getting a woman to agree to have an affair with me before.'
Emma gave him another glare as she pulled her hand out of his, this time with success. 'I thought you said you weren't interested in sleeping with someone your father had slaked his lust on first? Those were your exact words, weren't they?'
His eyes held hers fast. 'Did you sleep with him, Emma?'
She returned his level stare. 'No, I did not.'
Rafaele sat back in his chair and surveyed her heightened colour, wondering if she was lying to him or not. He wanted to believe her, but knowing his father as he did he couldn't imagine him handing over half of his estate without some sort of inducement from her. His father had always been so mean with money; it didn't seem possible he would have given something away for free.
Admittedly Emma was nothing like any of his father's previous mistresses, but that didn't mean he hadn't fallen for her understated beauty and beguiling aura of innocence. Rafaele could see beyond the prim and proper façade she adopted to the passionate woman simmering beneath. She was a feisty little thing with her flashing grey-blue eyes and pouting mouth, her sensual allure so powerful he could barely keep his hands off her every time she was in the same room as him.
He wondered if she was holding him at bay deliberately. Had she done that with his father, leading him on and on until he finally agreed to give her what she wanted? If so, what was it she wanted from him? She already had half of the estate secure in her hands. Nothing he could do or say could take it away from her. But did she want more, and, if so, what?
'If you say you did not sleep with him, then I suppose I shall have to accept that,' he said after a pause.
'I have no reason to lie to you about something like that,' she said. 'What could I hope to gain by doing so?'
'I am not sure,' he said, rubbing at his jaw. 'I am still trying to figure that part out. Eighteen months ago you had not even met my father, now you own half of his estate. I am trying to join the dots but so far with little success.'
Emma reached for her glass. 'Maybe he wanted you to learn to trust people,' she said. 'Perhaps he sensed I wouldn't do the wrong thing by you.'
'Interesting theory, Emma,' he said with an unreadable smile. 'But I wonder if he really knew you. You caught him at a vulnerable time. He was dying and his judgement may well have been impaired. For all I know you could have talked him into this madcap scheme.'
Emma compressed her lips. 'Of course you would think that, wouldn't you?' she said. 'You don't want me to be anything but a scam artist, do you? What if you're wrong about me, Rafaele? What then?'
He studied her for a lengthy moment. 'If that is the case I guess I will have to get down on bended knee and beg your forgiveness,' he said. 'But it is hardly something you would be able to prove either way, is it?'
Emma could think of a very good way of proving it, but didn't like to inform him of it. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her inexperience; it was more a case of not wanting him to ridicule her. Somehow that seemed particularly important. Besides, she could just imagine what he would say. She could even imagine his teasing smile.
'I don't have to prove anything to you,' she said instead. 'You can believe me or not, it makes no difference to the truth.'
'So you don't do recreational, just-for-the-hang-of-it sex?'
'No.'
'Pity,' he said. 'I think we could be dynamite together. Fire meets ice, that sort of thing.'
'I think any woman with half a brain would give you a wide berth,' she said. 'You won't commit, you're incapable of falling in love and you don't want kids. For the thinking woman you're a very bad deal, Rafaele.'
He gave her a bone-melting smile. 'But I make up for it in other ways. Even thinking women like hot sex, do they not?'
Emma hated that she blushed so readily. 'I can't speak for other women, but personally I would rather share my body with a man who treats me as an equal, not as a sex object.'
'I do not see you as a sex object, Emma. I just think we