d been a fool.

She sank into the deepest, most comfortable chair by the sprawling stone fireplace. From there, she was able to witness, in ever-increasing dismay, the awkwardness between father and son. The subject of money was avoided, but it lay unspoken in the air between them, like a Pandora’s box waiting for the lid to be opened.

They talked about the sailing trip. Alberto politely asked what it felt like to be back on the water. Giancarlo replied that, of course, it was an unaccustomed pleasure bearing in mind that life in Milan as a boy had not included such luxuries as sailing trips, not when money had been carefully rationed. In a scrupulously polite voice, he asked Alberto about the villa and then gave a little lecture on the necessity for maintenance of an old property because old properties had a nasty habit of falling apart if left unattended for too long. But of course, he added blandly, old places
did
take money. Had he ever thought of leaving or was
possession of one of the area’s most picturesque properties just too big a feather in his cap?

After an hour and a half, during which time Ella had removed the snacks and replaced them with a pot of steaming coffee, Caroline was no longer able to bear the crushing discomfort of being caught between two people, one of whom had declared war. She stood up, said something polite about Tessa being back soon and yawned; she would be off to bed. With a forced smile, she parroted something to Alberto about making sure he didn’t stay up much longer, that he was to call her on her mobile if Tessa was not back within the hour so that she could help him upstairs. She couldn’t look at Giancarlo. His brooding silence frightened her.