Irresistibly Exotic Men. Laura Iding

And he started toward the house.

      Marco nodded a dismissal to the security guys then followed Luke, matching him stride for stride. “So the press are finally getting to you.” His voice held the gruff resonance of frustration. “Now you know how it feels.”

      Luke gave a noncommittal grunt. Marco, meanwhile, slowly turned to peruse Beth with hooded eyes.

      The eyes and height were Luke’s, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Marco Corelli was dressed in a light linen suit and cotton shirt, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that emphasized a stunningly beautiful angular face, complete with sharp cheekbones and sensual mouth.

      Beth blinked, frowning. “You look familiar—have we met before?”

      “Pretty sure I’d have remembered, bella.” Marco winked.

      At Luke’s sharp look, Marco laughed. “Relax, mate. I’m just winding you up.” He turned back to Beth and grinned, offering his hand. “Marco Corelli. And you are …?”

      “Beth. Beth Jones.”

      “Marco plays football for Manchester United,” Luke said.

      “Played. I’ve retired.”

      Luke’s eyebrows rose. “Since when?”

      “Four weeks ago. Too many injuries.” He shrugged and kept right on walking, his expression neutral.

      “No, that’s not it,” Beth insisted, frowning. “Have you been on TV or …?”

      Luke snorted, choking back a sudden grin. “Underpants.”

      “Sorry?”

      “Marco’s the face of Skins. You know, the expensive guy’s underwear?”

      Of course! She stared at Marco, who was now scowling at Luke in earnest. Tanned, ripped abs, seductive smile, stacked set of y-fronts. He totally sizzled on that huge Gold Coast Highway billboard.

      Marco stuck his hands in his pockets. “So where did you two meet?”

      “None of your business,” Luke retorted before Beth could open her mouth.

      “Huh. Always secretive, especially where women are concerned,” Marco said. “Ever since Gabrielle—”

      “Don’t.” Luke stopped dead in his tracks, the air crackling with sudden tension. “Don’t go there, Marco.”

      Marco’s expression turned dark as he met Luke’s angry glare with one of his own. With an inaudible mutter, he shrugged and resumed walking.

      “How’s Rosa?” Luke finally said.

      “Better.” Marco kept right on walking, and Beth could just make out the tightening line of his jaw. “Not that you’d know. You’ve avoided her calls for days.”

      They emerged from the line of trees, and whatever response Luke gave was lost on the coastal breeze.

      The gleaming three-story mansion, all cream-colored pillars, shiny glass and strategically placed downlights, screamed wealth from every nook and cranny.

      The immaculate gardens were resplendent with palm trees and native gums. A gently cascading fountain sat in the middle of the circular driveway and behind that, a stucco path led to a pair of huge glass-and-oak doors.

      She stood there, admiring the beautiful simplicity, until Luke’s gruff voice broke through her thoughts.

      “I didn’t start this,” he was saying.

      “But you could stop it.”

      “No, I can’t. I’ve been suspended, remember?”

      Marco snorted. “Last time I checked, you were flavor of the month at Jackson and Blair. Today you can do nothing?”

      “It’d only make things worse.”

      “How in hell could it get any worse?” Marco growled. “Gino is dead, for chrissakes, Luke! He can’t defend himself and you won’t defend him.”

      “I. Am. On. Suspension,” Luke enunciated clearly.

      Marco snorted. “That didn’t stop you from barging in to see Gino the night he died.” At Luke’s look, he said, “Yeah, I know all about that.”

      There was a long pause before Luke said cautiously, “What do you know?”

      “Employees talk. And you were there when the medics arrived, so you can’t deny it.”

      “So?”

      “So I got to thinking—”

      “Marco …”

      “I wondered why you would risk your precious reputation that night of all nights.”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Don’t you?” Marco’s eyes narrowed, his hands going to his hips. “It was the same day Gino’s story hit the papers. You went to give Gino a piece of your mind, didn’t you? You were furious, that I know. You’ve always had a problem hiding your anger, Luke. My bet is you and Gino argued, Gino had a heart attack and Lucky Luke hides behind his precious reputation.”

      “Marco! Lucio! That is enough!”

      They all turned in unison to the small round figure framed by the huge glass doors. And when she stepped outside, into the full light of the patio, Beth gasped.

      “Oh, my God … Connie?”

      “Beth?”

      Luke frowned. “You two know each other?”

      “Yes.” Beth shoved her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed as a whirling dervish of questions and suspicion started to swell. “She’s one of my clients and her name is Connie Lisone.”

       Ten

      “What?” Stunned, Luke stared at Beth then whipped back to his aunt.

      “What are you doing here, Beth?” Rosa said, her face full of bewilderment. “What—”

      “What’s going on?” Marco said behind them.

      “I have no idea—Connie? Or—it’s Rosa, right?” Beth retorted.

      Rosa took a sharp breath, her eyes rounding. “The house. Caro dio, the house!”

      “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Marco yelled behind them.

      Luke glared from Rosa to Beth, his jaw tight. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”

      Rosa pushed the doors wider with a shaky hand. “Come in. Please.”

      Unbelievable. Un-fricking-believable. The anger in Luke simmered as they followed Rosa down the plush hallway, past the familiar blue-washed walls, the classic works of art, the stylish furnishings, before they stopped in the living room.

      “Please, sit.”

      Beth perched on the edge of an elegant Louis XIV chair and crossed her arms. Luke chose to stand.

      “Stop glaring at me, Lucio, and sit.” She waved to the sofa. With a soft snort, he finally sat.

      Rosa sighed, smoothing back her salt-and-pepper hair. “You all know the kind of attention the Corelli name attracts. So for many years I’ve been using a fake one—for appointments, for bookings.” She shrugged. “It allows me a small freedom I wouldn’t normally have.”

      “And what’s your connection to Beth? Besides being a client?”

      Rosa clasped her hands and turned to Beth. “Remember when you first started your business,