Icy fingers of warning danced across her scalp and down to her prickling nape.
What had she walked into?
What did Cesare want from her?
Ida breathed deep, tamping down coiling unease. She’d demand answers when she saw him.
But instead of reaching for a pair of jeans or plain tailored trousers, she let her gaze linger on a dress that stood out against the blocks of solid colour. Without intending to she found her hand moving out, lifting the plastic and stroking the fabric.
It was as soft and weightless as she’d suspected. A delicate floral with tiny bunches of dark violets and pale leaves on a creamy background. It had a gathered skirt, a fitted bodice, and a ribbon of dark violet velvet that ran under the bust and up to form narrow shoulder straps.
It was a party dress, delicate and pretty, and it reminded her of the dreams she’d had as a girl. About parties and romance and a bright future.
Ida’s hand fell, her mouth compressing. She needed something plain and businesslike. She didn’t need...
But suddenly shedid.
Life had been tough for years, a combination of worry, struggle and drudgery. In London her only clothes were cheap trousers and T-shirts she wore to work, an inadequate coat and a collection of second-hand pullovers she wore at home to counteract the chill when they couldn’t afford heating.
Why not wear a pretty dress while she had the chance? Why not do something just because it made her happy?
Ida felt decadently selfish and daring as she reached for the coat hanger.
Cesare sensed her before he saw her. The air grew charged, crackling with unseen energy.
He didn’t like it. That elemental awareness of Ida should have ended years ago, when she’d left him high and dry, a groom without a bride, the cynosure of public speculation and gossip.
He swung around and his breath caught.
Just like that.
One look and the oxygen bled from his lungs while fire combusted in his lower body.
How did a woman who made her living dressed as a cheap hooker manage to look like a breath of spring—delicate, lovely and wholesome? And incredibly alluring.
Was she trying to pretend she didn’t work in a sex club by dressing as a sweet innocent?
Amazingly, she almost succeeded, except that his body’s avid response told its own story. It recognised the starkly sensual woman beneath the flowers and ribbons.
How long since a woman had made him breathless with wanting?
No one since her.
It seemed incredible. He assured himself it was because he’d been too busy to think about women when he’d had the battle of his life saving the family business.
‘Ida.’ The name ground low from a throat turned tight with hunger. That hunger, inexplicable and unwanted, prompted him to go on. ‘You look completely different. You only wear leather after dark?’
It was a cheap shot that made him almost ashamed. Discomfiting her because she got to him should be beneath him. But apart from a hint of heightened colour along her cheekbones, she betrayed no sign of being discomposed as she entered his study.
‘That’s a work uniform, not my choice.’
Cesare watched the feathery fabric swirl around her bare legs, took in the way that dark ribbon underscored her breasts, and the gleam of her pale, bare shoulders and arms. Ida was even more devastating than he remembered.
Four years ago she’d rocked him to the core, threatening his focus. Now he faced the fact he’d tried to avoid last night, that she still affected him at the most elemental level.
‘Since we’re talking about clothes...’ She stopped before him and he realised that behind her composure lurked something else. Anxiety? ‘Whose dress is this? There’s a room full of clothes in my size.’
Cesare scowled, remembering. ‘They’re yours.’