Interview with a Playboy (13 page)

Frantically she tried to bury the memory—it didn’t help.

Marco hung up and put his phone back on the table. ‘Unfortunately I’m going to have to call by the office before we head back to the yacht. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, of course not.’ The thought of going back to the yacht with him made her very apprehensive anyway. It was all very well keeping up a pretence here, while they were surrounded by people, but once they were alone…how would she deal with her feelings for him then?

‘You know, I do believe there is a storm coming in,’ he observed suddenly as he summoned the waiter to ask for the bill.

Isobel hadn’t even noticed the weather until he’d pointed it out, but now that she looked around she saw dark clouds were sweeping in from the direction of the sea.

They left the table, and Marco reached to take hold of her arm as they walked through the square and then turned up a narrow side street.

Isobel told herself she should pull away from him, but somehow she couldn’t make herself. There was something enchanting about strolling along beside him through the atmospheric streets. It was a little like stepping back in time, the houses were so old and picturesque, and some had windowsills packed with bright flowerboxes or canaries in cages.

‘Is this your first time in Nice?’ Marco asked as he noticed how she was taking in the surroundings.

‘Yes…I’ve never been to the South of France before.’

‘Really? Well, if we get some time I’ll have to show you around.’

‘That would be fun…’ She glanced up at him, not sure if that was a serious offer or not. ‘Although I’m not supposed to be on holiday.’

‘Me neither.’ He smiled. ‘But we could play hooky a little.’

The teasing suggestion sounded good, but before she got a chance to answer it started to rain. Huge fat drops splattered down—slowly at first.

‘Come on—we’d better hurry.’ Marco’s hand tightened on her arm as he picked up the pace.

The afternoon was growing strangely dark, and a low growl of thunder tore through the air, reverberating through the narrow streets.

People were scattering for cover now, and the rain suddenly started to lash with torrential force—as if someone was tipping buckets down from the heavens.

One moment Isobel was a little wet, and the next she was soaked.

Marco pulled her into the shelter of the first doorway. There wasn’t much room, and they huddled closely under the small awning, watching the rain bounce and people running.

‘Wow! What’s happened to the day?’ she laughed.

‘When it rains here it really rains—that’s why the countryside is so lush and green.’ Marco turned his attention from the weather to her, his dark eyes moving over her in concern. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’

He brushed a wet strand of hair back from her face. ‘You’re completely soaked.’

‘So are you.’ For a moment all she could do was look up at him. And suddenly the rain was forgotten as she noticed how his gaze had moved to her lips.

She wanted him to kiss her, she realised…wanted it so much…

As he lowered his head and his mouth captured hers she surrendered immediately to the warmth of his lips, kissing him back hungrily.

Marco released her after a few moments. ‘It’s a long time since I kissed someone in a shop doorway,’ he said with a grin.

‘Yes, me too. I think I was sixteen.’

‘I think I would have liked to know you at sixteen,’ he said teasingly. ‘However, I think the age difference might have been a bit much back then.’

For some reason Isobel wished she’d known him at sixteen too…and that she had been a different sixteen-year-old—one who could have been carefree…one who could have kissed him and had time to while away an afternoon without care instead of rushing to get home, frightened by what she might find…

He looked past her. ‘The rain seems to be abating. Shall we make a dash for my office? It’s not far from here.’

She nodded. ‘I can’t get much wetter anyway.’

As they stepped back out into the street Isobel tried not to analyse what was happening between them. It felt too real… too good. She’d spent her life trying to be sensible and careful,
trying to avoid heartbreak, and where had it got her? she asked herself fiercely.

Marco cut across to another road.

They were at the back of a large building now, which had electric gates. Marco tapped in a security code on the brass box on the post, and the gates swung open into lush gardens.

‘Welcome to the Lombardi headquarters.’

The old mansion house was painted yellow, its white shutters thrown open to the day.

‘I didn’t expect an office to be quite this beautiful,’ Isobel said in surprise.

‘It was my mother’s home when she was a child. It dates from the early nineteenth century.’

‘What a shame to have turned it into offices.’

‘I know, but it’s conveniently located, and as I’m usually short of time, that’s what counts these days.’

Marco led her into a grand entrance hall with a sweeping staircase. At one side there were doors leading through to the offices. The building had obviously been very sympathetically converted, so as not to take away from the natural beauty of the place, and from the glimpse Isobel had the results seemed to have led to a very pleasant working environment.

A secretary came hurrying out with a pile of post in her arms and spoke to Marco in French. Isobel wondered if she was the one who had been sent out to buy her dress. She was blonde and probably about eighteen or nineteen, wearing a black T-shirt and mini skirt with ankle boots.

She was very attractive, and Isobel couldn’t help noticing how she smiled at Marco before she handed him the post and headed back to her office. Probably half his workforce was in love with him, Isobel thought idly. Even with his dark hair wet and slicked back from his face he looked too damn handsome.

‘Right, Isobel, we may as well go and try to dry off and
have some coffee upstairs,’ Marco said as he led the way towards a lift. ‘I’ll phone the chauffeur to come pick us up.’

Isobel thought that when they stepped from the elevator upstairs they were just going to be in another office, but when the doors slid back on the top floor she found herself in a very elegant apartment, with tiled black and white floors.

‘This is lovely,’ she murmured as Marco showed her through to the drawing room.

‘Yes, I had the interior decoration done by someone who is an expert on the period. They’ve restored it almost exactly as it would have looked when it was first built.’

‘It’s very stylish.’ She ran her hand over a piece of antique French furniture that looked as if it was worth a small fortune, then moved to the doors that led to the balcony. On a good day the view over the Mediterranean was probably spectacular, but today the sea was almost obliterated by dark clouds and lashing rain.

As Isobel looked out a vivid gash of lightning lit the sky.

‘This storm doesn’t seem to be going away,’ she murmured. ‘I’m almost glad we’re not back on the yacht.’

‘You would be perfectly safe out there. In fact it’s very exhilarating to be out at sea in an electrical storm.’ Marco had been flicking through his post, but as he glanced up the outline of her body distracted him. The damp dress was clinging very provocatively to her curves, highlighting just how fabulous her figure really was.

And as she turned to look at him he realised he wanted her right here…
right now
.

‘But we don’t need to go back to the yacht tonight. We can just stay here,’ he told her huskily.

Isobel knew exactly what he was saying to her. There was no mistaking his tone, or the sudden predatory gleam in the darkness of his gaze as he looked at her.

The really scary thing was that she felt an answering
surge of need straight away, and she didn’t want to fight it any more.

‘That sounds…like a plan,’ she murmured, her heart suddenly starting to thunder against her chest as he moved closer.

Her eyes were wide and jewel-bright as she looked up at him. How had he ever thought for one moment that she was plain? Marco wondered. How had he not noticed how lovely her bone structure was, how soft and inviting her lips were?

And as for her body… His eyes raked down over the firm thrust of her breasts against the silk fabric. Just looking at her made him grow hard with desire.

‘You know, you looked great in this outfit over lunch,
cara
…’ he murmured. ‘But I have to say I like the wet look even better.’ As he spoke he smoothed the straps of her dress down and bent to kiss her shoulder. At the same time he ran his fingertips over the wet silk, caressing the hard thrust of her nipples. ‘In fact I think you should dress like this all the time.’

Isobel discovered she was so turned on she couldn’t find her breath to answer him.

‘I like being able to see the gorgeous thrust of your nipples…the pert shape of your
derrière
.’

‘Marco!’ She blushed fiercely, and he laughed as he gently tugged the silky material down a little further and kissed the exposed creamy curve of her breast.

‘Have I told you how much I like that librarian-type streak you have?’ he asked throatily.

‘You mean…used to have…’ she murmured unsteadily, and then gasped with pleasure as his head moved lower and his mouth found her nipple, the warmth of his tongue licking over her, tormenting her with wild pleasure.

There was a loud roar of thunder outside, and it seemed to echo the feelings that were blazing through her entire body.

She moaned softly, desire eating her away, and then his lips
were on hers, silencing her, dominating her senses, until she felt she would go out of her mind if she didn’t get closer.

‘I want you right now, Izzy,’ he breathed. ‘I want to possess your body over and over again…until I’m completely sated.’

The words were a command, and they made her temperature soar. She wanted him right now as well. Her body was demanding fulfilment with an urgency that was taking her over, leaving no room for embarrassment or shame or any kind of rational thought.

He kissed her with a fire that seemed to sizzle through her entire body, and then he lifted her up to place her onto the table, sweeping the letters and packages there onto the floor with complete impatience.

He pushed up her dress, his fingers stroking up along the naked length of her thighs, and then roughly pulled at her panties, tearing the flimsy silk away from her.

She pressed herself closer, her legs wrapped around him. Then shuddered with pleasure as she felt the hardness of his body against the warm, sweet sensitive core of her.

‘Where has my shy, sweet librarian-type gone now?’ he teased. ‘Come—let me hear how much you want me.’

‘Don’t torment me, Marco…’ she replied, running her hands up over his shirt, trying to unbutton it and failing miserably because she was so impatient for him. ‘You know I want you.’

He reached and unzipped her dress. It fell down, leaving her completely naked from the waist up. ‘But I find I
want
to torment you,
cara
,’ he murmured. ‘I want to hear how much you want me.’

He said something in Italian…something that sounded hot and steamy and made her senses pound. Then his lips moved to nuzzle against her breast.

‘I ache for you…’ She closed her eyes on a wave of ecstasy.

‘And I thought you just wanted to forget all of this and
be practical…’ He looked up at her and watched how she blushed.

‘I do… I mean, I did… But not now…’

He laughed.

‘Marco, I…need you…right now…please!’ Her eyes opened and met with his and he smiled. He knew he could make her beg for him…knew that all her sensible words over lunch meant nothing, that this chemistry between them was a long way from being over.

‘Patience…
cara
.’ He reached for some condoms that he had placed in his jacket pocket earlier. ‘I need to put some protection on…’

‘I don’t want to be patient!’ She sat further up. Her hair had started to dry and it looked glossy and gypsy-like, and her eyes were wide with need as they met with his.

He had never seen her look more beautiful than she did in that moment, and he felt his stomach clenching as he fought to keep control.

She slid slightly back and then boldly brought her hand down to stroke him. She wanted to be in control for a little while, she thought fiercely, and she wanted him now.

She saw the flare of heat in the darkness of his eyes, and then he kissed her lips hungrily and suddenly other forces took over. It was as if a wildfire had swiftly broken through the flimsy barriers they had tried to set up, and now it raged out of control, consuming them both totally. Neither of them was in control any more. Neither of them could think clearly any more. All they could do was fiercely try to get closer to each other, to devour each other, to try somehow to quench the flames burning so urgently inside them.

Contraception was completely forgotten. And when release finally gripped Isobel it was so pleasurable that she found herself almost dizzy with the wild sensations.

At that point it took every ounce of Marco’s restraint to
try and pull back. They clung to each other breathlessly, and it took a while for any reality to return.

Her head was pressed close against Marco’s chest and his arms were tightly around her. She could hear the heavy beat of his heart and it seemed to echo her own—as if their bodies were still in unison for those seconds. A clock chimed somewhere, the melodic silvery tones resounding through the emptiness of the apartment and merging with the heaviness of their breathing.

‘What just happened?’ She was the first to speak, her voice shaky with incredulity, and he found himself laughing, his hand moving to stroke tenderly over her dark silky hair.

‘I think the South of France was just rocked by a major earthquake.’

She smiled sleepily; she didn’t understand why she was behaving so wildly, so rashly. All she knew was that she liked being held like this and she didn’t want to move away from him—because when she did she knew that she would start to question herself, and she didn’t want to think that deeply right now. ‘Well, I think we just about survived.’