The Sicilian Marriage. Sandra Marton

watch, but so help me—”

      “I was talking about my daughter!”

      “Yes. And I told you…” Gianni blinked. “Your daughter?” He felt the color rise in his face. “You were talking about—about—”

      “About Cristina. Of course. And you thought I was talking about a woman.”

      “Hell.” Gianni turned away, leaned his arms on the terrace railing and stared blindly into the gathering dusk. Things were going from bad to worse. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “I’m an idiot.”

      Stefano chuckled. “I’m happy we agree.” The men fell silent for a minute. Then Stefano cleared his throat. “So, which blonde are we talking about?”

      “It doesn’t matter,” Gianni said, waving his hand in dismissal. A couple of seconds went by. “The one who damned near threw herself into your arms when she got here.”

      “Not a very good description, Firelli. All women throw themselves into my arms.”

      Gianni chuckled. “Better not let your wife hear you say that.”

      “Better not let his wife hear what?” Fallon said, smiling as she joined the men. “Gianni, it’s good to see you again.”

      Gianni smiled and kissed her cheek. “And you, Fallon. Motherhood has made you even lovelier. I wouldn’t have thought that possible.”

      Fallon batted her lashes. “You Sicilians! You always know how to make a woman feel good.”

      “Some women,” Stefano said. Fallon raised her eyebrows. “It seems one of our guests turned down the chance to have her name added to Gianni’s little black book.”

      “Stefano,” Gianni said warningly.

      Stefano slipped his arm around his wife. “Come on, don’t be shy. If you’re interested in one of our guests—”

      “I’m not,” Gianni said quickly. “I only said—”

      “Point her out,” Fallon said. “I’ll introduce you.”

      Gianni looked at Stefano, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Damn it, Lucchesi! Fallon, your husband’s letting his imagination run away with him.”

      “I know who she is,” Stefano said, as if Gianni weren’t there.

      “You don’t,” Gianni said quickly. How in hell had this gotten away from him so fast? “There must be half a dozen blondes at this party.”

      “But you said this one threw herself into my arms.”

      “And?”

      “And that she was attractive.” Stefano winked at his wife. “Attractive, mind you, but not beautiful.”

      “What,” Gianni said coldly, “is your point?”

      “My point,” Stefano said smugly, “is that I know who she is.” He paused, just long enough so that Fallon and Gianni gave him their full attention. “The lady in question is my sister-in-law.”

      Gianni stared at his old friend. “Your—”

      “He was talking about Briana,” Stefano told Fallon. “And why would a man who thinks a woman is attractive but not beautiful be fixated on her?”

      “I am not fixated on her. I’ve never found that type of woman interest…Oh, hell. I’m killing myself here, aren’t I?”

      “Yes,” Fallon said agreeably. She let go of her husband and linked her arm through Gianni’s. “And the only way out is to let me introduce you to Bree so you can find just what, exactly, it is you never find interesting.”

      Stefano and Fallon were laughing, so he laughed, too, or tried to, as she all but dragged him into the crowded room. Thank God, he thought, after a quick look around. Bree or Briana, whatever her name was, was gone.

      “I’d love to meet her,” he said, lying through his teeth. “Too bad she seems to have left.”

      “She went upstairs to diaper the baby,” Fallon said, heading for the curving staircase that led to the penthouse’s upper level, “and I’m not going to let you back out of this.”

      “Fallon. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said about your sister. I’m sure she’s charming. Beautiful, too. And—”

      “Bree,” Fallon said, “there you are,” and Gianni turned from his hostess and looked at the woman coming down the steps toward them.

      He’d gotten it right the first time.

      Briana O’Connell wasn’t beautiful.

      She was spectacular.

      All that blond hair, tumbling over her shoulders to frame a face dominated by sea-blue eyes. That mouth, yes, rosebud-pink and just full enough to make him wonder how it would feel to sink into its soft warmth. The high breasts, slender waist, delicately rounded hips and long, hell, endless legs.

      At least she wasn’t trying to freeze him with a look. How could she, when she gave him a glance that lasted no more than a second?

      “Bree, this is Gianni Firelli. Gianni, my baby sister, Bree.”

      “It’s Briana,” the blond vision said, and turned her attention to Fallon. “The baby fell asleep as soon as I put her in her bassinet. I left her with her nanny. Is that all right?”

      “It’s fine. Uh, Bree? Gianni’s one of Stefano’s oldest friends.”

      This time, Gianni got the full force of her icy gaze. “How nice for them both. If you’ll excuse me…”

      “Why should I excuse you?” he said, before he could stop himself. He stepped away from Fallon, moved closer to Briana and pitched his voice slow enough that only she would hear him. “Are you always so rude, or is this personal?”

      Those deep blue eyes met his and suddenly he saw something in their depths, a flash of heat so intense it threatened to sear his soul.

      “You flatter yourself,” she whispered.

      And then she was gone.

      Gianni had never understood what people meant when they said their blood was boiling, but he understood it now. He stared after her, imagined the pleasure of going after her, grabbing her and shaking her until she begged for mercy…

      Or of swinging her into his arms, carrying her away, taking her to a room where he could strip her of that green dress and that icy look, put his hands in her hair and kiss her until she was helpless and pleading for more…

      “I’m terribly sorry, Gianni.”

      He blinked, focused his eyes on Fallon’s face. She looked as shocked as he felt.

      “Bree’s not—She’s not a rude person. I don’t know what came over her.”

      Summoning a smile wasn’t easy, but he managed. “It’s all right.”

      “No, it’s not. Look, let me go find her and—”

      “No.” His voice was sharp. Carefully he manufactured another smile and started over. “Really, Fallon, I’m not offended.”

      “Well, you should be. When I get her alone later—”

      “Forget it. Maybe she had a difficult day.”

      “Bree? A difficult day?” Fallon gave a ladylike snort. “I don’t know how. My sister doesn’t do anything that might be considered difficult.”

      Except treat men as if they were contemptible, Gianni thought, but he wasn’t going to say anything like that. Her sister’s behavior wasn’t Fallon’s responsibility.

      “Doesn’t she have a job?”

      “An