Chapter 4

Then Dami was striding forward to take hold of Adelina’s slender fingers and lift them to his lips. Whatever he said to his betrothed brought a sheen to Adelina’s eyes and a vulnerable tremor to her oh, so beautiful mouth.

He loves her; Charley realized that in that moment. An odd little sensation clutched at her chest. Frowning slightly, she turned away from the two lovers and was relieved to feel the sensation fade.

They were ferried to the opera in a fleet of sleek limousines. Estelio Alonzo was obviously meant to partner her tonight, and he made her laugh, which made her relax more and more as the evening wore on. La Scala was fabulous, an experience Charley really enjoyed—mainly because she’d successfully managed to avoid being placed anywhere near her best friend’s disturbing fiancé. Afterwards, they moved on to have dinner in a beautiful sixteenth-century palazzo on the outskirts of Milan.

It was all very stylish, very much a glimpse of how the richer half lived. There was dancing as well as dining, and because Estelio kept on filling her wineglass, Charley was tipsy by the time Dami De Santis arrived by her chair to invite her to dance.

There was a hovering second while she hunted around for an excuse to refuse him, then his hand arrived beneath her elbow to propel her to her feet. "Come on," he said dryly. "It is expected that the groom dances at least once with his bride’s maid of honor."

Charley thought that was supposed to happen after the wedding, but the telling quiver struck again, making her too tense and too breathless to say it as he drew her against him on the dance floor and smoothly urged her to dance.

The lights were low, the music a slow, romantic ballad accompanied by a female singer with a stirringly deep and sensual voice. She felt her heart begin to pump to a heavier beat as they moved together, and she absorbed the full, disturbing impact of his masculine warmth and his muscular hardness pressing against her tense, softer shape.

"Relax," he prompted after a few seconds. "This is supposed to be an enjoyable pastime."

Charley looked up, caught the mocking glow in his eyes, and felt the sting of heat flush her cheeks. "I’m just not used to—"

"Being held this close to a man?" he mocked.

"Dancing in these shoes!" she corrected loudly. "And that wasn’t a very nice thing to say."

He just laughed; the sound was low and deep and disturbingly intimate in the way it resonated against the tips of her breasts. "You are an unusual creature, Charlotte Jones," he informed her then. "You are very beautiful, but you don’t like to be told so." You are tense and defensive around me, yet you can completely relax with a serial womanizer like Estelio Alonzo.

"Estelio isn’t a womanizer," Charley rejected. "He’s too laid-back to be a womanizer."

"Ring any telephone number in Sydney and just mention his name."

And that was cynicism, not mockery, she noted. "Well, I like him," she stated stubbornly.

"Ah, I see he is beginning to reel you in."

"And that wasn’t very nice, either!"

His dark head suddenly dipped, bringing his lips very close to her cheek. "I’ll let you in on a secret, Mia Bella—I am not very nice."

He was so close now that she could smell the masculine pull of his tangy scent. Charley jerked her head back. "Well, you had better be nice to Adelina," she warned loyally.

He just laughed as he straightened up again, then drew her even closer so he could control her movements with a cool, casual strength. He was taller than her by several impactful inches, which put her eyes on a level with his strong, chiseled chin. They didn’t speak again, and as the dance wore on, maybe it was the fault of too many recklessly consumed glasses of wine that made her so aware of everything about him. Even the smooth feel of his silk lapel beneath her fingers fascinated her, as did the bright whiteness of his shirt against the natural olive tones of his throat.

He was gorgeous. There was just no use in trying to deny it. Everything about him was so perfectly presented, from the neatly styled gloss of his satin black hair to the length of his very Italian nose and the truly beautiful shape of his mouth.

And the singer droned on, low and soulful. Charley felt the sensual pull of the melody percolate through her system as potently as the wine she had been drinking all evening, and like a fool, she closed her eyes and just let the sensation carry her away. One set of his long, golden fingers lightly clasped her pale, slender fingers; the other set rested low in the arch of her back. She had no idea how her fingers were stroking the silk lapel of his jacket or that she had moved in so close to him that her breath was softly feathering his throat. She just moved where he guided her, aware of the tingling tension affecting her body but unaware that it was affecting him too. His fingers moved slightly against her clasped fingers, and the hand at her back glided upwards to the center of her spine and gently urged her into even closer contact with him.

It was—nice. kind of tingly and floaty, and she hadn’t a clue as to how much she had relaxed into him until she felt the living warmth of taut skin brush against her lips and tasted it on the tip of her tongue.

With a jerk of shock, Charley flicked her eyes open and pulled back her head. Dismay instantly curled its way through her body, accompanied by a wave of mortified embarrassment that flooded like fire into her face when she realized what she had done.

She had just brushed her lips against Adelina’s fiancé’s throat and tasted him with her tongue!