The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride. Lynne Graham

force.

      ‘No. I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll send a car to pick you up when you’re finished.’

      ‘Can’t we just play here?’ Kathy gave way but only on terms that she felt would be comfortable for her. She didn’t want to risk being seen with him. Nor did she want to climb into some strange car to be taken heaven knew where and possibly left to find her own way home again in the early hours of the morning.

      His surprise was patent. ‘If that’s what you want.’

      ‘It is.’

      Kathy watched his long fluid stride carry him out of her sight. She was in a daze, not quite able to accept that he had talked her round with very little effort. It was only a game of chess, she told herself in sudden exasperation. He was still set on winning. If he kissed her again, she would…well, she would just make sure that they didn’t get that close. It would be pointless, him with his business empire and her with her history. And she didn’t want to be kicked in the teeth again, did she? There was no point literally queuing up to get hurt. But nor was there any harm in pitting her wits against his.

      Five minutes before eleven, Kathy freshened up in the cloakroom. She folded up her overall and dug it into her bag. Her turquoise cotton T-shirt clung to her minimal curves. She turned sideways, breathed in deep and arched her spine. Her bosom remained disappointingly slight from every angle. Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, she flushed in embarrassment and concentrated on brushing her hair instead.

      Kathy was twenty-three years old but, just then, she felt more like a nervous teenager. That lowering feeling of ignorance and insecurity annoyed her. The years between nineteen and twenty-two, when she might have acquired a little more experience, had been stolen from her. As soon as that bitter thought occurred to her, she buried it again, for she tried never to look back in that spirit; it did her no good to dwell on what could not be changed. She had spent three years in prison for a crime she had not committed and still bore the scars, mentally and physically. But few had been willing to believe in her innocence and indeed had often judged her more harshly for daring to make such a claim. Get over it, she told herself firmly; leave it in the past, move on.

      When she walked into his office, her lissom figure and endless long coltish legs merely enhanced by a T-shirt and jeans, Sergio was startled by her impact. The exotic slant of her cheekbones was more obvious with her glorious hair tumbling in loose waves round her narrow shoulders—hair the colour of tangerine marmalade in sunlight, glinting with amber and ochre shades that acted as a superb showcase for her white skin and apple-green eyes.

      ‘Have you ever been a model?’ he asked while he poured her another drink.

      ‘No. I don’t fancy walking half naked down a catwalk. I like food too much, as well. Could you spare a packet of crisps?’ Her tummy grumbling with hunger, Kathy had noticed the snacks in the snazzy drinks cabinet that stood open.

      ‘Help yourself. You seem more relaxed than you were earlier,’ Sergio remarked.

      ‘I’m on my own free time.’ Kathy curled up on the sofa and munched crisps while she played. The salty snack made her thirsty and she had to keep on sipping her drink. She only allowed herself to study him closely several moves into the game when he seemed unaware of her attention.

      But no matter how much she looked at him, Sergio Torrente still took her breath away. He was drop-dead beautiful. Hair and lashes with the sheen of black silk, mesmeric dark eyes, a strong sensual mouth. He had shaved since she had last seen him—the faint bluish shadow of stubble had vanished. She wondered if that meant he planned to kiss her again. Heat pooled in her tummy and warmed more intimate places with a physical awareness that took her aback. She reminded herself that she had come to play chess, not to flirt.

      Sergio glanced up. ‘Your move.’

      Her lashes dropping in a protective screen over her eyes, she studied the board.

      Sergio watched her demonstrate a skill, speed and assurance that made it clear that she was well able to hold her own. ‘Who taught you to play?’

      ‘My father.’

      ‘So did mine.’ His lean strong face shadowed. Silence lay before he matched her on the board and then, noticing her empty glass, he rose to refill it.

      Her light green eyes rested on him throughout the exercise. Everything about him fascinated her: the classy cut of his hair, the designer élan of his suit, the discreet gleam of gold at his wrist and cuff, the fluid way he moved his lean brown hands when he spoke. He was very elegant and very controlled.

      ‘If you keep on looking at me like that, we’ll never finish the game, bella mia.’

      Kathy reddened and took the glass he extended with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. He had read her so easily it embarrassed her. It also reminded her of how little she knew about him. As she thought of what she should have asked at the outset she tensed. ‘Are you married?’

      Surprise made Sergio quirk an ebony brow. ‘Why are you asking?’

      ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

      ‘I’m single.’

      Although her head was swimming a little, Kathy sidestepped the trap he had set for her on the board and shot him a victorious smile.

      ‘You’re good,’ Sergio conceded, amused by the suspicion that she too might have set out to play a very fast game. ‘We have a tie. Tact or fact?’

      ‘Fact.’

      Her cheeky grin of challenge brought out the caveman in him.

      He leant down, closed a hand into her tumbling copper-streaked tresses to raise her face to his and drove her delectable pink lips hungrily apart, making love to her mouth with devastating expertise.

      That sudden taste of him took Kathy by storm. Desire exploded through her slender length like a depth charge that ignited on impact. Shards of sensation rippled through her. He kissed with an eroticism that was spellbinding. As he pulled her up against him her arms went round him to steady herself because she was dizzy. The alcohol? She shut down that suspicion, suddenly determined not to succumb to her need to play safe again. She was breathless with excitement, her heart pounding like mad. For the first time that she could remember she felt young and fearless and alive.

      ‘I can’t keep my hands off you,’ Sergio told her softly.

      ‘We were playing chess,’ Kathy reminded him in a breathless whisper.

      ‘I want to play with you instead, delizia mia.’

      That was a touch too blunt for her. Her cheeks flamed, her confusion patent. With a sardonic laugh, he raked smouldering golden eyes over her exquisite face. He lowered his handsome dark head again. The invasive stab of his tongue inside her mouth was deliciously sensual and she pressed helplessly closer to his hard masculine frame for more. Against her lower stomach she could feel the hard, intimate proof of his arousal and she shivered. Her hands fixed to the wide, steely strength of his shoulders. Her response overwhelmed and ensnared her. A tight little knot of desire was unfurling low in her pelvis, filling her with yearning and impatience. Even her senses seemed to have gone into hyperactive mode: her fingers filtered through his springy black hair and rejoiced in the silken texture while the already familiar scent of his skin acted on her like an aphrodisiac.

      Sergio had planned to finish the game first and it had finished on schedule. Sergio always planned everything. But desire was a raging fire in his blood and that driving intensity was novel to him. Her slim body slotted into his lean powerful frame as though she had been born to make that connection. What he was feeling was addictive and he wanted more of it and all of her. He lowered her down on the sofa and discarded his jacket and tie.

      That temporary separation made Kathy tense and question what she was doing. Even though her mind was fuzzy, she told herself to get up. Hair spread in a burnished mass of Titian splendour round her head, she looked up at him, eyes glazed with passion and uncertainty, her generous mouth rosy red from the attention of his. He chose that particular