Crowded around the table as they all were meant they sat closer than they usually would, and she had to press her thighs tightly together and cross her ankles under her chair to stop any part of her leg rubbing against his. She could do nothing to stop their arms from brushing as they ate though, and she wished she’d worn a long-sleeved top rather than a white halter-neck. Wished, too, that he’d put his blazer back on because it was his warm, bare arm hers kept brushing against,and when he rested his hand on the table between courses, the temptation to cover it with her own hand was almost more than she could endure.
Why, she wondered miserably, were her feelings for him refusing to stay buried now they were only days away from parting? And how could they be so strong when she hated him so much?
She tried to console herself that it was only physical feelings, but it was no consolation. While Gennaro was discussing business with the tycoon, Luisa was picking at her food and trying to stop herself spontaneously combusting each time their arms made contact. Which was approximately every other second. If Gennaro was feeling anything like she was, he was hiding it well. But then, the man was an expert at masking his feelings.
He thought she was beautiful. He desired her. He knew she desired him. There had been no ambiguity about any of that. He desired her but he didn’t want to desire her and he wouldn’t do anything about it… or would he? Because there had been ambiguity at how their conversation had ended, the way he’d spoken in the past tense.It’s how it had to be between us.
Had.
God, this was intolerable. She should not be sitting there fighting her own body and practically quivering with the wish for him to move his hand from the table and put it on her lap.
She didn’t want to want him any more than he wanted to want her, but now their attraction was out in the open the thing she didn’t want to want was all she could think about.
His arm brushed against hers for the hundredth time.
Heat pulse through her for the hundredth time.
Feeling like she could scream, Luisa downed her wine and poured herself another.
She longed to confide her feelingswith Marisa and get her perspective, but her sister was unusually subdued and picking at her food too.
“Is everything alright?” she whispered.
Marisa nodded and drank some water.
“You missed the boat trip.”
Another nod. “I got the time confused and thought it was leaving later than it was.” A flash of mischief appeared on her wan face. “Was Lorenzo’s yacht the best yacht ever?”
“The best,” Luisa answered, deadpan. “The best of the best.”
Their eyes met, and mild amusement turned to smothered giggles. Luisa impulsively planted a kiss on her sister’s cheek and whispered, “If you need to talk, you know where I am.”
Marisa squeezed her hand. Luisa hated that it was Gennaro’s hand she longed to do the squeezing.
The rest of the torturous meal passed at a snail’s pace, but pass it did. Luisa was on her third glass of wine when their final course was cleared away, but respite was nowhere in sight, not yet. The ballroom had been transformed into a casino for the evening courtesy of the Espositos youngest son Rico, who ran the family’s chain of gambling dens. There was no question of Luisa being able to retire to bed like her parents or disappear pleading a headache like her sister.
“We’ll give it an hour and then make our excuses,” Gennaro murmured as they left the restaurant and stepped onto one of the hotel’s many terraces.
A little lightheaded from too much wine and not enough food, and increasingly furious that she’d developed such strong sexual feelings for the man who’d treated her like she was invisible for the whole of their marriage and who’d then had the audacity to tell her she was beautiful, she sweetly said, “Worried that mixing with humans for too long will cause your hard-drive to malfunction?”
He abruptly stopped walking and stared at her with one ofhis many expressions she’d never been able to read. “What did you just say?”
She smiled with the same sweetness as her tone. “You heard me perfectly well, but don’t worry, Gennaro, your secret’s safe with me.”
“My secret?”
“You know; that you’re actually an android and that your creators forgot to input human emotions into your programming? That secret.”
For the second time in one day, Gennaro’s jaw wanted to hit the floor. “You are comparing me to a robot?”
“Well, an android is a form of robot designed to resemble a human, so I suppose I am. Your creators did a great job on your external appearance, so full credit to them for that, but when you go to the laboratory for your annual check-up, tell them they need to install the Being Sociable With Other Humans programme. I’d also recommend they upgrade your Recognising & Mimicking Human Emotions programme – I’m pretty sure yours is still stuck at the rudimentary prototype level.”
It wasn’t often that he was lost for words. In fact, he couldn’t remembereverbeing lost for words. Shaking his head, he folded his arms across his chest and took in the taut smile on her beautiful face, the defiant tilt of her chin and the fire blazing out of her dark brown eyes.
God, she was sexy. Her defiance was sexy.
“It is entirely possible that I am an android,” he said slowly, “but if I am, my creators have gone to great lengths to hide it from me, and if your theory is correct, then tell me how I can recognise that you’re angry with me?”