‘What can I do for you, Mr …?’

The question of his name hung in the warm air around them, testing and challenging him. Charlotte stood tall as his astonished gaze travelled down her body, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Her skin tingled as those eyes all but caressed every part of her, making her breath catch as if he’d actually touched her.

‘You are Sebastian’s sister?’

Accusation and disbelief laced through every word, but it was lost on her as the grief she’d thought she’d finally begun to get over hit her once more when he said her brother’s name.

The urge to defend herself rose up, but she had no idea from what. ‘Yes,’ she said curtly, hearing the irritation in her own voice. ‘And you are …?’

She asked the question although she knew the answer—and it was not one she wanted to hear. She curled her fingers into her palms, knowing that the one man she’d never wanted to meet—the man she held responsible first for taking Seb away from her and then for his death—now stood impudently in her garden. Looking for her.

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

Visit her at www.rachaelthomas.co.uk

Craving Her

Enemy’s Touch

Rachael Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Ruth and Sarah Jane and our enjoyable writing retreat weekends in our little Welsh cottage.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

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

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE PURR OF a sports car broke the quietness of the afternoon, taking Charlie’s mind hurtling back to the past. To events she’d been hiding from for the last year.

She had grown up in the glamour of the racing world, but her brother’s death had sent her retreating to the country and the sanctuary of her cottage garden. It was a place that was safe, but instinct warned her that this safety was now under threat.

Unable to help herself, she listened to the unmistakable sound of the V8 engine as it slowed in the lane beyond her garden, appreciative of its throaty restraint. All thoughts of planting bulbs for next spring disappeared as memories were unleashed. Images of happier times filled her mind, colliding with those of the moment her world had fallen apart.

Kneeling on the grass in the corner of her garden, she couldn’t see the car on the other side of the hedge, but she knew it was powerful and expensive—and that it had stopped in the lane outside her cottage.

The engine fell silent and only birdsong disturbed the peace of the English countryside. She closed her eyes against the dread which rushed over her. She didn’t need visits from the past, however well meaning. This unexpected visitor had to be her father’s doing; he’d been pushing her to move on for weeks now.

The heavy clunk of the car door shutting was followed by purposeful footsteps on the road. A few seconds later they crunched on the gravel of her pathway and she knew that whoever it was would see her at any second.

‘Scusi.’ The deep male voice startled her more than the Italian he spoke and she jumped up as though she were a child with her hand caught in the sweet jar.

The six foot plus of dark Italian male which stood in her garden robbed her of the ability to think, let alone speak, and all she could do was look at him. Dressed in casual but very much designer jeans which hugged his thighs to perfection, he appeared totally out of place and yet vaguely familiar. Over a dark shirt he wore a leather jacket and was everything she’d expect an Italian man to be. Self-assured and confident, oozing undeniable sex appeal.

His dark collar-length hair was thick and gleamed in the sunshine, his tanned face showed a light growth of stubble, which only enhanced his handsome features. But it was the intense blackness of his eyes as they pierced into her which made breathing almost impossible.

‘I am looking for Charlotte Warrington.’ His accent was heavy and incredibly sexy, as was the way he said her name, caressing it until it sounded like a melody. She fought hard against the urge to allow it to wrap itself around her. She had to. She was out of practice in dealing with such men.

Slowly pulling off her gardening gloves, she became acutely aware she was wearing her oldest jeans and T-shirt and that her hair was scraped back in something which almost resembled a ponytail. Could she get away with not admitting who she was? But the arrogance in those dark eyes as they watched her made her want to shock him.

He was undoubtedly her brother’s business partner, the man who had whisked him deeper into the world of performance cars, so far that he’d almost forgotten his family’s existence. Indignation surfaced rapidly.

‘What can I do for you, Mr...?’ The question of his name hung in the warm air around them, testing and challenging him. She stood tall as his astonished gaze travelled down her body, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Her skin tingled as those eyes all but caressed every part of her, making her breath catch as if he’d actually touched her.

‘You are Sebastian’s sister?’ Accusation and disbelief laced through every word, but it was lost on her as the grief she’d thought she’d finally begun to get over hit her once more as he said her brother’s name.

The urge to defend herself rose up, but she had no idea where it came from. ‘Yes,’ she said curtly, hearing the irritation in her own voice. ‘And you are?’

She asked the question although she knew the answer and it was not one she wanted to hear. She curled her fingers into her palms, knowing that the one man she’d never wanted to meet, the man she held responsible, first for taking Seb away from her, then for his death, stood impudently in her garden. Looking for her.

If that wasn’t bad enough, there had been a spark of attraction in that first second she’d seen him. Already she hated herself for it. How could she feel anything other than contempt for the man who’d deprived her of her brother?

‘Roselli,’ he said and stepped off the path and onto her newly cut lawn, confirming her worst suspicions. He smiled at her as he walked closer, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Alessandro Roselli.’

She glared at him and he stopped a few paces away from her. Had he felt the heat of her anger? She certainly hoped so. He deserved every bit of it and so much more.

‘I have nothing to say to you, Mr Roselli.’ She stood firm, looked him in the eye and tried not to be affected by the way his met and held hers, shamelessly, without any trace of guilt. ‘Now, please leave.’

She walked across the lawn, past him and towards her cottage, sure that he would go, that her cold dismissal would be enough. As she neared him the breeze carried his scent. Pure, unadulterated male. Her head became light, her breath hard to catch. In disgust at the way he distracted her thoughts, she marched off.

‘No.’ That one word, deep and accented, froze her to the spot as if a winter frost had descended, coating everything in white crystals.

A tremor of fear slipped down her spine. Not just fear of the man standing so close to her, but fear of all he represented. Slowly she turned her face to look directly at him. ‘We have nothing to say. I made that clear in my response to your letter after Sebastian’s death.’

Sebastian’s death.

It was hard to say those words aloud. Hard to admit her brother was gone, that she’d never see him again. But, worse, the man responsible had the nerve to ignore her early grief-laden requests and then invade the cottage, her one place of sanctuary.

‘You may not, but I do.’ He stepped closer to her, too close. She held his gaze, noticing the bronze sparks in his eyes and the firm set of his mouth. This was a man who did exactly what he wanted, without regard for anyone else. Even without knowing his reputation she’d be left in no doubt of that as he all but towered over her.

‘I don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say.’ She didn’t even want to talk to him. He had as good as killed her brother. She didn’t want to look at him, to acknowledge him, but something, some undeniable primal instinct, made her and she fought hard to keep the heady mix of anger and grief under control. An emotional meltdown was not something she wanted to display, especially in front of the man she’d steadfastly refused to meet.

‘I’m going to say it anyway.’ His voice lowered, resembling a growl, and she wondered which of them was fighting the hardest to hold onto their composure.

She lifted a brow in haughty question at him and watched his lips press firmly together as he clenched his jaw. Good, she was getting to him. With that satisfaction racing through her, she walked away, desperate for the safety of her cottage. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.

‘I am here because Sebastian asked me to come.’ His words, staccato and deeply accented, made another step impossible.

‘How dare you?’ She whirled round to face him, all thought of restraint abandoned. ‘You are here because of your guilt.’

‘My guilt?’ He stepped towards her, quickly closing that final bit of space between them, his eyes glittering and hard.

Her heart thumped frantically in her chest and her knees weakened, but she couldn’t let him know that. ‘It’s your fault. You are the one responsible for Sebastian’s death.’

Her words hung accusingly between them, and the sun slipped behind a cloud as if sensing trouble. She watched his handsome face turn to stone and even thought she saw the veil of guilt shadow it, but it was brief, swiftly followed by cold anger, making his eyes sharper than flint.

He was so close, so tall, and she wished she was wearing the heels she used to favour before her life had been shaken up into total turmoil. She kept her gaze focused on him, determined to match his aggressive stance.

‘If, as you say, it was my fault I would not have waited a year to come here.’ His voice was cool and level, his eyes, changing to gleaming bronze, fixed her accusingly to the spot.

He took one final step towards her, so close now he could have kissed her. That thought shocked her and she resisted the need to step back away from him, as far as she could. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the guilty one. He was the one who’d intruded on her life.

‘It was your car that crashed, Mr Roselli.’ She forced each word out, his proximity making it almost impossible.

‘Your brother and I designed that car. We built it together.’ His voice, deep and accented, hinted at pain. Or was she just imagining it, reflecting her grief onto him?

‘But it was Sebastian who test drove it.’ She fought the memories he was dragging up. Demons she’d thought she’d finally shut the door on.

He didn’t say anything and she held her ground, looking up into his eyes as they searched her face. Her heart pounded wildly and deep down she knew it wasn’t just the memories of Sebastian. It was as much to do with this man. Instinctively she knew his potent maleness had disturbed the slumbering woman hidden within her—and she hated him for that.

‘It couldn’t have done your company’s reputation any good when an up-and-coming racing driver was killed at the wheel of your prototype.’ She injected a jaunty edge to her words, issuing a challenge. At the same time she wished she could run and hide—from the memories he stirred as much as from the way her body reacted to each glance from his devilishly dark eyes.

He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch at all. He was in complete control as his eyes glittered, sharp sparks like diamonds spiking her soul.

‘It wasn’t good for anyone.’ His voice was icy cold and, despite the warmth of the September sun, she shivered, but still he remained, watching as if he could read every thought that raced through her mind.

She drew in a ragged tear-laden breath and swallowed hard. She couldn’t cry, not now. Not again. She was done with crying. It was time to move on, time to forge a new path through life. She couldn’t go back to what she’d been doing before. Her time in front of the cameras, representing Seb’s team, was over. The memories would be too much, yet this man seemed hell-bent on bringing the past into the present.

‘I think you should leave, Mr Roselli.’ She stepped away from him, out of his shadow and into the sun as it crept out from behind the clouds. ‘Neither is it doing me any good.’

With eyes narrowed by suspicion, he watched her as she took another step back and away from him. ‘I am here because Sebastian asked me to come.’

She shook her head, the emotional meltdown she’d wanted to keep at bay threatening to erupt. ‘I still want you to leave.’

She didn’t care if he remained standing in her precious garden; she just wanted to escape him, escape the aura of a man obviously used to getting all he wanted, no matter what the cost to anyone else.

* * *

Alessandro closed his eyes and sighed as Charlie fled across the garden, heading for the open door of the cottage. Hysteria had not been on his agenda. He didn’t need this now. For a moment he thought about turning and walking away, getting in his car and driving as fast and as far away as he could. He’d kept part of his promise to Sebastian, after all. But had he even achieved that?

‘Maledizione!’ he cursed aloud and strode after her, his legs brushing against the lavender which tumbled from the borders, raising the scent. Just being in the garden, with its proud display of flowers, made him remember the time he’d looked after his sister while she’d recovered from a car accident. It was a memory that wouldn’t help at all right now.

As he neared the open back door he heard Charlie’s frustrated growl. He didn’t knock, didn’t pause. He just walked straight in. He wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily.

This woman had stubbornly refused her brother’s requests to go to Italy and see the car they’d been working on and it had angered him. Then, after the accident, he’d offered his support, but he’d never expected her rejection or her cold and furious denial of his existence.

With her arms locked rigidly tight, she leant on the kitchen table, her head lowered in despair. She spun round to face him. ‘How dare you?’ Hot angry words hurtled across the small space to him, but he stood tall, despite the low beams of the old cottage, and took her anger.

‘I dare because I promised Sebastian that I would.’ He moved nearer to the small table, nearer to her, until only a pulled-out chair, left as if recently vacated, separated them.

‘I’m sure Seb would not have made anyone promise to come and hassle me like this.’ He watched as her full lips clamped shut on further words and he felt the strangest desire to kiss those lips, to taste her rage and frustration, to draw it from her and replace it with hot desire.

‘Hassle?’ He frowned at her and saw her green eyes widen, liking the swirling brown within their depths, reminding him of autumn.

‘Yes, hassle. Hound. Harass. Call it what you like, but he wouldn’t have wanted that.’ Her words were short and sharp. Irritation made her breathing shallow and fast. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly beneath her T-shirt, snagging his attention as lustful hormones raced to places he just didn’t need them going right now.

‘He made me promise to bring you to Italy and involve you in the launch.’ His words were sharper than he’d intended, but then he’d never expected to meet a woman who unleashed such a cocktail of fury and fire within him. She was not at all the sweet and happy girl Sebastian had told him about; she was sexy and passionately angry.

‘He what?’ She pushed the chair under the old pine table and moved closer to him.

Not a good idea, not when his body was reacting so wildly to her sexy curves. He wanted to drag the damn chair back out, keep the barrier between them. Maybe then he’d be able to think about the reason he’d come here instead of this long neglected need for a woman’s body.

‘The car is due to be launched. I want you there.’ The words rushed out and he had the strangest sensation that she was depleting his control, weaving some kind of spell around him.

‘You want me there?’ Her voice raised an octave and he blinked hard, then realised how it had sounded to her. A little pang of conscience surged forwards but he pushed it back. Clearly she held him responsible for that night and he couldn’t sully her memories with the truth. Not after the promise he’d made.

‘Sebastian wanted you there.’ What was the matter with him? This woman wasn’t at all what he’d expected. She didn’t look glamorous and the idea that she had, until recently, been living a luxury lifestyle didn’t seem remotely possible.

Why did this ordinary and plain version of Charlotte Warrington, tousled and unkempt from the garden, arouse him so instantly? He couldn’t process thought coherently, his body flooding with lust, demanding satisfaction.

She shook her head. ‘No, he wouldn’t have asked that. But then he wouldn’t have been killed if it wasn’t for you and your stupid car.’

‘You know he lived for cars, for the thrill of speed. It was what he did, what he was good at.’ Sandro pushed back the image of the accident, shelving the terror of all that had unfolded minutes after the crash, which had proved, within hours, to be fatal. He could relate to her pain, sympathise with her grief, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t allow her to apportion the blame to him.

He’d kept the truth from the world and the gossip-hungry media, out of respect for the young driver who’d quickly become his friend. Now it was time to carry out Seb’s final request. He’d wanted his sister at the launch, wanted her stamp of approval on the car, and that was what Seb would have—whatever it took.

‘It is also how he died.’ Sadness deflated her voice and he saw her shoulders drop. Was she going to cry? Panic sluiced over him.

As she composed herself, his gaze scanned the small country kitchen, typically English and not at all the sort of thing he’d imagined her living in. Herbs hung drying from a beam and various fresh versions adorned the windowsill. Nestled among them, in a small frame, was a photo of Sebastian and Charlie.

He reached for it and saw her gaze dart from him to the photo, but she said nothing as he picked it up and looked at the picture. Instead of being drawn to his friend, he looked at the image of the woman who now stood close to him. A woman he knew through the media but had never met. The same woman who was now having a strange effect on him—or was that just his conscience?

From the photo her eyes shone with happiness, her deliciously full lips spread into a smile. She was leaning against a sports car, her brother, his arms wrapped protectively around her, pulled her close, equally happy.

‘Rome. Two years ago,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper, and he sensed her move closer to him, felt the heat radiating from her body. ‘Before he became embroiled in your project and forgot about us.’

He took a deep breath in, inhaling her scent, something light and floral, like jasmine, mixed with an earthy scent from her time just spent in the garden. Carefully he replaced the photo on the windowsill, ignoring the barb of accusation in her last words. That was not a discussion for now. ‘You are alike.’

‘Were.’

That one word ratcheted up his guilt, the same guilt he’d told himself again and again he shouldn’t carry and, finally, he’d thought he’d convinced himself. He should have known that coming here, facing this woman wouldn’t be easy. That it would only increase the self-apportioned guilt instead of lessen it. The fact that he still kept Seb’s darkest secret from everyone didn’t help.

He looked down at her as she stood at his side and when she looked up, her mossy green eyes so sad, so vulnerable, his chest tightened, almost crushing him with a need to chase away that sadness, to put that happy smile back on her sexy lips once again.

‘It’s what he wanted, Charlotte,’ he said softly, unable to break the eye contact.

‘Charlie. Nobody calls me Charlotte. Except my mother,’ she whispered. The kind of sexy whisper he was used to hearing from a woman after passionate sex. Inside his body, heady desire erupted as he imagined her lying in his bed, whispering with contentment.

‘Charlie,’ he repeated as wild need pumped through his veins. He really should stop his mind wandering to the subject of sex. He was in danger of complicating this mission beyond all proportions. She was the one woman he shouldn’t want, couldn’t desire. ‘Seb did want you there.’

‘I can’t.’ Her voice, still a throaty whisper, tugged at his male desires as they rampaged ever wilder.

‘You can,’ he said and, without thinking, he reached out and stroked the back of his fingers down her face. Her skin was soft and warm. Her breath hitched audibly and her eyes darkened in a message as old as time itself.

Slowly she shook her head in denial, moving her cheek against his fingers, and he clenched his jaw against the sensation, reminding himself he didn’t mix business with pleasure and this had always been about business—and concealing his friend’s downfall.

He thought again of the recent conversation with her father, of the assurances he’d made to him, binding him deeper into the promise Seb had extracted from him as his life had ebbed away.

‘Your father thinks you should.’

It was as if an explosion had happened. As if a firework had gone off between them. She jumped back from him, the chair scratching the tiled floor noisily, her eyes flashing accusation at him.

‘My father?’ Her voice, laden with shock, crashed into his thoughts, bringing his mind well and truly back into focus. ‘You’ve spoken to my father?’

* * *

Charlie was numb with shock. How dare he speak to her father? And why had her father not mentioned it? Why hadn’t he warned her Alessandro Roselli, owner of one of Italy’s biggest car manufacturers, was looking for her, wanting her to do something he knew she couldn’t face yet? She’d only seen her father yesterday. He should have told her.

‘What exactly have you spoken about with my father?’ She kept her words firm, her fingers curled around the back of the chair as if the pine would anchor her, keep her thoughts focused and in control. Just moments ago she’d wondered what his kiss would be like, had revelled in the soft caress of his fingers like a star-struck teenager. What had she been thinking? ‘You had no right.’

‘I contacted him to ask if I could visit, to invite you to be at the launch. Your father knows it is what Seb wanted.’ He folded his arms across his broad chest and leant against a kitchen unit, his eyes never breaking contact with hers.

For the second time that morning her shoulders sagged in defeat. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes briefly. Hopefully, when she opened them he wouldn’t be watching so intently, so knowingly.

But it didn’t make any difference. Those bronze-flecked eyes, which strangely felt so familiar, now bored into her. Right into the very heart of her, as if probing for every secret she’d ever hidden.

She dropped her hands and gripped onto the back of the chair again. ‘You had no right to speak to my father. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what we’ve lost and I’m more than capable of deciding for myself if I want to see you or not or if I want to be involved in the launch.’

‘And do you?’ He raised his brows and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. The same lips she’d just imagined kissing her.

Did she what? Focus, Charlie. Her mind scrabbled to regain rational thought. She didn’t know what she wanted except not to allow this man, this prime specimen of raw maleness, to know how unsure and undecided she was.

‘I certainly didn’t want to see you.’ She raised her chin and injected calm control into her voice. ‘If you recall, I asked you to leave. I don’t want any part of the motor racing world any more.’

‘Is that why you’ve hidden yourself away in the depths of the English countryside?’

The curiosity in his voice was barely disguised and the question came rapidly on the heels of the confusion he’d caused just by being here. She found it difficult to think about such things, but this man’s presence was making it harder still.

‘I withdrew from the frenzy of the media out of respect for my brother. I’m not hiding,’ she said, aware of the curt tone of her voice. ‘I couldn’t continue to be on camera, promoting the team, not after Seb died.’

‘Do you think he’d want you to stay that way?’

As he leant against the kitchen unit, unable to help herself, her gaze flickered to his hips and strong thighs. A sizzle of sexual awareness shimmied over her. Why did she have to find this man, of all men, so undeniably attractive?

‘Meaning?’

‘The cottage is very nice, but a woman like you shouldn’t be ensconced here for ever.’

She looked back into his face, taking in the slant of his nose and the sensual curve of his lips. He looked directly into her eyes, almost knocking the breath from her body with the intensity.

Was he right? Would Seb want her to be involved? Then his last words finally registered in her mind. ‘What do you mean—a woman like me?’

He walked around the table, appearing confined within the small kitchen. A room she’d never thought of as so compact, not until Alessandro Roselli had walked into it. He stopped at the opposite side of the table and she was thankful to have something more substantial between them.

‘You live life in the fast lane—or did.’ His accent had turned into a sexy drawl and his eyes raked over her. Again she was conscious of her casual and slightly grubby clothes.

‘Well, now I don’t and I have no intention of going back to it. Nothing you—or my father—can say will change my mind.’

‘“Look after my little Charlie. She’d like you.”’ He spoke firmly and she knew exactly who he was quoting. Only Seb called her ‘little Charlie’.

He pulled out another chair and sat down. He was taking root, making it very clear he wasn’t leaving any time soon, but his words unsettled her. She could almost hear Seb saying them.

‘I don’t believe you.’ She folded her arms across her chest, trying to deflect his scrutiny, but she remembered the phone calls from Seb. He’d always tried to get her to date again, insisting that not all men were as heartless as her former fiancé. ‘He would never say that.’

Absently, he reached out and pulled last night’s local paper towards him. He looked as if he belonged in her home, in her kitchen. He looked comfortable.

‘It is true, cara.’

‘Charlotte to you.’ Her previous thoughts linked in too easily with his term of endearment and it unnerved her. She wished she’d never invited him to use ‘Charlie’.

‘Charlotte...’ he said, so slowly, so sexily he caressed each syllable. Heat speared through her body. She stood rigid, trying to ignore the heavy pulse of desire scorching through her. What the heck was the matter with her?

Maybe she’d been out of the fast lane, as he’d called it, for too long. Should she believe him, that Seb had wanted her involved? Not that she’d ever admit it to him, but those words could well have been spoken by her brother.

‘What exactly did my father say?’ She had to divert his attention. She couldn’t stand here any longer whilst his gaze ravished her. It was too unnerving.

He looked up at her, the paper forgotten, and the heat level within her rose higher still. She swallowed hard. Her brother had been right. She did like him, but purely on a primal level. It was just lust, nothing more. Something she would get over and she could do without that particular complication at the moment.

‘He said,’ he taunted her, his brows lifting a little too suggestively, ‘that it was time you got back in the driving seat.’

His words hung heavy in the air. Words which were true. Hadn’t her father said exactly that to her only a few weeks ago?

‘I wasn’t aware there was more to you than the glamorous façade you’ve always displayed on camera—that you’d been taught to drive high-powered cars.’ He watched her intently and she had the distinct impression he was trying to irritate her, push her into accepting that her brother had wanted her to be involved.

She thought of her job promoting Seb’s team, following them to every racetrack in the world and being interviewed by the press. It was a jet set lifestyle, one she’d enjoyed and had been good at. She’d got there by working her way up from the very bottom and had learnt all there was to know about cars and driving. Despite the glamorous image she portrayed to the world whilst on camera, she’d always felt safer, less exposed when she was doing what she really loved. Working on the cars and driving them—something her mother had been set against.

Was it time to stop hiding away and be part of that life again? She pondered the question, aware of his gaze on her, watching and taking in every move.

‘You’d be surprised,’ she flirted, shocking herself by doing so. What was she doing? She never flirted. It only ever caused trouble. She knew that better than most and had seen it many times in her line of work. Light-hearted flirting always led to more. Her mother had fallen victim to it, leaving her and Seb as teenagers whilst she pursued her latest love interest.

He raised a brow, his eyes sparking with sexy mischief, doing untold things to her pulse rate. It had to stop. She couldn’t stand here any longer beneath his scrutiny. She’d melt.

‘I hope I get to find out.’ His voice was almost a drawl, making her stomach clench.

‘Coffee?’ Diversion tactics were certainly required and coffee was the first thing to come to her mind.

* * *

‘Sì, grazie.’ The effect she was having made him slip automatically into Italian. Coffee was the last thing he wanted. Even a good cup of espresso wouldn’t distract him from the fire in his body.

She looked at him, her tongue sliding unconsciously over her lips, and he almost groaned with the effort of staying seated at the table when all he could do was watch her. Desiring a woman dressed in elegant evening wear was normal, but the way he wanted this casual and rumpled version of Charlie was totally new and unexpected. It was also extremely inconvenient.

He watched as she moved around the kitchen, taking in her curves as she turned her back to him to prepare the coffee. He liked the way her jeans clung to her thighs, accentuating the shape of her bottom. Her scruffy T-shirt couldn’t quite hide the indent of her waist, just as it hadn’t hidden the swell of her breasts from his hungry eyes moments ago.

She turned and passed over a mug of instant coffee, then sat at the table. Inwardly he grimaced. Not what he was used to, but if it meant he had time to convince her to at least be present at the launch then he would have to put up with it.

He took a sip, watching as she blew gently on hers, almost mesmerised by her lips. He had to rein in his libido. She was an attractive woman and in any other circumstances he would have wanted more—much more, at least long enough for the fire of lust to burn lower. But he had to remember she was Sebastian’s sister and, out of respect for his friend’s memory, she was off limits. He shouldn’t have allowed his attraction to show, shouldn’t have lit the fuse of attraction.

‘Back to business,’ he said tersely and put down his mug.

‘I wasn’t aware it was business,’ she said lightly. A little too lightly, giving away that she was battling with emotions, that she was stalling him. ‘I thought this was all about salving your conscience, freeing you of guilt.’

He did feel guilt over Seb’s death—who wouldn’t in the circumstances?—but it wasn’t what drove him, what had made him come here. He’d come because of the promise he’d made. ‘It is business, Charlotte. I want you to be at the launch of the car. Seb always wanted you there. He knew how good you were with the media.’

‘He never said anything to me about being at the launch.’ She put her mug down, pushing it away slightly, as if she too had no intention of drinking it.

He was about to say how much Seb had missed her. How he’d looked forward to her going to Italy. Anything to persuade her, when her next words jolted him with the raw pain entwined in them.

‘But I suppose he didn’t know he was going to die.’

He nodded, fighting his conscience and sensing she was coming to the right decision by herself. He just needed to give her a little more time. ‘Sadly, that is true.’

‘When is the launch?’

Her eyes, slightly misted with held-back tears, met his. Despite his earlier thoughts, he did feel guilt. Guilt for her sadness, and worse. He felt compelled to make it right, to bring happiness back to her life. After all, she wouldn’t be hiding away from the world, the racing world in particular, if she wasn’t unhappy.

‘Friday.’

‘But that’s only two days away! Thanks for the advance warning.’ Her tone was sharp and he saw a spark of determination in her eyes that he recognised and related to.

‘Bene, you will be there?’

‘Yes, I will,’ she said as she pushed back her chair and stood up. Dismissing him, he realised. ‘But on my terms.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT TERMS?’ ALESSANDRO asked suspiciously, looking up at her from where he’d remained sitting at the table.

Charlie watched his jaw clench and his eyes narrow slightly. He hadn’t expected that. It annoyed her that he’d thought he could just turn up at the last moment and ask her to go to the launch of the car, as if she was merely an afterthought. Until now she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the car, but she’d started to realise that by being involved she might be able to find answers to the questions she still had about the accident.

She mulled the idea over, trying to ignore his scrutiny. If—and that was a big if at the moment—she did go, she’d want much more than just being a last-minute guest. One invited only because Alessandro’s conscience had been nudged. She’d want to know all there was to know about the car.

She regretted deeply that she hadn’t seen Seb in the months before the accident. If she had gone to Italy to see the car as it had turned from dream into reality, would she have been able to prevent the fateful night of the accident?

The launch could be the exact catalyst she needed to regain control of her life. It was time to put the past to rest, but she could only do that if she had answers. This could be the only opportunity she’d get to find out what had really happened to her brother. He had been, after all, a professional driver, trained to the highest standard, and for Charlie his accident was shrouded in questions.

‘Before we discuss my terms, I need to know what happened that night.’ She folded her arms in a subconscious gesture of self-protection and leant against the kitchen cupboards, watching intently for his reaction.

She’d expected guilt to cloud his face, to darken the handsome features, but his steady gaze met hers and a flicker of doubt entered her mind. She’d always held him responsible, blamed him, but right now that notion was as unstable as a newborn foal.

‘What do you want to know?’ His calm voice conflicted with her pounding heart. The questions she’d wanted answers to since the night of the accident clamoured in her mind. The answers now tantalisingly close after having eluded her for so long.

‘Why was he even in the car? It wasn’t fit to be driven—at least that’s what I heard.’ She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath, desperately trying to appear in control. She was far from that, and deep down she knew it wasn’t just because she had to face the man she blamed. It was the man himself.

Alessandro Roselli’s powerful aura of domination and control filled the kitchen, but she couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated. She met it head-on, with determination and courage. She would find out the truth, one way or another. She was convinced it hadn’t yet been revealed and she wanted to put that right.

He sat back in his seat, studying her, and she had the distinct impression he was stalling her in an attempt to divert her attention. It was almost working. She’d never been under such a hot spotlight before. Think of Seb, she reminded herself, not wanting to waste this opportunity.

‘Do you always believe gossip?’ He folded his arms, looking more relaxed than he had a right to. Far too self-assured.

She frowned, irritation at his attitude growing. ‘No, of course I don’t.’

‘So if I tell you there was nothing wrong with the car, would you believe me?’ He unfolded his arms and turned in his seat, stretching his long legs out, one arm leaning casually on the table. But he was far from casual. His body might be relaxed but, looking into those dark eyes, she knew he was all alertness. Like a hunting cat, lulling its quarry into a false sense of security. But not this mouse. No, she was on her guard.

Forcefully, she shook her head. ‘The only thing that will convince me of that is to see the report of the accident.’

He stood up slowly, his height almost intimidating, walked towards the window and looked out across her garden and the countryside beyond. ‘Would that really help? Every last detail is in it.’

‘Yes,’ she said and moved towards him, drawn by an inexplicable need to see his face, see the emotion in it. ‘I want every last detail.’

‘Why do you think your father hasn’t shown you the report?’ His broad shoulders became a barrier, as if he was hiding something, concealing something he didn’t want her to know, like his guilt. ‘What are you hoping to find?’

‘The truth.’ Anger surged through her again as she imagined him talking to her father, conspiring to hide all the details. She still couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t tell her everything. She’d always suspected he was covering something up. Did he have loyalties to this man which exceeded those to his daughter—or even his son’s memory?

He turned to face her, his expression hard, making the angles of his face more pronounced. ‘Sometimes not knowing the truth is best.’

‘What?’ She pressed her fingertips to her temples, hardly able to believe what he was saying. Her father and this man were keeping things from her. He might as well have told her exactly that. ‘What are you talking about?’

* * *

Alessandro heard the exasperation in her voice and gritted his teeth against the urge to tell her what she wanted to know. A truth that would tarnish all the happiness she’d ever shared with her brother and a truth her father had expressly asked him to conceal from her. That had been the one and only condition her father had made when he’d contacted him. He intended to honour that—and the promise he’d made to Seb.

She stood before him, not able to look at him as she pressed long fingers against her temples, her head shaking in denial. The rise and fall of her shoulders as her breath came hard and fast gave away the struggle she was having. Instinctively, he took hold of her arms and she looked back up at him, the beauty of her green eyes almost swaying him from his purpose. ‘Your brother was in a high speed accident. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘I know,’ she whispered, thankfully a little more calmly, and looked up into his face, her eyes searching his, looking for answers he couldn’t give. ‘But I need to know what happened and why.’

‘It is better to remember him well and happy, believe me, Charlotte. It is for the best.’ Her ragged sigh deflated all the anger from her body and he felt the resignation slip through her, defusing the fight which had raged moments ago.

‘I know, but so many questions need answering.’ She closed her eyes and he watched the thick dark lashes splay out over her pale skin. The urge to kiss her rushed at him, almost knocking the breath from his body.

When he’d arrived he’d never expected to find a woman he desired so fiercely. Only once before had such a need raged in him and he’d acted impulsively on it, marrying quickly, only to discover his wife had had ulterior motives all along. Under no circumstances would he put himself in such a position again.

The attraction which had sprung between him and Charlie the second their eyes had met complicated things, made his promise even harder to keep. He let her go and stepped back away from her, away from the temptation, curling his fingers into tight fists. The whole situation was testing far more than his ability to keep his promise.

She looked up at him, her chin lifting in determination. ‘I will find out, Mr Roselli. Your and my father’s insistence to keep things from me only makes it more important to do so.’

‘Some things are best left alone. For Seb’s sake, accept what you know and do as your father wants.’ He moved away from her, back to the chair he’d sat in earlier—anything to put distance between them—but still the heady need which rushed through him persisted.

‘For Seb’s sake?’ Her question jolted him and he realised how close he’d come to pointing her in the direction of the cause of the accident.

‘Seb asked for you to be at the launch. It was one of the last things he said to me.’ There was no way he was going to tell her Seb’s actual last words and he guarded himself against letting the truth inadvertently slip. He held her partly accountable for Seb’s problems. She’d never been to see him in Italy, had never shown any interest, but that wasn’t something he was prepared to discuss now. All he wanted was for her to agree to be at the launch.

‘He really said that?’ Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible, but it did untold things to the pulse of desire he was fighting hard to suppress.

‘He wanted you there.’ He watched the indecision slide over her face and waited. She was coming to the right decision slowly. All he had to do was wait.

* * *

Charlie couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Yes, she knew Seb’s accident would have caused horrible injuries, but she couldn’t rid herself of the notion there was something else. Something her father wanted to keep from her as much as Alessandro did. Did that mean he was to blame?

She changed tactics and adopted an attitude of acceptance, realising it was possibly the only way to find out. Slowly, she walked back to the table and stood looking down at him where he calmly sat, watching her.

‘If I come to the launch I want to know all about the car first. I want to see everything you and Seb worked on. I want to live it, to breathe it.’ A hint of the passion she’d always felt for her job and the world of racing started to fizz in her veins after being unmoved for many months, infusing her with excitement that she hadn’t felt for a long time.

‘There isn’t much time for that.’ He sat back in the chair and looked up at her, observing every move she made until she wondered if he could read all her thoughts.

‘If I’m going to be at the launch I want to be able to talk about the car, to bring it to life for everyone else. I need to know all there is to know.’

It was more than that, she admitted to herself. It was much more than just promoting the car. It was seeing what Seb had seen, feeling the excitement he’d felt as he’d driven it for the first time. Her thoughts halted as if they’d slammed into a brick wall.

Was she ready to know all the facts? She looked at the man she’d blamed for her brother’s death. As far as she was concerned, he’d allowed Seb to drive a faulty car, despite the fact that her father had told her all the reports stated driver error. She’d blamed Alessandro and now he was here, offering her the opportunity to find out the truth for herself. Would he really do that if he had something to hide?

‘I want to see all the files and every drawing Seb made.’ She kept her voice firm, trying to hide the waver of confidence growing within her.

Alessandro got up and made his way around the table, coming closer to her, his face stern with contemplation. ‘I can’t allow it. There isn’t enough time.’

Not allow it. Who did he think he was?

‘If you knew anything about me, Mr Roselli, you’d know that I need to be involved—if I’m to do my job right, that is. You do want me to promote this car, put my seal of approval on it, do you not?’

She held his gaze, looked directly into his eyes. She would not be intimidated by him. He might be used to getting his way in business, but so was she. He pressed his lips together in thought, the movement drawing her attention briefly, but quickly she regained her focus, refusing to allow the pull of attraction to him to cloud her mind. Confirming her suspicions of his blame for the accident would surely curb any misguided attraction she was experiencing.

‘It’s more than that, isn’t it, Charlotte?’ The firmness of his tone dissipated as he said each word until he caressed her name, sending a hot fizzing sensation racing over her. It was worse than when he’d called her Charlie.

It was soft yet insanely hot, but she couldn’t pay heed to that now. ‘I need to know something about the car if I am to promote and endorse it. You understand that, surely.’

He took a deep breath in and she watched his broad chest expand, waiting expectantly, holding her own breath.

‘I do but, given the circumstances, is it really wise?’ He looked up at her and she tasted defeat as his dark eyes hardened in determination. But defeat wasn’t on her agenda. She’d do this her way or not at all. How could he expect anything less when he’d been the one who’d let Seb get in the car, allowed him to drive it that night?

This was the only option. Her only chance to find out what had truly happened. At least then she might be able to move on from it. ‘Don’t worry—I won’t dissolve into a heap of female hysteria again.’

‘Maybe you should,’ he said and stepped closer to her—too close—but she wouldn’t move away. He must never know of the heat he fired within her, just from one look. Thankfully, he’d stopped his flirting of moments ago and had become more professional and she had to ensure it would stay that way.

‘No, it is past time for that. I intend to do what my father advised last week.’

‘And that is?’

‘To get back in the driving seat.’ She wouldn’t tell him just yet that was quite literally what she intended to do.

He raised his hand to his chin, his thumb and finger rasping over the hint of dark stubble, the sound tying her stomach in knots. She couldn’t listen to her body now, to the way it reacted just to being close to him, not that she really understood what it was asking of her. Heightened desire and intense awareness of a man was something she’d never experienced before.

Her previous relationships had been short-lived and unsuccessful. Back then, the breakdown of her parents’ marriage had still been too fresh in her mind. Those relationships had also been a long time ago. The mess her parents had made of their marriage had ensured that lifelong commitment wasn’t something she considered possible. There was no way she was going to expose herself to more hurt and humiliation.

‘I’m not convinced it is for the best, but if you are sure then so be it.’ He spoke slowly, his accent heavy, as he continued to watch her closely.

‘I am,’ she said quickly before he had a chance to change his mind. Before she too changed her mind.

‘Then we have a deal.’ He reached out his hand, the same one that had been thoughtfully touching his face, and she took it quickly, anxious to seal the deal.

‘We have a deal.’ Her words came out in a rush as a jolt shot up her arm, setting off sparks all over her body as if she’d become a firework. Her breathing almost stopped as his eyes locked with hers, his fingers clasped tightly around her hand, the warmth of his scorching hers.

‘Bene,’ he said firmly, so firmly it was obvious he didn’t feel any of the drama from touching her and she’d do well to remember that the next time he smiled at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was flirting, just like all the men she’d known, including her father. And it was flirting which had destroyed her parents’ marriage, driving her mother into another man’s arms, tearing the family apart.

She closed the door on those thoughts. Now was not the time to become embroiled in them, not when she had the perfect opportunity to find out the truth of Seb’s last hours.

* * *

Alessandro held onto her hand and looked into her eyes. Did she feel it too? Was the same sizzle of passion creating havoc in her body? She regarded him with a steady gaze, her full lips pressed into a firm line. Evidently not. Her beautiful face was a mask of stone; not a trace of emotion there.

He should be pleased, grateful that the deal they’d just made wasn’t going to be overcomplicated by sex. His friendship with Seb and the promise he’d made when he was in hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines, dictated this arrangement should be business only. At least with her cool demeanour it would be exactly that.

‘If it becomes too painful, too much, you must tell me.’ She frowned at him and pulled her hand free of his, ceasing the torment just that innocent touch had created within him.

‘It won’t.’ Those two words were so full of strength he didn’t doubt it for one moment.

‘You are very sure of that, considering you told me to leave only a short while ago.’ Was he trying to reassure himself or her?

‘You caught me off guard.’ She reached past him and gathered up their discarded coffee mugs and as she turned to wash them he couldn’t help but take another look at her curves, admire the womanly softness of them.

Enough.

Business. That was all it was—business. He also sensed that this was a woman who wouldn’t accept a no-strings-attached affair. He had, after all, become adept at avoiding such women since extricating himself from a marriage which should never have happened.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake off the pulse of passion. ‘Then we shall travel to Milan today.’

‘We?’ Her eyes flew wide with shock.

‘I have much to do ahead of the launch and if you seriously want to learn more about the car it would be a good idea, no?’ He wondered at the wisdom of travelling with her when he found it hard to focus on much other than her glorious body.

‘I’m not packed or anything. I’ll travel out later. You’d better get back to your family.’

‘That will not be necessary.’ His voice was firm, perhaps a little too firm if the surprise on her face was anything to go by. ‘There isn’t anyone awaiting my arrival.’ Those days were over and if he had any sense it would stay that way.

He didn’t miss her raised brows, or the look of suppressed curiosity which crept into her eyes, and wanted to deflect any questions. ‘There are also plans for the weekend, with customers going to the test track to drive the demonstration car. Seb had been really excited about that, told me you’d be in your element there.’

‘But still,’ she said, her soft voice torturing his unexpected need for her, ‘I can make my own way there.’

Was she deliberately being difficult, provoking him to the point of frustration? ‘I have a plane waiting. We can be there before nightfall.’

She looked at him, doubt clouding her eyes, and a vice-like grip clutched at his chest. Seb had always spoken very protectively of his sister—and now he knew why. She was woman enough to bring out the protective streak in any man. For years he’d avoided any such sentiments, having had them destroyed by divorce. He was far from the right man to protect her and he wished he’d never made Seb any promises.

He couldn’t do this, couldn’t risk it. She was sweet temptation even though he knew she was off limits. He couldn’t do anything against Seb’s memory. This was Seb’s sister, the woman his friend had always wanted to protect. If he allowed this carnal need to take over, he would be failing in his promise to Seb. He wouldn’t be protecting her at all.

* * *

‘So what are you going to do while I pack?’ Charlie asked tersely, annoyed that she hadn’t even left her home yet and he was already making decisions for her. She tried for flippancy. ‘Drink more coffee?’

‘No,’ he said, sounding very Italian, even with just that one word. ‘I will wait here.’

He was infuriating and she recalled what Seb had said about him once when they’d talked on the phone about his new venture. A man who knows what he wants and allows nothing to get in his way.

Alessandro did want her at the launch. That much was clear. But why? Was she disrupting his plans by dictating her own terms? She certainly hoped so. It was probably about time he learnt he couldn’t have it all.

‘Very well. I will be as quick as I can.’ She made to move past him and he stepped back away from her, giving her room. So much room that anyone would think he didn’t want her near him, but the heavy hint of desire in his eyes gave an entirely different message.

‘I’m not going anywhere, cara.’ The silky softness of his voice stirred the throb of desire which still lingered inside her body. She clutched the door frame of the kitchen as if it was the only thing that would keep her upright.

‘I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man like you.’ Before he even had time to respond, she fled, dashing up the stairs to her room, enjoying the rush of anticipation that ran through her. She paused briefly. She’d always been excited by the prospect of jetting off when she’d worked for Seb’s team, but never had such a handsome man been part of the reason.

He’s not, she scolded herself and quickly changed, before applying light make-up. Then, with practised speed and efficiency, she packed a small bag, just enough for a few days in Italy. She’d shop for anything else she needed once there.

His expression of shock made her smile as she returned to the kitchen. He hadn’t expected that. At least it proved he didn’t know as much about her as he claimed.

‘Have you your passport?’ His accent was heavy as he moved towards her to take her bag.

His fingers grazed hers as she gave him the bag and heat scorched her skin. She looked up at him and a flush crept over her face. In his eyes she thought she saw desire, the same desire she was sure must be shining from hers. Would he see it? Recognise it?

She hoped not. From the first second her eyes had met his, the pull of attraction had been strong. With each passing minute it had strengthened, but she could not and would not act on it. To do so would be disloyal to Seb. Whatever had happened the night of the accident, this was Seb’s business partner.

She hesitated. Could she do this? Should she be considering going anywhere with this man? The desire he lit within her contrasted starkly with the anger she felt at her brother’s death. As far as she was concerned, he was the reason her brother had crashed.

She’d do well to remember that.

* * *

This was going to be harder than he’d imagined. Sandro took the case from Charlie, taking in her change of clothes. Heels, tight jeans of soft beige with a white blouse and dark brown jacket. Chic. Elegant. Not at all like the dishevelled gardener he’d met on arrival. She was now very much the woman he’d seen on television promoting Seb’s team. The woman he’d admired more and more as Seb had enthused about her.

Don’t go there. He pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind, focusing instead on maintaining a businesslike manner. One that would keep her where she needed to be in his mind.

He watched as she opened a drawer and pulled out her passport.

‘I should really let my neighbour know I’m going away.’

He frowned, unsure where that comment was going. ‘Why is this?’

‘She’ll keep an eye on the place, water the garden.’ Absently she picked up her phone and began tapping quickly onto the screen. ‘At least for a few days.’

Garden, he pondered. That didn’t fit with the glamorous image she’d built up as she’d promoted the team. Had this cottage, this garden been her escape from the media frenzy that had followed? He knew well about the need to escape. It had been something he’d had to do twice in his life now.

‘You gave up your career to become a gardener?’

She turned to face him, putting her phone in her handbag at the same time. ‘Why is that so shocking?’

‘Seb never mentioned you were a gardener.’

‘It is something I’ve always enjoyed, but I didn’t feel the need to change my life before Seb’s accident.’ She looked up at him, her expression serious and focused. ‘Seb’s death changed all that. That’s why I want to know all he did that day. I have to understand why it happened.’

Each word echoed with her accusation, leaving him in no doubt she blamed him. The only other person who knew the truth was her father—and he’d insisted that she must never know all the details of Seb’s accident.

Thoughts of Seb grounded him and the urge to tell her everything, just to clear his name of blame in her eyes, was overwhelming. But he wasn’t doing this for himself; he was doing it for Seb. He would do well to remember that when he next thought of succumbing to the temptation of Charlie. She was out of his reach. Put there by his sense of honour and his promise to Seb and subsequently her father. Out of his reach was where she had to stay.

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