breath hitched, her heart lurched.
It was more than he’d ever admitted to before, and yet it was so damn little. ‘When, then?’ she made herself ask.
‘Does it matter?’ Angelo glanced up and she saw impatience flicker in his grey-green eyes. Clearly he hadn’t expected this conversation to take so long. ‘Dio, Lucia, after last night—you want to go back to your job? Your life?’
She recoiled, stung by the contempt in his tone. ‘I think you rate yourself a little too highly,’ she managed through stiff lips.
‘I’m saying this all wrong.’ He shook his head, still impatient. ‘Come have breakfast and we’ll talk.’
She glanced at the clock. ‘I don’t really have time—’
‘You don’t have time? Don’t you think this—us—warrants a little more consideration?’
She let out a hollow laugh. ‘There’s never been an us, Angelo. You made sure about that.’
‘It’s different now.’
‘Because you want it to be?’
‘Why are you angry?’ He shook his head, angry now himself. ‘I’m offering you something I’ve—’
‘Never offered before?’ she filled in, her voice hard. ‘So I should grab it with both hands and tell you how thankful I am? Sorry I’m not falling in with your plans.’
His expression shuttered, his jaw bunched. ‘At least come and eat something,’ he said tightly, and brought a tray of fresh fruit and coffee out towards the veranda.
Slowly Lucia followed him outside, wondered why she was so angry. Surely Angelo was doing everything she’d once dreamt about. Incredible sex, making breakfast, wanting to be with her? What was wrong with this picture?
Because she knew instinctively something was.
Outside the day was already hot, the sun beating down, a slight breeze off the sea the only relief. She sank into a chair and mutely accepted the cup of espresso Angelo handed her.
‘So tell me what exactly it is you’re offering, Angelo,’ she said after she’d taken a sip. ‘Why should I take a day off work? What are you suggesting?’
‘I’m not suggesting you take the day off, although I suppose that would be a start.’
‘A start? To what?’
‘To—to us!’ He looked, quite suddenly, furious—although whether with her or himself she didn’t know. She did know, knew with the unshakeable certainty that she’d always possessed when it came to this man, that he still didn’t want to want her. Nothing really had changed except, perhaps, the force of Angelo’s reluctant need.
‘Us,’ she repeated. ‘What kind of us?’
‘Why are you asking all these questions?’
‘Because I want to know what you’re suggesting, Angelo. You’ve been barking out orders since I came downstairs but I still don’t know what you want. A day in bed? A relationship?’
Shamefully her voice trembled on that revealing word, and from the way he quickly averted his gaze she knew it wasn’t that. Never that. He still didn’t want a relationship, something real, with her.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared out at the sea, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun. ‘I don’t want you working like that any more,’ he finally said, and her mouth dropped open before she thought to snap it shut.
‘I don’t know which part of that sentence to address,’ she finally said, her voice thankfully tart. ‘It doesn’t matter what you want, and as for whatever like that means—’
‘On your knees, scrubbing—’
‘Since I’m no longer working for the Correttis, it should hardly matter,’ she snapped. ‘I’m on my knees for you, Angelo.’ And ridiculously she felt a blush heat her face at the suggestiveness of her words, the memory of last night.
Angelo leaned forward, his gaze snapping back to hers, his eyes like molten silver. ‘Didn’t last night mean anything to you, Lucia? Didn’t it change anything?’
She swallowed dryly, memories flashing through her mind, making her blush all the more. ‘I never got a chance to ask you those questions the last time we spent a night together,’ she replied after a moment, ‘but I think I could have guessed what the answers would have been.’
Realisation flared in his eyes and he sat back. ‘Are you saying last night was—was just a repeat of what happened before?’
‘Wasn’t it?’
He didn’t answer for a long moment, just stared at her, his gaze sweeping searchingly over her. ‘Not for me.’
Her fingers tightened on the cup of coffee and she felt the hot liquid slosh over her fingers. Shakily she put it back on the table with a clatter. ‘Just what are you saying, Angelo?’
His mouth firmed, his gaze flicking away before returning to rest on her resolutely. ‘I told you, I don’t want