Italian Passion (8 page)

Authors: Jayne Castel

BOOK: Italian Passion

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Faye slapped him so hard that her
palm stung afterwards. Then, she lowered her arm and clenched her fist.
Ignoring her burning hand, she glared at Max Paolini, ready to follow up with a
punch if he took just one more step towards her.

“Bastard,” she snarled. “Wasn’t
insulting me enough? You thought you’d try and kill me as well?”

He stared back at her, shocked that
she had actually struck him. He did not put a hand up to the cheek, where she
had hit him, although Faye knew if her palm was anything to go by, it would be
on fire.

“I deserved that,” he admitted
quietly; the rage and arrogance she had seen in him that afternoon gone. “I
didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to catch up with you so that I
could apologise. Why did you run?”

“I ran because I didn’t want to speak
to you – wasn’t it obvious?” Faye replied, aware that her dress now stuck to
her body like wet paper. She had seen his gaze slide over her when they reached
the top of the steps – it was another reason why she had slapped him.

How dare he!

Max raised placating hands before
him. His handsome face was flushed from running, his eyes dark pools in the dim
light. “You’re right, I was rude to you today. There’s no excuse for it. I
should have been pleased you wanted to interview me; I should have cooperated –
instead I acted as if it was an imposition. I’m sorry.”

Faye continued to glare at him. His
apology seemed sincere enough. Yet, it was such a marked difference from the
man she had clashed with earlier that she had trouble accepting it. When she
did not reply, Max continued.

“I’m not used to speaking about my
personal life. In fact, I’ve buried myself in my work to avoid having to face
certain things. You asked me about my brother. The truth is, we fell out after
I discovered he had been pursuing my girlfriend. They ran off together and are
now married with two children. Even now, years later, speaking about them hits
a raw nerve.”

Faye’s anger abated. Listening to his
explanation, she suddenly felt embarrassed about her insistence during the
interview. She should have seen that her questions were upsetting him, and
shown a bit of sensitivity.

“Then maybe I should also apologise,”
she said quietly. “I’ve been a journalist for a while, and too often it becomes
just about the story. I sometimes forget there’s a human being behind it. I’m
sorry.”

Her apology hung in the air between
them. Faye was aware then, that Max’s clothes – jeans and a t-shirt – also
clung to him like a second skin, outlining his broad shoulders and athletic
frame. Faye’s cheeks grew hot and her breathing caught in her chest. He was
standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, and the spicy
trace of his aftershave that had not been rinsed off by his dip in the canal.

“I can swim you know,” she raised an
eyebrow at him, in an effort to dissolve the tension of a different kind that
was building between them.

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow back
at her. “It looked like you were drowning to me?”

“I hope we don’t catch some horrible
disease from the water.”

Max chuckled at that, taking a step
closer so that Faye had to raise her face slightly to meet his gaze. “Venice’s
canals are a lot cleaner than they used to be,” he replied with a smile. “I
think we’ll both be fine. Do you think I’d have jumped in after you if I
thought I’d pick up cholera?”

“So it wasn’t a gallant act after
all?” Faye bristled, her face heating further. “There was me thinking…”

She never finished her sentence, for
his mouth came down, hard, upon hers, silencing the rest of her protest.

Faye should have pushed him away, and
slapped him again for his presumption, but a rush of heat between them shoved
all rational thought from her mind. Her stomach leapt, as if she were on a
swing.

She kissed him back, her mouth
opening under his. Her hands roamed over his sodden t-shirt, exploring the
contours of his chest. Max’s hands ran up and down the length of her back; his
hands tangling in her wet hair. He pulled her hard against him, and the
remnants of Faye’s self-control snapped. She wound herself around him and
pressed her body against his. Max groaned low in his throat and kissed her
deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue.

When they broke apart, Faye’s heart
was thumping against her ribs. They were both breathless.

Max gave a soft, shaky laugh and
stepped back from her. Then, he reached out and gently took hold of her hands.

“I’d better keep my distance,” he
gasped. “If I kiss you again, I won’t be able to stop.”

Faye stared back at him, momentarily
rendered speechless by the passion that had exploded between them. Her body
felt boneless and weak. She only just prevented herself from throwing herself
into his arms.

What’s wrong with me? I hate him,
don’t I?

“We… I … should go back to my hotel,”
she stuttered. “It’s not a good idea to stand around in wet clothes.”

Max nodded, his face suddenly turning
serious.

“Listen Faye – this has been the most
surprising day of my life. I don’t want it to end. Let me show you that I
really am sorry. Let’s redo that interview – and this time you can ask me
anything you want.”

“Really?” Faye’s mouth curved into a
tentative smile. “When?”

“How about this evening? I’ll escort
you back to your hotel and then I’ll go home and get changed. How about if I
come back to collect you in an hour? There’s a bar not for from the
Arsenale
where we can go for a drink. Bring your Dictaphone and your notebook and we’ll
redo the interview from scratch.”

Faye searched his face, and saw only
honesty and boyish hope in his eyes. She guessed it had been a long time since
he had made himself vulnerable with a woman. It was her undoing; she could not
have refused him if she had tried.

“That sounds like a good idea Max.
Let’s do that. My hotel’s near St. Mark’s Square. I’m completely lost though.
Is it far from here?”

Max looped her arm through his and
steered her back the way they had come.

“It’s about five minutes’ walk,” he
replied with a smile, “not far at all.”

They walked in silence for a moment
before Max glanced her way, his gaze hopeful. “If you’d like we can visit some
of the Biennale exhibitions tomorrow. There’s some incredible artwork on
display in churches and galleries throughout Venice. I’d like to be your
personal guide.”

“I’d like that,” Faye replied, before
giving him a teasing smile. “But won’t I distract you from your art?”

Max laughed, recognising the excuse
he had thrown at her earlier that day. “I can’t believe I said that. What a
conceited idiot.”

“You certainly did say it,
vehemently,” Faye grinned. She liked that he allowed her to tease him.

“Sometimes,” Max said leaning over
and kissing her gently on the lips, “a man needs to let himself be distracted.”

The End

About the
Author

Jayne Castel writes both contemporary romance set
in Italy and historical romance set in Anglo-Saxon Britannia. She was born in
Lincolnshire, England, grew up in New Zealand, and spent many years living in
Italy (Rome and Umbria).

If you enjoyed this, or any other of Jayne’s
work, please consider posting an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads – it
would be most appreciated!

Jayne
loves to hear from her readers so please email her at:
[email protected]

Visit
Jayne’s website at:
http://www.jaynecastel.com

Take
a look at Jayne’s blog:
http://jaynecastelblog.blogspot.co.nz/

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Jayne
Castel’s contemporary romance