Unnoticed and Untouched (8 page)

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I shouldn’t have mentioned work. I know you wouldn’t—” She stopped, swallowed. “I know that you don’t expect me to sleep with you simply because I’m your PA.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t. If you sleep with me, Faith, it will be because you want to. Because you cannot imagine another day without giving in to this passion between us.”

“I don’t know what passion is,” she said hurriedly, before she lost her nerve. “I—I’ve never …” Her voice trailed off as her courage fizzled.

He tilted her chin up until she was looking at him, his
blue gaze searching hers. “You have never what, Faith? Slept with someone you worked with?”

Her laugh was strangled. “No, that’s not it. I’ve never, um … slept … with anyone.”

He was utterly silent. The only sound in the room was the kitten purring and lapping milk. Her heart was thrumming hard, and a rush of heat climbed into her cheeks, bloomed between her breasts. She was hot, so hot, and she wanted to take off her robe and slip beneath a cool spray of water.

“You are untouched?”

Untouched. It was such a quaint word, and yet it was less shocking than the other word he could have used.
Virgin
.

Faith nodded.

Renzo slid a hand through his hair and swore softly. “You have stunned me, Faith Black, and I am not easily stunned.”

She tried to laugh it off. “I’m a preacher’s daughter. What did you expect?”

“Yes, but you’ve been away from home for, presumably, eight years now. In all this time, you did not find someone you wanted to be with?”

Not until now
.

Faith sighed. She was in so much trouble here. And not just because she was alone with a man she desperately wanted. No, it was worse. Much worse. Because she was at least half in love with him already.

He was kinder than she’d expected, more considerate, and he cared about tiny, helpless animals. It was more than she’d thought he was capable of just two weeks ago when she’d watched him leave the office with Katie Palmer on his arm. He’d been so remote then, so perfect and untouchable and polished. Not at all the kind of man who would warm milk for a kitten in the middle of the night.

Faith bit down on the inside of her lip. She wasn’t
really
in love with him—but she could be if he kept doing things that made her heart tighten in her chest.

“It’s not that simple,” she said.

“I don’t see why not.”

She picked the kitten up again because it had finished drinking and was starting to wander. “Because it’s different for a woman.”

He reached out, stroked the kitten’s head. “Do you know how to tell if it is a boy or a girl?”

Faith carried the kitten over to the window where a shaft of moonlight pooled over the kitchen sink. “Looks like a girl,” she said after she held it up to the light, relieved that Renzo had decided to talk about something else.

“Ah, so Miss Viper it is. But that is not so pretty, is it?” he said, frowning.

“It is a bit much for such a little one,” Faith replied.

“We could call her
Piccolo
.”

“What does that mean?” He’d said that word to her earlier today, and she’d wondered then.

“Little one.”

It was certainly appropriate, at least for the kitten. But still not quite right. Faith frowned, thinking. And then it hit her. “I think she is a Lola.”

Renzo smiled. “
Si
, Lola is perfect. What do you recommend we do with her now that she has eaten?”

“She’ll need a place to sleep,” Faith said. “She’ll need something to burrow into, and a small space where she can’t get into trouble.”

“Then we will find something for her.”

They hunted through the kitchen until Renzo found an empty wine crate in the pantry. Then he retrieved a blanket from a closet and mounded it in the center. After they found another small box to make into a litter pan, Renzo helped
her carry everything up to her room. They put Lola into a small walk-in closet off the bathroom and closed the door.

She mewed for a few moments while they stood there looking at each other in silence, hoping she would settle down. She did, and they crept from the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

Moonlight slanted through the long windows, illuminating Renzo’s form as he stood in the center of her room. His skin looked warm, silky, and she realized with a jolt that she ached to touch him. To press her lips to his skin and see if he tasted as delicious as he looked.

“A virgin shouldn’t look at a man the way you’re looking at me,” he said, an edge of strain in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, ducking her head in embarrassment.

He closed the distance between them until he was standing so close that his heat enveloped her and her body began to soften and melt. It was novel. Her nipples were tingling, tightening, her sex aching with renewed want. If he spread her robe and slipped her gown off, she would be incapable of protest.

She wanted him to do it, and she feared he would at the same time.

Renzo lifted his fingers to her cheek, skimmed lightly over her flesh. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “It seems as if I am filled with nothing but apologies tonight. But, Faith, I see now that it would be wrong to take you to my bed. If you were experienced …”

Disappointment filled her. And a thread of anger snagged through the disappointment, pulling the fabric of it taut. “I see,” she said primly, because she couldn’t make herself say anything else. How could she be angry when only a moment before she’d been afraid?

“You are angry,” he said. “I understand. But you’ve
saved yourself for a reason, Faith, and you shouldn’t take that next step lightly.”

She hadn’t exactly saved herself so much as she’d had no opportunities. She hadn’t dated very much, because she didn’t trust men after Jason—and when she had dated, she’d inevitably broken the relationship off before they ever reached a point at which she might consider having sex. How did she know, if she got that far, that a man wouldn’t violate her trust again?

Maybe it was a good thing this was happening. Because she wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable embarrassment and broken heart when Renzo grew tired of her.

“You’re wrong,” she said coolly, because she refused to let him see that he’d hurt her. “I’m not angry. I’m just tired. I think you’ve misread the situation entirely. I was not inviting you into my bed at all.”

His hand dropped away. Somehow, she managed not to whimper. Not to beg him to touch her again.

“Then I will leave you to your rest,” he said, his voice so cool it chilled her. Then he strode past her without another word and walked out the door.

After he was gone, Faith threw herself onto the bed in a dramatic maneuver worthy of generations of Southern women, and cried into her pillow. Angry tears, she told herself. Angry, frustrated, bitter tears.

R
ENZO
could hardly wrap his head around the fact that his sexy PA was still a virgin. How was this possible when she was so passionate beneath the prim exterior? This was a woman who kissed with her whole body. She focused every bit of concentration she had on the meeting of lips and tongues, and the effect was exquisite.

Renzo shifted at his desk as his body began to react to the memory of kissing her last night in his car. She’d been like a living flame in his arms, and he’d wanted to burn himself up in her. When he’d encountered the damp evidence of her desire for him, it had been all he could do not to rip the thin silk from her body and bury himself inside her then and there.

Thankfully he had not, since she was a virgin. Not only would she likely not have appreciated such an introduction to lovemaking, but what if she took it too seriously? What if she thought that because they’d had sex, they had a future together?

Faith was serious, proper, a preacher’s daughter. She’d probably want to get married, have babies, do charity work, hostess parties and drag him to school functions.

He did not know that for a fact, but if it was true, he did not want to hurt her when she learned he wanted none of
those things. He wasn’t against marriage or babies in principle, but he wasn’t quite sure he would ever take that step.

He liked his life the way it was. He liked the excitement of the track, the excitement of a new lover in his bed whenever he chose, and the excitement of creating something that would make him richer than he’d ever dreamed possible when he’d still been an angry teenager with a grudge against the world.

In short, he liked the freedom to do what he wished. He always made it clear to the women who got involved with him there was no future with him, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

Faith said he’d misread her last night, but he was certain he had not. She’d wanted him, and if he’d swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, he was fairly certain she would not have objected. If he’d done so, he could be buried inside her right now instead of sitting at his desk and fighting an erection that wouldn’t go away.

Renzo glanced down at the report that she’d handed him an hour ago, and then back up at where Faith sat at a desk nearby, clicking keys on her computer and generally ignoring him. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than her. It was quite annoying.

If he had sex with her, she would leave him—but perhaps that was the lesser of two evils at this point since he needed to turn his attention to the next few months on the circuit and couldn’t seem to do so.

He let his eyes skim down her form. Her hair was perfectly coiffed this morning, and she wore a cinnamon-colored jacket and skirt that showed off her legs. Gone were the unfashionable short black heels; in their place was a pair of platform pumps in brown suede. Faith had her legs tucked to one side of her chair, one lovely leg crossed over the other.

Thank God she had not looked like this in New York.

He’d been insane to take her to a salon, even more insane to take her shopping afterward. He’d known she was beautiful beneath the ill-fitting suits and glasses and severe buns, but he’d made a mistake in showcasing that beauty for others to see.

For Niccolo Gavretti to see. Renzo’s grip tightened on the pen he was holding until he threw it down in disgust before it cracked. Gavretti had tried to kiss her and it had made him crazy. Crazy enough to mark her as his at a party attended by everyone who was anyone. Soon, the story would appear in the tabloids that regularly reported on his life. He had a feeling that Faith wouldn’t like that, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

She must have sensed he was looking at her because her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his evenly. But then she glanced down, just for a moment, and he knew she was still thinking about it, too.

“How is Lola this morning?” he asked, thinking of the tiny ball of fur that he’d found in the bougainvillea. The little thing had clawed him something fierce until she’d realized he wasn’t going to hurt her. He had scratch marks on his arms this morning, and one on his chest.

“She’s fine,” Faith said. “I think she’ll be able to eat kitten food if I can go and buy her some today.”

Renzo waved a hand. “Consider it done,” he said, picking up his mobile phone and calling Fabrizio, the household butler. “Anything else?” he asked while he still had the man on the phone.

“A proper litter box, litter, a playhouse—maybe I should just make a list.”

“I will wait,” he said, and Faith began to scribble on a piece of paper. She handed it over and Renzo read off the
items to Fabrizio, who took everything in his stride.
Dio
, who knew one tiny creature needed so many things?

When he hung up again, she was watching him. “I forget sometimes just how exalted a life you lead,” she said. “When was the last time you shopped for yourself?”

Renzo laughed. “I can’t remember,
cara
. When I want something, I make a call. It is much more preferable to the way I used to live.”

“And how was that? Like the rest of us mortals?” She was teasing him, and he found he liked it. She was trying so hard to make everything seem normal again. Did he want to give that up by taking her to his bed? He was very afraid he did.

“There was a time,” he said, “when I didn’t always have enough money to buy food for the day. It’s amazing what you will do when you’re hungry.”

Her eyes filled with sadness, and he realized he’d said more than he’d meant to say. That was what he got for only having half his mind on the question and the other half on her legs.

“I’m sorry, Renzo. I know what it’s like to worry about where your next meal is coming from. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

His senses sharpened at the unhappy note in her voice. “When did this happen to you, Faith?”

She pushed back from her desk and folded her arms. The movement pressed her already lush breasts even higher. Renzo stifled a groan.

“I left home without much of a plan. It was inevitable there would be some difficulties along the way.” She shook her head. “But I don’t really want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“You never want to talk about it,” he said, suddenly wanting to know more about her. What did he know, other
than she was from Georgia, that she didn’t speak to her family, and that she had a cat that’d died last year?

Her eyes flashed. “Neither do you,” she accused. “We both tap-dance around the difficult parts of our lives. And maybe that’s best. You’re my boss, not my boyfriend.”

At that moment, he wanted to be more. He wanted to be the man she told her problems to. The one whose arms she lay in at night before going to sleep.

Dio
, this was insane. Renzo shoved back from the desk and stood. There was only one place he was going to stop thinking about her, at least for a little while. It would only be temporary, but temporary was better than nothing.

“If you’re finished with your work for the morning, it’s time to go to the track,
cara
.”

Something else flashed in her eyes then—fear? Inexplicably, it made him angry. There was nothing to be frightened of. He knew what he was doing. He was Lorenzo D’Angeli. He’d won nine world titles, broken records—and shattered his leg.

He tightened his fingers into fists at his side. Yes, he’d shattered his leg. And yes, it was bothering him more and more lately. But it was time to take the Viper out and see how it rode now that they’d made the modifications. He wouldn’t push it today, but he had to get a feel for it before training began in earnest.

“You want me to go with you?” she asked in disbelief.

“
Si
, I need you there.”

She swallowed and turned around to log off her computer. Then she gathered her purse and stood. She didn’t ask why he needed her to come with him and for that he was grateful. Because he couldn’t give her a reason, other than he simply wanted her to be there.

He turned to go but she stopped him with a word.

“Renzo,” she said, and he turned back to her. Her green
eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “I want you to promise me that if your leg starts to bother you, you won’t push yourself,” she said, clutching her purse in front of her like a shield. “It’s not worth the risk.”

He took a step closer to her, stopped. “Would you be upset if something happened to me,
cara
?”

“A lot of people would,” she said, her lashes dipping to cover her eyes. “A lot of people depend on you.”

“But would
you
be upset?”

He wasn’t sure she would look at him, but she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Yes, of course I would.”

Some feeling he couldn’t name curled inside him, warming him. “Then I suppose I will have to be careful.”

If this was his idea of careful, then Faith wanted to scream. He’d taken her to a test track near the D’Angeli factory where she’d accompanied him as he’d inspected the Viper before suiting up and taking the beast out.

The motorcycle was wicked, with its cool carbon frame and cherry-red paint. It was wide in the front and narrow in the back, and didn’t look at all like something any sane person would want to ride at the speeds Grand Prix racers rode. While the men had oohed and ahhed, she’d chewed the inside of her lip until it was nearly raw.

What if his leg cramped? What if he had an accident? What if, what if, what if?

Renzo had spent time conferring with his team before he’d gone to change. When he’d returned, he was clad head to toe in dark leather. It wasn’t the leather he wore when racing, which was covered with logos and advertising, but it was still familiar from the photos she’d seen of him in his gear. He was wearing the knee sliders, the gloves, the lightweight boots and, when he turned to the side, the hump of the back protector was clearly visible.

She’d stood quietly by until he’d told someone to take her to the observation box. She’d stared at him, wanting to say something, until she’d finally had to turn and follow the man who was taking her away.

Now, she sat in the box and clenched her hands into tight fists as Renzo raced along a track that curved up high on the sides and contained at least one switchback, which he regularly took at lightning speed.

The motorcycle roared into the curves—and that’s when Faith couldn’t breathe. She’d watched footage of the races previously, because she’d felt it necessary if she was working at D’Angeli Motors, but she’d never before thought she was going to scream each time the motorcycle lay flat on its side, Renzo’s knee and elbow skimming the ground before it came out on the other side and he throttled it higher, zooming into hyper speeds.

It was, without doubt, the most insane thing she’d ever witnessed—and that was going some, considering she was from the American South and car racing was a favored sport of many people there. But no car race she’d ever been forced to watch with her family could compare to the outright insanity of this.

When Renzo finally finished his run in what seemed like a century later, she wilted in relief. He brought the motorcycle to a stop, though not until after doing a series of wheelies, and climbed off as someone prepared to take the bike from him.

What happened next brought a gasp from her companions in the box—and sent her racing down the stairs as fast as she could go in her high heels.

The instant Renzo’s right foot had touched the tarmac, he’d buckled into a heap.

By the time she reached ground level and burst out onto the track, he was standing and shaking his head as someone
said something to him. He’d raised the visor on his helmet, but now he removed it and laid it on the seat as she barreled toward him.

Faith stopped short as several pairs of eyes turned toward her, questioning. But it was the look in Renzo’s eyes that most concerned her. There was pain, she could clearly see that, but he was doing his best to hide it. Not only that, but he glared daggers at her. A warning.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, even though her heart raced and a fine sheen of sweat broke out between her breasts. She had to salvage this somehow, had to help him out of the situation. “But, uh, you have an important conference call scheduled quite soon, Mr. D’Angeli. I thought you might have forgotten it in the excitement of testing the, uh, the Viper.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Thank you, Miss Black.”

He turned back to the men and said a few things in Italian, and then he was moving toward her, no trace of a limp as he strode with the confidence and surety that she was accustomed to seeing in him.

But she could tell he was hurting. The corners of his mouth were tight and there was a groove in his forehead as he concentrated hard on walking without letting the pain show. They swept into the factory and then took an elevator up to his office. Once inside, he still didn’t give in to the agony he was surely feeling. He walked over to his desk and sat down, his body still encased in racing leather.

And then he folded over until his head was on his arms and she could hear him breathing deeply.

“Renzo,” she said, choking back tears as she went to his side and sank down beside him. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “There is nothing.”

She reached up with shaking fingers and touched his
sweat-soaked hair. “I’m sorry. I seem to say that quite a lot, but I don’t know what else to say.” She let her hand drop to his shoulder, squeezed. “I think you should take a pain pill. And then you should call your doctor.”

“No doctors,” he said. “No pills.”

Frustration pounded into her. “You can’t just endure it,” she said, trying to reason with him. “At least take a pill.”

He pushed himself upright and her heart twisted as she got a look at him. His eyes were glazed, as if he’d been on the edge of tears.

“Does it hurt that badly?”

He gave a poor imitation of a laugh. “Worse.”

Faith swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please consider taking a pain pill.”

“Give me some of those pills from your purse,” he said. “Maybe that will do the trick.”