Modern Romance January Books 5-8. Heidi Rice

and fresh and horrendously prepared to go to work. How could she think about anything other than wanting to get back into bed with him right this second?

      ‘Why wouldn’t it be helpful to you?’ he asked, surliness curling inside.

      Her smile deepened. ‘It just wouldn’t.’

      Here she was happily enforcing his rule, but while he’d got what he’d said he wanted, the fact that someone else had called it meant he now wanted the exact opposite. And here he was thinking he was so grown-up and over all the denials of his childhood. Back then the second someone had told him he couldn’t have something, he’d wanted it, and he’d done whatever it took to get it. But this time was worse than any other. He grabbed her wrist before she could step completely out of reach.

      ‘I’m not able to be as adult as you about this,’ he said huskily. ‘How’s that for some honesty?’

      A wary look entered her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I mean that while I don’t want this to be anything more, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave my bed just yet.’

      Her smile blossomed, jerking every one of his muscles to stiffer attention. Killing him. But he could feel her pulse skipping faster every second she studied him.

      ‘Thank you for that compliment.’ Her voice was a little husky. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it too, but I really can’t be late,’ she said. ‘There’s too much to do.’

      There was too much to do—everything with her all over again. He caught her quick glance down his body and he leaned closer. But then she flicked her hand, twisting free of his grip.

      ‘I must go.’ She shook her head. ‘There are many, so many...other things I have to do. I had this idea and I think it will work...’

      He realised, belatedly, that she was breathlessly babbling her way out of his room. Nervous, embarrassed...emotional.

      His lovers always said yes to him, always jumped when he asked them to. But not Gracie. She was getting away the only way she knew how, and even though five minutes ago he’d been ready to rush through any awkward goodbye and hustle her out of the house, he now found her awkwardness endearing. And at the realisation she was actually leaving, he felt oddly bereft.

      ‘Sorry.’ She rushed her words. ‘Really do have to run.’

      But the parting smile she flashed at him wasn’t sorry, it was shy and grateful and he wanted to kiss her. Instead, all he did was blink at the empty doorway.

      The silence echoed long after he’d heard the front door close behind her.

      He wanted to hear her teasing laugh and turn it into a quivering sigh again. He wanted to see her sweet eyes smoulder with that new awareness. He growled in self-mockery and tossed the sheet from his lazy, lust-aching bones. One night was all he did.

      He had the villa. He’d had an immensely satisfying night with a beautiful woman. He had his space.

      Now he’d get back to work.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘WE NEED TO make even more tomorrow, but I honestly don’t know how we can.’ Francesca locked the door and slumped back against it.

      They’d sold out at the pasticceria before lunchtime, even though Gracie had made a third more pastries than usual.

      ‘I know,’ Gracie groaned. ‘I’m going to have to start even earlier.’

      Despite her tiredness, having to bake round the clock had been the best thing about these last few days. She’d had no time to dwell on he whom she refused to remember. Rafe certainly hadn’t been into the bakery again, and now Alex was well enough to tend the roses, Gracie had stayed away from the villa.

      ‘It’ was definitely ‘over’, and that was just fine; she was choosing to think about something else. Anything else. Such as making pastries. Hundreds and hundreds of pastries. She’d been testing new products daily—to Francesca’s delight. So the sleeplessness was worth it.

      ‘I have news.’ Francesca walked towards the counter.

      ‘Good news?’ Gracie looked up from wiping down the cabinets. She needed as much distraction as possible.

      ‘Catering news.’ An awkward look crossed Francesca’s face. ‘A potential client wants to talk to you about an upcoming event.’

      ‘When does she want to meet us?’ Gracie paused and looked more intently at Francesca. Why was she looking guilty?

      ‘This afternoon. He’s requested you specifically. If we do well, it could open all kinds of doors given who’s likely to be on the guest list.’

      A sense of foreboding slithered down Gracie’s spine. ‘Who’s he?’

      ‘Rafael Vitale. The new owner of the Villa Rosetta. He wants us to cater his upcoming house-warming.’

      Grace’s heart thundered so loudly she put her hand to her chest to make sure her ribs could contain it. ‘He’s having a house-warming party?’

      ‘A big one.’ Francesca nodded. ‘He said it would be better to communicate his needs in English with you.’

      His needs? Four days and he’d suddenly realised he had needs?

      A shadow crossed Francesca’s face, dimming her excited glow. ‘Are you sure you want to go? I can go with you if—’

      ‘It’s fine. No problem.’ Gracie saw Francesca was torn about asking this of her. Rafael was in the wrong for putting her friend in this position—and he was going to hear about it. ‘You need to be here to get ready for tonight anyway.’

      ‘You’re sure? Fantastic. You’re to meet him at the villa at four o’clock. He said you already know the security code to get in.’ The interest in Francesca’s gaze was barely veiled now.

      ‘Yes, I know the code.’ Gracie straightened and shot her boss a smile and lied for the first time in years. ‘I’ll handle him, no problem at all.’

      At precisely four o’clock Gracie pressed the security code and the gate swung open. Once more she walked up the stunning driveway. His too-flash, too-fast car was parked in the driveway. Rafael Vitale was standing by the shimmering pool. Tall, dark and wet. He’d been swimming. Which meant he was barely dressed. He was all muscles and hotness. Gracie shot him a sharp look, but it simply bounced off his brazenly smug smile. The guy had done it deliberately.

      Her pulse still thundered annoyingly loud in her ears, hindering her chances of actually thinking. But she was going to try. ‘I hear you need more pastries for your insatiable models?’

      ‘That’s right.’ His smile widened.

      ‘For a house-warming party?’

      He spread his hands. ‘I’ve been told this would make a lovely home, rather than a luxury holiday retreat, so I thought I’d see how it felt to live in it a little.’

      ‘And that’s your definition of living a little? Partying with pretty people?’

      ‘Doesn’t that match your definition?’ he asked, brushing his wet hair back from his forehead and certifying his fallen angel’s physique status. ‘Of course not, you want to bury yourself in a sleepy little village with a bunch of octogenarians.’

      Oh—he was going there? She drew in a careful breath because he was attacking all her senses. ‘The village is hardly sleepy. It’s full of tourists and easy-come, easy-go possibilities,’ she muttered meaningfully. ‘Lots and lots of tourists.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘You think you’ve mastered that