vital part of her defence around this man. She felt naked, vulnerable. Exposed.
She turned around and then felt a large warm hand on her arm, under her T-shirt. Her belly plummeted to some dark hot place.
Gio compelled her to face him, turning her around. He was frowning. ‘What did I say?’
‘No—nothing,’ Valentina stuttered, which made her think of Gio’s stutter. How fierce and yet vulnerable he’d looked whenever he had stuttered. She closed her eyes. Dio. Would her imagination not cease?
‘I’ve upset you.’
Valentina opened her eyes but avoided his, focusing on the bronzed column of his throat above his dark T-shirt. She shook her head. ‘No … I’m just tired. It’s been a long day … few days.’
‘Valentina, look at me.’
Somehow Gio was right in front of her, his hand hot on her arm. She imagined that she could feel her pulse beating against her skin, as if trying to touch his skin. His blood.
She looked up and was caught by his dark brown gaze. Green flecks like dark jewels. How many times had she dreamt of these eyes? How many times had she coveted his gaze on her, only to feel it and flee like a little coward? His gaze was on her now and it was scorching her alive.
Gio frowned even more, in a question. ‘Valentina?’
Her eyes dropped to Gio’s mouth. That gorgeous sensual mouth. Made for dark things. When she’d been seventeen she’d kissed her pillow and imagined she was kissing him.
Gio’s voice sounded slightly rough. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
Her eyes rose to meet his. She seemed to have been invaded by some kind of lethargy. She knew she should be cool, step back, push his arm off her, but all those things seemed so difficult to do.
She shook her head faintly. ‘Looking at you … like what?’
A long moment burned between them. Valentina had forgotten everything. She could feel herself swaying ever so slightly towards Gio. And then his other hand came onto her other arm and he was pushing her back, pushing her away from him.
It was as if someone had just doused her in cold water. Valentina suddenly saw exactly what she must have looked like. Staring at Gio’s mouth like a love-struck teenager, swaying like a drunk person, silently begging him—She stepped back sharply, forcing his hands to drop. She felt hot inside, her skin prickly all over, and worse, her breasts felt fuller, her nipples stinging against the lace of her bra.
‘Go to bed, Valentina, you’re tired.’ Gio’s voice was curt and flayed Valentina alive.
She couldn’t even answer. She stepped down from the seats and had to force herself not to run all the way to her rooms. Mortification was a tidal wave eating her up all over. Gio had pushed her back; he’d had to stop her from making a complete fool of herself. She’d just exposed herself to him spectacularly. No matter what she said or did from now on, she hadn’t hidden her attraction to him.
Surrounded by the inky blackness of the night, Gio downed the rest of his beer in a disgusted gulp. When he’d stood in front of Valentina … and she’d looked at him. Cristo. He’d been so hot and hungry for her that he’d imagined her looking at him as if … as if she wanted to kiss him, or for him to kiss her.
He’d been so close to pulling her into him, tipping up that chin, running a thumb across the silky skin of her jaw and cheek…. He’s almost done it, and then he’d seen her sway slightly … with fatigue, not lust.
Thank God he hadn’t completely lost it and misread her signals. The last thing he needed was to add one more thing to Valentina’s hate list for him.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FOLLOWING EVENING Valentina was in foul form. It had been a tough day; everyone’s nerves were on edge as they put together all the elements for the Corretti Cup. There were many more staff now, all labouring in their various departments. Event micro-managers were making sure all the areas were kitted out. There was one central dining area where a set menu buffet lunch would be served every day for the main crowd.
Then there was the unbelievably opulent cordoned-off vast VIP marquee area, set in its own landscaped gardens, which had the sit-down à la carte menu, and where each evening a champagne reception would be held as the last races were run.
On the last night there would