1
Peyton Donald could feel Valentino Lombardi’s gaze on her from across the altar. Not even the beauty of the ceremony or the happiness in her heart for her friend, Natalie, could distract her from the intensity of the groom’s cousin’s interest.
It caressed every inch of her body, making her even more self-conscious about what she was wearing.
The bridesmaid’s dress clung to non-existent curves. The hem grazed her knee and she suppressed the urge to yank it lower. This wasn’t her. This clingy, femme fatale dress with a halter neck and a low back.
Very. Low. Back.
It made a bra impossible. Not that Peyton’s A cup needed one.
The crimson creation didn’t say ‘busy single working mother with a high-needs child who hasn’t slept an entire night through in three years’.
It said Sexy. Flirty. Time for pleasure. It said the playground is open, come on in. And Valentino Lombardi, possibly the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, probably the sexist man in existence, looked like he wanted to be first to ride.
But she didn’t have time. Not for flirting. Or riding. Or pleasure. Or any of those trivialities. And especially not for a man who looked like he held a PhD in trivia. There were never enough hours in the day as it was.
There was just never enough time.
She had a sudden hankering for her faded grey trackpants and her favourite oversized T-shirt back in her wardrobe in suburban Brisbane. Or better still, her baggy blue scrubs. She didn’t like being this… on display. She felt awkward.
The heat from Valentino’s gaze radiated towards her and she slid him a mutinousback-off-buddyglance. It was one she’d perfected since Arnie had walked out on her and it usually stopped a man dead in his tracks. But Valentino just grinned and gave her a saucy wink.
Thank God he lived a long way away. London, Nat had informed her when she was spillingallthe tea on Peyton’s wedding partner. He’d lived there for a decade although apparently, he jetted between there and Rome for work.
And pleasure. Becauseof course, he was some kind of Italian playboy as well.
‘Can I have the rings, please?’
Peyton could have kissed the priest as Alessandro’s best man was given a job to do other than indiscriminate ogling. Unfortunately, though, his actions commanded the attention of the entire female population of the church, including her, and Peyton found herself drinking in the way his exquisite suit pulled across broad shoulders and how the fine wool of his trousers outlined powerful quads and one very fine ass.
Very,veryfine.
He glanced at her as he stepped back into his place and his deep, dark eyes told her he knew exactly where hers had been. A smile touched his lips, beautiful lips that could have been carved by one of the masters. Except they were warm and vital.
Desirable. Kissable.
There was a frankness in his gaze that stopped the breath in her lungs. She searched for something more, beyond the promise of tonight. Something deeper. A connection. Something that told her he was interested in more than getting her between his sheets. But all she found was heat and sex and lust.
Totally superficial. Like the man. Another flashy male. All sparkle, no substance. And if she’d been a different woman who hadn’t already been royally screwed over by flash and sparkle, it could have been fun. But she had been.
So, Valentino Lombardi could keep his bedroom eyes to damned self.
Peyton hit the send button and placed her mobile on the table, drumming her fingers. Her gaze returned, yet again, to Valentino as he worked the room. She tried to ignore him and her steadily growing irritation as women almost swooned at his feet, but the rich sound of his easy, frequent laughter made it impossible. It reached out from across the room as potent as a physical caress, drawing her attention like a moth to flame.
Valentino Lombardi was not a man you could ignore. With his killer dimples, boyishly curly hair and European charm, he was pure vice.
Peyton’s phone vibrated and she reached for it, her pulse spiking. But it was just her mother checking in as requested.
McKenzie fine. Sleeping well.
Peyton’s fingers flew over the keypad.
Apnoea mat on?
She sent the text into the ether just as Valentino threw his head back, setting a deep belly laugh free, exposing a bronzed length of throat peppered with dark stubble.
Another vibration snagged her attention.
