Page 27 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

His eyes did drift open then, dark and furious, and connected with hers. “Excuse me?”

“You’re out of your mind. You’re on cold medicine, and you have a fever, and I’m taking advantage of you.”

“I think you will find,cara, that I am more than able to consent and to act.”

She shook her head, and took a step away from him, she bumped against the side table, sending the cup of tea down onto the floor, the porcelain clattering, thankfully not breaking, but the hot liquid going everywhere.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” she said. “Now look what you did. Look what I did. I... I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I... I’ve never done this before, and I don’t...” She picked the cup up. She would come back with a cloth. Her heart was pounding so hard, humiliation, thwarted need, and everything else, leaving her completely out cold. She went back down to the kitchen, and put her face in her hands.

She had kissed him.

Or she had let him kiss her. It wasn’t entirely material, she didn’t think. Which thing it was. He had a cold, a fever, and she was supposed to be taking care of him.

Does it feel better, if you make it your fault, if you make yourself feel guilty?

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she dashed them away.

Maybe it did. Maybe it felt better to make herself feel like she was some undersexed virgin who had taken advantage of a man in her care, rather than a woman who had responded to mutual attraction. No. Because that was too dangerous. The whole situation was far too dangerous.

They were working in opposition to each other. There was nothing that could be done about that. He wanted to try and manipulate this property away from her. She was refusing.

And if she showed him she was attracted to him, well...he’d undoubtedly think he could use that against her.

Her cheeks suddenly went hot. Because she worried he might actually be able to use it against her.

She was a virgin after all, and woefully inexperienced with men and even though it had been a choice, even though she wanted to believe that she was savvy...

There were no guarantees that an actual real-life love affair wouldn’t change her, just enough, that she could be manipulated in ways she couldn’t foresee now.

There was no compromise to be had there.

She let out a long, slow breath. She would make dinner.

And she would hope that when he woke up he didn’t remember what had happened.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROCCOGOTOUTof bed, and grimaced when he stepped into a cold puddle.

He looked down, and saw that it looked as if there was a spilled drink there on the floor, though there was no cup. It smelled of tea. He wondered if he had knocked it over in his half delirium.

He felt better. As if the fever had broken. He looked out the window and saw that it was dark. He wondered how long he had slept.

It took him a moment to find where the clock was in the room, and the digital readout indicated that it was only six o’clock in the evening. At least, he assumed it was the evening.

He turned the light on, and found a T-shirt, shrugging it on before walking out of the bedroom. He felt driven to find Noelle, though he couldn’t say why.

He paused. The memory of her hands on his face, of the way she’d cared for him stopped him cold. His chest felt sore, his body suddenly immobilized. Why was it like this?

He had never...felt sore in his heart like this thinking about a woman.

But then, no one had ever taken care of him like that before.

He was familiar enough with sexual touch. But the way she’d touched him, the way she’d soothed him, that was something else entirely.

His stomach growled, and he thought perhaps he wanted to find her because he needed food. That was reasonable enough.

He made his way down the stairs, and didn’t see her. He walked into the library, and there she was, sitting in a chair by the fireplace.

---