Page 12 of Her UnBearable Protector

Salvatore tugged her closer for a moment, felt the tension in her body. She was waiting to see what he was going to do. He didn’t feel fear radiating from her, but he had to be careful. She had to trust him, or this wouldn’t work.

And he needed it to work, because he needed to save her life. He moved closer and leaned down until his lips pressed against her forehead.

It was heaven. The heat of her body flared to match his as she leaned into his touch. If he’d had any doubt of what lay between them it was gone. His bear rose up in his consciousness, standing on his hind legs to look through Salvatore’s eyes and when he moved back from her he had to fight his bear to back down as well.

“Go,” he managed a single word, but knew that most of the voice that rumbled from his mouth was the bear.

She stepped back, stumbled a step by the door, her eyes still on him. He saw shoulders rise and fall, her breaths quick, her skin flushed, and he reveled in it like sunshine. She may not want his help, but she wanted him.

And that was as good a place to start as any.

Chapter Four

Natale was up before the sun. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, it was a habit she’d developed over the years. In design school the early morning hours were the perfect time to get into the sewing room, especially if you needed to use the washer and dryer. She set her alarm as a precaution every night, but even when she’d only had a few hours of sleep the night before, she would wake up with the birds.

The next morning was no exception. Rolling onto her back, Natale yawned and stared up at the molding around the edge of her ceiling. She was fairly sure the day before had actually happened. It wouldn’t have surprised her if it had all been a dream, because the very idea that a gorgeous guy was sleeping on her couch did seem more than a dream than reality.

Turning on her side, Natale grabbed up an armload of her blankets and hugged it tightly. It was a poor substitute for Salvatore, but this was much safer for her sanity. As she closed her eyes, she remembered her dinner the night before. Having him cook for her was amazing. She had no idea that food that tasty could actually be made in her kitchen! It was, to say the least, a revelation. Salmon and vegetables had never tasted so good, and she’d finished with a stomach full of gratitude for Salvatore, who had gone above and beyond the bodyguard job description.

But what had her mind whirling, and her head dizzy, even though she was lying down, was the fact that during their dinner, they had talked to each other. And they had listened to each other.

Natale loved her father dearly. He had been her rock for so many years, but listening wasn’t something he did well. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Natale could see the love in his eyes and when he spent time with her during the design process, or in the workroom, she felt his love like sunshine.

Salvatore listened. He asked her intelligent, interesting questions, and then he cared about the answer. It was strange. With Salvatore she didn’t feel awkward when she spoke, and she wasn’t struggling to come up with something to say. To make matters better and worse, she found that she could tease him. She could be sassy and silly and not feel like she was making a fool of herself.

With Salvatore, she could just be herself.

It was an addictive feeling.

Oh, who was she kidding?

He was addictive. In just a few hours of knowing him, he’d surprised her in so many ways. What was she going to do when he left, she wondered? He said that they were meant to be together, but really, how could he know?

Turning onto her back again she laid a forearm over her eyes and groaned. If someone had described the situation to her the day before she would have called it Folie a Deux. But it wasn’t that complicated.

She knew the answer. Salvatore was a romantic at heart. You could take the tall, dark, crazy-sexy man from Italy, but he’d always carry that overwhelming machismo and passionate heart that made Italian men so delicious. Once this was over and he moved on to his next assignment he’d forget about her.

The trouble was, Natale knew he’d made his way into her head and her heart, and she knew that she’d never be able to get over him. He was too deep inside of her skin, deep down in the center of her chest where her heart beat a punishing rhythm.

The doorbell sounded, reaching Natale in her bedroom. The loud jolting sound was going to wake Salvatore, she was sure of it. She really wasn’t in a hurry to throw on her robe and shuffle to the door.

But, the doorbell wouldn’t stop. Natale rolled onto her side and blinked at the clock. She didn’t see the numbers clearly through her bleary eyes, but she could see the light outside of her window, and there was barely a haze of light in the sky. It was way too early for someone to be there to see her.

And still the doorbell continued.

She was only mildly happy that her only neighbor’s door was at the far end of the hall and he wouldn’t hear a thing, but she was going to have to kill someone if there wasn’t someone already bleeding in the hallway.

Throwing back her blanket, she swung her legs over the edge. She didn’t bother with any slippers, setting her feet on the floor. A moment later she left her bedroom, making a beeline for the door. Self-preservation reigned supreme and she leaned forward to look out of the peephole. And she’d be damned if it didn’t seem like the man outside was looking right back. When he stepped back from the door she got a chance to look at him. It was his suit that first caught her eye, she could recognize style anywhere and she knew at a glance that the same tailor that made Salvatore’s suit had made this one. Looking up at his face, she couldn’t deny the family resemblance. The mustache and beard were a bit lighter in thickness, but the intense features and the shape of his face marked him as one of the younger Orsino brothers.

Opening the set of locks on the door she pulled it open with a sigh. “Good morning, Mr. Orsino.”

His smile was quicker than his brother’s and held a boyish twist at the corner. “Good morning, Miss Durante. How-”

She shrugged. “DNA doesn’t lie, and your parents must have been gorgeous.”

“Gracie, Miss Durante.” Leaning closer, his hand braced on the door frame above her head and she caught scent of his cologne, a subtle but well blended scent. “Is my brother available?”

“Your brother,” a voice rumbled from the room behind her, sending a shiver down her spine, “is waiting for you to show some respect.”

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