The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(9)

“By all means.” He reached for a towel and whipped it around his waist, tucking in the ends. Standing aside, he gave her a small bow as he indicated she was to enter.

“I can come back later.”

“No, no. Please.”

What could she do except accept his gesture? At least she could breathe again now that he was covered, even if at a faster rate than normal. She sidled past him while keeping her gaze glued somewhere in the vicinity of his chin, the only semi-safe place on his body.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I thought you were asleep.”

A short laugh left him. “I thought the same of you.”

“Sandwiches and coffee are ready.”

“And you need to wash your hands, I understand,” he said in smooth understanding. “Don’t hurry.”

He no doubt meant he would be getting dressed in the bedroom during that time. Interrupting him in that process would not be a good idea. “I won’t,” she said fervently.

He made no reply, but closed her into the bathroom with a gentle snap of the latch. But she thought she heard a low laugh before he moved away from the other side.

So he was amused by her discomfort, or perhaps her naiveté. Well, to the devil with him! He might be used to parading around in front of women in naked magnificence, but she didn’t make a habit of walking in on unclothed men.

Not that he was the only one she’d ever seen, of course. She and Jason, a stockbroker who owned a house in the country and drove an environmentally correct sedan, had been engaged for almost two years. For all his staid, buttoned down image, however, Jason had been as much of an adrenaline junkie as her father and her brother; it was just that playing the market excited him instead of risking his life. Amanda tormented herself for weeks, trying to decide if that and his selfish sex were reasonable excuses for breaking it off. He’d saved her the trouble then by falling for an exotic dancer with bleached hair, artificial cleavage, multiple piercings and yards of tattoos.

No, she was stunned by the sight of Nicholas without his clothes, but that was all. It was hardly going to affect how she reacted to him. They had no future together, but would go their separate ways once they landed. And if she might forever compare any man she happened to see in the nude to the masculine image now seared into her brain, it would be her secret.

The bathroom smelled of soap and a men’s cologne so tantalizing that she breathed deep in the need to identify it. She had never come across it before she was sure, not even in the most exclusive men’s boutiques. He might have had it custom blended, she thought, but it could also be that it was inextricably mixed with his distinctive male scent.

In any case, it was intoxicating in close quarters. It made her feel almost light-headed as she used the facility, washed her hands and face, ran her fingers through her hair and pressed her lips together to add color.

And she refused to think that it might have been the man who wore it that caused her dizziness. It was the last thing she needed.

~ ~ ~

His guest emerged from the bathroom as Nicholas was pouring wine. He had topped off his glass that he had been drinking while waiting for her, and now reached to fill hers.

“None for me,” she said as she regained her seat.

He sent her a brief look, but she refused to return it. A veil of soft color lay across her cheekbones.

A wry smile touched a corner of his mouth. She was still embarrassed then. It was unexpected, for she could hardly be an innocent, must be in her late twenties if he had to guess. Of course, Americans were not as comfortable with nudity as most of his countrymen. Perhaps that was it.

At least she was no longer quite so oblivious of him. It pleased him that he could shake her composure. Purest machismo, of course, but he had enjoyed the look on her face, her wide eyes and parted lips, the soft rose flush of awareness and, yes, reluctant arousal.

These things completely destroyed the effect of the cold shower he’d just taken, but what did it matter? They were worth it.

Nico wondered what it would take to provoke that reaction from her again. And winced inwardly at what the thought of getting naked in front of her, say for a mutual shower or midnight swim, did to his straining body.





3


They went directly from the airport to the hospital in spite of the predawn hour. The decision was made by Nicholas, but was exactly what Amanda wanted. She was grateful for his highhanded action this time, glad that she had no need to press for it.

The closer she came to seeing Jonathan, the tighter her throat grew and the heavier the weight in her chest became. He was all she had. Even when he was a continent away, she knew he thought of her often, just as she thought about him. They had protected each other while on the road. She had been his shield against bullies and he had warned her about older boys who collected girl’s underwear for souvenirs. They had learned to swim, to ride horseback and to ski together. They had stood together beside two graves. He always hugged her when he left her. She loved him as she loved no one else in the world, and had no idea what she would do if he was no longer in it.

She longed to see him, yet hated the thought of his vulnerability, just as she knew he would hate it. And his regret and self-blame for the accident would be almost as hard to bear as his pain.

The Mercedes limo that had met them at the airport slowed for the turn into the entrance court of the hospital complex. Nicholas, bending his head to see out the tinted windows in the pale light from a street lamp, cursed under his breath, or so Amanda thought from the sound of it. Following his gaze, she saw the cause all too easily.