The Italian Next Door. Anna ClearyЧитать онлайн книгу.
There was a sudden movement behind her. ‘Scusi, signorina.’
Pia glanced around in surprise. ‘Sorry?’
The man stepped forward, his dark eyes glinting with an intent light. Pia’s throat dried and a fluttery sensation inhabited her chest. He really was handsome, with cheekbones and shadow on his firm, chiselled jaw. His eyebrows bristled with purpose. They were the most stirring she’d ever laid eyes on, while the casual elegance of his black leather jacket, white open-necked shirt and jeans did nothing to diminish the pleasing athleticism of his lean, powerful build.
He was at least a millimetre too close, bearing down on her and sending all her alarm sensors into total chaos. She took a step backwards from those compelling dark eyes and found herself pressed up against the counter.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing, signorina. You are travelling to Positano?’ His voice was deep and appealingly accented, despite the seriousness of his tone.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you aware that the roads near Sorrento are very narrow and built on the edges of cliffs?’ His dark eyes scanned her face like a searchlight.
‘Well, yes, I suppose. So …?’ She could feel her resistance rising to this intrusion. So the roads were narrow. Was he suggesting she wasn’t capable? She felt her neck grow hot, conscious of the car-hire woman listening to every word with close attention. A stillness seemed to fall on the neighbouring booths, as if their staff, their customers, the entire airport had all paused to listen.
In an effort to dampen the guy’s damned cheek, Pia zapped him with a cool smile. ‘What’s your point, signore?’
‘The traffic along those roads is heavy and dangerous. Even very experienced drivers from the locality find it so.’ His intelligent dark eyes were serious, his hands eloquent. ‘Permit me, signorina, but I notice that you speak like an Australian. Have you ever before driven a car in a right-hand-traffic situation?’
Guilt crept up Pia’s spine. Her entire body warmed, then blazed with it as she felt the car-hire woman’s eyes drill a hole through the side of her head. If only she could have lied, but she’d never been good at it, not even to save her life.
‘Well, no, maybe I haven’t,’ she blustered. ‘But I know I can, and I’m not sure what it has to do with you.’
He shook his head in stern disapproval. ‘This is not good. You mustn’t try to drive on these roads, especially with the traffic as it will be today with the trains not running. This is what I think would be best. I will—’
Before he could go on with his astonishing impertinence, the car-hire woman interjected. ‘Scusi, Miss Renfern. Our apologies, but Da Vinci Auto find we do not have a car for you today.’
‘What?’ Pia spun about and stared at the woman in outrage. ‘Oh, but that’s so unfair. You’ve seen my licence … I’m a qualified driver. This man is a stranger. Don’t listen to him. What is he to do with me?’
‘I am sorry, signorina.’ Briskly, the woman handed back Pia’s credentials. ‘Perhaps another car company will help you. However, Da Vinci Auto says no.’
‘But—’
‘No, and no and no.’ The woman folded her arms and sealed her lips with implacable firmness.
Simmering, Pia replaced her documents and gathered her baggage, pausing to cast a glowering glance at the man before she moved off. ‘Thanks a lot, signore.’ She did her best to lace the word with purest strychnine.
His eyes gleamed. ‘Prego. Your safety is important to every Italian.’
She rarely argued with men these days, especially strangers, but some men needed to be argued with. ‘I would be much safer if I could hire a car.’
Her indignation seemed to amuse the guy. He leaned back against the counter, allowing his thick black lashes to flicker down while his sensual gaze drifted over her with frank appreciation. ‘So, so soft … and yet so fierce.’ His lean hands demonstrated her softness in the air. She had little doubt it had more to do with her breasts than anything. ‘It is a pity,’ he continued with phoney sympathy, ‘but the signora here has made the decision, no doubt for her own reasons.’ He shrugged and spread his hands as if he were absolutely innocent in the matter.
This distortion of reality was too much for Pia, confused as it was with messages from his hot smiling eyes, sexy mouth and tanned, elegant hands that were anything but innocent. Soft, was she?
She said hotly, ‘She made the decision because you sowed seeds of doubt in her mind.’
‘You think?’ His gorgeous brows lifted quizzically. ‘She may have been influenced by some weird desire to save lives. But as it happens I’m driving to Positano. I might be able to fit you in. I’m guessing you won’t take too much room.’ His beautiful hands illustrated just how much room she might take, this time managing to encompass the shape of her hips with what felt to Pia almost like a tangible caress.
She could imagine what he had in mind. He wanted to get her alone in a confined space and run those hard, lean hands all over her body.
If only his voice didn’t seep into her veins like a dark intoxicant. At the same time there was that smile in his eyes inviting her to acknowledge an undertow, a distinctly sexual vibration tugging at her like the moon to the tide.
In spite of herself Pia felt a dangerous stir in her blood, then her heart skittered. Whoa there, girl. Don’t be sucked in by midnight eyes and a lazy smile.
Regrouping her feminine forces, she cast him a crushing look. ‘You wish.’
She strode coolly away, as coolly as it was possible to pushing a trolley laden with a suitcase and a heavy canvas bag stuffed with easels and painting supplies while feeling his scorching-hot gaze follow her every step of the way.
She walked past the other car-hire booths without wasting her time humbling herself before them. Her reputation was shot with them all now, and there was no way she’d give the guy the satisfaction of watching her being turned away yet again.
The nerve of him. He had to be one of the most intrusive, irritating, interfering, annoying people she’d ever met. Just because he knew he was attractive … Of course he knew. A man that sophisticated always knew.
She was seething all over. He should never have looked at her like that, making her feel so—female. In fact, it was amazing he’d triggered those responses. She’d been numb in that department for so long she couldn’t quite believe the sensations were real. It must have been as the doctor had warned. Now that her emotions had come back in full force, every sensation was bound to be stronger, sharper. Sweeter, though she squashed that thought. Nothing she felt about him was sweet.
Just before she turned the corner into the next mall though, she couldn’t resist sneaking a glance back. He was still there, but to her surprise no longer alone. A middle-aged couple with a teenager had joined him and were exclaiming over him, reaching up to kiss and embrace him like long-lost relatives. She saw him bend to kiss the woman on both cheeks. Whew. How must that feel?
Resigned to abandoning his interest in the blonde woman for the moment, Valentino pocketed his car keys and braced himself to field a volley of probing queries about his personal life.
As always his uncle and aunt wanted to know too much. Still embarrassed by his divorced status even after all this time, they were forever on the lookout for signs he was about to risk the marital treadmill again.
As if.
He sometimes had the suspicion that his aunt had dreams of him taking up with Ariana again to wipe away the family shame, as though the bitterness had never happened. As though the divorce had no validity.
No use to explain that the twenty-first century had dawned some time