An Invitation to Sin
Autor
Sarah Morgan
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17,1K
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9
Chapter One
‘ZACH? WHERE THE hell are you? You’d better not bail on me because I don’t think I can do this without you. Any moment now I’m going to give in and eat carbs and that is going to be the end of this dress. When you get this message, call me.’ The phone almost slipped from her sweaty palm and Taylor gripped it tightly. It was just a wedding. Just a bunch of people she didn’t care about and who certainly didn’t care about her. It shouldn’t be enough to put her in this much of a state. She was only here because the producer of her latest film had insisted on it.
She tried to take a deep breath but the dress wouldn’t allow her chest to expand. The designer had sewn her into it and then told her to send a text when she needed a bathroom break.
The Sicilian heat scalded her bare back and Taylor rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the situation. It was too hot to be sewn into anything and she’d kill before she allowed someone in the bathroom with her, which basically meant she couldn’t eat or drink. Not that she ate much anyway. The discipline instilled by her mother at a young age had never left her. She was used to feeling hungry but lately the cravings had got worse and she knew it made her irritable. She was likely to snap someone’s head off and if that happened she was going to make sure the head belonged to the member of the Corretti family responsible for her current discomfort.
She’d wondered if he’d had done it on purpose. This film was his baby. He’d probably briefed the designer to make sure no man could remove her dress and ruin her big comeback.
Zach was going to laugh when he saw her. She’d lived in jeans for so long and he’d never seen this side of her.
She’d stayed away from this for so long she’d forgotten how much she hated it. She hated the falseness, the agendas hidden behind air kissing and polished smiles.
Resisting the childlike temptation to bite her nails, she glanced at her slick manicure and was depressed to see her hand shaking.
She didn’t dare hold a glass of champagne. She’d spill her drink on her dress. Or, worse, on someone else’s dress and she knew how that would be interpreted.
Irritated with herself for caring what people thought, she dropped the phone into her bag.
It was pathetic to be reacting like this about something so trivial. The past couple of years had taught her what mattered in life. There were people out there with real problems and hers were all of her own making and all in the past.
She’d made bad decisions. Trusted people when she shouldn’t have done, but she was a different person now. Given time, she’d prove it.
And that was what today was all about, of course.
She was supposed to prove it.
No mistakes. No spilled drinks, however innocent the reason.
It didn’t matter if someone threw oil on the path in front of her, she wasn’t allowed to slip.
This was the price she had to pay if she wanted her acting career back—and she wanted it desperately. Desperately enough to star in the publicity circus that was part of the job. This was the price she had to pay for doing what she loved.
The thought had her dragging her phone out of her bag again. ‘Hey, Zach?’ Her voice shook. ‘Just letting you know that the women here are really hot. Even you can’t fail to get laid so hurry up before you miss your chance. And if that isn’t enough to get you here then I can tell you that I can’t pee unless someone removes the stitches from my dress. You are going to laugh yourself sick when you see me. Call, will you?’
She was frightened by how much she needed him here.
Zach was the one who had encouraged her to follow her dream and return to acting, but some dreams came with nightmares attached. If she couldn’t cope with this, how was she going to be able to cope with the attention of being back on a film set? She missed acting, but she didn’t miss this.
‘Taylor!’ Santo Corretti, head of the film production company who was reputed to have slept with every single leading lady of his past five films, strode towards her across the perfectly manicured grass. ‘You’re late.’
‘I was being sewn into the dress you chose.’ She didn’t mention that she’d been outside for half an hour trying to summon the courage to walk through the gates. That was too embarrassing to admit to anyone. She was terrified he’d see through her perfectly groomed exterior to the shivering wreck beneath. ‘In my experience the paparazzi are all the keener if you make them wait and work for it.’
‘Just remember you’re here to promote my film, not yourself. I want publicity and when I say publicity I mean good publicity. I don’t want anyone raking up your past.’
There it was. Just two minutes into a conversation and already the topic was her ‘past.’
There was no escaping it. Her mistakes had been played out so publicly they were branded into her so that now it was the first thing people saw, including him.
Her stomach growled a reminder that it was empty. ‘In a wedding packed full of various members of the Corretti dynasty, I’m sure the press will have plenty of alternative headline options.’ A different version of Taylor might have found him attractive but these days she avoided trouble instead of seeking it out. And she especially avoided the type of trouble that came shaped like a man. She’d learned that lesson and she’d learned it well.
‘Are you blushing?’ His eyes raked her face. ‘Taylor Carmichael, wild child and sex kitten, able to blush when the situation demands it. I’ll take that as a sign of your acting abilities. And I approve. The public loves vulnerability. They might even be prepared to excuse your shocking past.’
‘My past is no one’s business but my own.’ But it was stuck to her, like a dirty mark she couldn’t rub out. ‘So who do you want me to charm first?’
‘Weren’t you bringing someone?’ His eyes scanned the immediate area and Taylor managed to turn clenched teeth into a smile.
‘My friend Zach, but he’s been held up.’ And she was going to kill him.
‘Just remember your job today is to mingle with the people who matter, not nurture your love life.’
‘Zach isn’t—’ She stopped in mid-sentence, wishing she’d stayed silent but already he was nodding approval.
‘Good, because your messy love life has no place on my film set.’
‘My love life isn’t messy.’ She could have told him her love life was non-existent but she didn’t.
‘There are two reasons this film is going to pull in a big audience. The first is because it’s my film—’ his smile was cool ‘—and the second is because you’re starring in it, Taylor Carmichael. People are going to pack out movie theatres to see your big comeback because you’re a train wreck and everyone loves ogling a train wreck. If I’m right about you, they’ll leave knowing you can act. Don’t screw up.’
Despite the heat, she shivered.
This was what she hated. The press intrusion and studios who believed they owned her, not just on set, but in every area of her life. As a young star it had almost broken her, but she wasn’t that naive girl any more.
There was no way she’d let that happen to her again.
There was no way she’d screw it up or let them screw her.
They could fix their damn camera lenses to her ass and they still wouldn’t be able to catch her misbehaving. She was going to be so perfect the press would die of boredom. She was going to rub that dirty mark off her image until she shone like silver in sunshine.
‘So who is the most important person here today? Give me a brief.’ Brisk and professional, she was all business despite the fact the dress was all Hollywood. ‘Who am I supposed to impress?’
‘All of them. Every guest at the wedding is waiting for the chance to talk to you. Taylor Carmichael, finally back from exile. Everyone wants to know the details. The grapevine is buzzing.’
‘You’ve made sure of it.’
‘You’re my biggest asset and I know how to use my assets. Don’t give them details. No interviews until I say so.’
‘No problem.’ She’d pushed her past into a drawer and locked it and she hadn’t opened that drawer for years. The thought that others might be trying to uncover her secrets made her feel sick and his next words didn’t help dispel that feeling.
‘They’ll be persistent. After all, you’re the girl who fired her own mother.’
‘I fired my manager. The fact that she was my mother had nothing to do with it.’ But it should have done. It shouldn’t have been that easy to get rid of a mother, should it?
‘People have a morbid fascination with the way you crashed your own life.’
‘Thanks.’ The pain rose and she pushed it down again, alone with it as she was always alone.
‘So what have you been doing the past few years?’
Taylor watched as a bee hovered over a flower and then carefully landed on the fragile petals. ‘I was keeping a low profile.’
His eyes narrowed at her evasive answer. ‘Just as long as that profile isn’t going to suddenly pop up and hurt my movie.’
‘It won’t.’ She shifted her weight to ease the pain in her feet. She’d forgotten how uncomfortable stilettos were. Still, at least it took her mind off her growling stomach. ‘You can relax. If there is any scandal attached to your movie, it won’t come from me.’
‘It’s your first public appearance since you disappeared.’ His tone was hard. ‘Everyone is waiting for you to slip up, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Then I predict they’re going to have a very boring time.’
‘No drinking.’
‘Is that why you had me sewn into the dress? So I can’t use the bathroom?’
‘The dress shows your body. Your body is one of your assets.’
There had to be some benefit for being permanently starving. ‘And there was me hoping you wanted my acting skills.’ The bitterness leaked into her voice and he narrowed his eyes.
‘I do, but I’m not so naive as to think your looks don’t help. It’s all about the film, Carmichael. Don’t answer any questions about the past. You are the Mona Lisa. All they get is an enigmatic smile.’
‘I can tell you now there is no way Mona would have smiled if she were sewn into her dress. If she were forced to wear what I’m wearing she would have been the Moaning Lisa. And now we’ve established the ground rules, point me towards hell.’
‘Wait. You didn’t answer my question—’ He caught her arm. ‘What have you been doing with yourself for the past two years? You just disappeared. Were you in rehab or something?’
Rehab.
Of course they would think that. It never occurred to anyone that there could be any other explanation for her absence.
‘Sorry,’ Taylor murmured, disengaging her arm from his grip, ‘I’m absolutely not permitted to talk about my past. Your rules.’
‘You’re a beautiful woman. There won’t be any shortage of men interested, not in you but in the potential to make some money from selling a story. You screwed that up before.’
The pain was so intense he might as well have punched her. ‘I was young. Trusting. I’m not any more. And as for men—’ Taylor managed a careless shrug ‘—I can assure you there isn’t a man out there hot enough to tempt me.’
* * *
Luca Corretti downed another glass of champagne to numb the boredom of behaving well.
For the past twenty-four hours he’d driven under the speed limit for the first time in his life, declined seven party invitations and made it to bed before dawn. The fact that he hadn’t been alone at the time didn’t count. As far as the outside world was concerned, his behaviour had been impeccable. The only thing he hadn’t done in his quest for instant respectability was kissed a baby and even he wasn’t prepared to descend to those levels of hypocrisy just to impress the board of directors who’d decided his lifestyle wasn’t compatible with running another chunk of the family business. Apparently business flare counted for nothing, he thought savagely, wondering whether he could get away with swapping the champagne for whisky.
And now, to add insult to injury, he was expected to sit through his cousin’s wedding.
Was he the only person who hated weddings? All that happy-ever-after crap that everyone knew was a temporary illusion. Or maybe it was a delusion. Luca didn’t know and he didn’t intend to find out. He was going to be out of here at the first opportunity, preferably with the brunette bridesmaid he’d spotted on his way in.
‘Luca! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?’
Before he could react, Luca was enveloped in soft bosom and a choking cloud of perfume. At any other time he would have thought it wasn’t a bad way to die, but he was conscious that heads were turning and, when heads turned, disapproval was bound to follow. It irritated him that he had to care. ‘Where have I been?’ He disentangled himself. ‘Avoiding you, Penny.’
‘My name’s Portia.’
‘Seriously? No wonder I didn’t remember it.’
She giggled. ‘You are a wicked, wicked man.’
‘So people keep telling me.’ Luca put down his empty glass, trying to think of a method of stress reduction that didn’t involve sex or alcohol.
Portia lowered her eyelashes. ‘About last night—’
Aware that his one indiscretion was about to be made public, Luca removed the drink from her hand and swapped it for orange juice. ‘Last night? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Last night I went to bed with a book.’
She gave a snort of laughter. ‘Well, you certainly turned my pages. I’ll never forget it. How could I?’ Her eyes on his mouth, she leaned towards him. ‘You were amazing. It’s never been like that for me before. You’re a genius.’
‘So I keep telling the board,’ Luca said in a flat drawl. ‘Unfortunately my opinion doesn’t seem to count. For some reason they seem to think activity in the bedroom saps my mental abilities so for the time being I have to prove I can keep my pants zipped.’
‘We could be discreet. Leave the wedding.’
‘I love weddings and I love my cousin,’ Luca said immediately. ‘I couldn’t possibly leave until he’s married...married—’ what the hell was her name? ‘—the woman of his dreams.’
‘You love weddings? Honestly?’
‘Weddings never fail to make me cry,’ Luca said truthfully. ‘The thought of two people promising to love each other for ever makes me want to break down and sob like a baby.’
‘Oh. I had no idea you were so romantic.’ Her eyes misted. ‘And I’m so pleased that all those rumours that you hate your cousins are wrong. You’re nowhere near as bad as everyone says.’
‘Bad?’ Luca adopted his hurt expression. ‘I’m a saint compared to some people.’ He hoped she didn’t ask him to name someone as bad as him because he knew he’d struggle.
‘You’re quite a softie—’ she stroked his arm with her fingertips ‘—except in the one area that counts.’ She’d moved closer to him again and Luca stood up, cursing his lack of thought in picking up a guest at the wedding.
What he’d taken to be a few moments of fun, she’d taken to be a future.
Now he had to shake her off before the Corretti board gave him another black mark.
Unfortunately Portia didn’t want to be shaken anywhere. ‘Will I see you tonight, after the wedding?’
‘The definition of a one-night stand, angelo mia, is that it lasts one night.’
‘You were keen enough last night.’ She pouted. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you like me in this dress?’ The words robbed him of breath.
Do I look good, Luca? Do I look better than her? Will he love me if I wear this?
‘Luca?’
He dragged himself out of the black pit of his past and stared into Portia’s over-made-up eyes. ‘You look great,’ he said flatly, relieved when one of the wedding guests shrieked a greeting and Portia was reluctantly dragged away.
Relieved by his narrow escape, he was momentarily distracted by a sheet of blonde hair that hung down the back of a woman standing on the far side of the terrace. People were pressing close, all desperate to get a piece of her, and he shifted slightly to see who she was.
When she finally turned her head, he felt a flash of surprise.
Taylor Carmichael. Well, well.
It cheered him up to know that there was one person present whose reputation was as bad as his.
According to the media, she’d done it all—drink, drugs and partying. And then she’d disappeared for a couple of years. He wondered what she’d been doing with herself and decided it was probably something disreputable. She was one of the few people at this wedding who could make him look saintly. Almost.
Luca watched her across the room and remembered reading that his cousin Santo had recruited her to play the lead in his latest film.
She had the most incredible body. Thinking that all that blonde hair would look good spread over his pillow, he took a step towards her and then remembered that members of the board were watching his every move and waiting for him to step out of line.
Exercising a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, Luca turned away and engaged a suited man in a conversation about the economy.
* * *
If Taylor had been able to take a big enough breath, she would have screamed.
‘You poor thing,’ the woman said in a voice sweet enough to rot teeth. ‘This wedding must be so stressful for you.’
‘Why would it be stressful?’ Taylor kept her smile in place and wished Zach would show up. She was going to need someone to lend her a jacket when her stupid dress split. ‘It’s the perfect opportunity to meet interesting people.’ Unfortunately you’re not one of them.
‘But so much temptation for someone like you.’ The woman eyed the glass of water in Taylor’s hand. ‘I suppose you don’t dare even take a sip of champagne in case you undo all the good work and lose control. It must be impossibly hard given the circle you move in.’
‘It isn’t hard.’
‘What stops you drinking?’
The knowledge that she couldn’t pee without the assistance of a seamstress. ‘I’m going to be filming twelve hours a day. My focus is on my work.’ And she couldn’t wait. She knew that once she was playing that role, she’d be lost in it. Acting was all she wanted to do. And not just because it meant she could escape the empty, meaningless circus of her life.
Another woman pressed closer. ‘I can’t believe you’re back in circulation. You just vanished off the face of the earth. You have to tell us whether those stories about you were true.’
They circled her like wolves waiting to pounce on a carcass. And she was the carcass.
Taylor laughed inwardly. Given the amount of weight she’d lost in preparation for this part, she almost was a carcass.
The moment filming was over she was going to rush to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts and indulge her carb fantasy but until then she had to play the game.
She couldn’t keep this up for much longer. She was going to punch someone, split her dress and end up naked.
Exhausted, Taylor pressed a button on her phone and made it ring. ‘Oh, excuse me—’ with an apologetic smile, she pulled it out of her bag ‘—I just have to take this call. So good to meet you. I’ll see you inside the chapel in a little while!’ And I hope you both choke on a canapé.
Phone held to her ear, talking to herself in a bright tone, she walked to the edge of the terrace, aware of Santo’s eyes watching her every move.
As far as she was concerned, he could watch all he liked. She wasn’t going to slip up.
She could do this. All she needed was a quick breather and then she’d sit somewhere at the back of the church, away from all the intrusive questions.
Bypassing the groups of people gathered on the terrace, she glanced around her to find somewhere less populated. Spying the English garden and, beyond that, the maze, she increased her pace. Perfect. What better place than a maze to find shade and peace?
The high hedges gave much-needed protection from the burning Sicilian heat and the curious stares of the other guests. Taylor slipped off her shoes, moaning with relief as the soft grass cooled her throbbing feet. Breathing deeply, she listened to the sound of the birds. Live in the moment, wasn’t that what Zach had taught her? Block everything else out. It’s all about now.
Slowly, her pulse rate slowed. The knot in her stomach eased, leaving only the hunger pangs that had been her constant companion since she’d signed up for the role. She was just congratulating herself on being back in control when she turned a corner and walked straight into a man.
‘Cristo, can’t you take a hint?’ Hard hands gripped her and kept her on her feet but his tone was ice cold and Taylor stared at him, disorientated.
‘What hint?’ She recognised him instantly. Luca Corretti, billionaire playboy, occasionally described as Sicily’s biggest tourist attraction and absolutely the last man in the world she would have chosen to be alone with given her current objective of staying out of trouble.
‘Mi dispiace, chicca.’ His smile was disturbingly attractive. ‘I thought you were someone else.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Taylor said coldly, ‘so if you’d just let go of me, I can carry on walking and you can carry on hiding or whatever it is you’re doing.’
‘I’m dodging my past.’
Him too? ‘I would have thought that was an ambitious objective for someone with your reputation.’
‘Actually, I was talking about my immediate past. Last night.’ His smile held no hint of apology. ‘And you’re not exactly in a position to judge, are you, Taylor Carmichael? Your past is every bit as dirty as mine.’
His use of her name made her insides lurch. ‘You know who I am.’
‘Of course. I’ve even seen you semi-naked.’ Those eyes gleamed dangerously. ‘That movie about the teenage runaway? God, you were sexy.’
Why did he have to pick that movie? She’d made over twenty films, but he’d picked the one she’d filmed at the very lowest point of her life.
She felt cold and hot at the same time. ‘That was a long time ago.’
‘But you have the same incredible legs....’ His voice was a soft, sexy purr and his eyes dropped to her breasts. ‘And other parts of you. I remember envying the director—what was his name? Rafaele. He got to see you on and off set, lucky bastard.’
Taylor felt as if someone was choking her. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘Why not? So you dumped him and he sold his story to the press.’ Luca gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Who cares?’
She’d cared.
And she still cared.
She had no choice. The moment she’d accepted the film role, the texts had started. Just like before. It didn’t matter how many times she changed her number, he always managed to track her down. His threats had been part of her life for nine years. Occasionally he went quiet, only to re-emerge when she’d started to hope it had all gone away and he’d finally become bored with tormenting her.
The dress was squeezing her like a boa constrictor trapping its prey. Taylor couldn’t breathe. She tried desperately to change the subject. ‘So what does your immediate past look like? Blonde? Brunette? You’d better tell me so that I can give her a wide berth. I’m not in the mood for dealing with an angry, jealous woman.’
‘Me neither. Why the hell do you think I’m hiding in here?’ He gave an exaggerated shudder and glanced up at the green wall of the maze. ‘I’m hoping the Corretti board don’t have security cameras planted round the grounds. I’m supposed to be behaving myself.’
Despite her stress, she found herself wanting to smile. ‘This is what you’re like when you’re behaving yourself?’
‘I’m positively restrained and it’s killing me. Especially right this moment.’ His eyes lingered on her mouth with blatant interest. ‘I might be about to fall from the wagon. Or roll in the back of the wagon. You and me. Together. Now there’s an interesting thought.’
Taylor felt her heart beat faster.
Against her will, her eyes moved to his mouth too. Firm, sensual and very masculine. There was no doubt in her mind that Luca Corretti would be a skilled kisser. If rumour were correct, he’d certainly had enough practice.
Appalled by her own thoughts, she turned her head away and took a step backwards. ‘It’s a thought that doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I’ll leave you to hide. I hope your past doesn’t catch up with you.’
‘Me too. I don’t suppose you saw her on your way in?’
‘I didn’t see anyone. What does she look like?’
‘Desperate?’
She choked back a laugh. ‘You spent the night with her?’
‘Not the whole night, obviously.’ He looked so horrified by the suggestion that this time she did laugh.
‘Have you ever spent the whole night with a woman?’
‘Cristo, no! My mantra is “Until dawn us do part.” My longest commitment so far is six hours and I was bored by the end of that. You?’
It was uncomfortable to remember the number of times she’d thought a man was serious about her only to discover he was only interested in selling her out to the press. It had been a harsh training ground for independence. ‘I’m not big on romantic commitment.’
He groaned. ‘You should not have told me that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that makes you my perfect woman.’ That sexy mouth slanted into a charismatic smile. ‘Just don’t tell me you’re addicted to sex and fast cars or I’m doomed.’
Silence stretched between them. They were standing in the dappled shade of the maze but the heat was stifling and oppressive.
Their eyes met and held.
His head lowered towards hers.
And suddenly they heard voices.
Appalled by how close they’d come to kissing, she glanced at him only to find him doubled up with laughter.
Taylor was torn between laughter and panic. The last thing she needed was to be caught with Luca Corretti. No one would believe it was an innocent encounter.
‘Stop panicking, angelo mia, I’ll rescue you.’ Putting his finger to his lips, Luca took her hand in his and forced her to sprint with him deeper into the maze. ‘I am the expert at the great escape. No one knows more about running from women than I do.’
‘What are you doing? I don’t want to be caught running away with you. And don’t pull me—this dress has no give in it.’ She tugged at her hand but he held it firmly, turned another corner and she gave a little gasp because there, in a shaded glade, was a pretty fountain and by the fountain was an open bottle of champagne.
‘No glasses, I’m afraid.’ With a wicked, sexy smile he released her hand and retrieved the bottle. ‘We’ll have to slum it.’
Weak with relief that they’d avoided detection, Taylor shook her head in disbelief as she watched him. ‘How did you—?’
‘How did I get it here?’ Those wide shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. ‘I imported it here under cover of darkness in case of emergencies. This definitely constitutes an emergency. Judging from the look on your face earlier, your need is as great as mine. I’m always willing to help out a fellow sinner in need. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Take a dip in the cool water.’
Taylor looked wistfully at the fountain. ‘I wish I could. This dress is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn but sadly it isn’t designed to allow sitting.’
‘So take it off.’
‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. They’ve sewn me into it.’ She caught his look of astonishment and glared. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘All right—’ there was laughter in his eyes ‘—but if you want my opinion I’d say you’ve been stitched up, angelo mia.’
‘Very funny.’
‘I like the idea that you’re sewn into your dress. It could be erotic.’ He prowled around her, his eyes on her body. ‘So what do they expect you to do if you need to have wild, animal sex?’
‘I’m not going to need that.’
He scanned her dress. ‘This is your punishment for not picking something from the House of Corretti. Our clothes would make you feel seductive and feminine. We don’t have to sew our women into their dresses for them to look good. The dress becomes part of the woman.’
She’d forgotten that he ran the fashion house but it explained his effortlessly stylish appearance. Even with his shirt collar open and strands of dark hair falling over his forehead, he looked spectacular.
‘I didn’t pick this dress.’ Heat and hunger made her irritable. ‘I wore what your cousin told me to wear.’
‘He’d never pick anything from my company,’ Luca drawled, ‘it might signify approval and God forbid the rivalry between us should ever die. That fabric isn’t allowing your body to breathe. I could help you with that.’
‘Nice try.’
‘I’ve got moves that would make you weep.’
‘I’m sure you make women weep a lot, but I’m not a crier.’
‘I like you more and more. You could bathe naked in the fountain.’ He reached for the chilled bottle of champagne. ‘Or I could roll this over your skin.’
Her skin was prickling with the heat and she made a sound that was half laugh, half groan. ‘Now you’re torturing me. Talk about something else, before I melt.’ Taylor knew she should walk away but she decided it was safer to wait a few minutes until the people they’d overheard were safely back among the guests. Just five minutes, she promised herself. Five minutes. ‘So who is this woman you’re running from?’
‘I have no idea. Apparently her name is Portia but that was news to me.’
Taylor lifted her hair away from her neck to try and cool herself down. ‘You’re terrible.’
‘Not terrible enough to induce her to dump me, sadly. She was alarmingly difficult to shift.’
‘Some women find bad boys attractive.’
‘And from what I’ve heard, you know a lot about that.’
‘Do you often listen to gossip?’
‘All the time. Gossip makes me laugh.’ The cork flew out of the bottle with a pop. ‘So tell me the truth, Taylor Carmichael? How do you like your men? Well-done, medium or rare?’
‘Rare.’ Sticky and uncomfortable from the heat and the conversation she squirmed, wishing she could dip her toes in the water. ‘So rare I can’t remember when I last touched one.’
‘So I’m looking at a desperate woman.’
‘You’re looking at a controlled woman. I’m no longer a slave to my impulses.’
‘That sounds like the tag line for a good bondage movie. Slave to Her Impulses. The sequel could be Slave to His Impulses. I might be willing to star in that for a price providing you were the leading lady.’ That mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth and he tipped champagne into a glass and held it out to her. ‘Drink. It will help numb the boredom of the wedding.’
Hating the fact that she was even tempted, Taylor reluctantly shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Champagne is on my list of banned substances, particularly on an empty stomach.’
‘Personally I have a taste for banned substances.’ Shrugging, he tilted his head and drank, the sun glinting off his dark hair.
Just for a moment, because he wasn’t looking at her, she looked at him. At those slanting cheekbones, that nose, the olive skin—
It was so long since she’d looked at a man and found him attractive, the spasm of sexual awareness shocked her.
She reminded herself that Luca Corretti was probably the most dangerous man she could possibly have found herself with. ‘I thought you were trying to behave yourself.’
‘This is me behaving myself.’ He took another mouthful of champagne and she laughed in spite of herself, sensing a kindred spirit. A part of her long buried stirred to life.
‘So both of us are making a superhuman effort to behave. What’s your excuse?’
‘I have to prove myself capable of taking charge of another chunk of the family business.’ Underneath the light, careless tone there was an edge of steel and it surprised her because she didn’t associate him with responsibility.
That thought was followed instantaneously by guilt. She was judging him as others judged her, based on nothing but gossip. She was better than that.
‘But you already run a business. I read that you’d turned the House of Corretti around.’
‘I have a flare for figures.’
‘Especially when those figures belong to models?’
He laughed. ‘Something like that. Unfortunately trebling the profits of Corretti isn’t enough for them.’
She had to stop herself reaching for the champagne in his hand. Because she wasn’t able to get out of her dress, she’d avoided drinking and now her throat was parched from the heat. ‘But why do you want to meddle in other parts of the business?’
‘Sibling rivalry.’
‘But you’re all members of the same family. Surely that qualifies you for a seat on the board.’
‘The qualifications for a seat on the board seem to be old age and sexual inactivity.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘I suppose that’s why they call it a “bored.” Needless to say I’m bombing out big-time. I have a feeling that whatever I do, I will always be in the wrong.’
Taylor felt a flicker of sympathy. ‘I know that feeling.’
‘I’m sure you do. You, Taylor Carmichael, are one, big walking wrong.’ His gaze lingered on her mouth. ‘So tell me what else is on your list of banned substances.’
‘Men like you.’
‘Is that right?’ His eyes on hers, he lowered the champagne bottle back into the fountain. Somehow, without her even noticing how he’d done it, he’d moved closer to her. His dark head was between her and the sun and all she could see was those wicked eyes tempting her towards the dark side.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Testing a theory.’ His mouth moved closer to hers and suddenly she struggled to breathe.
‘What theory?’
‘I want to know whether two wrongs make a right.’ His smile was the last thing she saw before he kissed her.
