The Boselli Bride. Susanne JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Her mind was constantly tormented by the recollection of those few moments on the river. Giovanni’s magnetic animal energy as his lips had locked onto hers, the demonstration of his physical need for her, had shaken her equilibrium.
And the short-lived incident had left her vulnerable and open, hinting as it did of undreamed-of passion. She knew that despite all her reservations she was longing for something else-something even more beautiful with Giovanni. She had been kissed many, many times before, but not like that. It was the air of breathless intensity enveloping them which had excited her beyond all imagining. How was this all going to end?
Susanne James has enjoyed creative writing since childhood, completing her first-sadly unpublished—novel by the age of twelve. She has three grown-up children who were, and are, her pride and joy, who all live happily in Oxfordshire with their families. She was always happy to put the needs of her family before her ambition to write seriously, although along the way some published articles for magazines and newspapers helped to keep the dream alive!
Susanne’s big regret is that her beloved husband is no longer here to share the pleasure of her recent success. She now shares her life with Toffee, her young Cavalier King Charles spaniel, who decides when it’s time to get up (early) and when a walk in the park is overdue!
Recent titles by the same author:
THE PLAYBOY OF PENGARROTH HALL
THE BRITISH BILLIONAIRE’S INNOCENT BRIDE
THE MILLIONAIRE’S CHOSEN BRIDE
THE BRITISH BILLIONAIRE AFFAIR
The Boselli Bride
By
Susanne James
MILLS & BOON
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CHAPTER ONE
‘WHY don’t you go back to the hotel, Coral, and have a lie down…? It is pretty stifling today.’ Emily glanced sympathetically at her friend as they sauntered along the sunhot streets of the capital.
‘I think “pretty stifling” is a bit of an understatement—it must be all of forty degrees,’ Coral said plaintively, taking off her hat for a second to wipe perspiration from her forehead. She sighed. ‘Perhaps I will get a cab and go back…Do you have much more to do, Ellie?’
‘Not really-but I’ll look in on one more place before I call it a day,’ Emily replied. She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll be back before five o’clock, and then there’ll be time for me to have a rest and a shower before we find somewhere for dinner.’
The two girls were staying at a small hotel in Rome on the outskirts of Trastevere. Emily was on one of her normal working assignments, where she had the task of vetting certain hotels and restaurants for the travel firm who employed her, and this was the first time she’d ever been accompanied abroad while on business. But Coral’s long-term boyfriend, Steve, had recently dumped her and, in an attempt to cheer her friend up, Emily had suggested she come to Rome, too. ‘A complete change will do you good, Coral,’ she’d said and, after a little persuasion, Coral had agreed.
Although her grasp of Italian was rather poor, Emily was determined to become sufficiently fluent to make herself well understood by the staff at all the places she’d been asked to investigate—while also expecting that their English could cope with the continuous influx of visitors from Britain.
Stopping for a moment to buy herself a cappuccino ice cream, she started to stroll up a side street which appeared almost completely shaded by the tall buildings on either side. She paused briefly to lick her tongue quickly around and around the smooth, creamy ice cream as it threatened to melt before she could eat it, then wandered on again somewhat listlessly. Perhaps she should have gone back to the hotel as well, she thought—but there was this one other restaurant she needed to visit before finishing for the day.
Soaking up the atmosphere of the ancient city, she wondered whether her parents had actually walked up this very street when they had done all their travelling. The thought of her mother, who had died so suddenly four years ago when she, Emily, was twenty-one, made the girl’s eyes mist and she swallowed a painful lump in her throat. Even though her father, Hugh, had picked up the pieces of his life and carried on alone, she knew that he didn’t find it easy…They’d been such a close couple, and wonderful parents to her and her brother, Paul. Paul was just a few years older than her, but he had a rather serious nature and outlook on life—which might be partly explained by his work as a lawyer. Emily wished that he was here now, so that she could give him a hug.
Lost in her own thoughts, her reverie was brought to a sudden—and ignominious—halt as she almost fell over someone sitting on the pavement outside a small shop whose open-fronted entrance exhibited a colourful array of pottery and glass. Half-sitting, half-lying on a canvas chair with his long legs stretched out nonchalantly in front of him, his large-brimmed hat completely shading his face, he might have been fast asleep because he made no discernible movement as Emily paused to glance at the wares on offer. Slightly embarrassed at how close she’d come to nearly sitting on his lap, she cleared her throat and busied herself with picking up one or two items, even though she had no intention of buying anything. If she’d purchased something in every place she’d been sent to since working abroad, her small flat would be hopelessly overloaded. But then—there was always room for just one more jug, she thought.
Venturing just a little way inside the shop, she gingerly picked up a round, chunky marmalade jar—her father had started making his own marmalade, and she thought how he would love this.
‘Unique.’ The man’s voice was cruelly seductive.
Turning quickly, Emily found herself looking way up into the blackest of black eyes—eyes which twinkled mischievously into her soft grey ones…The inert figure outside had come to life! Standing now, he had removed his hat and his thick, dark and lustrous hair hung haphazardly over his forehead, while the deeply tanned skin of his outrageously handsome face shone slightly with perspiration.
‘I’m sorry…?’ Emily found herself fluttering inside like a silly schoolgirl! Come on, she thought, this isn’t the first Italian male you’ve met! Get a grip!
‘Unique,’ he repeated, averting his gaze from hers just long enough to pick up one of the jars and to slowly turn it around in his long, sensuous fingers. ‘Each one unique.’
Emily smiled inwardly. He was a man of few words, his somewhat sparse way of communicating clearly suggesting that his English was about as good as her Italian.
‘They’re…very…attractive,’ she murmured, speaking slowly. ‘How much…?’
Now he smiled down, his glistening, perfect teeth enlivening the density of his tan. Without taking his eyes from her,