The Italian's Bedroom Deal Page 0,21

help to hear his rejection a second time. She still wanted him as a lover and he was telling her that the possibility was out of the question. Her cheeks burned with an embarrassed flush but instead of giving in to the anger, she laid her head back against the chaise cushion and closed her eyes. “Well, then I’m not going to tell you. But I thank you again for the offer.”

Max eyed her carefully, knowing she was lying to him about something but unsure what it was. “Explain yourself, Clarissa.”

She stiffened at his demand and shook her head. Taking off her sunglasses so she could see his face more clearly, she snapped, “Max, you don’t own me, nor are you my employer. I don’t care what business you’re doing with my father so you have absolutely no right to demand anything of me, least of all an explanation of my future plans.”

He growled and stood up. “Clarissa, I don’t know what you’re planning but I can tell that it isn’t going to be good.”

She smiled wickedly at him, unknowingly challenging him. “On the contrary, Max. I’m planning to be extremely good. Or at least try, which is all anyone could ask, isn’t that right?” She didn’t mention that her plans included being very good about obtaining her goal of finding a lover. That would definitely infuriate him.

She almost laughed when he stormed away with frustration written all over his handsome face. Obviously, people didn’t disobey him very often. Well, she thought, he could just get used to that around her. She wasn’t anyone’s lapdog so if he asked a question she didn’t want to answer, then he’d have to accept his frustration when he received a non-answer.

She watched in fascination as he strode across the wide patio, his long, strong legs carrying him quickly into the house.

Clarissa sat back on the lounge chair, slipping her sunglasses back on her nose while her mind pictured Max without any clothes. His bottom alone could cause women to drool as he walked. Herself included, she smiled, then leaned back against the lounge chair again when he was finally out of sight.

Chapter 5

Clarissa pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose and picked up her cup of espresso. This was definitely the life, she thought to herself. After arriving yesterday, she loved Rome already. The noise, the barely controlled chaos, the warmth of the people…and definitely the men. They were gorgeous! She loved their dark, swarthy skin and black hair. There was definitely a higher percentage of potential teachers here in Rome than she’d ever find back home. And what’s better? They had no idea who she was, where she lived or who her father was. It was as if she were completely anonymous.

What a feeling of freedom, she thought as she smiled shyly to a sweet male of about twenty-five. He glanced back at her and smiled, obviously interested, but continued down the street.

Clarissa laughed delightedly. Being anonymous like this gave her the freedom to flirt in ways she’d never be able to do back home where everyone knew who she was as well as her history. It was liberating!

She sipped her coffee and watched the passers by as they walked down the street. As they walked, some hurrying, some strolling, couples hand in hand and others obviously window shopping, she wondered what they were thinking about. She’d never had the ability to just sit and relax in a coffee shop before. Observing people was a very enjoyable pastime, she thought, taking another sip of espresso. And if her mind wandered to a strong, male with a dominating, overwhelming personality, she simply pushed that thought aside and focused on someone else, someone passing on the street. This was the here and now, she had to keep reminding herself. Max had to be put in her past so she could move forward.

“Scusi,” a male voice said from the side of her table. “Are you using this chair?” he asked in beautiful, lyrical Italian.

Clarissa blinked, took her sunglasses off and reached for her translation book. The man had spoken too quickly for her and she lifted her eyes back to his in a silent plea to repeat his question.

He simply smiled and sat down. “You do not speak Italian?” he asked in English, pointing out the obvious.

Relieved that this handsome stranger spoke English, Clarissa dropped her book in her lap. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t. It’s a beautiful language but I haven’t had enough time