A Ring To Claim His Legacy

‘Very seductress,’ Julie had said as she’d put on the shimmering gown of blue which had been part of the wardrobe provided for them both for the week to enable them to test the luxury resort and blend in. It was also something she could only dream of wearing and she hated to imagine how much it had cost.

‘Only agreeable?’ he teased as he sipped his champagne, his gaze holding hers, sending tingles of excitement down her spine.

She watched him drink, his handsome looks very Mediterranean, but his accent was unmistakably American. As he waited for her to answer, he lifted his dark brows suggestively, his eyes sparkling with sexy mischief.

‘Okay,’ she laughed. ‘But it might inflate your ego too much. I’m in a beautiful place with a handsome man for company.’

‘That’s much better,’ he laughed. ‘So, just Imogen, what is it you do in London?’

Imogen nearly choked on the champagne as his question threw her off balance. Her thoughts raced as she scrabbled for something suitable to tell him. She was hardly going to tell a man like him, a man who emanated wealth from every pore of his sexy body, that she was merely an office worker living one monthly paycheque to the next. Why spoil the magic of the moment? Why not really live the dream and create a new life for herself?

‘I’m a personal assistant.’ She sipped her champagne then put the glass down, not wanting to drink too much too fast. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m in the leisure industry.’

‘In America?’

He laughed. It was such a sexy laugh her stomach somersaulted and if she hadn’t been sitting down she was sure she would have to because her knees would have weakened as desire began to slip over her body in a way she’d never known possible.

‘That obvious?’

‘A little, but you have Mediterranean looks.’ What was she saying? She might as well have told him that she’d been studying him.

‘My family originates from Sicily. My grandfather emigrated to New York with my grandmother when they were newlyweds to start a new life.’ He smiled, and she guessed he must be or had been close to his grandparents. It seemed family was important to him, that he remembered his grandparents with the same fondness with which she remembered hers. Determined not to let her real life into this moment she pushed aside those thoughts and waited for him to continue. ‘They opened a coffee shop and lived there all their lives.’

‘That’s so romantic.’ The words slipped from her lips before she had time to think but judging by his expression it was not the way he would describe it. It also brought home that her first impression of him was right: this man was the type of man who didn’t settle down, didn’t commit to relationships, probably scorned romance and never used the word love.

‘Are you a romantic?’ His abrupt question backed up that thought.

She laughed and leaned forward to pick up her glass, aware of his eyes on her and the fact that her dress left more of her uncovered than it covered. It would have fitted Julie much better, her being so slim, but she’d insisted it was perfect on Imogen. She’d refused to even try it, reminding Imogen that she’d promised not to let Gavin’s cruel taunts over her figure dent the confidence in her body she’d found after setting herself free from school-day bullying.

‘Isn’t everyone? A family story like that is kind of romantic.’ She sat back and sipped her champagne, determined to keep her voice light. ‘Do you not think it’s romantic?’

‘No.’ The word was so final she almost felt sorry for him, but then she remembered where her romantic notions had got her—ditched during the final wedding-dress fitting. Maybe this Italian New Yorker had the right idea, maybe he didn’t. Either way she was having fun teasing him. She hadn’t felt so carefree for a long time.

‘But look at this place. Romance is what it’s all about.’ She held her arms out and spread her palms upwards as she looked at the restaurant with candlelit tables for couples, the bar with its subdued lighting, the gardens they were now in, lit by lights which echoed the twinkling of the stars.

‘Okay, I relent,’ he laughed, melting her all over again.

‘You do?’ she teased further, laughing up at him as if she’d known him for years instead of barely hours.

He nodded in grudging agreement. ‘Maybe this island is a little romantic.’

She laughed softly, aware of his gaze intensely on her. ‘Now you are showing your Italian side.’

He moved a little closer to her. ‘And do you like it?’ This game of flirting was getting dangerous, but for some reason she didn’t want it to stop. Maybe the champagne was making her bold.

‘I do. Much better than your hard-edged-businessman-of-New-York side.’

‘Ouch.’ He picked up his glass and raised it to her. ‘In that case I raise a toast to a romantic interlude on this island with a beautiful woman.’

Nobody had ever said she was beautiful before. At school taunts about her weight had followed her through each year, and as she’d turned into a teenager her mother had referred to it as puppy fat, meaning well but destroying any shred of confidence she’d had. Whatever the reason for her being plump and curvy, she’d never been able to look like her skinny cousins. Fed up with feeling sorry for herself, she’d decided to embrace what she had and, with a renewed confidence in herself, her lifelong friendship with Gavin had blossomed into romance. He was her first boyfriend and had become everything to her as she’d fallen in love. Yet even though they had been a couple for two years and had become engaged, he’d never once told her she was beautiful. As hard as she’d tried not to allow that to knock her confidence, it had, especially once their engagement had ended.

‘To the romance of the moment,’ she added to their toast, watching with a smile as his brows rose. Then without breaking eye contact he sipped his champagne. She could almost feel his body telling her he wanted her, could almost hear the words whispered on the warm evening breeze.

From the bar soft, seductive music drifted over to them, as if enticing them to make more of their moment. It was the perfect music for a slow dance with someone special. She listened and smiled sadly. She hadn’t danced with a man for so long. Gavin had stopped taking her anywhere they would have to dance, barely taking her out on proper dates in the last year of their relationship. It should have been all the warning she needed to realise that he was just going along with their families’ expectations, that he didn’t really care for her, let alone love her. But she’d been blinded by her dreams of a happy-ever-after. She would never allow herself to be that foolish again.

‘Would you care to dance?’ Marco stood up and put out his hand to her. She looked up at him, his face partially in shadow because of their secluded location.

‘But...’ She stammered for words as all sorts of thoughts rushed through her mind. What would it feel like to take his hand, to be held by him, to press herself against him? Heat surged through her, a warning if nothing else that she was far from indifferent to this man.

‘Shall we make the most of this romantic moment, this escape from reality?’ He spoke as he took her hand in his, pulling her gently to her feet, then waiting for her to come towards him.

‘How can I refuse?’

She moved in his direction and he stepped back away from their table and then turned to her, pulling her close to him. His eyes were heavy with desire and a spark of hot need that she’d never known before ignited within her.

‘So,’ he said softly as he looked down at her. ‘Are you here to escape, Imogen?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘In truth, yes, I am.’ He held her even closer, his arms around her waist and his palms on her lower back, scorching through the elegant dress.

‘Then we should escape together.’ The words slipped far too easily from her lips and it had very little to do with the champagne. It had everything to do with the man she was moving slowly in time with to the distant music. Each move she made heightened her awareness of his strong, muscular physique beneath the stylish tuxedo. This moment wasn’t romance. This moment was pure fiction. A dream she didn’t want to wake from.

‘My sentiments exactly.’

She stopped dancing and looked up at him. She’d never felt so dainty and fragile in her life. He was well over six feet tall, but it wasn’t his height—it was the way he held her. The way he looked at her. He made her feel alive, sexy and desired. He made her feel beautiful.

* * *

Marco wasn’t at first aware they had stopped dancing. He was so consumed by Imogen he could barely think straight. Holding her in his arms felt right. In some bizarre way she fitted like no other woman had ever done. Inwardly he swore. Playing along with this damn romance stuff was getting to him. He should just kiss her and take her to bed. Get her out of his system.

But he had all week. Time to savour this blonde beauty, time to be the kind of man he might have wanted to be if his mother hadn’t kept from him one very important fact about his father. He pushed that aside. This was his time to escape and he intended to do exactly that. He would follow Imogen’s example. One week out of his life, one week to be just Marco.

Imogen looked up at him with big blue eyes, so wide and innocent. Each deep breath she took made her breasts rise and fall, begging to be touched. If he held her really close she’d be in no doubt how much he desired her right now, but something was holding him back. He had no idea why, but, despite the heated lust he’d first felt as he’d seen her in the bar, he didn’t want to kiss her—not yet anyway.

As thoughts of restraint rushed through the desire-clouded fog of his mind, Imogen moved in his arms, bringing her so close that she must know the effect she was having on him. A deep, throaty growl escaped him as she lowered her head, averting her face from him. He wanted nothing more than to lift her chin, make her look into his eyes and then cover her full lips with his. She looked up at him, as if knowing what he wanted, what he needed. The fight for restraint raged and by some miracle he only allowed himself to brush his lips lightly over hers.

It was enough. The touch tape of passion had been lit. Now it was only a question of how long the fuse would be before the inevitable explosion. Usually he craved instant gratification when he kissed a woman, not wanting to get caught up in the emotional warfare of anything remotely like courtship, but Imogen was different. This place was different. In a bid to escape his family, his reality, he was different.

If he was his usual self, he knew that once he kissed a woman passionately she would be in his bed that night. But not this time. For the first time he wanted to savour the moment, enjoy the mounting anticipation of kissing her properly, of caressing her sexy body, of finally making love to her.

He had one week here on the island, just as she did. What would it be like to make the moment last that long? What would it be like to romance her, court her—before the inevitable conclusion? Damn it. Imogen’s talk of romance must have got to him.

‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ His voice cracked into a hoarse whisper as he moved back from her, away from the temptation to plunder her mouth. Right now she looked so kissable, so very sexy, it was almost more than he could bear. He had no idea where his restraint was coming from or what was driving it, but right now it was just what he needed.

‘No.’ Her whisper was husky and told him so much, told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her, that she too was fighting the tug of war between passion and restraint.

He smiled and brushed his lips lingeringly over hers. As desire erupted inside him like the roar of a lion he whispered against her lips, ‘I’d like our moment of escape to go on for a little longer than just tonight.’

‘I’d like that too.’ He knew she was smiling. Her eyes sparkled as she looked into his and just when he thought he couldn’t take it any more her eyes fluttered closed and her lips pressed against his. Soft and yielding, they tempted him, but he forced himself to return the light kiss, held on to his restraint as if his life depended on it as he avoided the kiss becoming demanding and hard. He wanted her in his bed, crying out as passion consumed them—but not tonight.

This moment out of time, this dalliance with the kind of romantic ideas he’d always locked out of his life, had come at the perfect time. Everything else in his life was falling apart, threatening who he really was, and Imogen, a beautiful blonde, had slipped into his life. What better distraction than the woman who seemed as intent on escape as he was?

‘I will bid you goodnight.’ He pulled away from her, his body aching with unquenched desire. If he wanted this moment to last all week he had to walk away now. If he didn’t let her go he wouldn’t be truly escaping from everything he now knew he was.

CHAPTER TWO

IMOGEN HAD BEEN shocked by the way Marco had made her feel and even more astounded by the way she’d wanted to be kissed by him that first night. Now, after spending five blissful days in his company, escaping reality and living the dream of romance, what had shocked her more was that even though a sizzling chemistry surrounded them, he’d done nothing other than kiss her gently at the end of each day.

It was becoming too much and her whole body hummed with the kind of need only he could satisfy. Each day they’d explored the island and each night they’d acted like lovers but, when he did nothing more than kiss her, those old and supposedly buried insecurities had rushed back. Did he really like her? Desire her? There was definitely something between them, but whatever the attraction was it certainly wasn’t enough for him to do more then gently kiss her and she was certain he wasn’t the kind of man to hold out to gentlemanly instincts. He was a hot, sexy man and probably had women falling over themselves to be kissed by him—and much more.

‘I see you have followed my instructions.’ Marco’s voice brought her up sharp as he arrived at the villa she and Julie were sharing, and when she looked at him that fizz of attraction she had each time she saw him rushed through her.

‘As you weren’t going to tell me where we are going or what we are doing other than it involves the sea, what else could I do?’ She feigned indignation as she looked at him, feeling somewhat underdressed in her red one-piece and cover-up—the only two items of her own clothing she’d worn all week whilst she’d acted out the lifestyle of luxury.

‘I’m impressed you aren’t one of these women who cannot even think of going in the sea, much less getting her hair wet.’ He took her hand and led her from the villa towards the beach. ‘What is Julie doing for her last day? I hope she didn’t mind me stealing you away again.’

If only he would steal her away for ever, Imogen thought, but she knew she wasn’t his type. At least, the Imogen she really was certainly wasn’t his type. Not that it really meant anything, she reminded herself sharply, the risk of getting carried away with it all stronger than ever. She was just someone for him to while away the week with. Why else would he have only kissed her goodnight at the end of each day?

‘Julie is more than happy with our arrangement,’ she said as they walked on the soft white sand of the beach, already heating up from the sun. Imogen wasn’t about to enlighten Marco to the fact that Julie hadn’t come back to the villa last night after her date. ‘She’s using this week to escape too.’

Imogen tried to make light of the whole situation, or arrangement as he’d openly called it. She simply wanted to enjoy this last day with Marco. Tomorrow she and Julie would be on a flight heading back to England and the normality of their day jobs at Bespoke Luxury Travel. Their moment of escape here on the romantic tropical island would be over.

‘In that case we have all day to be together—apart from a little something extra I have arranged just for you. For our last night together.’

She looked up at him, the sun sparkling in his eyes. Or was that mischief? He’d arranged something for her? First he’d told her she was beautiful and now this. If she wasn’t careful she’d lose all sense of reality and start wishing for the kind of happy-ever-afters she knew didn’t really exist.

‘I’m intrigued,’ she teased but her breath caught as he took hold of her hand, making her stop, so that she could only stand and look up at him.

‘I’m the one who is intrigued. By you.’ His eyes darkened until they were completely black and her pulse raced as with his free hand he pushed back stray strands of her hair which had escaped from her ponytail.

He was going to kiss her—and she wanted him to. Not the soft, gentle kisses he’d given her since that first night. She wanted him to really kiss her.

Her eyes closed as he moved nearer, his hand sliding round to hold the back of her head, bringing her closer to him. Not that she needed any persuading. This was the last day of living the life of luxury. After tomorrow Marco would be part of a moment out of reality, a man she would never meet again. They lived in two completely different worlds.

His lips moved over hers and she kissed him back, demanding so much more from him. Fire leapt to life inside her as she pressed herself recklessly against him, abandoning any notion of being sensible, wanting only to ease her aching desire for this man.

He answered her demands with an almost burning passion as he deepened the kiss, holding her so tight. She could hardly breathe but she didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want the deep pulse of desire inside her to fade away to nothing. She wanted everything, every part of this man.

Between her thighs heat scorched. The hardness of his erection pressed against her made her ever more reckless as she moved her hips, wanting to get even closer, even more intimate. Her body was begging him to make love to her. She’d never experienced anything so powerful. Her ex-fiancé, her only other lover, had never aroused her like this, never made her so wanton, so consumed with desire.

‘Have you any idea what you do to me?’ Marco asked, each word a hoarse, passion-filled whisper.

‘I do now,’ she teased. Who was this woman? Imogen Fraser would never be as seductive and flirty as this. But she wasn’t Imogen Fraser. She was just Imogen and this was her moment. Tomorrow it would end and she had no intention of going home with any what ifs lingering in her mind.

He let her go and moved back a step, running one hand through his hair in a distracted way, which only made her want him more. ‘Imogen—you will be the undoing of me.’

‘I intend to be exactly that,’ she said as she moved towards him, sliding her hands around his neck again and brushing her lips teasingly over his. The feral growl he tried hard to suppress left her in no doubt as to the effect she had on him. He did want her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

‘Do you, now?’ He put his arms back round her waist and she wished she’d had the courage to wear a bikini. She wanted to feel his hands on her body. Skin on skin.

‘But first,’ she mercilessly teased him, a big smile on her lips, ‘haven’t you arranged something for us?’

‘I have.’ Marco snatched at the change of subject she unwittingly offered because if he didn’t he was in danger of taking her back to his villa and spending the day exploring the desire between them, which had now reached near explosive heights. Whilst it was very much what he wanted to do, it wasn’t part of his plan to create the ultimate romantic escape on their last night. The pleasure her body promised would have to wait. ‘We are going out on that yacht.’

She turned swiftly and looked to where a sleek white yacht was anchored in the bay, waiting patiently on the sparkling blue water. ‘Now I understand the need for swimwear.’ Her laughter was as infectious as it was captivating.

‘We aren’t just going on the sea—we are going under it. I’ve arranged for us to snorkel over one of the island’s reefs.’

He braced himself for excuses. Any other woman he’d dated in recent years probably wouldn’t paddle in the sea, let alone swim in it. All they’d wanted to do was sunbathe. Tiny bikinis were not for getting wet. Imogen’s red one-piece showcased her sexy curves in a way a bikini couldn’t, making him imagine how it would feel to have her naked body in his bed. Each time he looked at her, taking in every shapely curve, he grew more impatient for the conclusion to this week.

A spike of lust shot through him. He’d never waited this long to have sex with a woman. Imogen was different and, although he had no intention of trying to figure out why, he had every intention of bringing their romantic week, their escape from reality, to the conclusion he’d wanted from the very first moment he’d set eyes on her in that alluring blue dress. Tonight, no matter what, she would be his and the passion and desire he’d held in check all week could finally be set free.

‘Marco, that’s so exciting—thanks.’ Her eyes sparkled like the sea beyond her as she looked up at him, then as if the wind had changed direction she lowered her head and looked down. ‘Nobody has spoilt me like this before.’

A woman like Imogen must have had many admirers, all trying to impress her and win her affection. Her admission shocked him. ‘I find that very hard to believe.’

She looked back up at him. ‘It’s true. I’ve only ever had one relationship. It lasted for over two years, but...’ Her words trailed away, reminding him of the aura of innocence she sometimes portrayed. Had this teasing temptress really only had one lover?

‘Whoever he was, he was a damn fool to let you go.’ The words sprang from him before he had time to think and they were totally out of character. He never gave away his feelings, never said anything to a woman that could be misread as something more. Settling down had never been part of his big plan for life and yet here he was, talking with Imogen as if they shared a secret need to do just that.

‘He didn’t let me go,’ she said, looking up at him, that spark of defiance in her eyes once more. ‘He lost me.’

‘Then his loss is my gain. And being here has enabled me to find you,’ he said softly, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

‘Yes, our week here has been fun, a real escape, and all I want is to make the most of the last day together.’

A sense of calm slipped over him. She was as good as telling him that once they left the island she wouldn’t be looking for anything else from him. It was everything he had hoped for when he knew he would go home and inevitably throw himself into his work, the same as he always did. Anything to avoid the pleading of his mother to marry and continue the Silviano family name for his father. But this time he knew her secret. He knew the man lying in hospital with a serious heart condition, the man he’d never been able to please, wasn’t his real father. Knowing that and knowing just who his real father was should have made everything easier, but it didn’t. It made things harder than ever.

‘That is exactly what I want,’ he said as he forced his mind back to the present, back to the seduction of Imogen. It would be his last fling. He held her tighter and kissed her lightly once more. ‘What I want is to enjoy our last day together. Our final night.’

* * *

Imogen slipped from the yacht into the crystal-clear waters, trying to push aside Marco’s honesty. He didn’t want anything more after they returned home. He didn’t want to see her again, which was probably just as well, because once he knew she was just an ordinary girl, instead of the wealthy daddy’s girl she’d let him believe she was, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her and she couldn’t stand the rejection of that. She’d had enough rejection recently.

Marco tapped her arm, pointing to a group of brightly coloured fish as they swam over the coral, and she refused to wallow in self-pity. She would take from this moment with Marco as much as she could—and she wanted everything. The passion, the desire. All of it. A shimmer of anticipation washed over her as she recalled his words on the beach: ‘Our final night.’