Summer Surrender: Capelli's Captive Virgin / Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim / The Italian's One-Night Love-Child

Yes, he would undoubtedly be a skilled and exciting lover, but what else would he give her? The answer to that was nothing but trouble.

With a low groan she let her hands drop into her lap and leaned her head back against the wall. It would have been so easy to just knock on the door of his villa and let him take it from there. And she had no doubt that he would have instantly taken control. He was that sort of man, wasn’t he?

And then what?

She was only too aware of the dangers of that sort of relationship. She spent her working life counselling people to look deeper.

So why was she struggling with her decision?

Because never in her life before had she wanted a man the way she wanted Alessio Capelli.

Suddenly she felt a burst of uncharacteristic anger towards Ruby. This was her fault. If she hadn’t abandoned her job …

Was Ruby experiencing a similar degree of chemistry with Dino Capelli? If so, then it was little wonder she’d vanished without caring about her job or her sister.

And anyway, how could she be angry with Ruby? It wasn’t really her sister’s fault, was it?

After her uncertain, disordered childhood and then the collapse of a disastrous relationship, it was easy to see how she’d been dazzled by the wealth and charisma of the Capelli brothers.

With a sigh, Lindsay got to her feet and wrapped herself in one of the huge soft towels that were left ready for her use.

It was time to pull herself together. What use would she be to Ruby if she was suffering from a bruised heart herself?

No, sex with Alessio Capelli would undoubtedly have been amazing, but it was too high a price to pay for the mess she’d be in afterwards.

She was glad she’d walked away. In fact she was proud of herself.

Lindsay dried her hair methodically and then slid into a sheer silk nightdress that was nothing like her normal choice of bed wear.

But as she slipped into the large canopied bed she felt suddenly more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

Without doubt she was the only woman who had ever walked away from him.

Trying to dismiss images of a powerful arrogant Italian stretched out next to her, she pressed her face into the pillows and pulled the soft cover over her shoulders.

Instead of focusing on the nagging throb low in her body, she needed to think of his bad points. Of all the logical reasons why they shouldn’t be together.

And there were certainly plenty to choose from.

Tired after a sleepless night, Lindsay forced her trembling legs along the smooth stone path that led to the Beach Club.

Given the choice she would have eaten breakfast alone.

She would have locked the door and stayed indoors in the air-conditioned tranquillity of her luxurious villa, but that wasn’t an option. She was here to do a job and she was well aware that if she didn’t play the part, then Alessio might still fire Ruby.

At least now she was on her guard. She’d let herself become complacent. She’d totally underestimated the devastating effect he had on her.

But now she was prepared.

Having been awake for most of the night, she’d had more than enough time to select her outfit for the day, and this time she’d been less cavalier in her choice of dress.

She’d bypassed swimming costumes, shorts and sarongs and instead chosen a white skirt that drifted down to mid-thigh. She’d teamed it with a strap top in a pale shade of lilac, cut high enough on her chest to ensure that no cleavage was revealed. And it fitted perfectly. She was confident that there was no chance that it would gape or reveal anything if she leaned forward. In an impulse of femininity that she didn’t want to examine too closely, she’d slipped some delicate silver bangles onto her arm.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

And everything remained fine until she walked onto the terrace and saw him.

He was seated at a table next to the beautiful swimming pool, a cup of coffee half drunk on the table in front of him.

Every part of his masculine physique emanating power and authority, he was talking to a man in a lightweight suit, but the moment he saw Lindsay his eyes narrowed and he said something that Lindsay couldn’t hear.

The other man melted swiftly into the background leaving Lindsay the entire focus of Alessio’s attention.

‘Buon giorno.’ He spoke in a low tone that was inaudible to all around, his eyes cool and assessing. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Perfectly, thank you.’ She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him, ignoring his knowing smile. ‘Any sign of your client?’

Please say yes, she begged silently. A third person might dilute the tension that seemed to surround them.

‘There’s been a hurricane warning. He’s decided not to fly out until the weather improves.’

Startled, she looked at him. ‘A hurricane?’

‘Don’t worry. Kingfisher Cay hasn’t suffered a direct hit once in the past sixty years. It will pass us by.’

Lindsay glanced up at the blue sky, noticing a few wisps of cloud on the horizon. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

‘Are you afraid of storms?’

‘I love storms—’ without looking at him, she helped herself to slices of fresh pineapple and mango from a plate in the centre of the table ‘—so if you’re hoping that I’ll seek the shelter of your strong arms, you’re going to be disappointed.’

Alessio laughed. ‘So far I haven’t had to rely on the weather to entice a woman into my bed.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t.’ She made a point of examining the deep gold flesh of the mango. ‘Where there’s money, there will always be women.’

‘Ouch, Lindsay, that was cruel.’ He was still laughing at her, apparently totally unaffected by her dig.

‘No, really—I feel sorry for you—’ picking up a fork, she speared a piece of mango ‘—you must be incredibly lonely. Meaningless sex has to become boring after a while.’

‘Obviously you’ve never had really good sex,’ he said dryly and Lindsay concentrated on her plate, taking her time over selecting her next piece of tropical fruit.

‘For you it’s a sort of sport, isn’t it? A type of physical workout. You just don’t engage your emotions. Don’t you want more?’

‘“More” being marriage?’ He drained his coffee. ‘I think you know me better than that.’

‘I don’t know you at all.’

‘That’s your choice,’ he said silkily, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as he watched her. ‘Feel free to take a voyage of discovery at your convenience. You look tired, Lindsay. Did something keep you awake last night? Your thoughts, perhaps?’

‘I slept perfectly,’ she lied. ‘So if you have no client to see today, what are you going to do?’

‘I have another difficult case that needs my attention. I intend to go out on the yacht. A change of scene sometimes helps me focus.’

Weak with relief at the news that he wasn’t going to be around during the day, Lindsay finished the fruit on her plate and actually managed a smile. ‘Of course. Don’t worry about me. I quite understand that you need some time to yourself.’ Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all. She could curl up in her villa with a book. Once she was confident he was nowhere near the island, she might even change into one of those revealing swimming costumes and risk a swim in the sea. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘I know you’ll be fine—’ he reached out a hand and helped himself to a piece of exotic fruit from the platter in front of him ‘—because you’ll be with me. You’re my assistant, remember? Where I go, you go.’

‘When you’re working, yes. But if you’re simply having a day off on your yacht—’

‘I don’t take days off. I’ll simply be working in a different venue.’ His strong fingers dissected the fruit with ruthless precision while Lindsay stared in dismay.

He expected her to go with him? ‘You’ll be working on a boat?’

‘A catamaran, to be precise. She’s moored over there on the jetty.’

Lindsay turned her head and stared at the beautiful craft, the hull glistening white in the dazzling Caribbean sunshine. Just the two of them. Trapped. On that? Being on an island was bad enough, but being on a boat—’I know absolutely nothing about boats.’

‘I’ll handle the boat.’ He nodded to one of the waiters who instantly produced more coffee. ‘Your duties will involve something else entirely.’

Her stomach lurched. ‘What exactly will you want me to do?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘But when I’ve decided, you’ll be the first to know.’

Despite her reservations, the sail was exhilarating—two hours of glorious sunshine while the boat skimmed joyously across the water, the sails arching against the kiss of the wind.

By the time Alessio finally sailed the boat into a curved, sheltered bay, Lindsay’s face was pink from the sun and stinging with the spray of the sea.

And she felt fantastic. Unable to hide her elation, she kneeled on the seat and peered over the side of the catamaran, down into the clear depths of the blue Caribbean sea. It was like looking into an aquarium. The sun sparkled on the water and tropical fish in a rainbow of colours darted beneath her. And ahead of her was a perfect curve of white sand, fringed by palm trees and surprisingly lush vegetation.

She glanced back at him. ‘Are we the only people here?’

‘You wanted a party?’ His movements sure and confident, he secured a rope and lowered the anchor.

‘It’s like being shipwrecked,’ Lindsay murmured, turning her head and staring at the stretch of deserted beach.

‘Five-star shipwreck.’ Alessio produced a bottle of chilled champagne and deftly removed the cork. Pouring the bubbling liquid into two thin-stemmed flutes, he held one out to her. ‘To a productive afternoon.’

Lindsay rose slowly to her feet and took the glass hesitantly. ‘I don’t drink in the middle of the day.’

‘Take a sip.’ Alessio raised his own glass in her direction. ‘I think you might be about to discover a whole new vice.’

Because of the way he was looking at her, because of the way he was making her feel, Lindsay took a tentative sip and the surprisingly light and delicious drink seemed to sparkle in her mouth. She swallowed and smiled. ‘It’s delicious,’ she admitted and took another sip. ‘Really refreshing. It doesn’t taste alcoholic.’

‘Well, believe me, it is.’ Putting down his own glass, he leaned behind her and carefully coiled a rope. ‘Don’t drink too much, especially if you’re not used to it. Boats and alcohol don’t mix and I don’t want to be fishing you out of the water.’

‘Then why did you want me to drink it?’

‘Because this particular champagne is an experience that everyone should try at least once in their lives.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘A bit like no-strings sex.’

She took another sip of the delicious champagne, watching as the sun glinted on his glossy hair. ‘For me, sex has to be an expression of love.’

‘That’s because you haven’t tried the other sort.’

‘I wouldn’t want to.’

He turned to face her, a smile softening the hard lines of his mouth. ‘Oh, you do want to, tesoro.’ His voice soft, he stepped forward so that his body was virtually touching hers. ‘You do want to. But you’re afraid.’

Suddenly dizzy, she put her glass down on the seat next to her. ‘Of course I’m afraid. I’m afraid of being hurt.’

‘No, that isn’t it.’ He leaned closer to her and she felt the roughness of his jaw graze the softness of her cheek as he whispered in her ear. ‘I think you’re afraid that you might actually enjoy it. And then where would you be? A relationship counsellor who has made her name dismissing casual sex, suddenly embroiled in a no-strings affair. You’d have to rethink your career.’

Her eyes closed. He smelt fantastic and her senses swirled dangerously, sucking her down. Telling herself that it was just the champagne, she stepped backwards and would have fallen over the coiled rope if he hadn’t reached out and steadied her.

Instinctively she put a hand on his shoulder, feeling rock-hard muscle under her fingers. He’s strong, she thought dizzily—really strong.

For a moment she just stood there, her body sending out signals that she was desperate to ignore.

Then, without warning, he released her. ‘Are you wearing a swimming costume under that outfit?’

‘Yes.’ Her mouth was dry, her heart thumping and her mind—her mind was in a mess.

‘Then I suggest that a dip in cold water might do us both good.’ Without waiting for her response, he stripped off his shirt and shorts, poised for a moment on the edge of the boat before executing a perfect dive into the sun-dappled water.

Suddenly dizzy, Lindsay realised that it had actually been quite a while since she’d taken a breath. To be precise, since the moment he’d stripped off his shirt exposing powerful shoulders and bronzed skin.

No wonder women chased him, she thought weakly, watching as he emerged from the depths of the water, the water streaming from his dark hair as he wiped a hand over his face to clear his vision.

‘Come on, Lindsay.’

She looked at him with something close to desperation. Joining him in the water somehow seemed symbolic. If she jumped—if she made that leap—’The boat might drift.’

‘The boat is fine. If you don’t come in, I’ll come and get you.’

Slowly, she wriggled out of her shorts and tee shirt. It was hot, she told herself, and her costume was perfectly decent. It didn’t enter her head to follow him into the water head-first. Instead she walked to the end of the boat and gingerly picked her way down the ladder, holding tightly, pausing slightly as she registered the depth of the water beneath her.

‘Typical Lindsay,’ Alessio drawled, ‘never one to jump if she can hold on to a ladder.’

Ignoring the amusement in his tone, she forced herself to let go of the ladder.

The cool, smooth water closed over her heated body and for a moment she felt small and insignificant, with nothing but ocean beneath and around her.

‘This feels a bit weird.’ Disconcerted, she glanced down and gasped as a shoal of blue fish darted beneath them. ‘Oh, my goodness—’

‘Blue Tang. The diving in this area is spectacular.’

Feeling a bit foolish, she swam a little closer to him. ‘Are there sharks?’

His eyes focused on something over her shoulder and the laughter faded from his face. ‘Ah—it seems that there are,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t move, Lindsay, he’s probably just being nosy—’

With a horrified gasp, she clutched at his shoulders and, too late, saw the wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘Oh—I hate you. I hate you! That was an awful thing to do.’

‘There are no sharks.’ His hand curved around her waist. ‘The reef stops them swimming this close to the land.’

‘It does feel slightly menacing, having all that water beneath you,’ she confessed, not brushing his hand away quite so quickly as she would have done had they been on dry land. ‘It’s beautiful. And—weird,’ she admitted, ‘not being able to touch the bottom.’

‘You haven’t swum off a boat before?’

‘I don’t generally find the opportunity during my working day.’

He gave a slow smile. ‘You need to rethink your working day, tesoro. Life is to be lived, not just survived.’ His hand was still on her back—large, warm, strong.

‘I like my life.’

‘That’s because you don’t know what you’re missing. Stay there, I’ll fetch you a snorkel.’ He swam away from her, hauled himself back onto the boat with athletic ease and returned moments later with two masks in his hand. ‘Try this.’ Ignoring her protests, he adjusted the mask and eased it over her head. ‘Put your head in the water and see if it leaks.’

After a moment of hesitation she decided that it would be safer just to follow his orders for once, and dutifully held her breath and put her face in the water.

An amazingly beautiful and varied underwater world stretched out beneath her and when she finally had to lift her head to breathe, she was smiling. ‘All right. Just this once I’m willing to concede that you’re right about something. I love it.’

He showed her how to breathe through the tube and how to dive down and clear it. Then he swam off and left her to get used to it by herself.

She experimented, becoming more and more adventurous and delighted by the brightly coloured fish she saw darting in shoals beneath her. When she finally stopped swimming and lifted her head, she saw Alessio taking the boat onto the beach.

She swam to the shore, removed her mask and snorkel and walked towards him. The white sand was silky soft under her feet, the sun blazing down on her head and shoulders.

‘I’ve packed us some provisions.’ He hauled some baskets out of the boat and handed her one. ‘This island is very pretty. Worth exploring.’ He dragged the boat farther up the beach, away from the lick of the sea.

Then he pulled out a cool box and a rug and strolled farther up the beach towards the palm trees. ‘Your pale English skin will need the shade.’

Unlike him, she thought ruefully, scanning his golden brown shoulders and bronzed back as he casually threw the rug onto the sand. He had the sort of skin that turned brown in an instant.

He lay on his back on the rug and closed his eyes. ‘An hour,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll spend an hour here and then we’ll sail back to Kingfisher Cay.’

She sat down, leaving a respectable distance between the two of them. ‘How did you find this place?’

‘I was sailing one day and came across it. I bought it.’

‘Retail therapy, Alessio?’

Eyes still closed, he smiled. ‘I had a wild idea that I might build a villa for myself on it one day. I like the fact that it’s relatively inaccessible. The way the land curves means that it isn’t visible from any other island. No photographers with long lenses. I like my privacy.’

‘Is that why you don’t allow cameras on Kingfisher Cay?’

‘Yes. I want the guests to know that they’re truly on holiday.’

‘So are you going to build yourself a house here?’

‘Maybe. At the moment we only use it for privileged guests who want a deserted island experience.’

‘How did you find Kingfisher Cay?’ Suddenly curious, she frowned down at him. ‘I mean, you’re Italian.’

‘Sicilian.’ His tone a shade cooler, he raised himself up on his elbows. ‘I’m Sicilian.’

And he looks Sicilian, she thought desperately, with those strands of blue-black hair flopping over his bronzed forehead. He looked dark and dangerous and—’All right, you’re Sicilian—’ she spoke quickly ‘—but why the Caribbean? You have your own islands in Italy.’

‘No one would sell me Sicily.’ His eyes gleamed with sardonic humour and she found herself laughing too, although a tiny part of her wondered whether perhaps he wasn’t joking.

‘Do you have to own everything?’

‘If you’re asking if I’m a possessive man—’ he gave a slow, expressive shrug of his broad shoulders ‘Sì. If I want something, then, yes, I have to own it.’ His eyes lingered on her face and she shivered, suddenly agonisingly aware that it was just the two of them on a deserted island.

‘Can I ask you something else?’

‘Ask.’

‘Who was it that put you off marriage?’

For a moment he didn’t respond and then he sat up, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as he leaned forward and flipped open the lid of an elegant basket. ‘Are you hungry?’

That was it? He was going to ignore her question? ‘You said I could ask you something—’

‘And you did.’ Reaching into the basket, he removed a number of dishes that wouldn’t have disgraced a top restaurant.

‘But you haven’t answered me.’

‘I didn’t say that I’d answer.’ He broke the bread in half and handed her a piece. ‘I said you could ask.’

Exasperated, she looked at him. ‘Do you ever stop being a lawyer?’

‘Am I being a lawyer?’

‘You guard every word you say.’

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment and then he smiled. ‘In much the same way that you guard everything you do.’

She pulled at the bread with her fingers. ‘You should have been a politician. You only ever reveal what you want to reveal. Doesn’t matter what the question is, because the only answer you’re going to get from Alessio Capelli is the one he wants to give.’

‘Spilling my guts has never been my style.’

‘And yet you have a really high profile in the press.’

‘Their choice, not mine.’ He was totally indifferent. ‘I give them nothing.’

‘Why don’t you live in Sicily? Or aren’t you prepared to discuss that either?’

‘Sicily isn’t a good base for an international business. I divide my time between my office in New York and my office in Rome.’

Lindsay finished eating and wiped her fingers. ‘Do you ever go back to Sicily? Do you have family there?’

There was an imperceptible change in him. ‘Just my brother. And he’s with me in Rome.’

‘Are your parents alive?’

He moved so swiftly that she didn’t stand a chance. One moment she was sitting on the sand, congratulating herself that they were actually managing to sustain a conversation about something other than sex or divorce—a faltering, fragile conversation maybe, but a conversation nevertheless—and the next, she was on her back in the sand and his hard, powerful body was pressing down on hers.

‘I don’t give interviews, tesoro.’ For a few suspended seconds his mouth hovered tantalisingly close, almost but not quite touching her. And the promise of that touch made her lips tingle and her body ache, and the stab of delicious anticipation was so agonising that she could hardly breathe as she waited for him to kiss her. Her senses were primed, her pulse rate frantic, her nerve endings exploding like fireworks on bonfire night. And just when she’d decided that he wasn’t going to do it—that it wasn’t going to happen—he did.

And it was nothing like she’d imagined it to be.

Alessio Capelli was pure alpha male—arrogant, confident, imposing his will on those around him.

Whenever she’d thought about kissing him, she’d imagined his hand in her hair, his mouth rough and demanding as he took what he wanted. So the slow, seductive pressure of his mouth on hers came as a shock. He was a skilled, expert kisser—a man who knew exactly how to draw the maximum response from a woman. The heat rushed through her body, lighting every nerve ending like a match held against paper. And she melted in the heat of that kiss, her body growing warm and heavy as sizzling excitement concentrated itself low in her pelvis.

With slow, deliberate precision, he coaxed her lips apart and she felt the intimate stroke of his tongue stealing both her breath and her willpower. And she didn’t ever want him to stop because it was the most delicious, perfect kiss she could have imagined and if the world had ended right then she wouldn’t have cared.

It was as if he’d drugged her, his touch sending every rational thought from her spinning brain.

His body shifted above her and she felt his warm, strong hand slide across her shoulder. She was held immobile by sensual bondage; it was only when his lips moved from her mouth to her breast that she realised he’d somehow removed the strap of her swimsuit.

Control slid away from her and she moaned and lifted herself against the warmth of his mouth, desperate for his touch. Her frantic response obviously met with his approval because he gave a soft, appreciative laugh.

‘Adoro il tuo corpo.’ His voice husky, he concentrated his attention on one dusky pink nipple. ‘I love your body.’ As if to prove just how much he loved her body, his hand slid slowly down her thigh, the touch of his fingers creating havoc with her senses.

It was exciting, terrifying and utterly, utterly addictive.

Desperately she tried to regain some control over what was happening, but every time she tried to gasp out a protest he’d touch her in a particular way and she’d be sucked back down into a whirlpool of wicked, delicious pleasure from which there was no escape.