Page 32 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

The half smile he gave her sent a tiny shiver through her in spite of the temperate night air. And she had to admit his apology went a long way toward soothing her ruffled feathers.

“Then I promise to protect your investment. Should we go?” Her edgy nerves had forced the words from her mouth even though she wasn’t certain she wanted to leave the timeless beauty of Vizcaya, the site of her first big business deal.

Her proximity to Renzo and the blatant sex appeal he exuded in his gray jacket and tie was making her forget her other mission for tonight. She needed to uphold her half of the bargain with Pauline Wolcott by spending some more time with the man beside her.

As they trekked out of the casino building and down the stairway toward the gardens once again, Renzo offered her his arm.

A simple, chivalrous gesture.

Except that it felt more like foreplay as she slid her hand around the solid strength of his forearm encased in the pressed silk of his jacket. She was close enough to inhale a hint of his musky aftershave, to absorb the heat of his body through two layers of shirt and jacket.

The damp fragrances of lush garden greenery, running fountains and nearby Biscayne Bay surrounded them, intensified now that night had fallen and the grounds had emptied but for them. The sultry air and moody lighting seemed to beg for a romantic encounter.

And it didn’t hurt that the adrenaline of her business coup still flowed through her, providing her with restless energy and a delicious confidence she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Her short heels clicked along the stone steps, echoing in time with Renzo’s heavier footfall. The sound mingled with the gentle gurgle of water flowing down the water stairway beside them.

“Have you been here before?” she asked, filled with reverence to be wandering through this Italian Renaissance dream land on the arm of a man who could have blended in on the streets of the Medici’s Florence as easily as he navigated Miami in his pickup.

She’d be foolish if she didn’t scavenge a few moments in his arms while they lingered in this classical paradise.

Alone.

“A few times. But I only bothered to take note of the furniture in the past. The gardens are all new to me.” He ran his hand along a limestone wall lining the wide stairway. “Pretty cool.”

“I’ve had a chance to grow well acquainted with the gardens.” Her museum work had brought her to Vizcaya on numerous occasions. “You ought to see at least one of the grottos before we go.”

Reaching the bottom of the steps that emptied out around a pool with a spewing fountain in the middle, Esme slowed her step. Her heart jumping in time with her own daring, she tugged him into one of the archways in the limestone wall leading to a private, darkened grotto.

A haven for a woman with romance on her mind.

Or more.

And without bothering to consult her partner’s opinion, Esme slid her arms around him and slanted her mouth across his.

ChapterTen

In the logical part of his brain, Renzo wanted to be politically correct about this kiss. He really did.

Too bad his instinctive side was already caught up in the soft flame of Esme’s embrace and the unmistakable message of her lips planted against his. He spoke this language fluently, and with her understated vanilla scent filling his nostrils and her slender body filling his arms, how could he interpret the signs as anything but a green light?

She pressed closer to him in the inky darkness of the cool grotto, her slight weight backing him into a bumpy stone wall behind him. Steadying himself against the rock he reached for her, slid his hands under her warm, long hair and smoothed them down her spine. Her fingers flexed against his chest, clutching at the lapels of his jacket to draw herself still closer.

Breaking away from the liquid fire of her kiss, Renzo sought confirmation of his interpretation. Needed her to make the call tonight since she had pushed him away last time.

“What is it you want, Esmerelda?” He lingered over the wealth of syllables in her full name, momentarily indulging the fluid Italian accent all of his siblings had been forced to learn. “I need to be sure.”

She met his eyes in the dim interior of the cavern. Enough light filtered in through the archway that he could see her expression, know the heat of her gaze.

“I want the kind of pleasures you gave me the last time,” she whispered, her voice so soft he almost doubted he’d heard it, except that there could be no mistaking the immediate reaction of his body, the automatic spike of the temperature between them.

“You liked the way I touched you?” He knew exactly what she meant, exactly what she wanted. Still, the idea of hearing her spell it out for him made his every nerve ending strain toward her.

He trailed a hand down her hip, stretched his fingers across her thigh to cover as much terrain as possible. His thumb pressed into the soft flesh, eliciting a throaty hum from the back of Esme’s throat.

“Yes. I liked it too much.” She swayed on her feet, anchored herself to him by tucking her fingers into the waist of his trousers and hanging on tight.

Her knuckles grazed the hardened length of him, causing him to suck in an extra breath, to squeeze his eyes shut until he willed himself back under control.

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