‘I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?’ she queried innocently. ‘With all my personal questions?’
‘I’m a big boy. I can take it in my stride. You’re a big girl. You can take it in your stride when I ask you a few of my own. Can’t you? You don’t feel uncomfortable, do you?’ His lips twitched with sudden amusement.
Georgie ignored that. ‘If you really want to do something, you make the time. It’s easy to just put stuff off and then say, afterwards, that you were too busy. That’s just lame.’
For a second, Alessandro felt his hackles rise and then wryly realised that he had become so accustomed to other people never disagreeing with him that he wasn’t exactly sure how to react to her honesty.
The taboo thrill of the unknown was nudging something in him he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Ever since his hungry days, when life had still held risk and adventure and the possibility of failure.
‘Lame? Tell me you’re not calling melame…’ But his eyes roved over her face, lowered to gauge the small, delicate bump of her breasts, and he wondered what they would feel like in the palm of his hands, wondered what her nipples would taste like and how she’d respond. ‘Let’s retreat to the sofa, Georgie. I’m finished with this food. Are you?’
‘Such a shame that there’s food going to waste but I’m stuffed. Alessandro… I should really be hitting the sack now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because…’
‘Not enjoying our conversation?’ The murmured question hung in the air between them and he could see, in that fraction of a hesitating second, that, like him, she was conscious of thatsizzle of something electrifying and inexplicable that neither of them could put a finger on.
‘Have a coffee with me,’ he urged, standing up and moving towards the sofa. ‘Make a feeble, lame old man happy.’
Was he flirting with her?
Georgie’s pulses began to race. He couldn’t be. Could he?
He shot her a look over his shoulder and half smiled and her mouth went dry.
‘I suppose…there’s no harm…’
‘But only if you promise not to play the agony aunt.’
‘Are you sure you shouldn’t be retiring to bed, Alessandro?’
‘I feel passable now that the tablets have kicked in. Once they start wearing off, I’ll be a good patient and tuck myself under the covers and try and get some sleep.’
‘Okay…’ She hovered. This was certainly not like beingone of the lads. But then what was it? He wasn’t interested in her as a woman. He’d made a point of telling her that she shouldn’t start thinking that what they had was real, because it wasn’t.
So, what was he doing?
Was she imagining something exciting and sexual and unspoken going on between them? Maybe her lack of experience with the opposite sex had made her gullible when it came to reading signals that weren’t there.
She remembered the thought that had occurred to her earlier.
Sexy guy…nothing to do…bored and not averse to a little fun…and here she was, the perfect naïve target, nothing like those experienced glamour pusses he dated who would have known just how to handle the situation.
‘I take my coffee black.’ He jolted her out of her frantic reverie and she blinked and focused. ‘No sugar.’
‘Okay.’
‘And then you can do the talking.’ He patted the space next to him on the sofa. ‘I have a sore throat.’
‘You should really see a doctor, Alessandro.’
‘My masculine pride couldn’t handle it.’
But he was smiling with his eyes half closed, sprawled on the sofa, his long legs extended and lightly crossed at the ankles, his fingers linked loosely together on his stomach.
