Demanding his baby...

And his fiancée!

Tycoon Marco Silviano can’t forget the mysterious woman he spent an incredible week with on a luxurious island. Coming face-to-face with Imogen in England is shocking—especially when he learns she’s expecting his baby! Convinced their child will secure his family’s dynasty, Marco is intent on persuading Imogen to wear his ring. But once they’re engaged, their burning desire and Imogen’s warmhearted allure test Marco’s control to the limit...

Indulge in this passionate engagement of convenience romance!

RACHAEL THOMAS has always loved reading romance, and is thrilled to be a Mills & Boon author. She lives and works on a farm in Wales—a far cry from the glamour of a Modern Romance story, but that makes slipping into her characters’ worlds all the more appealing. When she’s not writing, or working on the farm, she enjoys photography and visiting historical castles and grand houses. Visit her at rachaelthomas.co.uk.

Also by Rachael Thomas

New Year at the Boss’s Bidding

The Sheikh’s Last Mistress

To Blackmail a Di Sione

Married for the Italian’s Heir

A Child Claimed by Gold

Di Marcello’s Secret Son

Hired to Wear the Sheikh’s Ring

Convenient Christmas Brides miniseries

Valdez’s Bartered Bride

Martinez’s Pregnant Wife

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

A Ring to Claim His Legacy

Rachael Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07270-0

A RING TO CLAIM HIS LEGACY

© 2018 Rachael Thomas

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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In October 2017 I trekked the Great Wall of China to raise funds for the British Heart Foundation, and this book is dedicated to my fellow trekkers: Tina & Colin, Wendy & Douglas, Glenn & Clair, Kathy, Daniela, Mary, Julia, Elaine, Martyne, Francesca, Lucy, Caroline, Rachel, Di, Brenda, Julia, Heather, Caroline, Chris, Jude, Taraa, Nikki, Richard, Daniel.

Also a massive thanks to Charity Challenge members Erika and Richard, and the amazing local guides Tony and Justin, and also Liz from the British Heart Foundation for making it such a great experience.

Thanks, everyone, for an amazing week and fantastic memories to last me a lifetime!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

MARCO SILVIANO’S ATTENTION was completely captivated by the curvy blonde woman who had just ordered champagne for herself and her friend. Even her voice was incredibly sexy, and as for the bright blue dress which shimmered in the subdued light of the bar, intensifying his body’s reaction to her every luscious curve, it was nothing short of seductive.

He called the bartender over with a subtle move of his hand. ‘Tell the ladies the champagne is with my compliments.’

‘Yes, sir. Who shall I say?’ the bartender asked.

He was here at this luxury island resort, his latest addition to the Silviano Leisure Group, to ensure everything was being done exactly as he wanted it. Experience had taught him it was best not to reveal his true identity on arrival, but later, when he’d seen everything first-hand, just as a guest would.

‘Marco,’ he said casually, not offering his surname.

He watched as the bartender passed on his message. The two women turned their attention from the messenger and looked towards him, but it was the gorgeous blonde who held his attention. Marco’s gaze locked with hers and something indescribable arced across the distance between them. He took in a deep, sharp breath of shock. That had never happened before. He’d never experienced a sensation that everything or everyone else in the world had ceased to exist except for the person he was looking at.

He recovered himself quickly, reverting to his usual charm, and raised his glass to her. He was vaguely aware of her friend, raising her glass to him in thanks as she smiled and said something to the woman whose gaze was still locked with his. It was clear from the blonde’s expression that she was as shocked as he was at what had just passed between them. The friend disappeared from his vision. All he could see was the blonde, her long, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders and resting on full breasts, tantalisingly concealed and yet alluringly revealed by her low-cut dress.

She smiled and raised her glass to him. It should have been an innocent gesture, but for some reason it was wildly erotic. Provocative. Heat surged to his groin and the promise his father and mother had all but forced out of him, to marry a nice girl and settle down, vanished like the setting sun.

He was here, masquerading as a guest for a week. The perfect excuse to escape the demands of a family he’d never really felt he belonged to. So much had happened recently, prompting the repeated question of when he was going to get married that he’d been driven from the New York headquarters of the Silviano Leisure Group, abandoning CEO decisions and board meetings just to escape his family’s inquisition.

His father’s recent heart attack had revealed huge family secrets, and all the times he’d tried and failed to live up to his father’s expectations had come back to haunt him. Each memory had sat there around him, taunting him from the past. On top of that were the constant reminders that he alone was expected to provide the next Silviano heir—and his father was very keen that it be a boy.

His only sister, Bianca, had been dealt the unfair hand of not being able to have children, which now meant he was the only one who could provide the next Silviano heir to inherit all his grandfather had started when he’d emigrated from Italy to New York.

Maybe a little flirtation with this blonde would be just what he needed to distract himself. After all, he wasn’t yet married, something he intended to avoid for as long as possible. His pulse leapt at the thought of indulging in some flirtation with this gorgeously curvy blonde. And why not? For one week he was far away from New York, far away from the pressures his family were putting on him. All too soon he would have to return to the reality of his life, but for now he had other far more important choices to make.

He slid off the bar stool and made his way towards the women and as he got closer the blonde’s vivid blue eyes beckoned him flirtatiously, but the way she nervously bit at her lower lip almost knocked him off course. It was as if beneath the sexy flirting, she was not as used to the act as she wanted him to think. Could it be that the beauty of the island and being away from home was making her do things she wouldn’t normally do too? Or was it the undeniable attraction which had slashed through the warm night air as their eyes had first met? Either way it was an intoxicating cocktail. One he fully intended to sample to the full.

‘Thank you for the champagne,’ her friend said as she moved to stand behind the blonde woman, blatantly trying to force him and her friend together.

‘Yes, thank you.’ The soft lilt of the blonde’s voice was not something he’d expected. The hint of hesitation in it didn’t go with the bold and daring designer dress which showcased her curves to perfection, making him want to hold her close, feel her against him, then remove the blue silk and discover the pleasure her sexy body promised.

‘The pleasure is mine,’ he said as he leant on the bar, holding his glass of brandy, unable to do anything else but look into those eyes. It was like diving into the ocean and going down, deeper and deeper. He could almost feel the water on his body. He blinked. What was the matter with him? He’d spent too long in recent weeks with his sister, who always talked of him one day meeting the right woman, falling in love, and despite her own heartache reminding him of the son the family needed. Thankfully his father’s condition had meant that her constant remarks about the expectation that he would marry and produce the next Silviano heir had calmed as her attention became focused on their father. This he knew would be short-lived.

The very notion of creating his own family was completely alien to him. Marco lived life in the fast lane, lived for the passion of a new affair. He didn’t want the comfort of family life when he’d failed miserably to fit into his. As for love, which his sister taunted him with, telling him one day it would get him, that was definitely a no-go area. After discovering his mother’s secret, the explanation as to why he’d never been able to gain his father’s love, he wanted nothing to do with love—of any kind. He’d had very little as a child, believing he wasn’t worthy of it. Now, as an adult, he had no intention of ever falling in love.

The blonde smiled up at him and heat surged through him as he anticipated the thrill of a new chase. ‘This is Julie Masters and I’m Imogen...’ She paused for a moment as if not wanting to divulge her true identity, her eyes searching his face. ‘Just Imogen.’

First-name terms. That suited him perfectly. ‘You look very beautiful tonight, just Imogen.’ He smiled at her, aware his charm was having its usual effect and the anticipation of the outcome was more powerful than he’d experienced for a long time. ‘I’m Marco.’

Imogen’s eyelashes fluttered down briefly in a show of shyness that was at odds with the daring dress she wore, but when she looked back up her gaze was steady and firm.

‘Hello, Marco.’ Her voice had become breathy and very sexy, igniting the desire within him.

‘And are you two lovely ladies enjoying the island?’ he asked them both, in an attempt to cool the suddenly very hot atmosphere around them.

‘It’s absolutely amazing.’ Enthusiasm sprang from Imogen’s words. ‘We only arrived last night, but already I am completely in love with the place.’

‘It’s divine.’ Julie added her opinion then returned her attention to the champagne.

He couldn’t hope for better feedback. Everything he’d seen since arriving this afternoon had pleased him, but to hear the island and his staff pleased his guests, the kind who could afford such luxurious surroundings, was far more satisfying. ‘Where are you and Julie from?’

‘London,’ Julie said so quickly it startled him. ‘Daddy told us to take some time away in the sunshine. So here we are.’

‘You’re sisters?’ Marco looked from the blonde-haired Imogen to dark-haired Julie.

‘Cousins,’ Imogen said as Julie laughed as if at some secret joke and he doubted they were cousins. He had the impression he was becoming embroiled in some kind of personal joke, but, so long as that involved him and Imogen exploring the attraction which had sparked between them, he didn’t care.

Imogen turned to Julie and a look passed between them, but he couldn’t decipher if it was a warning, annoyance or shock. When Imogen looked back up at him, the smile was on her full lips and a sparkle of mischief was in her eyes. It notched up the heat of lust within him, made the sparks of attraction jump higher. ‘And we are only here for a week.’

‘Then we had better make the most of that week.’ Marco watched as a flush of colour infused her cheeks and Imogen looked down into her glass, as if the bubbles could help her decide if she wanted to do exactly that.

‘Just what I said.’ Julie’s laughter-filled voice snagged his attention from Imogen. ‘So if you will excuse me, I’m going to go and do exactly that.’

Imogen’s head lifted quickly and she looked briefly at him, before turning to look back at Julie. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yes.’ Julie laughed as she was backing away, a skip almost in her step. ‘Marco will keep you company, I’m sure.’ Marco knew exactly what was going on. Julie had seen the spark of attraction between them and was playing at matchmaker.

He turned his attention back to Imogen. He liked her shyness. Surprisingly he found the idea of having to court a beautiful woman refreshing; instead of having them virtually fall at his feet—or into his bed. That was one of the things he now considered the downside of his wealth and family name. Women no longer saw him, they saw only what he could give them, but just Imogen seemed indifferent to all that, despite the designer dress she was wearing. He had the distinct impression such actions were much more the way of her cousin than her.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Imogen said, shyness creeping back into her voice. This week was going to be a lot more interesting than he’d anticipated. The beautiful Imogen was just the antidote he needed before heading back to New York and facing the music. Maybe he’d even do the unthinkable and turn his phone off for a day or two, make his time here a moment of true escape. So long as it involved a night with Imogen he’d consider it worth doing. He wasn’t about to turn his back on the high-voltage spark between them. He’d allow the attraction between them to develop naturally, something he’d never indulged in before. The thought of making the whole encounter longer, before the inevitable conclusion of hot, passionate sex, fired his desire even more. He was going to enjoy this chase.

‘I have no objection to keeping you company,’ he said as she looked up at him and once again he was lost in the swirling blue of her eyes, only vaguely aware of Julie leaving. ‘We have a bottle of champagne and the whole night ahead of us. What could be more perfect?’

Her coy smile made his breath catch and for once in his life, even if he hadn’t decided to make it last, he wasn’t at all sure what the outcome of this night would be. Underneath her flirtatious smiles and the enticingly sexy dress, he sensed Imogen might be different from any woman he’d ever had an affair with. He liked it. He liked the excitement which zipped through him because he would have to work for her, court her, in order to win her into his bed. It excited him because it was something he’d never had to do before.

‘I’m not going to manage the entire bottle myself now that Julie has gone.’ Imogen laughed softly, and again that coy smile. ‘I’m not used to drinking it. The bubbles will go straight to my head.’

He frowned. Surely a society girl who was used to partying and being wined and dined was used to champagne. He dismissed the question from his mind, preferring the ever-increasing need to kiss this woman. ‘Then I suggest we take our time.’

She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes as she tucked her hair behind her ear. It wasn’t an attempt to flirt and not at all the usual kind of playing with hair that would leave him in no doubt the woman in question wanted him. It made her seem shy, wary of him. If she was really unused to male attention then he would have to abandon his usual seduction routine. A thought that filled him with anticipation.

‘I’d like that,’ she said with that lovely smile.

He put aside his brandy glass and with one nod at the bartender to bring the champagne on ice and fresh glasses he turned to Imogen. ‘Shall we find somewhere more comfortable? A little more private perhaps?’

Briefly a look of panic rushed over Imogen’s face, but then she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, her hair sliding off the bare skin, revealing the thin straps of the dress and far more of her creamy, soft breasts than he was sure she’d be happy with. It certainly stirred up the lust-filled passion in him, but it also made him question if she was in a relationship. He couldn’t imagine why any sane man wouldn’t want to keep this woman to himself, and he never became entangled with a woman if she was involved or married.

‘Yes, that’s a perfect idea.’ Her voice was almost a whisper, which only added fuel to the fire of building desire within him.

He placed his hand in the small of her back, lightly pressing against her as they moved away from the bar to the more secluded areas surrounding the restaurant area.

‘I hope that I am not treading on anyone’s toes.’ He pulled a seat out for her as the bartender brought the champagne bucket and glasses. Marco shook his head at him when he attempted to pour it.

Imogen frowned at him. ‘Anyone’s toes?’

He glanced at her left hand. No wedding ring. ‘Surely a woman as beautiful as you must have a fiancé or boyfriend at home in London?’

* * *

Imogen blinked back the sharp stab of betrayal at the mention of a fiancé, but it wasn’t this man’s fault that Gavin had walked out on her. The handsome and very charming Marco had no way of knowing Gavin had turned his back on her, on everything, just one week before she should have walked down the aisle with him. Or that Gavin had only recently married another woman after claiming marriage wasn’t for him and that he’d only gone along with it because their families had pushed them into it.

‘No boyfriend and no fiancé,’ she said as lightly as she could, watching him expertly pour the champagne.

The light shone in his dark hair and his tanned complexion hinted at a Mediterranean heritage. He looked up at her and his inky black eyes met hers and she blushed, caught out in the act of appraising him.

He handed her a glass of champagne and she knew without doubt this was a man who moved in very different circles to the normal nine-to-five kind of life she led. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was completely out of her league. Imogen had no idea why she was doing this, why she’d gone along with Julie’s suggestion and allowed herself to get so carried away with the fantasy of the island they had unexpectedly been sent to as part of their job.

She also had no idea why she, of all the women here tonight, was sitting at a romantic and very secluded table with the sexiest man in the bar. His tall, athletic body had stood out among all the other wealthy men in the restaurant as soon as she and Julie had arrived, but she’d kept her gaze averted. Men usually preferred Julie’s tall, slender figure to her short and far curvier one. Inwardly she berated herself. Gavin might have knocked her confidence, but she wasn’t going to allow him to send her back to the agony of bullying taunts from her schooldays.

She took the glass he offered her and knew this whole set-up was Julie’s doing. It had been her idea to use their time on this luxurious island to escape their dreary lives. If their employer, Bespoke Luxury Travel, had seen fit to send them to Silviano Leisure Group’s tropical island to sample the kind of luxury holidays the company could offer their clients, Julie had insisted they were going to live like those wealthy clients and sample everything—to the full.

Imogen just hadn’t expected a man like Marco to be part of that plan. He was so different from any man she’d met, so very focused on what he wanted, which right now she was in no doubt was her. Acting the flirty and vivacious blonde wasn’t her at all, but Julie’s suggestion that she needed a wild, passionate affair to finally move on from Gavin’s betrayal of last year had taken root in her mind. Imogen was once more happy and confident with her petite and curvy figure and wanted to prove as much to Julie.

No wonder Julie had practically pushed her at Marco. He was just the kind of man she’d label as a playboy: wealthy, handsome and lethally charming. Imogen smiled secretively to herself. She’d play the game, take up the challenge Julie had thrown her. This week she was going to be a very different Imogen than usual and make the most of tonight. Even if it was only for a few hours, she would live for this moment, as if nothing or no one else mattered. This was her moment and what better person to share it with than a man like Marco?

‘I’m surprised a beautiful woman like you is alone tonight, but I will admit to being happy about it.’ Marco’s deep, sexy voice pulled her well and truly back from her thoughts.

Just as it had the moment he’d come over to her, Imogen’s heart skipped a beat and a host of butterflies took flight in her tummy. Her head was light already and she’d barely drunk any champagne. Could she really be an emotionally detached seductress? Could she really be all a man like Marco wanted?

‘So am I.’ She tried to remember all that Julie had said to her on the flight out. All the advice about forgetting ‘that scum who left you virtually at the altar’ and living again. Julie had made her promise that the next time a man showed an interest in her she would forget the past and live only for the moment. No thoughts of the future and certainly no thoughts of the only other man she’d ever had a relationship with.

She smiled at the memory of how insistent Julie had been. She wouldn’t be surprised if Julie was back in their luxury villa alone, just so she could force her to keep that promise and push her into Marco’s arms. She’d show Julie—and herself—that she had moved on.

‘You’re smiling,’ Marco said softly as he handed her a glass of potent bubbles.

‘What’s not to smile about? I’m in a beautiful place with very agreeable company.’ She tried to tease, tried to flirt a little, but it was so out of her comfort zone. As was the silk dress which clung to each curve she usually tried to play down. The long front slit showed off her legs with each step and she tried hard to own it, to wear it. It was a dress which showcased her in a very different light. It was a dress for just Imogen.

‘Very seductress,’ Julie had said as she’d put on the shimmering gown of blue which had been part of the wardrobe provided for them both for the week to enable them to test the luxury resort and blend in. It was also something she could only dream of wearing and she hated to imagine how much it had cost.

‘Only agreeable?’ he teased as he sipped his champagne, his gaze holding hers, sending tingles of excitement down her spine.

She watched him drink, his handsome looks very Mediterranean, but his accent was unmistakably American. As he waited for her to answer, he lifted his dark brows suggestively, his eyes sparkling with sexy mischief.

‘Okay,’ she laughed. ‘But it might inflate your ego too much. I’m in a beautiful place with a handsome man for company.’

‘That’s much better,’ he laughed. ‘So, just Imogen, what is it you do in London?’

Imogen nearly choked on the champagne as his question threw her off balance. Her thoughts raced as she scrabbled for something suitable to tell him. She was hardly going to tell a man like him, a man who emanated wealth from every pore of his sexy body, that she was merely an office worker living one monthly paycheque to the next. Why spoil the magic of the moment? Why not really live the dream and create a new life for herself?

‘I’m a personal assistant.’ She sipped her champagne then put the glass down, not wanting to drink too much too fast. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m in the leisure industry.’

‘In America?’

He laughed. It was such a sexy laugh her stomach somersaulted and if she hadn’t been sitting down she was sure she would have to because her knees would have weakened as desire began to slip over her body in a way she’d never known possible.

‘That obvious?’

‘A little, but you have Mediterranean looks.’ What was she saying? She might as well have told him that she’d been studying him.

‘My family originates from Sicily. My grandfather emigrated to New York with my grandmother when they were newlyweds to start a new life.’ He smiled, and she guessed he must be or had been close to his grandparents. It seemed family was important to him, that he remembered his grandparents with the same fondness with which she remembered hers. Determined not to let her real life into this moment she pushed aside those thoughts and waited for him to continue. ‘They opened a coffee shop and lived there all their lives.’

‘That’s so romantic.’ The words slipped from her lips before she had time to think but judging by his expression it was not the way he would describe it. It also brought home that her first impression of him was right: this man was the type of man who didn’t settle down, didn’t commit to relationships, probably scorned romance and never used the word love.

‘Are you a romantic?’ His abrupt question backed up that thought.

She laughed and leaned forward to pick up her glass, aware of his eyes on her and the fact that her dress left more of her uncovered than it covered. It would have fitted Julie much better, her being so slim, but she’d insisted it was perfect on Imogen. She’d refused to even try it, reminding Imogen that she’d promised not to let Gavin’s cruel taunts over her figure dent the confidence in her body she’d found after setting herself free from school-day bullying.

‘Isn’t everyone? A family story like that is kind of romantic.’ She sat back and sipped her champagne, determined to keep her voice light. ‘Do you not think it’s romantic?’

‘No.’ The word was so final she almost felt sorry for him, but then she remembered where her romantic notions had got her—ditched during the final wedding-dress fitting. Maybe this Italian New Yorker had the right idea, maybe he didn’t. Either way she was having fun teasing him. She hadn’t felt so carefree for a long time.

‘But look at this place. Romance is what it’s all about.’ She held her arms out and spread her palms upwards as she looked at the restaurant with candlelit tables for couples, the bar with its subdued lighting, the gardens they were now in, lit by lights which echoed the twinkling of the stars.

‘Okay, I relent,’ he laughed, melting her all over again.

‘You do?’ she teased further, laughing up at him as if she’d known him for years instead of barely hours.

He nodded in grudging agreement. ‘Maybe this island is a little romantic.’

She laughed softly, aware of his gaze intensely on her. ‘Now you are showing your Italian side.’

He moved a little closer to her. ‘And do you like it?’ This game of flirting was getting dangerous, but for some reason she didn’t want it to stop. Maybe the champagne was making her bold.

‘I do. Much better than your hard-edged-businessman-of-New-York side.’

‘Ouch.’ He picked up his glass and raised it to her. ‘In that case I raise a toast to a romantic interlude on this island with a beautiful woman.’

Nobody had ever said she was beautiful before. At school taunts about her weight had followed her through each year, and as she’d turned into a teenager her mother had referred to it as puppy fat, meaning well but destroying any shred of confidence she’d had. Whatever the reason for her being plump and curvy, she’d never been able to look like her skinny cousins. Fed up with feeling sorry for herself, she’d decided to embrace what she had and, with a renewed confidence in herself, her lifelong friendship with Gavin had blossomed into romance. He was her first boyfriend and had become everything to her as she’d fallen in love. Yet even though they had been a couple for two years and had become engaged, he’d never once told her she was beautiful. As hard as she’d tried not to allow that to knock her confidence, it had, especially once their engagement had ended.

‘To the romance of the moment,’ she added to their toast, watching with a smile as his brows rose. Then without breaking eye contact he sipped his champagne. She could almost feel his body telling her he wanted her, could almost hear the words whispered on the warm evening breeze.

From the bar soft, seductive music drifted over to them, as if enticing them to make more of their moment. It was the perfect music for a slow dance with someone special. She listened and smiled sadly. She hadn’t danced with a man for so long. Gavin had stopped taking her anywhere they would have to dance, barely taking her out on proper dates in the last year of their relationship. It should have been all the warning she needed to realise that he was just going along with their families’ expectations, that he didn’t really care for her, let alone love her. But she’d been blinded by her dreams of a happy-ever-after. She would never allow herself to be that foolish again.

‘Would you care to dance?’ Marco stood up and put out his hand to her. She looked up at him, his face partially in shadow because of their secluded location.

‘But...’ She stammered for words as all sorts of thoughts rushed through her mind. What would it feel like to take his hand, to be held by him, to press herself against him? Heat surged through her, a warning if nothing else that she was far from indifferent to this man.

‘Shall we make the most of this romantic moment, this escape from reality?’ He spoke as he took her hand in his, pulling her gently to her feet, then waiting for her to come towards him.

‘How can I refuse?’

She moved in his direction and he stepped back away from their table and then turned to her, pulling her close to him. His eyes were heavy with desire and a spark of hot need that she’d never known before ignited within her.

‘So,’ he said softly as he looked down at her. ‘Are you here to escape, Imogen?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘In truth, yes, I am.’ He held her even closer, his arms around her waist and his palms on her lower back, scorching through the elegant dress.

‘Then we should escape together.’ The words slipped far too easily from her lips and it had very little to do with the champagne. It had everything to do with the man she was moving slowly in time with to the distant music. Each move she made heightened her awareness of his strong, muscular physique beneath the stylish tuxedo. This moment wasn’t romance. This moment was pure fiction. A dream she didn’t want to wake from.

‘My sentiments exactly.’

She stopped dancing and looked up at him. She’d never felt so dainty and fragile in her life. He was well over six feet tall, but it wasn’t his height—it was the way he held her. The way he looked at her. He made her feel alive, sexy and desired. He made her feel beautiful.

* * *

Marco wasn’t at first aware they had stopped dancing. He was so consumed by Imogen he could barely think straight. Holding her in his arms felt right. In some bizarre way she fitted like no other woman had ever done. Inwardly he swore. Playing along with this damn romance stuff was getting to him. He should just kiss her and take her to bed. Get her out of his system.

But he had all week. Time to savour this blonde beauty, time to be the kind of man he might have wanted to be if his mother hadn’t kept from him one very important fact about his father. He pushed that aside. This was his time to escape and he intended to do exactly that. He would follow Imogen’s example. One week out of his life, one week to be just Marco.

Imogen looked up at him with big blue eyes, so wide and innocent. Each deep breath she took made her breasts rise and fall, begging to be touched. If he held her really close she’d be in no doubt how much he desired her right now, but something was holding him back. He had no idea why, but, despite the heated lust he’d first felt as he’d seen her in the bar, he didn’t want to kiss her—not yet anyway.

As thoughts of restraint rushed through the desire-clouded fog of his mind, Imogen moved in his arms, bringing her so close that she must know the effect she was having on him. A deep, throaty growl escaped him as she lowered her head, averting her face from him. He wanted nothing more than to lift her chin, make her look into his eyes and then cover her full lips with his. She looked up at him, as if knowing what he wanted, what he needed. The fight for restraint raged and by some miracle he only allowed himself to brush his lips lightly over hers.

It was enough. The touch tape of passion had been lit. Now it was only a question of how long the fuse would be before the inevitable explosion. Usually he craved instant gratification when he kissed a woman, not wanting to get caught up in the emotional warfare of anything remotely like courtship, but Imogen was different. This place was different. In a bid to escape his family, his reality, he was different.

If he was his usual self, he knew that once he kissed a woman passionately she would be in his bed that night. But not this time. For the first time he wanted to savour the moment, enjoy the mounting anticipation of kissing her properly, of caressing her sexy body, of finally making love to her.

He had one week here on the island, just as she did. What would it be like to make the moment last that long? What would it be like to romance her, court her—before the inevitable conclusion? Damn it. Imogen’s talk of romance must have got to him.

‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ His voice cracked into a hoarse whisper as he moved back from her, away from the temptation to plunder her mouth. Right now she looked so kissable, so very sexy, it was almost more than he could bear. He had no idea where his restraint was coming from or what was driving it, but right now it was just what he needed.

‘No.’ Her whisper was husky and told him so much, told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her, that she too was fighting the tug of war between passion and restraint.

He smiled and brushed his lips lingeringly over hers. As desire erupted inside him like the roar of a lion he whispered against her lips, ‘I’d like our moment of escape to go on for a little longer than just tonight.’

‘I’d like that too.’ He knew she was smiling. Her eyes sparkled as she looked into his and just when he thought he couldn’t take it any more her eyes fluttered closed and her lips pressed against his. Soft and yielding, they tempted him, but he forced himself to return the light kiss, held on to his restraint as if his life depended on it as he avoided the kiss becoming demanding and hard. He wanted her in his bed, crying out as passion consumed them—but not tonight.

This moment out of time, this dalliance with the kind of romantic ideas he’d always locked out of his life, had come at the perfect time. Everything else in his life was falling apart, threatening who he really was, and Imogen, a beautiful blonde, had slipped into his life. What better distraction than the woman who seemed as intent on escape as he was?

‘I will bid you goodnight.’ He pulled away from her, his body aching with unquenched desire. If he wanted this moment to last all week he had to walk away now. If he didn’t let her go he wouldn’t be truly escaping from everything he now knew he was.

CHAPTER TWO

IMOGEN HAD BEEN shocked by the way Marco had made her feel and even more astounded by the way she’d wanted to be kissed by him that first night. Now, after spending five blissful days in his company, escaping reality and living the dream of romance, what had shocked her more was that even though a sizzling chemistry surrounded them, he’d done nothing other than kiss her gently at the end of each day.

It was becoming too much and her whole body hummed with the kind of need only he could satisfy. Each day they’d explored the island and each night they’d acted like lovers but, when he did nothing more than kiss her, those old and supposedly buried insecurities had rushed back. Did he really like her? Desire her? There was definitely something between them, but whatever the attraction was it certainly wasn’t enough for him to do more then gently kiss her and she was certain he wasn’t the kind of man to hold out to gentlemanly instincts. He was a hot, sexy man and probably had women falling over themselves to be kissed by him—and much more.

‘I see you have followed my instructions.’ Marco’s voice brought her up sharp as he arrived at the villa she and Julie were sharing, and when she looked at him that fizz of attraction she had each time she saw him rushed through her.

‘As you weren’t going to tell me where we are going or what we are doing other than it involves the sea, what else could I do?’ She feigned indignation as she looked at him, feeling somewhat underdressed in her red one-piece and cover-up—the only two items of her own clothing she’d worn all week whilst she’d acted out the lifestyle of luxury.

‘I’m impressed you aren’t one of these women who cannot even think of going in the sea, much less getting her hair wet.’ He took her hand and led her from the villa towards the beach. ‘What is Julie doing for her last day? I hope she didn’t mind me stealing you away again.’

If only he would steal her away for ever, Imogen thought, but she knew she wasn’t his type. At least, the Imogen she really was certainly wasn’t his type. Not that it really meant anything, she reminded herself sharply, the risk of getting carried away with it all stronger than ever. She was just someone for him to while away the week with. Why else would he have only kissed her goodnight at the end of each day?

‘Julie is more than happy with our arrangement,’ she said as they walked on the soft white sand of the beach, already heating up from the sun. Imogen wasn’t about to enlighten Marco to the fact that Julie hadn’t come back to the villa last night after her date. ‘She’s using this week to escape too.’

Imogen tried to make light of the whole situation, or arrangement as he’d openly called it. She simply wanted to enjoy this last day with Marco. Tomorrow she and Julie would be on a flight heading back to England and the normality of their day jobs at Bespoke Luxury Travel. Their moment of escape here on the romantic tropical island would be over.

‘In that case we have all day to be together—apart from a little something extra I have arranged just for you. For our last night together.’

She looked up at him, the sun sparkling in his eyes. Or was that mischief? He’d arranged something for her? First he’d told her she was beautiful and now this. If she wasn’t careful she’d lose all sense of reality and start wishing for the kind of happy-ever-afters she knew didn’t really exist.

‘I’m intrigued,’ she teased but her breath caught as he took hold of her hand, making her stop, so that she could only stand and look up at him.

‘I’m the one who is intrigued. By you.’ His eyes darkened until they were completely black and her pulse raced as with his free hand he pushed back stray strands of her hair which had escaped from her ponytail.

He was going to kiss her—and she wanted him to. Not the soft, gentle kisses he’d given her since that first night. She wanted him to really kiss her.

Her eyes closed as he moved nearer, his hand sliding round to hold the back of her head, bringing her closer to him. Not that she needed any persuading. This was the last day of living the life of luxury. After tomorrow Marco would be part of a moment out of reality, a man she would never meet again. They lived in two completely different worlds.

His lips moved over hers and she kissed him back, demanding so much more from him. Fire leapt to life inside her as she pressed herself recklessly against him, abandoning any notion of being sensible, wanting only to ease her aching desire for this man.

He answered her demands with an almost burning passion as he deepened the kiss, holding her so tight. She could hardly breathe but she didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want the deep pulse of desire inside her to fade away to nothing. She wanted everything, every part of this man.

Between her thighs heat scorched. The hardness of his erection pressed against her made her ever more reckless as she moved her hips, wanting to get even closer, even more intimate. Her body was begging him to make love to her. She’d never experienced anything so powerful. Her ex-fiancé, her only other lover, had never aroused her like this, never made her so wanton, so consumed with desire.

‘Have you any idea what you do to me?’ Marco asked, each word a hoarse, passion-filled whisper.

‘I do now,’ she teased. Who was this woman? Imogen Fraser would never be as seductive and flirty as this. But she wasn’t Imogen Fraser. She was just Imogen and this was her moment. Tomorrow it would end and she had no intention of going home with any what ifs lingering in her mind.

He let her go and moved back a step, running one hand through his hair in a distracted way, which only made her want him more. ‘Imogen—you will be the undoing of me.’

‘I intend to be exactly that,’ she said as she moved towards him, sliding her hands around his neck again and brushing her lips teasingly over his. The feral growl he tried hard to suppress left her in no doubt as to the effect she had on him. He did want her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

‘Do you, now?’ He put his arms back round her waist and she wished she’d had the courage to wear a bikini. She wanted to feel his hands on her body. Skin on skin.

‘But first,’ she mercilessly teased him, a big smile on her lips, ‘haven’t you arranged something for us?’

‘I have.’ Marco snatched at the change of subject she unwittingly offered because if he didn’t he was in danger of taking her back to his villa and spending the day exploring the desire between them, which had now reached near explosive heights. Whilst it was very much what he wanted to do, it wasn’t part of his plan to create the ultimate romantic escape on their last night. The pleasure her body promised would have to wait. ‘We are going out on that yacht.’

She turned swiftly and looked to where a sleek white yacht was anchored in the bay, waiting patiently on the sparkling blue water. ‘Now I understand the need for swimwear.’ Her laughter was as infectious as it was captivating.

‘We aren’t just going on the sea—we are going under it. I’ve arranged for us to snorkel over one of the island’s reefs.’

He braced himself for excuses. Any other woman he’d dated in recent years probably wouldn’t paddle in the sea, let alone swim in it. All they’d wanted to do was sunbathe. Tiny bikinis were not for getting wet. Imogen’s red one-piece showcased her sexy curves in a way a bikini couldn’t, making him imagine how it would feel to have her naked body in his bed. Each time he looked at her, taking in every shapely curve, he grew more impatient for the conclusion to this week.

A spike of lust shot through him. He’d never waited this long to have sex with a woman. Imogen was different and, although he had no intention of trying to figure out why, he had every intention of bringing their romantic week, their escape from reality, to the conclusion he’d wanted from the very first moment he’d set eyes on her in that alluring blue dress. Tonight, no matter what, she would be his and the passion and desire he’d held in check all week could finally be set free.

‘Marco, that’s so exciting—thanks.’ Her eyes sparkled like the sea beyond her as she looked up at him, then as if the wind had changed direction she lowered her head and looked down. ‘Nobody has spoilt me like this before.’

A woman like Imogen must have had many admirers, all trying to impress her and win her affection. Her admission shocked him. ‘I find that very hard to believe.’

She looked back up at him. ‘It’s true. I’ve only ever had one relationship. It lasted for over two years, but...’ Her words trailed away, reminding him of the aura of innocence she sometimes portrayed. Had this teasing temptress really only had one lover?

‘Whoever he was, he was a damn fool to let you go.’ The words sprang from him before he had time to think and they were totally out of character. He never gave away his feelings, never said anything to a woman that could be misread as something more. Settling down had never been part of his big plan for life and yet here he was, talking with Imogen as if they shared a secret need to do just that.

‘He didn’t let me go,’ she said, looking up at him, that spark of defiance in her eyes once more. ‘He lost me.’

‘Then his loss is my gain. And being here has enabled me to find you,’ he said softly, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

‘Yes, our week here has been fun, a real escape, and all I want is to make the most of the last day together.’

A sense of calm slipped over him. She was as good as telling him that once they left the island she wouldn’t be looking for anything else from him. It was everything he had hoped for when he knew he would go home and inevitably throw himself into his work, the same as he always did. Anything to avoid the pleading of his mother to marry and continue the Silviano family name for his father. But this time he knew her secret. He knew the man lying in hospital with a serious heart condition, the man he’d never been able to please, wasn’t his real father. Knowing that and knowing just who his real father was should have made everything easier, but it didn’t. It made things harder than ever.

‘That is exactly what I want,’ he said as he forced his mind back to the present, back to the seduction of Imogen. It would be his last fling. He held her tighter and kissed her lightly once more. ‘What I want is to enjoy our last day together. Our final night.’

* * *

Imogen slipped from the yacht into the crystal-clear waters, trying to push aside Marco’s honesty. He didn’t want anything more after they returned home. He didn’t want to see her again, which was probably just as well, because once he knew she was just an ordinary girl, instead of the wealthy daddy’s girl she’d let him believe she was, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her and she couldn’t stand the rejection of that. She’d had enough rejection recently.

Marco tapped her arm, pointing to a group of brightly coloured fish as they swam over the coral, and she refused to wallow in self-pity. She would take from this moment with Marco as much as she could—and she wanted everything. The passion, the desire. All of it. A shimmer of anticipation washed over her as she recalled his words on the beach: ‘Our final night.’

He wanted to be with her tonight and for one night she wanted nothing more than to be with Marco. Not the hard businessman she’d caught glimpses of all week, but the kind and caring man who’d been so respectful to her, not forcing her to do anything. It had been like the romance of an affair—but now she wanted the passion that went with it. She wanted Marco.

When they returned to the yacht she was determined that she would have the entire dream of being here on the island with Marco. By tomorrow evening the real Imogen Fraser would be back and the carefree woman she’d been this week would be nothing more than a figment of her imagination. A memory to treasure.

‘That was a wonderful experience,’ she said as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the wet tangle. As she stood on the deck in the sunshine she was aware of Marco watching her, aware of his gaze on her body and all too aware of how her wet one-piece highlighted every curve. She didn’t feel self-conscious, not when he looked at her like that, making her body ache for his touch, his caress. Right at this moment she felt alive. Sexy and full of confidence.

‘You are a very sexy woman.’ From where he was sitting, he reached out and held her thighs, pulling her towards him. Emboldened by the way he made her feel, she stood between his legs as he sat.

She looked down at him, his face still wet from the water as he looked up at her, and that connection sparked to life, dragging her deep under his spell. Did he really think that? She tested him, deploying her new-found confidence. ‘Thin girls are sexy. It’s the slim girls that men go for.’

‘Oh, you’ve got that all wrong,’ he said as he caressed her thigh, her skin drying instantly from the contact. ‘Do you have any idea what you do to me?’

She shook her head, the shyness she’d been trying to hide surfacing once more, almost stopping her from having the one thing she wanted. This moment with Marco.

‘Then I am going to have to make sure you know.’ He moved her in closer, so close that if he wasn’t looking up at her he could kiss her breasts. The thought made them tingle with anticipation. The heady pulse of desire started once more, deep inside her. His hands skimmed up either side of her waist, almost touching her breasts, and the real Imogen threatened to return, almost forcing her out of his embrace.

‘I... I...’ she stammered, the boldness she’d been hiding behind all week suddenly vanishing as if the sea had washed it all away.

‘Tonight is our last night and I want to spend it with you.’ His hands slid back down the sides of her waist and her knees began to weaken as he smiled up at her. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. ‘Every minute of it.’

Her heart leapt. Every minute. He wanted to be with her all night. ‘I want that too,’ she whispered as his hands caressed her waist sensually, and she longed for him to touch her breasts, to finally light the fire which sparked and fizzed inside her, threatening to explode like a wayward firework.

‘But I want tonight to be like no other, so I have arranged for something special.’ He smiled, pulling her closer still.

‘More special than this?’ She could hardly whisper, her heart was thumping so hard.

‘Yes.’

‘And what is the dress code for this surprise?’ Thankfully she found just Imogen’s flirty nature, banishing Imogen Fraser from saying or doing anything. She fully intended to remain just Imogen a little while longer and have her night with Marco.

‘Dress for dinner.’

‘In that case—’ Imogen pulled away from him, not trusting herself to stay in his embrace any longer, the heady need for him becoming stronger all the time ‘—I should get back. Have you any idea how long it takes to tame hair like mine?’

He laughed. A deep, sexy laugh which sent a shimmer of stars hurtling around her. ‘I get the message.’

‘Good, because if you want me to look the part then I will have to get back to the villa.’

‘You already look the part as far as I am concerned, Imogen.’ Seriousness had slipped back into his voice and desire in his eyes. ‘Turn up exactly as you are and I will be happy.’

‘You.’ She pushed him away. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Marco.’

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