The Italian Groom. Jane Porter

sat beneath a market umbrella, his face hidden in the shade. “You should have come to me if you needed help.” Disappointment tinged his voice.

      “I don’t need help,” she answered sharply, defensive.

      He pushed up from the chair and walked toward her. His casual shirt hung open, unbuttoned to reveal his bronzed chest and the hard, flat muscles in his abdomen.

      Meg inhaled quickly, taken aback by his blatant virility. He’d never been shy, but he’d never been so confident, either.

      “I hate hearing others talk about you.”

      She felt a lump form in her chest. It threatened to seal her throat.

      He glanced at her as he walked past her. “Because they do talk, Maggie. They enjoy your escapades.”

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

      “No?”

      “No.” She barely managed to get the word out, her voice strangled, her chest tight like a vise. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t have found out.

      But he would, sooner or later.

      The intensity in his golden eyes held her captive. She swallowed hard, lifted her chin. “Is there a point to this, Nic? I’m not in the mood for games.”

      “And I’ve never played games, cara.”

      She bristled at his tone. He made her feel sixteen again, and it was all she could do to keep from rolling her eyes. “So what do you want?”

      Niccolo smoothed the towel on the chaise longue. “I want you to sit down here—” he patted the chaise “—and tell me what you’re trying so hard to hide.”

      “I’m not trying to hide anything.”

      “Lie number one.”

      “Nic!”

      “I’ll ask you again. What are you trying to hide?”

      “Nothing. I’m here to do a job. I’m doing the job. That’s it.”

      “I don’t believe you.”

      He wanted to fight. He was trying to be insulting. For a split second she considered telling him the truth. It would shut him up. Stun him to silence. Because of course Nic would be furious. She would have committed the ultimate sin.

      But she wouldn’t tell him. It wasn’t his problem. She refused to let him interfere. “I’m going back to the house. I don’t have to put up with this.”

      His expression changed, his fierce features softening. “Cara, I don’t want to quarrel. Why can’t you sit down and let us talk? You once told me everything.”