A Dangerous Infatuation (11 page)

‘If I had manhandled you, I promise you would not be standing there fully dressed,
cara
,’ Rocco said dulcetly. Ignoring the daggers in her eyes, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a slip of paper.

Frowning, Emma took the cheque from him, stared at it for a moment, and then back at him. ‘I don’t understand what this is for.’

‘It’s your salary for the next three months.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I earn this amount in a year.’

He shrugged. ‘I want the best care for my grandmother. I know you will do everything possible to ensure she is comfortable and happy, and in return I am prepared to pay you well.’

‘Not this well.’ She shook her head briskly and tore the cheque in half. ‘You don’t have to offer me a bribe. I’m very fond of Cordelia and I want to look after her. All I require is the usual monthly salary I earn as a district nurse.’

Rocco stared at her in frustration. And he had thought his grandmother was strong-willed! Nonna was a pushover compared to Emma. ‘But you could use the money as a deposit to buy Primrose Cottage.’

‘No.’
It was not even a consideration. ‘Anyway, the cottage has already been sold. One day I’ll have saved enough for a deposit on a house, but I’ll pay my own way in life,’ Emma said firmly. ‘I don’t want to feel indebted to anyone.’ She hesitated. ‘Neither do I want an affair with you. So if you were thinking you could pay me to …’

‘Madre de Dio!’
Rocco said harshly, his anger searing him like a white-hot branding iron. ‘That is one insult too far, Emma. I have never
paid
for a woman in my life.’ He stared at her haughtily, his skin stretched taut over his razor-sharp cheekbones, giving him a coldly autocratic appearance. ‘I don’t deny that I desire you, but when you come to my bed it will be of your own accord.’

His arrogance infuriated her, but she was even angrier with herself for the damning flare of excitement his words evoked.

‘That’s never going to happen.’

‘Because you are still in love with your husband?’ he speculated. Once again he struggled to contain his frustration—with him, with her, and most of all with the primitive need to possess her that made his gut ache. The world was full of attractive blondes who would be happy to share
his bed. Why was he bothering with this feisty, stubborn woman who constantly challenged him?

Emma bit her lip, feeling an inexplicable urge to confide the truth about her marriage to Rocco. She could not, she reminded herself. For Holly’s sake, Jack’s duplicity must remain a secret. But her love for Jack had died with the discovery of how he had betrayed her. During the past three years she had come to terms with the hurt he had caused her, but her wariness and mistrust remained. Never again would she put herself in a position where her heart could be broken. She did not want any man in her life—certainly not a sexy Italian who regarded women as playthings.

‘Jack is the reason why I refuse to get involved with you—or with any other man,’ she said quietly.

‘Do you think he would have wanted you to condemn yourself to a life alone?’ Rocco demanded harshly.

‘Maybe not, but I have Holly to consider. What do you suggest I do? Indulge in casual affairs, introduce her to a series of “uncles” who she may become close to, only to see her upset when they move on?’

‘Of course not.’ He raked a hand through his hair, appalled by the image she presented.

During his childhood his parents had both been openly unfaithful, and on the rare occasions when his mother had promised to visit him at his boarding school he had never been sure whether she would turn up with his father or one of her sleazeball boyfriends.

But, while he had taken scant interest in his parents’ various lovers, it was likely that Holly, who had never known her own father, would welcome a father figure. Any man who became involved with Emma would need to recognise that he had a level of responsibility towards her child. A casual affair was out of the question—but that
was all
he
could ever offer, Rocco thought grimly, all he would ever want.

His parents’ volatile relationship had shown him that marriage was a gamble, with low odds of success. He was still haunted by Rosalinda’s suicide attempt after he had ended their affair, and since then had made it clear at the outset with the women he dated that he was not looking for commitment or a long-term relationship. That meant that Emma was off-limits. She would not consider indulging in a brief sexual fling, and he could not help but respect her for her decision. Unlike his mother, Emma put the welfare of her child before her own desires.

The sitting room door suddenly opened and Holly appeared, happily oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the hall. ‘Nonna and me want to know when we are going to stay at your house,’ she asked Rocco.

‘Tomorrow.’ He ignored Emma’s sharply indrawn breath and smiled at the little girl.

Big grey eyes, so like her mother’s, studied him anxiously. ‘Is Thomas coming too?’

‘No. Cats don’t like travelling on aeroplanes, so he is going to stay at Yaxley Farm.’

When Holly trotted off to relay this information to Cordelia, Emma glared at Rocco. Panic gripped her. She was backtracking fast, bitterly regretting the moment of insanity that had seen her agree to go to Italy with him. ‘I can’t possibly be ready to leave tomorrow. There are dozens of things to do, arrangements to be made …’

‘All you have to do is pack yours and Holly’s things. Make a list of anything else that needs to be done and my PA will take care of everything. Stop looking for difficulties that don’t exist,’ Rocco told her tersely. ‘Because of the broken heating system I’m taking Cordelia to spend
the night at the Royal Oak Hotel. But it’s not ideal. I want to take her to Portofino as soon as possible.’

‘But …’ Emma found she was speaking to thin air as he strode past her into the sitting room.

Irritating man, she fumed. All her instincts were screaming at her to tell him she had changed her mind. But it was too late now; she could not upset Cordelia and Holly. It was only for three months, she reminded herself. Three months of living in Rocco’s villa and seeing him every day, taunted a little voice inside her head. She could only pray she survived with her emotions unscathed.

‘L
OOK
, Mummy. The sea!’ Holly burst through the connecting door between her bedroom and Emma’s at the Villa Lucia, and pointed excitedly towards the window. ‘It’s blue,’ she observed, pressing her nose to the glass.

‘It certainly is—almost as blue as the sky. Isn’t it beautiful?’ As Emma joined her daughter at the window she could not help but compare the sparkling cobalt waters in the Bay of Tigullio with the steel-grey surf that had pounded the shore on the coast of Northumberland the last time she had taken Holly for a trip to the beach.

Rocco’s villa was built on a hillside, affording a panoramic view of picturesque Portofino, the wide sweep of the bay and the surrounding mountains, which were densely covered with pine trees and other foliage so that the landscape was a lush, verdant green. Directly in front of the house was a series of terraced gardens, and on the lower level was a huge pool which sparkled invitingly in the bright sunshine. Lower still could be seen Portofino’s port, where dozens of boats were moored in neat rows. Pretty, pastel-coloured buildings ringed the harbour, the shopfronts shaded by striped awnings which fluttered in the breeze.

‘Shall we go swimming now?’

Emma smiled at Holly’s hopeful expression. ‘Not for
a few days—at least not in the sea,’ she said gently. ‘Remember, Rocco said the sea will be too cold to swim in yet? But when your cough is better you can go in the pool, because the water is heated.’

‘There’s Bobbo!’ Holly was distracted from the subject of swimming when she spied a chocolate-coloured Labrador hurtling across the lawn. ‘Rocco said I can give Bobbo his breakfast,’ she said joyfully.

‘After you’ve eaten all
your
breakfast,’ Emma told her firmly.

She sighed. Holly had fallen in love with Rocco’s dog within five minutes of their arrival at the Villa Lucia the previous evening. Added to that, the little girl seemed to hero-worship Rocco, and Emma was already worried about how upset her daughter was going to be when it was time for them to return to England. But there was no point in thinking about that now, she told herself as she stared out of the window, her gaze focused not on the dog but on the tall, athletic man who was throwing a ball for the animal.

She guessed from Rocco’s attire of shorts, vest top and trainers that he had been running. His sports clothes revealed his superb physique: broad shoulders, rippling biceps and muscular thighs. His satiny skin was tanned a deep olive colour, and his hair gleamed jet-black, like a raven’s wing in the sunlight.

He was a work of art, she acknowledged ruefully. But, unlike any marble statue sculpted by Michelangelo, Rocco was a flesh-and-blood man. Not for the first time Emma found herself remembering how it had felt when he had pulled her into his arms and ravaged her mouth with his own. He had demanded a response she had been helpless to deny, and the memory of his kiss caused her nipples to harden, so that they rubbed uncomfortably against her lacy bra.

To her horror he suddenly glanced up at the house and lifted his hand in greeting. Holly waved excitedly back at him, but Emma hurriedly stepped away from the window, feeling horribly embarrassed that she had been caught ogling him. Rocco could not possibly have known that she had been imagining him stripping out of his running gear and stepping naked beneath a shower, sliding a bar of soap over the hard muscles of his abdomen and then lower …

‘Come on, we must go and see if Cordelia needs any help, and then we’ll all go down for breakfast,’ she told Holly briskly. With any luck Rocco would take some time to shower and dress, and there was a good chance she would be able to avoid meeting him before he left for work.

So far, her plan to have as little contact with him as possible had been surprisingly successful. She even had a niggling suspicion that he was equally keen to keep their relationship to a strictly employer/employee basis. During the flight to Genoa aboard his private jet he had been exquisitely polite towards her, but distinctly aloof. There had been no hint of his sexy charm, no flirtatious glances, and his warm smile had been reserved for his grandmother and Holly.

It was exactly what she wanted, Emma assured herself. She had come to the Villa Lucia in a purely professional role, to act as Cordelia’s nurse, and she was glad Rocco recognised that fact. The flat feeling inside her was probably a reaction to the previous twenty-four hours, when she had been busy packing everything she’d thought Holly would need for their stay in Italy, plus a small suitcase containing her own few belongings.

Holding Holly by the hand, she led the way along the corridor to Cordelia’s room where she discovered that the elderly lady needed help fastening the buttons on her dress.

‘Your burn looks so much better this morning that I
should be able to remove the dressing tomorrow,’ Emma told her. ‘Without the bandages you’ll have more mobility in your fingers, but I’m afraid the fingers on your other hand are still very swollen, and it’s going to take a while for the bruising to fade.’

‘That’s what comes of being a foolish old woman,’ Cordelia said despondently. ‘I’ve made such a nuisance of myself to everyone—especially Rocco.’

‘No one could ever accuse you of being foolish,’ Emma reassured her gently. ‘And Rocco is delighted you’ve come to stay with him.’

His love for his grandmother had been evident in the tender way he had taken care of her during the flight to Italy the previous day. This softer side to his commanding personality was unexpected, and Emma was still embarrassed that she had accused him of being uncaring the first time she had met him.

They took the lift down to the ground floor. The villa was built on four levels, and it was doubtful Cordelia would have managed so many stairs. Rocco had confided to Emma that he had had the lift installed a couple of years ago, when he had realised that his grandmother could not continue to live alone at Nunstead Hall. Far from shirking his responsibility, he had clearly planned to take care of Cordelia in the last years of her life.

They were greeted by the cook, Beatrice, who chatted volubly in a mixture of Italian and broken English as she ushered them into the breakfast room, which overlooked the gardens and the sapphire sea sparkling in the distance.

‘I bake rolls fresh this morning, and there is fruit and yogurt. If you need anything else for the
bambina
you ask Beatrice,
si
?’ she said earnestly.

‘
Grazie.
I’m sure we have everything we need,’ Emma replied, taken aback by the wonderful selection of fresh
fruit set out on the table. She was even more surprised when Holly and Cordelia both ate hearty breakfasts. It was probably the result of the antibiotics, but Holly was not coughing nearly as much, and for the first time in weeks there was a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks.

‘
Buongiorno
, ladies.’ Rocco strolled into the room and bent his head to kiss his grandmother’s cheek. ‘Nonna, Holly … Emma.’ Was it her imagination, or had his voice cooled fractionally as he had spoken her name? ‘I am glad you are here in my home.’

To her self-disgust the sight of him made her heart-rate quicken, and she busied herself with wiping yogurt from Holly’s face while she struggled to regain her composure. It did not help that Rocco looked devastatingly gorgeous in beige chinos and a black polo shirt, his damp hair an indication that he had recently showered. She had assumed that as the CEO of a world-famous company he would wear a suit to work, and Cordelia must have shared her thoughts.

The elderly lady studied her grandson. ‘Don’t tell me you are one of those trendy executives who chooses not to wear a tie to the office, Rocco?’

‘Certainly not,’ he murmured, his lazy smile doing strange things to Emma’s insides. ‘But I’m not going to work today. I want to make sure my guests settle in to the Villa Lucia.’ His golden eyes trapped Emma’s gaze. ‘Did you sleep well?’