A Moment on the Lips - By Kate Hardy Page 0,41

kissed her swiftly, then moved her off his lap onto the sofa. She curled up in a ball, feeling miserable; when he came back, she realised he’d made her a mug of hot milk and cinnamon. Just like the drink she’d made him, the night he’d trusted her with some of his own shadows.

And that made her cry again. ‘You’re being so nice to me, Dante.’

‘Because you’re upset and you need comfort.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I can be nice. Sometimes.’

‘When you’re not being a brooding business tycoon.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Sorry. You didn’t sign up for this.’ Not as her mentor and not as her lover. And she still couldn’t hold the tears back. Surely she should be all cried out by now? But it felt as if there were a bottomless well and she’d never stop crying again.

You’re upset and you need comfort.

And he was here for her.

‘Dante, I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you—will you stay with me tonight? Please?’ she whispered.

Stay with her.

Dante knew it would be a bad move. If things carried on like this, he’d get involved with her.

Who was he trying to kid? He already was involved with her. Otherwise he would’ve made some excuse, told her he’d come back when she was feeling better and sort out the business stuff with her. But no. He’d held her close while she’d watched her childhood memories filter across the screen. When the loss had hit her and seared her soul, he’d been there to hold her. Just as she’d held him on Saturday night when his own past had come back to haunt him.

He didn’t want to make himself vulnerable to her. But how could he possibly leave her to it? Right now, she was upset and completely defenceless. She really needed him. It just wasn’t in him to leave her to it and walk away.

And, although he’d made it a rule never to spend the night with anyone, he’d break it for her. ‘Yes. I’ll stay.’

He switched off the television and, still holding her close, walked through to her bedroom. Gently, he undressed her. For once it wasn’t about needing to rip her clothes off and sate the desire between them, because desire wasn’t the uppermost feeling. What that feeling was, he didn’t want to examine that too closely—because he had a nasty feeling that he was falling for her. Her brightness, her sweetness, her relaxed and carefree attitude to life.

Bad, bad move. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to make this into a proper relationship. Not when blood ran so deep and he could end up turning into his father. Hadn’t he already hurt her, albeit unintentionally? What would happen if he let her dismantle all the barriers and all his control, and they had a fight? Would he end up doing what he feared most—repeating his father’s mistakes? Hurting her, the way his father had hurt his mother? And she’d told him that she trusted him completely. How, when he couldn’t trust himself?

On the other hand, how could he walk away when she needed him so badly?

Between them, his head and his heart were ripping him apart.

He lay awake for a long time after she’d fallen asleep; the combination of the unfamiliar bed and the unfamiliar warmth against him meant he couldn’t just relax. And it felt as if something were cracking inside him.

Much, much later, she moved against him. Murmured his name in her sleep. Pressed her mouth to his skin. And he was lost. When he responded, kissing her back, it wasn’t the usual heat between them; this was something different. Something softer, gentler, sweeter. Something that he knew had the power to destroy him.

And, God help him, he found himself welcoming it with open arms.

Carenza had recovered her bounce by their Saturday morning session. She was still wrestling with figures that weren’t working out, but she was back to her happy-go-lucky self, teasing him and tempting him. And Dante was shocked to find himself suggesting that they repeat the previous Sunday.

‘Challenging me to roller skating?’ she teased.

‘Or we could go up to Vesuvius, if you want to play with fire,’ he teased back.

The look on her face was all the reward he needed. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON TUESDAY morning, Dante looked up when he heard the rap on the door at half-past seven, and frowned when he saw Carenza in the doorway. He