Page 26 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

Andrea came out to the terrace carrying a bottle of champagne. He too had recently showered, for his hair was still damp and curling around the collar of his casual shirt. Izzy hadn’t seen him since they had made love but his office door had remained closed every time she’d walked past as she’d helped Gianna set up dinner before the housekeeper left for the evening.

Andrea’s eyes ran over Izzy’s oyster silk dress, the only decent thing she’d had time to slip into her overnight bag. ‘You look beautiful. The rest of your things should be here by tomorrow. But we can shop for anything else you need.’

‘Thanks.’ Never good with compliments, Izzy feasted her eyes on him instead. The way his muscles bunched on his tanned forearms when he popped the champagne cork, the way his olive skin contrasted with the white of his shirt. Her gaze drifted to his mouth, remembering how it had felt on her own, how his tongue had mated with hers in such an erotic way. Something shivered deep and low in her belly when his eyes met hers. Was he remembering how it felt to be inside her? Was he thinking of how it had felt to be consumed by passion and want until nothing else mattered? She licked her suddenly dry lips and made a business out of straightening the perfectly straight tablecloth. ‘It’s a gorgeous night. So lovely and warm. I can’t remember the last time I ate al fresco.’

He placed a warm hand on her bare shoulder, his touch sending a wave of longing through her body. ‘You’re nervous.’ He said it with a note of surprise rather than as a question.

Izzy could feel her cheeks betraying her. ‘I’m just not used to relating to you like this...you know, without biting your head off. It’s kind of...weird. Weird but...nice.’

He gave a slow smile and leaned down to press a kiss to the sensitive flesh just below her ear. She could smell the fresh citrus of his aftershave, her senses intoxicated by lemon and lime and cleanly showered man. Even though he’d recently shaved she could still feel the slight prickle of his sexy stubble. His breath caressed her skin, then his tongue glided in a blistering pathway following the line of her jaw until he finally came to her mouth. His kiss was slow and sensual, lighting fires in her flesh that sent hot flames licking along her veins. Her mouth opened under the commanding pressure of his, her arms slipping around his neck, bringing her closer to the heat and hardness of his body. Her breasts were bare under her shoestring-strap dress and never had they felt more sensual than with the cool silk stretched over them as they were crushed against his muscular chest. His hands skimmed her from her shoulders to her hips, his hands settling there to bring her even closer against his pulsing need. She could feel her body preparing itself, excitement kicking up her heartbeat, making her intensely aware of every inch of her body where it was pressed against his.

His mouth continued its sensual exploration of hers, their tongues tangling in a sexy dance of one-upmanship that stirred her desire even more. His hands came back up to cradle her face as he changed position, his mouth softening against hers, his tongue no longer combative but cajoling.

Izzy had had no idea a kiss could be so mind-blowing, so thrilling that her whole body would be involved. Every nerve and cell throbbing with growing need—a need he activated and nurtured with each mesmerising movement of his mouth on hers. His hands splayed into her hair, electrifying her scalp with his touch.

He lifted his mouth off hers to look at her through sexily hooded eyes. ‘This is a much better way to relate to each other, sì?’

Izzy smiled against his mouth. ‘Much better.’

He kissed her again, deeply, holding her against his aroused body while the scent of the flickering candle and the flowers and the sea air worked their magic on her senses.

Izzy felt like she had stepped into a fairy tale, one she had never realised she’d wanted until now: a romantic setting, a warm fragrant night, champagne and delicious food and a man who had eyes only for her.

What more could she want?

Andrea pulled back from her with a smile. ‘We won’t do the dinner Gianna has prepared for us service if we get distracted. Some champagne, cara? To celebrate our truce.’

‘Yes, please.’ Izzy held out her hand for the glass of sparkling bubbles he poured. He held out her chair and she sat and gazed at the view below. ‘This is the most beautiful place. How long have you had it?’

He took his seat opposite. ‘I bought it five years ago. I got sick of living in my hotels. I wanted a base, a place to separate me from work.’ His lips moved in a rueful movement. ‘Not that it always works that way. Gianna is always telling me off for spending way too much time in my office here.’

Izzy sipped her champagne and studied him for a moment over the rim of her glass. He looked far more relaxed than she had ever seen him. His shirt was undone to midway down his chest and the sleeves rolled up past his forearms. She wondered now why she’d found him so intimidating and gruff in the past. ‘How did you get into hotels? Why not some other business?’

He handed her a crisp bread roll from the basket on the table between them. ‘When I left home when I was fourteen—’

‘Fourteen?’ Izzy looked at him in alarm. ‘You were fourteen when you left home?’

He gave her a grim smile that wasn’t really a smile. ‘Not by choice, although it was proving to be impossible to live with my stepfather.’

Izzy glanced at the scar on his left eyebrow, her stomach feeling queasy at what he might have been exposed to as a young boy. ‘Is that how you got that scar? From your stepfather?’

He touched the scar as if to see if it was still there, a shadow passing over his expression as if the memories of that time in his life were unpleasant. ‘He was a bastard of a man—a coward who used his fists instead of his intellect. Not that he had much of an intellect.’ His tone was flat and bitter, the line of his mouth tight.

Izzy swallowed, remembering all too well how terrifying it was to live with a man with a hair trigger temper. ‘Was he violent towards your mother?’

Andrea’s dark eyes glittered and his jaw clenched. ‘He was clever how he went about it. He didn’t leave her with bruises you could see. I intervened whenever I could but in the end she chose to stay with him.’ His mouth thinned into a white line. ‘That’s what hurt me the most. I came back the next day after he kicked me out and begged her to leave with me. I promised I’d keep her safe—find a shelter or something for us. But she told me she never wanted to see me again. She wanted to stay with my stepfather. Go figure.’

Izzy frowned, her heart squeezing at the thought of Andrea as a young teenager, thrown out of home and rejected by his mother. ‘Oh, Andrea. How awful that must have been. You must have been so distraught. What did you do? Where did you go?’

He took a sip of his champagne, and then another sip, each time swallowing deeply. ‘I lived on the streets for a couple of months until I met your father. He found me looking for food at the back of a hotel in Florence. The kitchen hand used to watch out for me and give me some leftovers.’ Andrea’s smile became crooked. ‘Your father might not have been an angel, but if it hadn’t been for him taking a chance on me, who knows where I might have ended up?’

It was certainly a side to her father Izzy had been aware of but the various charities and people he’d championed didn’t make up for how he’d made her feel. ‘How did he help you?’

‘He found a place for me to stay and then offered me a job. It was menial work at first, just cleaning and stuff, but he said later my work ethic had impressed him.’ He reached across and refilled her glass but she noticed he didn’t refill his own. ‘I went back to school and studied for a business degree after that. When I was living on the streets I made a promise to myself that one day I would own a hotel where the homeless would be welcome to find shelter and food.’ He put the bottle back in the ice bucket and sat back in his chair. ‘Enough about me. Tell me about Hamish. What was he like?’

Izzy wondered if anyone else knew the darker secrets of his past and felt touched he’d shared as much as he had with her. She could tell from his expression that he was not used to talking about his background at length. There was a shuttered look in his eyes as if he had cordoned off the memories and would not be revisiting them any time soon. ‘Hamish was a lot older than me, as you know—my mother had a few miscarriages in between having him and me. But he was wonderful. Funny and smart—all the things a big brother should be. I idolised him and he spoilt me rotten. But then he got sarcoma and everything in our family changed. The much-adored son and heir couldn’t be saved, no matter how much the doctors and my parents tried.’ She let out a ragged sigh. ‘It was a terrible time. As the years went on, my father expected me to step up and do all the things Hamish would have done if he’d lived. But I wasn’t strong academically. I wasn’t able to cope with the pressure and I rebelled.’ She frowned at the memory of that difficult period in her life. ‘I wish I’d had someone to talk to about it, but the sad irony was Hamish was the only person I would have shared something like that with but he was gone and so I floundered.’

‘What about your mother? Were you close to her?’

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