The Marriage Arrangement Read online

  Because every time he opened up, he was reminded he didn't matter. Not to his father who consistently reminded him he was trash. Not to the woman he'd thought he'd loved who'd betrayed him. And not to Edward Winsor. It didn't matter how hard he worked, or how much money he made, or how much success he'd achieved. In the end, he only ended up alone.

  The admission ripped from his soul. "I don't know if I can."

  She smiled, easing her grip, and patted his hand in comfort. "You are a good man. And you can, Lee. Don't underestimate yourself."

  She sat back in her chair the exact moment Caterina walked into the kitchen. "Are you ready?"

  His legs shook a bit, but he nodded and stood. "Yes."

  They said their goodbyes, promising to stop at the bakery soon, and left.

  But Mama Conte's words haunted him.

  Chapter Five

  Caterina wondered what he was thinking about.

  She glanced over and caught the clench of his jaw, the haunted glint in his inky eyes, the tension of his shoulders. Oh, he held up his conversation with ease on the way home from Bergamo, but even in this short time, she sensed he was putting on an act.

  "Did Mama Conte say something to you before we left?" she asked. Since the moment they met, their short relationship had been based on truth. She refused to begin playing games at this juncture. Go big or go home, right?

  He jerked. She realized they'd stopped once again in front of her door, a deja vu from the first night they met. Tension simmered as they gazed at each other in the darkness on the quiet street. It had rained earlier. The pavement was wet, and a damp muskiness rose in the air. The lazy drip of water from the roof was the only sound. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because you're acting different. As if she said something that bothered you."

  His lips tightened into a thin line. "No, everything's fine."

  Why did his answer piss her off? Just because he didn't want to share what happened? It probably wasn't her business. Yet, the knowledge he didn't want to answer her question nagged and rankled at her confidence. Maybe she was making this thing between them into more than it was. After all, he'd be gone soon, and she'd be...here. Still trying to decide what to do next with her life. Suddenly, her excitement over a possible handbag business seemed to dim. Why was she thinking of her father and the winery? Her thoughts spun and she sought safety in the isolation of her room. She needed to think. "Okay. Thanks for the nice evening."

  She turned and put her hand on the knob.

  His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. "You're upset. What's the matter?"

  Her gaze narrowed. "It's late. We're both tired. I'm just ending the evening politely."

  Those fierce brows lowered in a frown. "What if I don't want the evening to end just yet? Why don't you tell me why you're suddenly angry?"

  Her temper rose. "Why are you pushing? This is crazy! We met two days ago and spent an entire afternoon with Mama Conte at a family dinner. Who does that? And you've been acting like something's bothering you since we left but you won't tell me what it is. I'm sorry, I need to back off. I need to think."

  Suddenly, he leaned in, a magnificent male specimen who practically pulsed with raw emotion. "What are you so afraid of?"

  "It's too soon for all...this. I've known you for two days and I'm telling you these things about myself--it's too intimate. It's better if we slow down. Analyze what's happening between us."

  "Wrong. I think you're tired of being in your head and trying to make sense of what this is." The spicy, musky scent of his rose to her nostrils and made her crave. "From the moment we met, there's been a connection between us. What I'm feeling for you right now demands intimacy and some risk. Are you trying to deny it?"

  Her belly dropped to her toes, and immediately her body softened in response. This was what she wanted. The realness. The sloppy, messy slide of feelings that wrecked logical thought and made her feel alive again.

  "No." She closed her eyes, struggling to communicate the fear of being wrong about him. "I-I just don't want this to be a lie. I don't want to believe this is us together and give you stuff only to watch you distance yourself at the end and leave. Oh, God, I sound so stupid and confused, just--tell me the truth. If this is a short affair while you're in town, fine, but I need to know."

  His fingers closed over her shoulders and he pushed her gently against the door. She sucked in a breath as she was surrounded by the sheer breadth of his body against hers. He gazed down at her like a dark angel intent on claiming her, his eyes seething with intensity. "Do you want to know what Mama Conte said to me?" he challenged, his face inches from hers. "She told me not to be afraid to love. She said it's the only thing that keeps the ghosts away. And God knows, Caterina, I have plenty of ghosts, and it's a hell of a lot easier to stay away from anyone who threatens my peace, or my heart. But when I look at you, I want things I've never wanted before. How is that for truth?"

  She shuddered. Her skin burned for his touch. She lifted her fingers and traced the savage curve to his lips. "I don't know you," she whispered. "It's too much."

  "I want you to know me," he grated out. "For the first time in my life, I want to share things with you. Show the hidden parts no one else has seen, and God help me, it scares the living shit out of me."

  The truth of his words vibrated in his voice, his gaze, his trembling hands as he cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers. His breath whispered across her lips.

  "Me, too," she whispered.

  His velvet rich voice held her spellbound. "Then kiss me so we both don't have to be afraid anymore."

  She rose on tiptoes to meet him halfway and then his mouth met hers. She prepared herself for a sensual invasion, but his lips skated gently, teasingly, as if an experiment was being played out. With slow, easy movements his tongue traced the outline of her lips in the lightest of caresses, and with a delicious precision that made a pulsing liquid warmth flow through her body. Almost as if he was afraid she'd bolt any moment, his arms slipped around her waist and eased her closer.

  His ruthless control allowed her to relax in his embrace, craving more. With a low murmur of satisfaction, he suddenly drew back. His seething gaze registered her surrender. A moment passed as they stared at one another. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

  Then he bent his head once again, and with one swift motion, re-slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue surged past the seam of her lips in one shocking, heated stroke.

  Claimed.

  Her body shuddered as Lee possessed her mouth with all the fierce determination of a warrior claiming his woman. His tongue swept through the damp, silken interior, tasting her, seducing her, as each deep, hot stroke told her again and again that she belonged to him.

  Her toes curled in her expensive Louboutins as he pressed into the small of her back, cradling her hips against his. She gasped at the bold feel of his arousal, and he swallowed the sound with a greediness that made an answering wave of heat pool between her thighs. Her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders as she fought for balance, fought the need to match him thrust for thrust, fought the sweet, wild fire pumping through her veins.

  "No, Caterina," he breathed against her mouth. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and his voice poured over her like warm honey, darkly commanding. "Don't fight it. Open yourself to me; give me everything you have, sweetheart. Kiss me back. I need it. I need you."

  Then his mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue thrusting between her lips. With a shudder she opened herself to the sensual invasion and kissed him back. The heady taste of male hunger and rich wine attacked her senses. She dug peach-tinted nails into the lean, corded muscles of his shoulders as one powerful thigh slid between her legs. Her breasts were crushed against the solid wall of his chest and her nipples peaked in demand.

  The hard door at her back and the rigid erection notched between her thighs contradicted the softness of his lips, the silky thrust of his tongue, the heady, spicy scent of his flavor making he
r drunk. For the first time, she thrilled in allowing her body to take over and be free to sink into every delicious sensation. Her senses exploded into overdrive until there was nothing to do but hang on and give him everything he wanted right back.

  And she did. He swallowed her moan, and her hands wrapped around his shoulders, thrusting her fingers into the long, crisp hair at his nape. Her hips rocked with her own demand, until the simple kiss splintered into raw, primal hunger. His teeth nipped and he took the kiss deeper, until she turned into a wild thing in his arms, helpless against the wicked need for his tongue, his fingers, his cock. She twisted for more, and with a low growl, he cupped her ass and lifted her high, until her legs wrapped around his hips and she was a melting, boneless creature of lust.

  She drowned in his kiss. She'd never felt so wanted, his hunger burning her alive--the sweet thrust of his tongue bringing an edge of tenderness that told her this was more than just physical. Arching upwards, she guided his hands to her chest. He muttered a curse and deftly released the buttons, pulling away the fabric to reveal the delicate lace camisole. His hands coasted over the lace, pulling it taut across her swollen nipples.

  Caterina gasped. Her head fell back over his arm as his lips closed around the ruby crest, suckling gently. The delicious dampness of his mouth against her overheated skin, the silky touch of his tongue dragging across the fragile lace, both drove her into a frenzy.

  "My God, you're burning up in my arms," he grated against her breast. She shuddered in response to his touch. "You taste so damn sweet. Let me inside. Let me show you how good we are together."

  His words burned as much as his fingers dragging over her sensitive skin, but deep inside, a faint warning begged her to slow down. Lee was basically a stranger. What did she know about him? Enough to trust him inside of her home? Inside of her body?

  No.

  Not yet.

  Slowly, reality seeped back, and she stiffened in his arms. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. "Caterina?"

  She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I can't."

  Guilt started to build. She shouldn't have let things go so far. Cat braced herself for his response--anger, frustration, or maybe for him to pressure her to change her mind.

  Instead, he cupped her cheek and smiled. "I understand. I'm sorry if I pushed too hard. You are hell on my self-control." He dropped a kiss on her lips, buttoned her blouse with gentle fingers, and stepped back.

  Joy bloomed. He wasn't like other men she'd dated who focused on their own needs. This man cared about what she wanted. She smiled back. "Thank you."

  "Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

  She tried not to giggle like a lovestruck teen, but damned if she didn't see stars in her eyes as she blinked. "Yes."

  "Good, I'll take you to lunch. Two p.m.?"

  "Don't you have work?"

  "Only in the morning. I want to spend the afternoon with you."

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. She must have been staring at him, because his smile widened. "Buona notte, Caterina."

  "Buona notte," she whispered.

  She let herself inside and spent the night dreaming of tomorrow.

  Chapter Six

  "I bought you a present."

  They stood outside in the square plaza, across from Cafe Brera. Rip took in the mischievous sparkle in those golden eyes. On cue, his heart did a tiny little skip, almost like a dance, and he groaned inwardly at the textbook cliche he'd become.

  He was totally smitten.

  Yesterday had been picture perfect. He'd pretended to work for half a day on mysterious property explorations, then met her for an afternoon excursion and long, lazy dinner. Thank God she'd stopped him the other night. He'd been so crazed with need for her, he'd lost his control. He refused to make love to her before Cat knew his true identity, even though the growing sexual chemistry between them was ready to explode. Still, he'd been ruthless in allowing her to set the tone of their intimacy. She had to seek him out in order to truly bind her in the way he craved. Physically. Emotionally.

  Legally.

  Edward had already warned he'd be calling her soon.

  Time was running out.

  He pushed the disturbing thoughts away and smiled down at her. She looked adorable in dark washed denim, a black, short leather jacket, and those teetering stilettos, today in bright pink. "Why am I suddenly worried?"

  "I'm testing your ability to go with the flow today."

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and regarded her suspiciously. "I'm not the flowy type. I prefer control." He paused, his gaze resting on her lips. "In all things."

  On cue, her cheeks heated. Curiosity stirred. The more he dug, the more innocent she seemed. He'd imagined her engaging in a long trail of love affairs in Italy, but she acted almost shy at times, as if she was unused to flirtation and the game of seduction.

  "Oh! That's good. I mean, that's good to know."

  He laughed. "I'm ready for my surprise."

  "Okay, first I want to show you something." She stepped back, grabbing the opening to her jacket, and flashed it open. Underneath, she wore a hot pink T-shirt scrawled with the words, Sex, Love, and Panforte. "What do you think?"

  The sweet curves of her breasts displaying that delicious message got him hard in seconds. He shook his head and shifted. Damn, he ached to strip off that shirt and bare her to him completely. Spread her thighs and bring her to orgasm with his lips and tongue and teeth, until she writhed and begged and screamed his name over and over and--

  "Lee? Do you like it?"

  The sweet way she uttered his middle name punched him in the gut. The guilt grew every moment they were together, until he realized he had to tell her the truth very soon. He got himself under control and re-focused. "Hell, yes, I like it. You look hot. Now, you have to take off the jacket." He dropped his voice. "Real slow."

  Oh, yeah. She slicked her tongue across her bottom lip and those eyes heated up. She wanted him just as bad. It was time to break down some more walls today and ease her further into this relationship.

  She shrugged the leather off, easing it over one shoulder at a time, slipping it from her arms in a deliberate tease. Then with a seductive smile, she threw the jacket at him, standing proud in a tight T-shirt and jeans that were sexier than any negligee. He loved it. Underneath the shyness was a bit of a she-cat. He couldn't wait to find out.

  "Now it's your turn," she said. She rummaged in her bag and whipped out a black T-shirt, holding it open to display the motto: Bread or Death. "Do you like it?" When he remained silent, she broke into a worried babble. "I know, it's kind of stupid, right? Especially for a guy, but I saw it and knew you had this bread thing and thought it was going to be cute, but I'll take it back, it's totally okay--"

  "Caterina?"

  "Yeah?"

  He took the shirt, an odd tightening in his chest making it hard to breathe. When had a woman ever given him a gift? Too long ago to even remember, and then it had been either generic or cheap. His fingers stroked the soft cotton and he looked into her anxious face, noting again that she was a giver, not a taker, so he did the only thing he could in the moment to show how he felt.

  He kissed her. Long and deep and slow. His mouth cherished and pleasured with languid strokes until she softened in his arms and clung to him so sweetly he wanted to take her to his bedroom and show her how good he could make her feel. They kissed on the public street amidst the crowds and nothing ever felt so right. He pulled away slowly, her honeyed taste lingering on his tongue.

  "Grazie. It's my new favorite shirt."

  Her face lit up. "I'm so glad."

  "In fact, I'm going to wear it right now." He handed her jacket back, and in one swift motion, peeled off his heather grey pullover. Ignoring the glances and stares of the various people surrounding them, he tugged on his new T-shirt, liking the way the cotton felt against his skin. "What do you think?"

  Her jaw had dropped.

  Amusement skitt
ered through him. His woman seemed to like what he'd revealed, which made him feel like a fucking god. He wanted to strip off all his clothes and stand naked in front of her, relishing with pride the flare of lust gleaming from her amber eyes. Her gaze hungrily roved over his chest, his shoulders, and her fingers came up as if she wanted to touch him. Immediately, his gut clenched and the raw chemistry sizzled like a live wire between them.

  "I think you're beautiful," she whispered.

  Her honesty made him stiffen in agony. He blistered out a curse. "Keep looking at me like that and there's only one place we'll end up."

  She tilted her head, as if considering it. He held his breath, but after a few seconds, she shuddered and stepped back. "I love the shirt."

  "Good. Now that we're rocking the fashion world, what would you like to do?"

  "Have you been inside the church yet?" she asked.

  "No."

  "It's been a safe place for me. I know it's a popular attraction, but I feel like it's just for me. Would you like to go in?"

  He offered his hand and she took it without hesitation. "I'd like that."

  They walked through the plaza toward the church of Santa Maria del Carmine. A dark metal statue stood in front of the church. Rip stared at the headless, armless sculpture with both interest and a tad of horror. The strange angular chopping of the body along with a small head sprouting from the chest hit an onlooker full force. Behind it, the faded brick of the church rose up in symmetrical matching halves against the dreary afternoon sky. Dual arched windows sat atop the door. A grand, detailed round window in the shape of a rose balanced out the structured architecture, leading to a carved cross sprouting off the roof. The church was smaller than most of the sweeping duomos of Florence and Rome, but a quiet peace pulsed around the building, offering welcome.

  Cat guided him inside, where there were few visitors to navigate. Still holding hands, they made their way down the aisle, taking their time to admire the gorgeous detail of the altar, from the colorful frescoes of Jesus and Mary to the sweeping arch of the dome atop, surrounded by elaborate carvings of wood and gold amidst the sheen of stained glass. The textures and colors blended together in the art of sheer beauty, made even more majestic by the building's smaller, more intimate size. A hush fell upon the church and his humming nerves seemed to settle. It was almost as if his soul was finally able to take a long breath.