Gio lengthened his stride but it was too late. The little boy collided with her, grabbing at her bag as his feet went from under him and he hit the floor.
A second later there was a wail. ‘Mummy! Want my Mummy!’
Gio stepped across a lipstick and other scattered items to hunker next to the child. Stella Barbieri was already there, kneeling by the kid, murmuring soothing words, assuring him she’d find his mummy straight away.
As if sensing Gio’s presence, she turned her head and wide, velvety brown eyes met his.
For a second everything stopped. The kid’s cries. The sound of hurried footsteps across the lobby. Even Gio’s pulse. Time stretched, like elastic pulled almost to breaking point.
Then the illusion shattered. She was his enemy’s daughter and therefore his enemy. Meanwhile the child had frightened himself and needed care.
Gio turned towards the lift to see a woman pushing a stroller, hurrying towards them. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘Here comes your mummy now.’
He glanced at Stella Barbieri and saw relief in her expression as the wailing eased. And something else as her gaze met his again and clung. Something that told him this was going to be easier than he’d thought. Feminine interest.
Gio’s mouth curved into a smile.
CHAPTER THREE
‘All better now?’
The man had a devastating smile, even when directed at a three-year-old. Stella felt the impact ripple through her like waves on a beach, warm and inviting.
The child nodded, turning his face against his mother’s leg, but not before giving the big man a grin.
The boy’s mother, initially inclined to scold, ended up promising her son a gelato after the stranger smiled so warmly, reminiscing about how eager he’d always been as a child to run out into the sunshine.
Stella watched the woman melt under that silvery gaze and warned herself not to do the same. Especially as, for a moment when her eyes had locked on his, she’d felt a quick thrum of excitement through her body.
It had never happened before and had to be a reaction to the man’s astonishing good looks.
And her emotional state. The last twenty-four hours had been dreadful and she still didn’t feel as if her feet had touched the ground.
She’d left her father’s office and gone straight home to pack a bag, knowing she had to get away. Of course he hadn’t come after her. He expected her to toe the line. To her knowledge none of Alfredo Barbieri’s children had ever defied him.
But expecting her to marry a stranger…!
‘Are you all right? You look dazed. Did you hurt yourself?’
Not just good looks but a voice that ran through her like hot chocolate. She could almost taste the richness of her mother’s special recipe on her tongue, rich chocolate with a hint of cinnamon.
His gaze dropped and she realised she’d licked her lips as if savouring that phantom taste. Heat flared in her cheeks and she hurriedly looked away.
‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’
She crouched down, reaching for her wallet and the other contents of her bag, strewn around them.
He joined her, reaching for her favourite lipstick. She saw his tanned fingers close around the silver tube, making it look tiny, fragile. Her breath snared as he passed it to her, fingertips warm against her palm.
A tickle of sensation shivered up her arm then straight down to her stomach.
‘Thank you.’
She snatched her hand back, stunned at howawareof this man she was. The length of his legs folded beneath him. The width of his shoulders as he twisted to reach for her keys. The warmth of him and the tiniest hint of masculine scent. Something that reminded her of cedar and sun-warmed lemon groves. And the sea.
If she wasn’t careful she’d be eating him up with her eyes, the way that young mother had a minute ago!
The idea was so preposterous—because Stella had long since been immunised against charming, good-looking men—that she suddenly felt much better. More like herself and less bothered by the string of texts she’d received.
