Page 23 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

But what if...what if something did happen to her? What would happen to Adriano? She couldn’t leave him orphaned. She couldn’t leave him without family. Parents.

Heart aching, Clare walked through the elegant boxwood garden and sat down on a bench facing the elegant eighteenth-century fountain with its marble Poseidon in the center, and reclining maidens in different pools.

Rocco.

Marius.

What was she to do?

If only her anxiety would ease. She needed to calm down and slow her racing pulse. There was no reason to feel frantic. Nothing bad had happened, and no one was forcing her to do anything. Rocco wasn’t pressuring her, and he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t a threat.

So why was she afraid?

Why was she so full of adrenaline and emotion?

Was it because he reminded her of Marius? Or was it because he had suggested change—life-altering change?

Or was it because Rocco was unlike anyone she’d ever met...intensely masculine, so masculine that she couldn’t ignore his physical energy?

When he’d come to the door this morning he’d been shirtless, and yes there had been scars, but the scars weren’t what held her attention. It was the musculature, the powerful chest, the narrow waist, the hard ripple of abs disappearing into the waistband of his pajamas, which barely clung to his lean hips.

Then on the beach, she’d been so aware of his hips and his thighs, and how the denim shaped to his quadriceps and she’d glanced up higher, to the zipper and how he’d filled his jeans there. He was a man, fit and virile, and she didn’t want to think of sex, but he made her feel sexual. He made her wonder what it would be like to make love again, to be touched, and kissed, and not just by anyone buthim.

This was why her heart raced with adrenaline and emotion. Because the more time she spent with Rocco, the less she thought of Marius. They were two very different men, and she felt very different with Rocco than she’d felt with Marius. Marius made her feel safe, and snug. Loved and wanted. Rocco made her feel naked. Vulnerable.

Being around him rattled her. Sitting at the same table, or on the same blanket, made her hands shake, and her pulse thump and her stomach do crazy flip-flops. She wasn’t afraid of Rocco, so why was she so affected by his proximity? Why did her mouth dry, and her heart race and her skin prickle as if it had become painfully sensitive?

Because...

And she knew the answer but couldn’t admit it.

Wouldn’t admit it.

Clare jumped up off the bench and circled the fountain before passing beneath the rose arbor arch to enter the formal rose garden laid out in intricate shapes with hedges and roses and delicate purple and white ground cover.

Suddenly Clare wasn’t alone in her garden. She knew by the tingling sensation at the back of her neck, fine hair rising at her nape. She glanced over her shoulder, and there Rocco was, in the garden behind her.

“Did you follow me here?” she asked.

“No. I’ve been out walking and am on my way back to the villa. Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ll just continue on.”

“No, it’s okay. I was thinking of you.” She blushed. “Well, your suggestion anyway.”

“But if you want to be alone,” he said.

“I’ve been alone,” Clare answered. “Now I’m just restless. And thinking. My brain is spinning.”

“I can only imagine.”

“When do you need an answer?” she asked.

His broad shoulders shifted. “Whatever makes most sense. In my mind, the sooner the better, at least for Adriano. He’ll benefit from the change, in every way possible. But for you, this is all such a shock. You need time.”

“But give me too much time and I’ll pack us up and run away!” she joked.

He smiled faintly. “Many a truth was said in jest.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m rather overwhelmed.”

---