“No.” The automaticthank youhe would have added ripped away from his tongue when she bent over to remove the jug, and he was given clear, incontrovertible proof that she was fully naked beneath his t-shirt.
With a vicious, silent curse, he rolled onto his back.
Whatever the colour schemes of the rooms, all the ceilings in Gino’s apartment were kept a plain white, and he stared intentlyat the patch above his head, seeking imperfections, anything that would trick his mind into forgetting what he’d just seen. Anything that would slow down the weighty acceleration of his heartbeats.
Had she done that on purpose? He wouldn’t put it past her. When it came to Francesca Marino, he wouldn’t putanythingpast her, and damn it, he’d only known her for a matter of hours.
For all that his attention was fixed to his ceiling, he was very much aware when she lightly treaded past the foot of his bed to reach hers, and though she was only in the periphery of his vision, was very much aware when she climbed beneath the duvet.
“Do you mind if I read?” she asked in that same bright, perky voice that suggested sleep was far away.
“If it stops you talking.”
“I’d say the odds are in your favour.”
“Then knock yourself out.”
“In that case, can I have a light to read with? Your bed light’s not bright enough for me to see the words.”
Without a word of his own and without looking at her, Gino threw his duvet off and strode to the corner of the room to unplug the tall lamp kept there. Carrying it over, he plugged it into the nearest socket to the head of her bed.
“I can’t reach it from here.” She stretched her arm towards the lamp. “See? I read until my eyes get heavy, but if I have to get out of bed to turn it off, I wake up, and then I get all restless, which I’m sure will be fine for you if you’re a heavy sleeper. Are you?”
Keeping his curses confined to his head so as not to encourage any two-way chatter from her, he walked to the foot of her bed. Not bothering to ask her to get out, he pushed it two feet until the head of the bed was brushed against the base of the light.
“Perfect!” He might not be looking at her, but he could hear the beam in her voice. “Thank you, Mr Kidnapper. I’ll be sure to add your excellent hospitality to my online review of the place.”
Damn her, he wanted to laugh at that, which did nothing for his simmering temper.
With extremely bad grace, he got back into bed, rolled onto his side and turned his bedside light out.
Now all he had to do was tune Francesca out, and he might, just might, get some damned sleep.
Chapter Four
Francesca had finished her book,but her eyes didn’t feel the slightest bit heavy. She hadn’t taken in many of the words she’d been trying to concentrate on, so maybe she should start over and reread the last four chapters. Normally, she was ready for sleep after a chapter, two at the most.
A look at her watch made her suppress a sigh. One a.m.
She’d only ever shared a room with her cousin Siena before, and that had been years ago, two nights over Christmas. She remembered how she’d marvelled at Siena’s breathing while she slept; the first time Francesca had ever heard the sound of another sleeping. Her father snoring in front of the television didn’t count.
She’d bet that Gino didn’t snore. She would also bet that he was still awake, too. She hadn’t heard a sound from him since he’d turned out his light. Not a sound or movement, but she’d been far more aware of his presence than the words of the book she’d been enjoying. In truth, the words of the last four chapters had swum before her eyes.
She didn’t know why, but her intention to torment him throughout the night had vanished when he’d turned his light out. Her lamp gave a soft glow that was perfect for readingbut barely illuminated any other part of the room. She could see Gino’s shape but couldn’t see him. She was aware armed men were patrolling the apartment, inside and outside, but they seemed very far away. It was just her and Gino. Francesca, alone with a man at night. She supposed she should be terrified; imagined that any other woman in a hostage-type situation would be much too frightened to sleep.
“I can’t sleep,” she said, cutting through the night’s silence in a voice just above a whisper.
“Turn off your light and close your eyes.”
She smiled. So hewasawake. She’d known it. “Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“They why aren’t you asleep?”
“Because someone has been rustling the pages of her book for hours.”
“You should have said.”
