A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [6]
‘I really think…’
‘What are you afraid of?’
‘I’m not afraid!’
Her tone of voice belied it, starting high-pitched and rising even further until it ended in an inelegant squawk at the end of the sentence.
‘Then drink your wine.’
Softly spoken as it was, it was clearly a command, and one he intended to have obeyed at once and without question. Just for a second Terrie was tempted to argue. But the impulse to rebellion died as soon as she looked into his dark face and met the forceful blaze of those tawny eyes head-on.
‘Thank you,’ she managed, reaching for the glass.
But with the drink halfway to her lips she suddenly paused again.
‘I wouldn’t want you to think…I mean—I don’t normally let…’
To her embarrassment, the faint lift of one black eyebrow mocked the struggle she was having to get her words out.
‘I don’t normally talk to strange men in bars.’
Was she truly as nervous as she sounded? Gio wondered. Or was it just an act? Surely the woman who had given him such a deliberate and unashamed appraisal couldn’t now be feeling uncertain and ill at ease.
Wasn’t it more likely that, having won his interest, she had now decided to change tactics, preferring to act as the prey rather than the hunter? Well, he would play along for the moment, though he wasn’t in the mood for subtlety or games. And as they were both only after one thing, then quite frankly he didn’t see the need for them.
‘And I don’t normally talk to women I don’t know either,’ he returned smoothly.
If he had had any doubts about the way he was going to handle this, then they had evaporated as soon as he had seated himself opposite her. This woman had class. The slim, elegant body, the fall of pale blonde hair, the porcelain-pale complexion, all had a touch of exoticism to a man used to being surrounded by women with a much darker natural colouring. The faint scent of her body mixed with a light, floral perfume to send a sensual message straight to his brain, making his body harden in hungry demand. But rushing things would be a mistake. The evening would be much more enjoyable if he took his time, enjoyed the journey as well as the final arrival at his destination.
And the final conquest would be all the sweeter as a result.
‘So why don’t we introduce ourselves and then neither of us will be complete strangers?’
One long, powerful hand was held out over the table, the fingers elegant and square-tipped.
‘My name is Giovanni Cardella. But most of my friends call me Gio.’
He pronounced the name like a softened version of ‘Joe’, though in his beautiful accent it had nothing like the ordinary solidity of the English form.
‘Terrie Hayden…’
Did she really have to touch that hand? She had reacted badly enough to the brief, faint brush of it against her leg. How much worse would she feel if she had to grasp those strong-boned fingers, feel the heat of that satin olive skin against her own?
But it seemed she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she put her own hand into his, sharp white teeth digging into her lower lip as his strength closed around her. The sensation of grasping a live electrical wire sent a powerful, burning reaction zigzagging up her arm, making her head swim so that she missed Gio’s murmured response.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Terry?’ he repeated, frowning faintly. ‘But that is a man’s name—no?’
‘It’s Terrie—with an i and an e, not a y.’
Carefully she eased her hand away from his, struggling to resist the impulse to cradle it against her, as if his touch had actually burned her skin.
‘It’s short for Teresa actually. But, like you, no one ever calls me by my proper name.’
‘I would. Terrie is not right for you—but Teresa…’
He made it sound so very different, Terrie registered with a sense of shock. After so many years of being called Tereesa, then his lyrical pronunciation of Terayza had a lovely, musical sound that made her smile unconsciously.
‘I will call you Teresa.’
He could call her anything