Mediterranean Mavericks. Jane Porter

tremor he could see happening with her lips.

      Nice lips, he noticed. Full, very pink, very lush lips.

      ‘Do you think I could h-have a word with you?’ she requested nervously. ‘It’s really important,’ she added quickly. ‘I need to ask you a big favour…’

      A favour? Well, that was a novel approach. Raffaelle felt the corner of his mouth give a twitch—and thereby did the worst thing he could have done, by allowing a chink of interest to stop him from walking away.

      Her silky hair hung dead straight to her slender shoulders and she possessed the most amazing pearly-white skin. He sent his eyes skimming down her front to her cleavage where two firm, plump very white breasts balanced precariously inside the tiny bodice of the short and skimpy pale turquoise silk thing he supposed he should call a dress. She wasn’t tall by his standards, but she had a pair of legs on her that did not need the four inch heels she was wearing to extend their fabulous length.

      Cosmetically enhanced or not, this one was probably the most appealing package in the room tonight, he accepted as he lifted his eyes back to the pair of pink lips to watch them tremble some more as she waited for his response.

      When he still did not give one, she took a step closer, her too-blue eyes lighting up with appeal. ‘You see I have this—problem…’

      She was going to touch him. His stupid hesitation had given her encouragement to believe that he was interested.

      Raffaelle stiffened, each well toned muscle in his long lean framework abruptly tightening up.

      ‘No,’ he iced out.

      Then turned on his heel and strode off.

      Cold, rude, arrogant swine, Rachel mentally tossed after him in stinging frustration. Did the too-tall, dark and disgustingly handsome devil think he was so special that he didn’t need to be polite to a woman?

      Well, you’re not my type, Mr Villani, she told the long length of his retreating figure. Especially if his type was the kind of women doing the rounds here tonight.

      Rachel’s blue eyes turned bitter as she flicked them round the gathered assembly of the famously rich and beautiful—in that order, money being the biggest attraction here tonight. It was a trade fair for the beautiful people to ply their wares in front of London’s wealthiest, though it hid under the more respectable title of a Charity Fundraising Event.

      She should not have come here. If Elise hadn’t convinced her it was the only way to get close to a man like Raffaelle Villani, she would not have been seen dead at a do like this.

      ‘He likes them blonde and slinky,’ Elise had said. ‘Notoriously can’t keep his hands off. You only have to read down the list of his last fifteen girlfriends to know the man has no control when he’s faced with blonde hair and a great pair of legs.’

      Well, not in my case, Rachel thought heavily as she gave a grim tug at the hem of the dress Elise had made her wear. ‘You have to look the part,’ her half-sister had insisted. ‘When you pay the extortionate price for tickets like these it means you have to look as if you can afford to throw good money away.’

      The silly price of the tickets was one thing, but a five figure sum dress only earned its price tag if it looked good on the wearer.

      Rachel felt as if she looked like a very cheap tart.

      ‘Hello, beautiful…’The unremarkable hit line arrived as a hand squeezed around her waist at the same time and a pair of lips arrived at one of the straps which held up the dress. ‘Having trouble with the dress? Can I help?’

      His teeth nipped at the shoulder strap. Rachel heaved in a thick breath of disgust. ‘Take your hands and your teeth off me,’ she iced out, then broke free and walked off without giving the guy a single glance.

      She’d taken about five steps before she realised she’d inadvertently walked in the same direction as Raffaelle Villani.

      And there he was.

      She stopped dead.

      He was in the process of disentangling a lovely young thing wearing red from the possessive clutches of another man. The vision in red turned to pout a protest at him, then flung her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

      So much for him preferring them blonde, Rachel thought cynically. The creature he’d just claimed and was now kissing was hot-lipped, glossy and black-haired.

      Oh, God, she thought helplessly, what was she going to do if she did not manage to pull this off?

      ‘You’re drunk,’ Raffaelle informed Daniella.

      ‘Tiddly,’ his half-English stepsister insisted with a smile gauged to melt his irritation away.

      It did not succeed. ‘Admit to being drunk, cara,’ he advised as he grabbed both of her hands and dragged them down from around his neck. ‘It is the only excuse Gino will accept for what you have just been doing.’

      ‘I haven’t been doing anything—!’ Eyes the colour of warm dark chocolate opened wide and tried their best to look innocent.

      ‘You were hitting on that guy,’ Raffaelle accused her.

      ‘We were flirting, that’s all! And what do you think you’re doing, Raffaelle?’ she protested when he took hold of her hand and turned towards the exit.

      ‘Taking you home,’ he clipped out. ‘I don’t know why I let you talk me into bringing you here in the first place.’

      ‘For some fun?’ Daniella offered up.

      ‘I don’t do this kind of fun.’

      ‘That’s your big problem, Raffaelle,’ she informed him as he trailed her behind him. ‘You don’t do anything these days other than work yourself into the ground.’

      ‘My choice.’

      ‘To be a grouch.’

      A nerve ticked at the corner of his mouth because she was right: he was becoming grouch—a bitter and cynical grouch.

      ‘All because one woman managed to con you into believing she was pure sweetness and light…’

      ‘As you try to do, you mean?’

      ‘I am all sweetness and light!’ Daniella insisted. ‘And that wasn’t very nice,’ she complained. ‘Nor do I lie or cheat.’

      ‘Tell that to Gino not to me,’Raffaelle countered. ‘If he had seen the way you were preparing to wrap yourself around that guy, he would call the wedding off.’

      ‘But Gino isn’t here because he prefers to be halfway across the world playing the hot shot tycoon.’

      ‘However, the press is here—’

      Raffaelle stopped walking as a sudden thought hit him. He swung round to pierce her with a hard stare.

      ‘Is that what this is about?’ he demanded. ‘Did you drag me out to this thing—which is nothing more than an overpriced knocking shop,’ he said with contempt, ‘so that you would be caught on camera playing the vamp with some other guy just to punish Gino, knowing that I would be on hand to haul you out of trouble before you got yourself in too deep?’

      ‘I hate him,’ Daniella announced. ‘I might even decide not to marry him. I’m supposed to be the love of his life yet I haven’t set eyes on him in two wh-whole weeks!’

      The small break in her voice did it. Raffaelle heard the fight with tears and released a sigh. ‘Come here, you idiot.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘You know Gino worships the ground you walk upon but he is busy trying to free himself up for that long glorious honeymoon he has planned for you both.’

      ‘He even sounds like he would rather be doing something else when he rings me,’ she sniffed into his shirt front. ‘I’m not a doormat. I refuse to let him wipe his feet on me!’