Bella Rosa Marriages: The Bridesmaid's Secret. Fiona Harper

flashed her a smile, timing it to perfection. ‘So I’ve been told. Come on.’ He looked towards the open doors, only a few feet away, that led onto the terrace ‘Andiamo!’

      Jackie followed his gaze and then they were both moving, both picking up speed and heading for the delicious coolness of the shady edges of the garden. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s tray as they made their escape, and it struck him that he hadn’t needed to drag her to get her to go outside with him after all. They hadn’t even touched.

      Not yet, anyway.

      This is ridiculous, Jackie thought, as she ignored the pain on the balls of her feet and jogged in her high heels. They fled across the terrace, out of the view of the wedding guests inside the grand dining room and down a shady path. Romano was so close behind her she could hear his breath, practically feel it in the little ringlets at the nape of her neck.

      When they’d reached relative safety, beyond a curve in the path, she gave in to the nagging fire in her feet and stopped. Romano just grinned at her and handed her a glass of champagne.

      ‘You hardly spilled a drop! That’s an impressive skill.’

      Romano took a step closer. ‘Oh, you have no idea of the skills I’ve picked up since we were last together.’

      A slight rumble in his voice caused her to flush hot and cold all over. Just the thought that Romano might be better at some things—other things—was not good for her equilibrium. She steadied herself on the wooden rail that followed the path downhill and looked out to where the lake was sparkling at them through the trees.

      What are you doing? You can’t behave like this. Not with Romano. Not now. Not ever.

      She closed her eyes briefly, took a sip of champagne and opened them again. How could she have let herself start thinking this way, feeling this way? Her daughter’s whole happiness hung in the balance and she’d forgotten all about that, had been too busy being selfish, letting herself relive the unique buzz of attraction that still hummed between her and the man standing just a few short steps away.

      She decided to start walking again, because standing there in the shadowy silence, feeling his gaze resting softly on her, was somehow too intimate. She had to break this strange feeling that had encapsulated her. It was as if she and Romano were trapped in a bubble together, with the rest of the world far, far away. She had to find a way to pop it before she did something stupid.

      Her stiletto would be perfect. She took a step away from him, hoping that the heel of her shoe would be sharp enough to cut through the surface tension and let reality flood back in. He followed her and, if anything, the skin surrounding them, joining them, just bounced back and thickened.

      She kept walking and didn’t stop until she’d realised her subconscious had led her to the one place on the island that she’d really wanted to avoid.

      The sunken garden was as beautiful as it had always been, full of ferns, some dark and woody, some small and delicate in a shade of pale greenish-yellow that was almost fluorescent. There was something timeless about this garden. The memory of the dark, waxy ivy that had worked its way up and around every feature was still fresh in her mind. The grotto still beckoned silently, promising secrecy and shelter in its cocoon-like depths.

      She tried to keep the memories, and the man she was here with, even her own desires, at bay with her next words. It was time to stop getting carried away and ground herself in reality, in the sticky, complicated present, not some half-remembered adolescent fantasy.

      ‘I…I wanted to ask you if you were free tomorrow,’she said, without looking him in the eye. That would be far too dangerous. ‘There’s something important I need to discuss with you.’

      She heard—no, felt—Romano move closer.

      ‘Look at me, Jacqueline,’ he said in a low, husky voice.

      She licked her lips. She didn’t want to look at him, but not looking at him would be an admission that she was feeling weak, that he was getting to her, and she needed to give at least a semblance of control. She inhaled and met his gaze.

      He was wearing that lopsided smile he’d always had for her. The one that had turned her heart to butter.

      ‘We both know that we have talked the idea of the Puccini shoot for Gloss! to death over the last few days.’ His fingers made contact with her wrist, ran lightly up her forearm. ‘We’re both adults now.’

      Jackie decided she had need of a fire extinguisher. She didn’t trust herself to say anything helpful, so she just kept looking at him. Had she blinked recently? She really didn’t know.

      ‘So…’ he continued, ‘let’s not play games as we did when we were younger. If we want to spend time together, we should just say it is so. There is no shame in it.’

      Jackie tried hard to deny it, but he shook his head.

      ‘Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes.’ He dipped his head closer, until she could almost taste him in the air around her. ‘I know we both want this.’

      Heaven help her, she did.

      She didn’t push him away when he dragged his lips across hers, so gently it was as if they were barely touching. Too gently, teasing, so her nerve endings went up in flames. More so than if he’d started off as hot and hungry as she’d half-wished he would.

      Boy, Romano could kiss.

      He’d always been able to kiss. But he was right. There was new skill here too. Enough to make her forget her own name.

      Romano had disposed of his champagne glass—she hadn’t noticed when or how—and now his hands were round her waist, pulling her closer to him. She needed to touch him, hold him, but her own glass was still dangling by its stem from her right hand. They were right beside one of the water features and she felt with the base of the glass for a flattish patch on the knobbly surface of the pool’s edge. She hardly registered the plop a second or two later, too busy running her hands up Romano’s chest, relishing the feel of him.

      She kept going all the way up his body until she could weave her fingers through the deliciously short hairs at the back of his head. Still kissing her, he let out a gruff moan from the back of his throat. She smiled almost imperceptibly against his lips.

      This was the wonder of Romano Puccini. He made her feel beautiful and feminine and alive. Not by wading in and taking control, dominating, but by acknowledging her power, meeting her as an equal, making her feel sexy and confident.

      Romano’s lips moved from hers. He kissed a line from her chin down to the base of her neck, then along her collarbone to her shoulder, nipping the bare skin there gently with his teeth.

      Jackie just clung to him. She hadn’t known how much she’d missed this. Missed him. Hadn’t realised that subconsciously she’d been waiting to feel his lips on her skin again for almost two decades. How could she have denied herself so long? Why had she thrown this away?

      ‘Jackie…’ His breath was warm in her ear. ‘I want you. I need you.’

      He was whispering her name in that way that had always made her melt, but it was another name that suddenly crystallised in her consciousness, freezing out all other thoughts and sensations.

      Kate.

      In a split second what had been hot and tingly and wonderful between them seemed nothing more than an undignified grope in the bushes. And it was selfish. So selfish.

      She pushed Romano away. Or maybe she pulled herself out of his arms—she wasn’t quite sure. He blinked and looked at her, his eyes hooded and clouded with confusion.

      ‘We can’t do this,’ she said in a shaky voice.

      He reached for her and she was too numb to react fast enough. He breathed in her ear, knowing just what he was doing, before whispering, ‘What’s to stop us?’

      Jackie prayed for strength,