Free Innocent of His Claim by Janette Kenny Page A

hour away. She couldn’t stay anywhere near Marco without having to battle her desire every moment.
    “I have a tremendous amount to do in short order,” she said as she stuffed her electronic notebook back in her purse. “Which is why I must relocate to Montiforte.”
    “You’re serious?”
    “Very.” She rose and faced him, and damned her suddenly weak knees. It simply wasn’t fair that he had this effect on her. “I would appreciate it if your driver would take me there now so I can get settled in. I want to start early in the morning with the arrangements.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted one mocking brow. “Why do I have the feeling you are anxious to get away from me?”
    “I’m sure I wouldn’t know. The driver?”
    “I sent him home for the night.”
    “Then I’ll ring for a cab.”
    “That isn’t necessary.”
    She slapped her hands on her hips and fumed. “I suppose you have a better idea?”
    His widening smile was a sensual promise that every nerve in her body recognized and responded to with a quickening sizzle through her blood. “Of course,
cara
. I’ll take you to Montiforte and personally see you settled in.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    E MOTIONS whirled like a vortex within Delanie, leaving her shaking. Being in Marco’s company for another hour was the last thing she wanted. But suffering the sexual allure of his body again was preferable to staying in this villa with him in residence, knowing he was just down the hall.
    If only she could fully trust that she would walk away from this in total control of her business. But she couldn’t.
    Her father had used her. If Marco had told the truth, then her mother had lied. Even then, there was the fact that Marco refused to believe her.
    She bit her lower lip, trying to get entranced by the ribbons of sun streaming over the undulating hills. If only she could find more appeal in this sunset instead of the man beside her.
    Impossible to do with him behind the wheel of the powerful red sports car. Ferrari? Bugatti? She hadn’t a clue.
    No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept flicking back to his hands on the leather-wrapped wheel. Hands that she remembered all too well coaxing oh-too-ready responses from her body with equal ease.
    “You will have absolute privacy here,” he said.
    Twilight bathed the hills in shades of amber and crimson by the time they reached the walled hamlet of Montiforte. An ancient castle dominated one end of town and an equally aged church filled the other.
    In between rose a collection of oddly shaped buildings, some standing nearly atop the other. All faced a small square piazza where a lichen-covered god stood on an equally aged stepped pedestal next to an old well.
    “I didn’t expect Montiforte to be so small and medieval,” she said.
    “It is one of the oldest settlements in Umbria. Come, the village market is still open. You will need supplies at the villa.”
    She climbed out before he could assist her this time and walked with him to the lone shop. The sweet fragrance of ripe grapes hung in the air, but Marco’s spicy scent dominated. Just like the man.
    The shopkeeper greeted him by name, but the rest was lost to her as they lapsed into a rapid flow of Italian. She took the time while they visited to wander around the small shop.
    The savory smells were feasts in themselves. Balls, ropes and small wheels of cheese hung amid an array of sausages.
    Canted tables held an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. She leaned over a baker’s case filled with baguettes, fat rounds of breads and a selection of rolls. One round loaf caught her eye.
    “The
torta di testo
is delicious toasted and drizzled with olive oil,” Marco said, standing beside her holding two cheeses and a string of sausage. “It is good for sandwiches as well.”
    The shopkeeper nodded and brought out a basket filled with the round flat bread. His smile encouraged her to choose.
    “Thank you,” she said, selecting several