He didn’t care what she thought. That had to be a trick of the light. He knew how amazing this place was. And she knew perfectly well she was only one in a very long line of women he’d invited here.
Don’t you dare start analysing every little nuance of his behaviour, you ninny. Reading things into it that aren’t there.
She cleared her throat. ‘I think you have incredible taste.’ She stared out at the breathtaking view. ‘And calling this place a villa doesn’t do it justice. I think paradise would be more appropriate.’
‘It’ll do for now,’ he said casually.
His palms settled on her waist. Tugging her back against his chest, he nuzzled the sensitive skin below her ear. ‘Although, given what I’m thinking right now, paradise lost would be the best choice.’
She gasped out a laugh, finding it hard to breathe as brutal realisation hit her. Being in Gio’s home would involve an intimacy she hadn’t bargained on during all her careful justifications.
‘Why don’t we go check out the master bedroom?’ he said, the humour doing nothing to mask his intentions. He folded his arms around her waist, making her breasts feel heavy and tender as he drew her into a hard hug. ‘I’d love to know what you think of the…’ He paused provocatively, nipping her earlobe. ‘View…’
She pictured the view the last time they’d been naked together. And the hot, heavy weight in her belly pulsed. Panic spiked at the vicious throb of desire.
I’m not ready for this. Not yet.
She whipped round to face him, breaking his hold. ‘Could we go sightseeing?’ she said, trying not to wince at the high-pitched note in her voice.
She couldn’t dive back into bed with him. Not straight away. Sex was one thing, intimacy another, and she couldn’t afford to confuse the two.
His brows rose up his forehead. ‘You want to go sightseeing? Seriously?’
‘Yes, please. I adore sightseeing,’ she said, keeping her voice as firm as possible to disguise the lie. She could feel his arousal against her hip and eased back a step. ‘I’ve never been to Florence. I’m dying to see as much of it as I can. Could we eat in the city tonight?’ A couple of hours to establish some distance. That was all she needed. She was sure of it. ‘I’ve never been to Italy before,’ she rattled on, pretending not to notice the frown on his face. ‘And I’ve heard Florence has some of the best trattorias in Italy.’
What the…?
Gio knew a delaying tactic when he heard one. And Issy’s sudden transformation into super-tourist definitely qualified. He spotted the rigid peaks of her breasts beneath her dress, the staggered rise and fall of her breathing—and almost howled with frustration.
Hadn’t they settled all this on the plane?
He was ready to get to the main event now. More than ready. In fact, if he hadn’t been co-piloting the plane he would have got to it sooner, giving in to the temptation to initiate her into the Mile-High Club.
Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he kept his face carefully blank. Her cheeks were a bright rosy pink but he could see the alarm on her face.
He should have guessed things wouldn’t be that straightforward, because nothing ever was with Issy. She’d been jumpy ever since they’d walked into the house. He’d enjoyed her nerves at first. Keeping Issy off-kilter was a good way to handle her. And it hadn’t done his ego any harm to see how impressed she was with his home.
But when she’d turned round, her eyes wide with surprise, he’d had the strangest sensation she could see right through him. And for the first time in his life he’d wanted to ask a woman what she was thinking.
Not that he intended to do it. For one thing, straight answers were not Issy’s forte. And for another, he had a golden rule against asking women personal questions. Once you opened that floodgate it was impossible to slam it shut again.
He’d already broken one golden rule by inviting her into his home. He generally avoided getting into any kind of routine with the wome
n he dated.
‘Sure. No problem.’ He forced his shoulders to relax.
If Issy wanted to play hard to get for an evening, why not let her? He could slow the pace for a few hours. If he had to.
‘I know a place not far from the Piazza della Repubblica. Their bistecca fiorentina’s like a religion.’ And Latini had the sort of low-key, unpretentious atmosphere that should relax her while still being classy enough to impress her.
He would ply her with a couple of glasses of their Chianti Classico, comfort-feed her the Florentine speciality and indulge in a spot of light conversation. Maybe he’d even show her a few of the sights. Keep things easy. He could do that. For an evening.
‘Are you sure?’ she said, sounding surprised but looking so relieved he smiled.
‘Yeah. It’ll be fun,’ he said, forcing down his frustration. He could wait a while longer to get her naked. He wasn’t that desperate.
Then a thought struck him, and he realised he could make it more fun than he’d figured. He smiled some more. ‘We can take the Vespa. My mechanic Mario gave it an overhaul recently, so it’s running fairly well for once.’