For once she didn’t protest but did as he suggested with alacrity, and by the time he returned with the report his hand had just about stopped tingling and the memory of the feel of her soft, smooth skin beneath his palm had just about gone.
‘Want to get out of here?’ he asked, looking down at her and noting with relief that she now displayed no hint of her reaction to his touch.
‘Very much so,’ she said coolly, clearly having decided, like him, to take the denial approach.
‘Are you going to pass out again?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I don’t know about you,’ he muttered as they stepped outside out of darkness and into the light, ‘but I could do with a drink.’
CHAPTER SIX
WHILE RICO ORDERED a couple of beers and pastries from the terrace of a cafe that had apparently been serving drinks from the same spot since 1750, Carla investigated the ways in which she might replace her stolen passport. It wasn’t as complicated as she’d feared, helped by the fact that once upon a time she’d uploaded copies of her birth certificate, driving licence and passport to the cloud. Nevertheless, it still took far longer than it should have, in no small part because her thoughts kept drifting off and circling around what had just happened.
First of all, she couldn’t believe she’d actually fainted like that. She’d never fainted before, ever. And to do so now, in front of a strong, controlled, insanely sexy man like Rico, well, embarrassing didn’t begin to cover it. Nor did disappointment. She hated that the memories of a time she thought she’d dealt with had flooded back with such ease and such vividness.
Secondly, there was all the contact that had taken place. She could still feel the steel band of Rico’s arm around her waist and the warm wall of hard muscle against which she’d been clasped moments before she lost consciousness. Her shoulder still burned with the imprint of his hand from when she’d stood up too fast and he’d steadied her. The high-voltage charge of electricity continued to zap through her blood and the flash of desire in his eyes was singed into her memory.
Most shocking of all was the realisation that Rico wasn’t as immune to her as she’d assumed, that the attraction on his side hadn’t gone and up until that moment he’d simply just been very good at hiding it.
Well, whatever.
None of it made a scrap of difference to how she proceeded, Carla told herself sternly as she clicked on the submit button and a moment later received a confirmation email. In a couple of days she’d be gone and this little blip in her otherwise well-ordered, smoothly running life would be over.
‘So I’ve ordered an
emergency travel document,’ she said, mightily relieved to have gained at least a modicum of control of the situation. ‘It’ll be ready at the British Consulate in Milan on Wednesday.’
‘Wednesday?’
At the hint of censure in Rico’s voice she glanced up at him to find him frowning, the expression on his face dark and disapproving, which was odd, since the machinations of bureaucracy were hardly anything to do with her. ‘It takes two working days, minimum.’
‘Give me a minute.’
He put down his bottle of beer, took out his phone and a minute later was rattling away in Italian. Carla listened, trying not to stare at his mouth, which was difficult when it was such a beautiful mouth producing such a beautiful language in deep, rich, spine-tingling tones, and idly pondered taking lessons. Not that she was planning to return any time soon, of course, and it wasn’t as if she wanted a memento of her time here, but—
‘Your new passport will be ready tomorrow.’
Jolted out of her musings, she wrenched her gaze from his mouth to his eyes. An actual passport? Tomorrow? Oh. Right. Well. That was good. ‘How did you do that?’
‘I’m owed a favour.’
By the British Consulate? Who was he? And why was she feeling ever so slightly piqued that he was as keen to see her leave as she was to go? That made no sense. She ought to be delighted they were on the same page, even if it did truncate the amount of time she had to achieve her goal.
‘Are you owed enough of a favour to have it couriered here?’ she asked, deciding to attribute that particular anomaly to jet lag, along with everything else.
‘Unfortunately not. You need to pick it up in person.’
So checking out trains was another thing she was going to have to do as well as changing her flight to Tuesday morning and booking a hotel.
‘Never mind,’ she said, thinking that at least she wouldn’t have to wash out her underwear any longer than was necessary. She’d only packed for an overnight stay and she hadn’t been looking forward to having to put on damp knickers. ‘Thank you, anyway.’
‘You can continue to stay with me until you leave. I’ll take you to Milan in the morning.’
What? No. No way.
‘And before you object,’ he added when she automatically opened her mouth to do exactly that, ‘it is not an inconvenience. I am aware that you are extremely capable and can handle this on your own. I know you’re no damsel in distress and I have no intention of telling you what to do, or preventing you from doing anything you want to do, if you insist upon it. It’s simply an efficient use of resources and makes the most sense. That is all.’