A Night In His Arms. Annie West

her up. Domenico tasted rusty fear, remembering.

      He’d gathered her close and hadn’t been able to release her even when her well-wishers crowded around. He’d needed her with him.

      Domenico scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He and Lucy had unfinished business. Business he’d delayed. It had nothing to do with Sandro or Pia or the press.

      ‘Calm down, Pia, and hear me out.’

      * * *

      Lucy heard Domenico as she entered the house. She stopped, not to eavesdrop but because he had that effect on her. She’d given up pretending. She might be weak where he was concerned but she refused to lie to herself.

      The sound of that rich macchiato voice pooled heat deep in her body. The memory of his tender kiss, as if he treasured her, made forbidden hope unfurl.

      ‘I understand your concerns, Pia, but she’s not the woman the press have painted.’

      Lucy started, realising Domenico was talking to his sister-in-law about her. She went rigid, torn between curiosity and protecting herself. Since the rescue it had been hard to keep him at arm’s length. Yet she needed to because he could hurt her badly.

      She was moving away when he spoke again.

      ‘That was years ago, Pia. People change. She’s changed. Did you get her letter?’

      Lucy’s steps faltered.

      ‘You shouldn’t have destroyed it. She wrote to say how much she regretted Sandro’s death. She was genuine, Pia. I’m sure of that.’

      Lucy’s heart hammered against her ribs, her hand clenching on the door handle.

      Domenico was standing up for her against his sister-in-law! She could scarcely believe it.

      ‘I understand, Pia. But it’s time we moved on. For Taddeo’s sake.’ He paused as if listening. ‘We can’t change the past, much as we wish it. I know Lucy wishes she could. She’s genuinely sorry for what happened to Sandro.’

      Lucy clung to the door handle as her knees wobbled.

      ‘That’s your choice, Pia. But think about what I’ve said. Living in the present is the best thing for your son. He’s a fine boy, one Sandro would have been proud of. You don’t want him growing up bitter and fearful, do you?’

      Domenico’s voice dipped on his brother’s name, reminding Lucy this was a private conversation.

      She released the door and crossed the foyer. Confusion filled her but it didn’t dim her smile and her step was light.

      Domenico had stood up for her!

      * * *

      Sunlight filtered through spreading branches and Lucy leaned against her cushion with a sigh of contentment.

      ‘More?’ Domenico lifted a bunch of dark grapes with the bloom of the vineyard still on them.

      ‘I couldn’t.’ She patted her stomach. ‘I’ve eaten like a horse.’

      His eyes followed the movement and fire licked her. She stiffened then forced herself to relax as his gaze grew intent. Domenico saw too much, especially now when her skill at hiding her feelings had disintegrated.

      ‘I’ll have some.’ Chiara skipped across the clearing. The plaster on her wrist was the only reminder of last week’s ordeal.

      Lucy met Domenico’s rueful gaze and realised they shared the same thought. She smiled, sharing the moment of relief, and he smiled back. It was like watching the sunrise after endless night, warming her with an inner glow.

      Her breathing snagged then resumed, quicker and shorter as she watched his eyes darken. Her skin shivered as if responding to the phantom brush of his hand.

      ‘Domi? Can’t I have some?’

      Domenico dragged his attention to Chiara. ‘Of course, bella.’ He handed over the bunch then leaned back on his arms. Lucy’s heart pattered faster. If he shifted again they’d be touching.

      Domenico hadn’t touched her since Chiara’s accident. That made her wonder if she’d imagined the strength of his embrace that day, or the way his hands had trembled as he held her. Her breath eased out in a sigh.

      She’d never forget the magic of his kiss. Her fingers drifted to her mouth as she relived the brush of his lips.

      It worried her how much she longed for him. How readily she responded now he treated her as a welcome guest. After hearing him defend her to Pia she hadn’t been able to quell effervescent excitement, or the conviction that things had changed irrevocably between them.

      She looked up to find his hooded eyes gleaming with heat. It arced between them, pulsing darts of sizzling awareness to her breasts, her belly and beyond.

      Lucy shivered and his mouth curled in a lopsided smile that carved a long dimple down his lean cheek. She curled her fingers into the grass, fighting the impulse to reach out and touch.

      ‘So, Lucy.’ He paused, glancing across to where Chiara sat with the flowers she’d gathered. ‘You approve of Italian picnics?’

      ‘I adore Italian picnics.’

      ‘You’ve only been on one.’

      She shrugged and felt the soft breeze waft over her bare arms, the melting laxness in her bones. ‘What’s not to like? Sunshine and food fresh from the farm.’ She gestured to the remains of home baked bread, bowls of ricotta and local honey, prosciutto, olives and a cornucopia of summer fruits. ‘It’s heaven. Almost as good as our picnics back home.’

      His eyebrows slanted high. ‘Almost?’

      ‘Well, there’s nothing like a sudden English rainstorm to liven up outdoor eating.’

      He laughed, the deep rich sound curling round her. An answering smile hovered on Lucy’s mouth.

      Smiling had become second nature lately. Because she’d been made to feel she belonged. By Chiara’s warm-hearted family and by Domenico. Gone was his judgemental frown, replaced by easy-going acceptance that banished so many shadows. He’d taken her snorkelling again, taught her to waterski and whiled away more hours than he needed to in her company, never once mentioning his brother or the story she might sell to the press. As if he trusted her.

      Lucy could relax with him now.

      No, that wasn’t right. This tingling awareness wasn’t relaxation. It was confidence and excitement and pleasure all rolled together.

      Risky pleasure, when it lulled her into fantasy. When she found herself hoping the horrors of the past would vanish and leave them untroubled in this paradise.

      A chill frisson snaked up her backbone.

      It can’t last.

      One day soon the real world would intrude.

      Lucy marvelled that Domenico had taken so much time out from what must be a heavy work schedule. He’d have business elsewhere. And she...she’d have to go too.

      Regret lanced her and she twisted towards Chiara rather than let Domenico glimpse her pain.

      Its intensity shocked her. It ripped through her, stealing the breath in her lungs.

      Lucy pressed a hand to her chest.

      ‘Are you okay?’ Domenico moved abruptly as if sensing her discomfort.

      ‘I’m fine.’ This time her smile was a desperate lie. ‘Just a little too much indulgence after all.’

      Panic stirred. This wasn’t just regret that the vacation was almost over. She’d known it would be tough trying to create a new life. She’d spent the last weeks facing the unpalatable facts of a future without family, friends, a job or anywhere to call home.

      But the dread that made her skin break into a cold sweat owed nothing to that. It