at hard to comprehend since you obviously think with a very different part of your anatomy.’
And that particular part of his anatomy was currently making its existence felt in the most predictable way possible, Alessio acknowledged wryly. And given that Lindsay Lockheart had yet to discover the wonders of sex without emotional attachment, the only available solution to this particular attack of animal lust appeared to be a cold shower.
‘If you have so much faith in your mental discipline, why would you be afraid to come with me?’
‘I’m not afraid.’ Her chin lifted and suddenly the tension between the two of them reached screaming pitch.
‘You’re afraid, Lindsay,’ Alessio said softly, ‘and I’ll tell you why. So far, the only thing that has kept me from having sex with you is lack of opportunity.’
She was so deliciously easy to shock, he mused, watching as her eyes widened and hot colour poured into her cheeks.
‘That’s nonsense. We could have all the opportunity in the world and I still wouldn’t have—we wouldn’t—’ She swallowed. ‘The ability to think and use our brains is what separates us from animals. I’m in control of what I do.’
‘If you’re so confident about that, then come in your sister’s place.’
He could see a tiny pulse beating in her creamy throat as she struggled with the challenge he’d thrown into her path. ‘I can’t just abandon my life.’
‘You mean you don’t trust yourself to be on a Caribbean island with me and not have sex.’ He gave a slow, sure smile. ‘Be honest, Lindsay. You know that your logical approach to relationships is going to be worth nothing when we’re both naked. And you’re afraid to lose.’
‘Damn you,’ she whispered, her eyes sparking angrily. ‘Damn you for making this about us when it should be about my sister.’
‘If it was about your sister, then you’d come.’
The lawyer in him interpreted every expression that flickered across her face. Nerves, worry, stress, fear and something else that he couldn’t immediately identify—something much, much more complex than all the other emotions put together—
‘I can’t just drop my life at a moment’s notice.’
‘You’re worried that one of your clients might get divorced when you’re not looking and that would be bad for publicity?’
‘I don’t care about publicity. I don’t care about winning and losing. I care about people. I care about Ruby. And I’m not coming with you.’
Alessio was astonished by the depth of his disappointment.
Why should it matter to him? It wasn’t as if his bed was going to be empty.
There was no shortage of beautiful, sophisticated women desperate for his attention. Women who wouldn’t waste time fighting him. Why would he be bothered about Lindsay’s refusal?
And then he gave a wry smile, a flash of insight giving him the reason for his reaction.
He hated losing.
He absolutely hated losing, but it had been so long since he’d lost at anything that he hadn’t immediately recognised the feeling. And if there was one thing designed to send his competitive streak into overdrive, it was the concept of losing.
Lindsay Lockheart represented a challenge. And when had a woman ever been a challenge to him?
Aware that his driver was agitated about the time, he applied analytical skills to the problem. ‘Fine. If I hear from her before you do I’ll be sure to tell her that you cared about her. But not enough to do her job in her place. Have a good flight back.’ And with that carefully orchestrated parting shot he strode towards the car, wondering how long it would take.
Three strides? Maybe four?
‘All right.’ Her voice stopped him on two and he smiled to himself as he turned because in the end it had been disappointingly easy.
Women were so predictable.
‘Scusi?’ He pretended to be confused, watching as she walked towards him like someone going to the gallows.
‘Why would you be surprised? You’ve won, Alessio. Isn’t that what you always do? You find your opponent’s weakness and you exploit it.’ Without giving him time to answer, she pushed past him and slid into the back of the car.
And clearly she wasn’t used to getting into the back of a limousine. Accommodating her sudden movement, her skirt slid up to mid-thigh and Alessio’s attention was momentarily diverted. Fabulous legs, he thought absently, his libido acting like a break on his thought processes. Who would have thought that Lindsay Lockheart was hiding a body like that under her sober, serious black skirt? Those long, shapely legs appeared to be encased in sheer stockings with a hint of a sheen and Alessio found himself wishing that her skirt were just slightly shorter…