could be really good together.'
'Oh, yes, but for how long?'
He gave a could-mean-anything shrug. 'I am not one for setting time limits,' he said. 'Physical attraction has its own timetable.'
'Yes, but in your case it lasts about as long as the life cycle of a flea,' she said. 'Or maybe even a gnat.'
He gave a low chuckle of laughter. 'You are so damned cute. I bet you do not even know how long a gnat's life cycle is.'
Emma tried to purse her lips, but somehow it ended in a lopsided smile. 'You're incorrigible. You really are.'
He picked up her hand again and brushed his lips over the back of her knuckles, his dark-as-midnight gaze holding hers. 'But you like me anyway, right, mio piccolo?'
Emma didn't answer but the words seemed to ring in the silence all the same: I like you. I like you too much.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE drive back to The Villa Fiorenza took only a few minutes, but Emma suddenly found she didn't want the evening to be over. Rafaele had relaxed over dessert and coffee, chatting to her about his work as a share trader, telling her some amusing anecdotes about some of the people he'd met and the places he'd visited. She knew she was being a fool for letting her guard down around him, but for some reason the cold breath of common sense couldn't seem to penetrate the warm mantle of complacency that had settled around her in his company.
As he led the way to the front door of the grand old house Emma could smell the pungent clove-like scent of night stocks from the massive herbaceous border running along one side of the property. The purple and white pendulous blooms of sweetly scented wisteria hung in a fragrant arras from the trellis on one of the walls, and the melodious twinkle of the wind chimes hanging in the summer house carried over the garden on the slight breeze, setting an atmosphere that was as intoxicating as a mind-altering drug.
'Why don't we take a nightcap out to the arbour?' Rafaele said once they were inside. 'It is too nice a night to be indoors.'
'That sounds lovely,' Emma said, wondering if he had somehow read her mind. She had been thinking how nice it would be to sit out in the garden, breathing in the fragrant air and looking up at the peepholes of stars and planets in the dark blue blanket of the sky.
A few minutes later she followed him out to the summer house, minus her heels, the soft, slightly damp carpet of the springy lawn tickling the soles of her bare feet.
Rafaele handed her a cognac and patted the swing seat beside him. 'You look like a nymph or a sprite,' he said with a smile.
Emma returned his smile with a warm one of her own. 'I love nights like this,' she said, curling her toes as she sat on the seat next to him. 'I love the sounds and smells of a garden late at night. It's like another world out here.'
He placed his foot against the frame of the arched doorway to set the swing in motion. The gentle rocking motion brought their bodies closer together on the seat. Emma could feel the strong length of his thigh within a breath of her own, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm. Her skin tingled as he laid his left arm over the back of the seat, his fingers within touching distance of the nape of her neck. It would be so easy to turn and face him, to reach up and stroke her fingers over the lean planes and angles of his face, to explore the contours of his sensual mouth.
'You have not touched your cognac,' he said, looking at the glass she was cradling in her hands.
'I haven't got much of a head for alcohol,' Emma confessed. 'The wine we had at dinner has already addled my brain.' And my common sense, she thought wryly as she placed her untouched glass on the nearest ledge.
The long silence was measured by the sound of crickets chirruping in the background, the soft plop of a frog landing in the lily pond sounding like a distant gunshot.
Rafaele turned to look at her. 'Did you ever bring my father out here?' he asked.
Emma couldn't read his expression, his face was in shadow, but she sensed tension in the question. 'Yes...a couple of times,' she answered. 'He found it peaceful and the fresh air was