No doubt Alessandro would bring women on flights with him all the time—hit that mile-high club time after time in complete comfort. The crew certainly hadn’t batted any eyelids when they’d seen her with him. Who knew how many women he’d had in there? It was a den of debauchery.
‘You don’t want to lie down and rest for a while?’ He suddenly glanced up and seemed to pick up on the direction of her thoughts. ‘You’ve had a long day of travelling already.’
‘No, thanks,’ she answered immediately, her skin burning at the thought. ‘I’m fine.’
As he held her gaze his expression turned wickedly quizzical. ‘What are you thinking about Katie?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied.
‘So “nothing” makes you blush like that?’
Katie pointedly turned away and buried her nose in the nearest magazine.
* * *
Alessandro huffed out a tight breath. He was trying to keep his temper in check, but the reports Dominique had emailed over just before their departure were making it impossible. Brian Fielding might be hyper-controlling over his wife and Katie, but he was very much out of control in his own life. He was one of those jerks who thought he could have it all without doing any work—gambling not only with cards and chance machines, but with get-rich-quick schemes and insecure investments. One of which, ironically, was Zetticci Foods.
His father’s former company was in worse shape than Alessandro had realised. While Aldo had been a creative genius—an instinctive, outstanding chef, with innate knowledge and a passion for his work—since his death the company’s direction had faltered.
As CEO, Naomi had clearly gone for a splatter gun approach, throwing out a ton of new products and hoping one would hit the market. None had. She’d sacked every one of the chefs she’d brought on board over the years and then turned to her brother Brian for a cash injection.
And what Brian had told Katie was correct. They were on the brink of losing White Oaks, Susan’s home and inheritance. According to the brief report, the older woman was now wheelchair-bound and being cared for by family at home. Being cared for by Katie—because Brian was regularly travelling to conferences, active on local government board meetings...
Alessandro grimaced. Brian was all about the show.
He glanced up from the report, his gaze unerringly landing on Katie again. When she’d mentioned her sauces earlier she’d lit up enough to nudge his curiosity. He’d got an assistant to track down a sample from that deli and bring it to the airport.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
She sent him a startled look, then swiftly averted her gaze. He watched with mild incredulity as yet another blush washed over her skin.
‘Katie,’ he mocked in a low voice, ‘you’re the one reading innuendo into everything I say.’
He had to admit he found it both amusing and arousing. The fact that she was so aware of him was a kind of balm—because her effect on him wasn’t just arousing, it was irritating.
‘It’s the way you look when you say it,’ she grumbled, glancing back to shoot him daggers yet again.
Hugely entertained, he cocked his head and muttered coyly, ‘Oh, I forgot...it’s my looks...’
‘You have no idea what it’s like for us mere mortals,’ she ground out.
She didn’t think herself attractive? He arched his eyebrows at her and waited.
‘We’re invisible,’ she explained when she finally got sick of his silence.
The last thing she’d been to him all day was invisible. The more she opened her mouth, the more he was fascinated by what she had to say and by the sweetness of the lips doing the speaking. They looked so lush, and here he was wondering if other parts of her were as perfect...
He was so tempted, so curious to taste and explore, that somehow he’d become every inch the satyr she’d pegged him as. Every thought was related to her being naked and sprawled on a bed before him. Which, contrary to popular opinion, was not the way he usually worked. He enjoyed women—always—but he could take it or leave it. He’d never felt desire as if it were an addiction before.
‘You know you have power over people,’ she added.
‘Are you treating me like a piece of meat, Katie?’ he muttered, acutely aware of the irony in his accusation. ‘Are you sure it’s only my looks? What about my money? My charm? My extraordinary intelligence?’
‘Let’s not forget your outsize ego.’
‘Yet you’re defining me only by my appearance,’ he mocked.
She pressed her lips together. He wished she wouldn’t bite back her snap.
‘Are you treating me like a toy, Alessandro?’ She glared at him. ‘Am I here for your amusement? To liven up an otherwise boring day?’
She was so on the mark that he nearly winced. Instead he leaned back in his seat, irritated by his uncontrollable inappropriate thinking and her superficial judgement. Why should he care what she thought of him?
‘Is that what women are for you?’ she added softly.
‘Do you want me to marry you or not?’ he growled.
She seemed to freeze. Then she pulled on a tight smile. ‘Are you hungry?’ she enquired, very politely.
He suddenly felt sorry, because he’d scared her into compliance—he’d not meant to, but he’d threatened to take away what she wanted. In that moment he was no better than Brian.
‘Always,’ he grumbled—and he meant no innuendo in that.
Frankly, he often forgot to eat when he was working flat-out, and he’d been working around the clock these last couple of weeks to pull together some deals. So, come to think of it, he did have a mighty hollow deep in his belly.
She looked down at the table between them and then glanced back up at him. ‘Do you want to try my sauces?’ she asked.
Her voice sounded huskier than usual, and it was his turn to shoot her a look.
‘Really?’ He began to laugh, because that had been such a cute little tease. ‘Not bad!’
To his delight, she suddenly laughed too. And she was gorgeous doing it.
‘Sorry...’ she murmured once she’d recovered her equilibrium.
No. He didn’t want her ever to be sorry for giving as good as she got. She was prickly, quick to repel any possible suggestion of something between them. But there was something, and now she’d put the image in his head of licking some luscious sauce off her naked flesh. The blast of heat in his body was beyond uncomfortable.
Purely for something to do to distract himself, he lifted four small bottles out of the brown paper bag he’d stashed beside him.
‘Nice packaging,’ he noted. They looked more professional than he’d expected, with their simple green and white labels. ‘Which should I try first?’
She shrugged her shoulders.
He fetched a few small plates from the galley and poured a little from each bottle onto them.
‘You don’t want a cracker or something to put it on?’ she asked.
Or something.
He inwardly growled at his one-track lustathon thinking—had he regressed a few millennia to become some hormone-overloaded caveman? He’d last been with a beautiful woman only a few weeks ago, before work had ramped up so much. It wasn’t as if he’d had a dry spell...ever.
It’s because she said she didn’t want you.
His pride was pricked. He hated being told he couldn’t do something. Authority issues from the bad days of his late teens, he mocked himself. Being denied something made him all the more determined to do—to take or have—whatever it was he’d been banned from. So, yes, naturally he now wanted to do Ms Katie Collins. He wanted it more with every passing minute. But he couldn’t be that jerk—she had enough of those in her life already.
Focus on the food.
He tried the apricot sauce first. It punched his tastebuds so hard he closed his eyes, in
haling sharply at the intensity. This was better than good.
He blinked and stared at her accusingly. ‘You made this?’
‘Well, I have help to pick the fruit—’ She broke off warily and coloured.
Diverted, he wondered who helped her with the fruit picking.
But then she continued, ‘And I use the kitchen in the house.’
She literally made them all herself? ‘Whose recipes?’
‘My own.’ She sat a little straighter. ‘I’m quite good at it... Though really it’s the herbs. We grow those too.’
‘You have your very own special blend of herbs and spices?’ he drawled.
‘Is that so hard to believe?’ she asked with a little reproach.
He cleared his throat. ‘You’ve done some culinary courses?’
That flush in her cheeks resurged. ‘I tried to do a couple of courses at the local institute, but I couldn’t leave Susan. So I learned from every cooking channel I could find.’