Dreaming Of… Italy. Alison Roberts

the one we have to please.” He toasted her with a drink he must have brought from their dinner table. “And you pleased him.”

      Syrupy warmth filled her and she relaxed a bit on the chaise. It was really difficult to stay disappointed in a guy who seemed genuinely pleased with her work that day. And maybe how she felt about him didn’t matter? It wasn’t like they were friends. They were boss and employee.

      Plus, bright white stars twinkled overhead. A breeze chilled the night air. She didn’t want to go inside yet.

      “My only concern is that he’s too happy. You do know how easily this plan could backfire.”

      She frowned. “I can think of about three ways. First, Antonio could dislike Constanzo.”

      “Constanzo could dislike Antonio.”

      “Or Constanzo could adore his son—”

      “Who might be furious when he learns Constanzo is the father who abandoned him.”

      She studied the stars. “But he didn’t really abandon him. If you listen to the story, Antonio’s mother gave up after one measly attempt to contact him.”

      Tucker chuckled. “Miss Prentiss, I don’t think I need to remind you of a little thing called pride.”

      Her face scrunched in confusion as she considered that. Finally, she said, “So you’re saying Antonio’s mother got her feelings hurt so she kept Constanzo’s son from him?”

      “Exactly.”

      “Sounds petty.”

      “Really?” He rolled onto his side. “What if you, poor as you are right now, got pregnant by a man with billions of dollars? A man so far out of your stratosphere that even if he believed your baby was his, he’d question your motives. He’d make you feel cheap and like a gold digger who’d deliberately gotten pregnant for money.”

      Her face heated. He could be describing the two of them. He was rich. She was poor. And the implications of what he said brought her to her senses very quickly. Forget about his pushing her in the car that day. This was why she’d stay away from him, why she should have stayed away from Cord. He hadn’t needed to be insensitive with her that morning. Women with no money, no social status, always got burned when they got involved with wealthy men. She’d learned that lesson the hard way and she wouldn’t forget it.

      “I don’t have to worry about that.”

      “Really?”

      “Come on, Tucker,” she said, deliberately using his first name because, as with the conversation in the car, he was pushing her buttons again. “I know my place. Billionaires can have their pick of women. They don’t go for the dirt-poor, average-looking waifs. They go after the beauties.”

      He laughed. “Really? You’re gonna toss that at me?”

      “Toss what?”

      “An underestimation of your self-worth.”

      She blew out a laugh. “I know who I am and what I look like.”

      “You seriously don’t think you’re beautiful?”

      “Beautiful?” She laughed. “I’ll give you pretty. But only when I wear makeup. Which I don’t.”

      “You don’t need it.”

      She laughed gaily at the stupidity of this conversation. Though they were talking about her, it was much better than worry over Constanzo and Antonio or speculating about Antonio’s mom. “According to Maria Bartulocci I do.”

      “Maria was very clearly angling that day. She wanted my attention and she wanted a commission for getting me close to Constanzo. If she put you down, it was to make sure she didn’t have competition.”

      “Competition?” She snorted. “Maria knows she’s a beautiful woman.”

      “You think?”

      “You don’t?”

      He shook his head.

      Her eyes widened. “You seriously don’t think she’s beautiful?”

      He snorted. “How would I know? Underneath all that makeup she could have the face of a howler monkey.”

      “Howler monkey?” Vivi gaped at him. “That was mean!”

      “No. That was honest.”

      She heard the sound of him shuffling on his seat and turned to see he’d sat up and was facing her.

      “What I did to you this morning...pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to...that was mean.”

      She was glad for the darkness so he couldn’t see the pleasure that came to her face at his apology. Just as at the Jason Jones signing, his behavior proved he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. “You didn’t know.”

      “No. I didn’t, but I should have suspected something serious had happened from the law suit. You wouldn’t have just called somebody a name on the street or harassed someone. You’re not a flippant girl, Olivia.”

      Her heart stuttered, filled with warmth. Not only did he believe her, but no one ever called her Olivia. No one. The way her name came off his lips was sensual, mesmerizing.

      “You try to be flippant. You use your sassing as a way to make people think you’re in control. Then you turn around and ask a million questions, proving you’re not.”

      Good Lord. No wonder he was rich. He saw right through a strategy that had worked for years. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or frightened.

      “There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. It’s a good idea to try to get a handle on what’s going on when you’re confused. But you really should ditch the sassing.”

      She laughed, but kept her gaze averted.

      He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “I am sorry about this morning.”

      The smoothness of his fingers against her skin nearly made her shiver. And his eyes—those striking green eyes that saw everything—held her prisoner. Her heart trembled with longing. She hadn’t even kissed a guy in years and she desperately wanted him to kiss her. A short, sweet, simple kiss...or a kiss filled with passion and honesty. She didn’t care. She just wanted a kiss.

      But that was wrong. As she’d begun recovering from Cord, she’d promised herself that she’d never again put herself in the position of being with a man so far beyond her socially. And she’d meant it.

      So it was best to let him off the hook about pushing her and return them to their normal relationship. “It’s okay.”

      He sighed and rose from his chaise. “No. It’s not.”

      “Yeah. It is.” She rose. too. “You see, when we got back to Constanzo’s and we started talking about his son, all those emotions you had dredged up were eclipsed by the feeling of pride I had over doing a good job with Antonio.”

      He stopped a few feet short of the pool and faced her. “So you’re okay?”

      She shrugged. “I’ve been okay for a while. But it felt different—better—that I could totally forget it once we started talking about work.”

      “So demanding answers from you was a good thing?”

      She laughed. “Don’t push your luck.”

      Somehow they’d ended up standing face-to-face again. Under the luxurious blanket of stars, next to the twinkling blue water, the only sound the slight hum of the filter for the pool.

      He reached out and cupped the side of her face. “You are a brave, funny woman, Miss Prentiss.”

      Though she knew it was dangerous to get too personal with him, especially since his nearness already had her heart thrumming and her knees weak, she