An Invitation to Sin - By Sarah Morgan Page 0,32
woman’s brain.
He tried to respond but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Her face was soft, transformed by love. ‘I never thought this would happen. I never thought it was possible to feel love like this and then I met you and—’ her breathing was fractured ‘—and you’re everything to me. That’s what I wanted to say. I love you. I’ve never said those words to a man before but I’m saying them now. I’m trusting you with my heart.’ The look in her eyes was so adoring his muscles clenched in terror. She was so convincing he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that crept up his spine.
‘Cristo, Taylor, you’re giving me chills.’
As the waiter murmured something incoherent and melted away, the soft look in her eyes morphed into something harder and more brittle. ‘Don’t ever call me “kitten paws” again and don’t tell me I need acting lessons or the next thing you’ll be eating between two slices of bread will be a certain supersensitive part of your anatomy.’ As Luca shuddered, another waiter placed food in front of them and Taylor gave an appreciative sniff. ‘Mmm. I can see wedded bliss is going to do nothing for my waistline.’
‘Eat, tesoro. You can go back on your stupid starvation diet tomorrow.’
‘I might not need to if the director can’t be replaced.’
To another man her insecurity might not have been visible beneath the layers of polish and poise, but Luca had been raised by a woman whose insecurities had been welded into her skin.
Of course you’re beautiful, Mama. Of course he loves you. The other women don’t mean anything.
Unsettled by the emergence of that unwanted memory, he drained his glass and allowed it to be filled again. Why was he thinking about that now when he hadn’t thought about it for years? ‘He’ll be replaced.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I know my cousin. He has many faults, but failing isn’t one of them. He’s too competitive. Now stop worrying.’
‘Aren’t you worried about your brother?’
Luca shrugged. ‘Why would I be worried?’
‘He ran off with your cousin’s bride-to-be!’
‘That’s his problem, not mine. Now try this—it’s delicious.’ He spooned caponata onto her plate and watched as she dissected it with her fork. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Looking for its spleen.’
‘It’s vegetable, dolcezza. Vegetables don’t have spleens.’
‘This dish is vegetarian? You promise?’ Cautiously she tasted a small amount and moaned. ‘It’s delicious.’
He watched as her eyes closed and she savoured the flavours. Her tongue licked at a tiny drop of oil on her lips. She was the most sensual woman he’d met and yet she suppressed it ruthlessly. ‘Locally grown food and good olive oil. It doesn’t come any better.’
‘I don’t want to know that it’s cooked in oil. So are all Sicilian kids raised on this? Did your mother make this for you when you were small?’
Mention of his mother wiped his own appetite coming after his own thoughts on that topic. ‘No. My mother wasn’t the hearth and home type. She had other priorities.’ He reached for his glass and changed the subject. ‘Did yours cook for you?’
‘No. My mother wasn’t the hearth and home type either.’ The poise didn’t slip, but he heard something in her voice. The same dark undertones that coloured his own.
Her too?
They had more in common than either of them could have imagined.
‘So what type was she?’ He surprised himself by asking the question because normally he had no interest in delving beneath the surface of the person he was with and maybe he surprised her too, because she didn’t answer immediately.
‘The ambitious type. She had big plans for me.’
‘She didn’t want you to be an actress?’
‘It was all she wanted.’ She kept her eyes down so that all he could see was the dark fan of her lashes as she concentrated on her food. ‘She was determined I would achieve what she hadn’t and determined I would be the one to save the family fortunes. She was a single parent and money was tight. When I was a newborn she signed me up for work. I appeared in a daytime soap as someone’s baby, then I played toddlers and so it went on. I worked right through my childhood. I didn’t go to school—I had tutors on the set.’
‘And you hated it?’
‘No.’ she stabbed her knife through a piece of asparagus. ‘I was living every kid’s dream.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
Her eyes lifted to his and just for a moment he saw a little