A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [26]
‘What are you doing there? And why are you dressed? Do you have somewhere to go?’
‘No—nowhere important.’
‘Good.’
The smile grew, and so did his discomfort.
‘In that case, take those clothes off again and come back to bed.’
‘That won’t be possible.’
The words were clipped and curt, cold as ice.
‘Won’t be…?’
Her confusion made her look even more vulnerable, even more young and childlike and…
‘Teresa, don’t! Stop it right now.’
‘Stop what? Don’t what?’
‘Don’t look like that! Don’t look at me like that. Oh, hell, belleza…’
Once more he raked impatient fingers through his hair, the gesture more expressive of his unease even than the ragged edge to his voice.
‘How in God’s name am I supposed to leave you when you look at me like that?’
CHAPTER SIX
LEAVE you.
How am I supposed to leave you?
The words didn’t make any sense to Terrie’s still sleep-fuddled brain. What was Gio talking about?
She had finally fallen into a deep sleep of total exhaustion at some point well into the early hours of the morning. For some hours her oblivion had been absolute, but then, slowly and gradually, she had come awake. And, stirring slightly under the soft quilted duvet, she had felt the faint stiffness in her limbs, the tiny aches and bruises that reminded her instantly of how she had spent so much of the night.
And she had smiled to herself at the memories.
She had never woken to so good a feeling before. Never felt so totally satisfied, so relaxed, so deeply, contentedly at one with the world. Last night she had met a very special man, and she had spent a deliriously sensual, a gloriously happy night with him.
And she was firmly convinced that, after such a special night, today could only be the start of a whole new life. A life that she hoped, prayed, dreamed would include the presence of Giovanni Cardella in it for a long, long time.
On that thought she had stirred, swimming up slowly, close to the surface of waking. And in that state she had reached out a hand to the spot where, as sleep had finally closed over her, the warm, vital, wonderful body of Gio had been lying, satiated and relaxed at her side.
Which was when the first tiny flaw had entered the perfect beginning to her day. The space was empty, the sheets already cooling rapidly as if the man who had slept there had been gone for some time.
‘Gio?’
Frowning faintly, she had stirred again, struggling to make herself wake up a little more.
‘Here…’ She heard his voice, coming vaguely to her through the thick, clinging strands of sleep as she forced her eyes open.
He was sitting in the chair, with his back to the window. His head was silhouetted against the faint grey light, his face half in shadow as a result. What she could see looked wonderful. More than wonderful.
He no longer had the sleek, groomed perfection of the night before. His hair was only partly combed, his cheeks and jaw unshaven, roughened with the dark shadow of stubble. His eyes were heavy and hooded, and his clothes were only pulled on, some buttons still not fastened, his shirt only roughly pushed into the waistband of the grey trousers.
But in Terrie’s mind he looked all the more wonderful because of that. Because she knew what had put that sleepily sensual look into his eyes. Whose hands had ruffled the sleek, jet-black perfection of his hair. The memories of the night they had shared still coloured everything in a rich, golden glow, so she was incapable of seeing anything wrong in it.
But a couple of moments later, as each unexpectedly cool response to her attempts to entice him back into her bed fell onto her exposed nerves like icy drops of rain, she was forced into a radical and uncomfortable rethink.
‘Gio, what do you mean? Why are you leaving? Where are you going?’
The suspicion and the fear that had her heart in an icy grip began to deepen when he didn’t answer, but simply sat there, dark eyes levelled on her face. With a struggle she forced herself