About to head outside, she paused to look in the mirror above the dressing table.
She looked flustered. Her cheeks were pink, and she placed both hands on them in an attempt to cool the heat. She had tied her hair back, but now she neatened it because she looked tousled when she wanted to look prim and professional. Her eyes were bright—too bright—and when she squinted at her reflection she felt she could detect the very slightest quiver in her body, as though she was plugged into a socket and was quietly vibrating, engine fired up and ready to go.
She gritted her teeth, hating herself for her lack of control, and pushed open the door to the outside living area to find Niccolo sprawled in one of the cream leather chairs, feet crossed at the ankles, the very picture of a billionaire at rest.
‘I’ve ordered a selection of salads,’ he announced, his dark eyes resting on her face, watching as she primly sat on the sofa facing him.
Not even the non-stop stress of constant travel, he mused, could detract from her delicate, captivating beauty. He didn’t want to look but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She moved with the grace of a dancer, blushed like a virgin even as she tilted her head in absolute defiance if she disagreed with him...and was she aware of how sexy she looked when she inclined her head to one side and parted her lips and did a little frown as she thought about something he’d said?
Playing with fire had never felt so tempting. He enjoyed watching the flit of emotions skittering across her face, and he really liked the way she reacted when he dumped the work hat and wrongfooted her by talking to her as any man talking to a woman, without the business of anyone being in anyone’s pay.
He couldn’t remember experiencing anything like this before. When he thought of his wife and their brief courtship, he realised that what he’d felt then had certainly not been this strange playfulness that wanted to get a reaction. He thought of Caroline and remembered the formality and sophistication of those few months before he had proposed. They had been an elegant couple moving amongst their elegant crowd, cocooned by wealth and power, the very wealth and power he had striven for all of his life but which had somehow felt hollow and empty when he was married, as though something vital had been missing.
He surely couldn’t recall this simple enjoyment of looking and musing and imagining. Was it because he knew that nothing would come of it? Or was it simply a case of a change being as good as a rest? Shy, ethereal blondes who didn’t play games versus bold brunettes who held nothing back?
‘Yummy.’
‘Of course, if you’d rather something else...’
‘A salad would be fine,’ Sophie said politely.
‘You can relax, Sophie,’ Niccolo said with a disgruntled edge. ‘Tell me how much more you have to do with your house. Has it been completely cleared?’
‘Mostly.’
‘And...how do you feel now? About that?’ He was taking steps down that previously taboo road of encouraging an emotional response and he realised that this was becoming something of a habit as far as this woman was concerned. Curiosity was trumping common sense, but instead of being wary he felt invigorated. His palate had become jaded, and it was thrilling being unexpectedly presented with an opportunity to dust it down and take it for a walk. Who would be able to resist the temptation?
It would seem, he mused, that money didn’t buy everything after all.
Sophie sighed. She thought of her family home quietly and efficiently being stripped of its soul as personal effects were boxed up or given to charity or sold to help clear debts.
Suddenly everything had happened faster than the speed of light, which, she now reflected, wasn’t a bad thing. It had been easy to fall into the trap of struggling to find a way forward.
Why was it so tempting to pour her heart out to this guy?
‘You can talk to me,’ Niccolo urged softly.
‘Stop being so persuasive,’ she responded with helpless honesty and he smiled, long and slow, thrilling her to the core and killing off the bit of her that was so keen to keep distance between them. If he chose to breach the distance and close the gap, then it was just so hard not to yield.
‘I’m normally not,’ Niccolo admitted, and she frowned.
‘What do you mean?’ She gazed at him and then said, in a low voice, ‘Ah, I understand. You don’t want anyone trespassing and the best way to stop that is to never take down theKeep Outsigns.’
‘I’m not sure I would describe it like that...’
Sophie didn’t say anything, but she wondered whether he was aware of the compliment he had just inadvertently paid her. Did he feel that it was different encouraging her to talk to him about stuff that mattered because sheworkedfor him? Because she posed no threat when it came to emotional involvement?
In one fell swoop he had established the door that stood between them even though it felt as though he had opened it, allowing her to see what was inside.
‘I feel,’ she said truthfully, ‘as though sorting the house out is something that’s been a long time coming. I thought it would have been so huge that subconsciously I’d put it off even though, naturally, with people moving in, I would have had to focus and get on with it eventually, but somehow...’
‘Somehow?’
‘It’s been good to have taken my time sorting through things...not being rushed into doing anything hasty...maybe getting rid of anything I might have later regretted getting rid of...’
‘You’re too young,’ Niccolo murmured with heartfelt sincerity, ‘to have had to cope with events that could have overwhelmed you. Is that when you made your mistake?’
‘What are you talking about?’
