Free Innocent in the Italian's Possession by Janette Kenny Page A

scrambled out of his reach, hating his cool assumption that she was his for the taking now. Hating herself even more for letting this situation spiral out of control.
    “No, not later,” she said. “Not ever.”
    The mouth that had moved with sensuous intent on hers thinned to a hard line. The amorous glint in his eyes died, replaced with a flash of annoyance before narrowing on her.
    “We will see,” he said.
    She shook her head in answer, for it was pointless to argue with him.
    He was a playboy, arrogantly sure of his prowess and blessed with a beautiful face and physique of the gods. He was rich and sought after and likely believed every woman he met would gladly crawl into his bed.
    She’d been too awed by the sensations he’d wrought to consider he’d take her eagerness to kiss him as a sign that she wanted more. But what did she really know about seduction?
    Stefano shrugged into a suit jacket, looking for all the world like a demanding tycoon again. “We must leave now.”
    “Of course.”
    She suffered his hand at the small of her back as he guided her out of the building. She certainly didn’t want to feel this burning pull toward him, but she couldn’t squash it, either.
    Yes, the sooner they got this business over with, the sooner she and Stefano could settle into a suitable work arrangement as secretary and boss.
    Then she’d count the days until Cesare returned to the helm and Stefano was nothing more than a memory.

CHAPTER FIVE
    A N HOUR later, Stefano pulled to the curb of the restaurant and set the brake. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have let his hands learn the contour of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips.
    He damned sure shouldn’t have enjoyed every second she’d been in his arms. But he had, and the only thing that soothed his pride was the fact she’d become as lost in the moment as he.
    Now she sat as far from him as possible and stared pensively out the window, quiet and withdrawn, as if bitten by guilt for nearly succumbing to lust. It made the drive back to Viareggio overly long.
    But then he was not of a mood to engage in chitchat, either. His own lack of control vexed him. He’d not been the one to stop. She had.
    Her body had instinctively reacted to his, pressed to his and moving in a most delicious rhythm of desire. She couldn’t deny that!
    But she’d come to her senses first. He’d become so intoxicated by a woman’s taste and texture that he’d lost focus. He would’ve taken her right then and there.
    Her refusal to engage in an affair with him was a jab tohis ego. For her withdrawal wasn’t part of the game of pursuit, the age-old attack and parry ritual of courtship that heightened desire.
    This was a firm no.
    Something far stronger than lust kept her from succumbing to passion. Loyalty to Cesare Marinetti?
    He slid her a glance. Did she believe that when his father recovered they would resume their affair? Did she think because his papa was widowed now that she could assert herself into the role of his wife?
    The very idea was galling, for this situation with Gemma smacked of another woman who’d had designs on gaining the lion’s share of Marinetti Shipyard.
    Before his sister-in-law had got her claws into his brother, she’d been Stefano’s lover at university. He’d never thought to introduce her to his family. But that holiday she’d been alone with nowhere to go.
    Bringing her home had been the decent thing to do. She had seen it as the opportunity to better her lot in life.
    Once she had realized that Stefano’s brother was the heir, it had taken her merely a week or two at the most to seduce his brother.
    Her deceit had taught him a valuable lesson, for though he hadn’t lost his heart to her, he’d certainly lost his head.
    But she was far from done with Stefano.
    From that point on she’d succeeded in driving a wedge between him and his brother. That had been the major reason he’d left Marinetti