‘May I help you?’
‘I hope so. I’m looking for Siena Simon.’
The assistant’s smile became even more doubtful. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘Well, I met her at a ball last night and she—’
‘It’s okay, Tiffany.’ The drawled words were followed by the appearance of a figure at the back of the store, and suddenly there was Siena Simon dressed in her trademark cream, with a pair of gravity-defying shoes and a choker of pearls at her throat as big as gulls’ eggs. ‘I asked Nicolina to call by today,’ she said, and then smiled. ‘Good to see you again, Nicolina. Did you bring any more of your work with you?’
Rather self-consciously, Lina held up the canvas bag containing her totes. ‘They’re all in here.’
‘Good. Why don’t you come on through to my office and I’ll have Allegra fix us some coffee?’
Lina nodded. ‘Sure.’
The interview which followed was daunting and yet, in a funny kind of way, it was also one of the most rewarding things which had ever happened to her, and when Lina emerged just under an hour later, it was with a feeling of excitement bubbling away inside her. She’d almost dropped to the floor when Siena had informed her just how much she could charge for one of Lina’s little handbags and had instantly agreed to make as many of them as possible. She had a job—of sorts. Wasn’t this the first step on the road to independence?
She wondered what to do next, whether to find herself a sandwich for lunch, or try to hunt down a second-hand sewing machine. She had just decided that the latter option would be the most sensible, when she noticed a tall and powerful man who was walking purposefully along the street.
In her direction.
He was instantly recognisable on so many levels—visual, visceral and emotional. Lina’s heart squeezed as her eyes feasted themselves on the blue-black gleam of his hair and the coiled strength of his muscular physique. She had been trying not to think about him all morning. Trying to concentrate on work and ambition and thoughts of the future and wondering what an independent life would look like. But now that she’d seen him, all those thoughts seemed to crumble away because that was the effect of the strange power he had over her. Lina felt her stomach dissolve as he reached her and for a moment or two it felt as if she’d forgotten how to speak.
‘Salvatore.’ She licked her lips like a starving cat which had just spotted food. ‘This...this is a surprise.’
‘I came to meet you.’
‘But you didn’t know where I’d be.’
‘Obviously, I did, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’ His blue gaze mocked her. ‘You told me you were going for an interview with Siena—remember?’
Of course she remembered, she was just surprised he had—because hadn’t he seemed more concerned with plunging into her body for the umpteenth time, rather than hearing about her plans for the following day? She looked at him in confusion. ‘But I still don’t understand why you’re here.’
Salvatore wasn’t quite sure about that himself—and felt a flicker of irritation that she’d been gauche enough to draw his attention to it. Because hadn’t the voice of reason warned him against coming here, telling himself to leave it until the end of the day, at least. Telling himself that a few hours’ grace would give him time to untangle himself from the potency of the spell she seemed to have cast over him. And then he’d thought: what the hell? He wanted to have sex with her again and as soon as possible—and judging by the smoky darkening of her eyes, she was feeling it too. ‘I thought we could have lunch.’
‘Lunch?’
‘There’s no need to make it sound as if I’ve made an indecent suggestion. Though I’m perfectly prepared to do that afterwards,’ he murmured. ‘And you’re really going to need to stop blushing like that, Lina.’
‘I can’t help it,’ she whispered. ‘And I haven’t got time for lunch. I have to get hold of a sewing machine.’
‘You can do that later,’ he said firmly. ‘Just get in the car.’
At last it seemed to dawn on her that he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but her stumbling reluctance was surprisingly charming, and as he lifted his hand to summon his car, he could feel lust spearing through him like a hard and relentless arrow. And just as soon as the vehicle moved away, he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her, her squirming excitement turning him on even more.
He had intended the kiss to be hard and swift—a possessive declaration of his intention to seduce her as soon as they’d eaten. But instead it became a deep and drugging interaction which dragged him down into some dark and silken place, and maybe her hungry response had a lot to do with that. As she curled her fingers around his neck and pressed her breasts against him, his passion for her combusted. His heart was pounding as he realised they had approximately twelve minutes until they reached the restaurant. Time enough for what he wanted. He could slip his hand beneath the hem of her sundress and quickly bring her to a shuddering orgasm before unzipping himself so that she could take him in her mouth as she had done so exquisitely last night. He could tell the driver to keep circling the block until he tapped on the window. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done it.
But somehow, with Lina, it didn’t seem appropriate—and although it was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to resist, he drew away from her and tersely instructed her to smooth down her ruffled hair. As the car drew up near the Embarcadero, he found himself perplexed by his own behaviour, but reassured himself that the wait would be worth it—and a demonstration of his rigid control would not go amiss.
The restaurant was crowded and Lina’s predictable delight on her first sight of the iconic bridge view was pleasing, though she seemed oblivious to the fact that people were turning their heads To look at her, despite the many society beauties who were dotted around the place. Would it have surprised her to know that her naturalness was like a breath of fresh air in the rarefied atmosphere of this famous city eatery? he wondered.
Soon they were seated at his usual table, with crisp linen, crystal and silver laid out before them, as waiters and sommeliers clustered around them. Salvatore ordered lobster and salad, a bottle of cold water and a dish of olives, before leaning back in his chair to study her.
‘It sounds like your interview with Siena went well,’ he observed.
‘I think so.’ She hesitated as she picked up her napkin and shook it out. ‘She asked me lots of questions. How well I knew you. How long I was planning on staying in the city. That sort of thing.’
‘I guess she wants to be sure you’ll stick around if she’s planning on giving you work.’