had sorted out the business end of things. Miranda happened to be at the same bar.'
Emma rolled her eyes. 'How very convenient.'
His jaw went tight. 'I did not plan to see her, Emma. She came over to where we were standing at the bar and, if the truth be known, made rather a nuisance of herself.'
'Would you like to see the press's version of Miranda making a nuisance of herself?' Emma asked with a little curl of her lip.
He set his mouth. 'I do not see the need to defend myself to you, Emma,' he said. 'After all, you have experienced the bias of the press first hand, have you not? I would have thought you would be the first person to give me the benefit of the doubt.'
Emma could see his point, but still those little finger-prod doubts kept nudging her. She felt so confused. He was a playboy. He was used to his freedom. He had only married her because he'd had no choice. Would she ever feel secure enough to trust him?
He stepped closer and gently lifted her chin so she had to meet his gaze. 'Have you changed your mind about making our marriage a real one?' he asked.
Emma looked into his bottomless black-brown eyes and melted. How could she say no to him when she loved him so much? Even if she could only have him for the rest of the year wouldn't that be better than not at all? 'No...' Her voice came out whisper-soft. 'No, I haven't changed my mind.'
He began to stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 'I should have warned you how intrusive the press can be. I do my best to ignore them, but occasionally they go too far.'
She lowered her eyes a fraction. 'I guess I really don't have any right to be jealous...it's not as if we're in love...or anything...'
He looked at her for a second or two. 'No, perhaps not, but no one likes to feel they are being double-crossed.'
Her eyes came back to his. 'So...so while we are...together there won't be anyone else in your life?'
Again he took a moment to answer. 'I suppose we should make some sort of agreement that if one of us develops an interest elsewhere, we should inform the other of it so as to avoid unnecessary embarrassment. How does that sound?'
It sounds as if you are never going to fall in love with me and are making sure you have a quick exit route, Emma thought in silent despair. 'Fine,' she said with a tight smile. 'Best to be up front and honest about these things.'
Rafaele tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. 'I am going to have a shower and a shave and come back down to the salon and pour us both a drink. Have you eaten?'
'Ages ago, but what about you?'
'I had a snack on the plane but I could do with something light,' he said, tugging at his tie. 'Has Carla left anything for us?'
'I will go and get it ready for you.'
He bent down and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. 'I have been thinking of nothing else but holding you in my arms and making love to you.'
Emma let out a shuddering breath of anticipation as she looked into his dark eyes. 'I've been thinking about it too...'
He smiled and brushed his mouth against hers in a hot-as-fire-but-soft-as-a-feather kiss that set her heart racing. 'Hold that thought,' he said with a smouldering look. 'I will not be long.'
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN Rafaele came downstairs after his shower Emma had poured a ruby-red glass of wine for him and set a plate of salad and a freshly made omelette on the coffee-table.
'Is Carla still here?' he asked as he sat down and picked up the knife and fork.
'No, I made it myself,' Emma said. 'I thought it would be nicer than reheated pasta.'
'That was kind of you,' he said. 'Are you going to have something? What about a glass of wine? Can I pour you one?'
She shook her head. 'No, I had an orange juice a while ago.'
He resumed eating; pausing now and again to chat to her about the weather in London and other inconsequential things, but Emma only listened with one ear. She drank in the sight of him, the way his mouth tilted at the corners when he smiled and the way his eyes softened when they met hers. He looked tired, but not tense this time. She