Happy Mother's Day! Read Online Free Page B

her hard and driven image of him, and Aisling was slightly relieved when someone came to claim him. Much more of this and she would be signing up to his fan-club!
    He gave her an expansive shrug before being borne away, leaving her with Fedele, a charming man in his fifties, who was Gianluca’s lawyer.
    ‘Well, I am his
local
lawyer,’ he emphasised slowly, in perfect though heavily accented English. ‘He uses a different one in the city. A specialist for every need at
Il Tigre’s
fingertips.’ The lawyer’s eyes were curious. ‘And you? You are his latest woman,
sì?’
    Aisling found herself blushing. ‘Oh, good heavens, no—it’s nothing like that!’
    Fedele laughed. ‘Most women would not find that such a horrifying proposition!’
    ‘I work for him, that’s all.’
    ‘Ah! And what do you do?’
    ‘I’m a head-hunter.’
    ‘Cacciatore di teste?’
Fedele translated. Aisling had heard the phrase before and she smiled. ‘That’s right—somehow it sounds much better in Italian.’
    ‘That is because everything sounds better in Italian!’ came a soft, arrogant boast from behind her, and Aisling turned to find Gianluca’s mocking black eyes on her. ‘And do you know why that is, cara?’
    Like a snake hypnotised by the charmer’s pipe, Aisling found herself shaking her head. ‘No. Why?’
    ‘Because we Italians
are
better at everything.’
    ‘That’s … outrageous,’ she protested.
    He shrugged. ‘Ah, but it is also true!’
    And try as she might—Aisling couldn’t do anything to stop smiling or prevent the slow, unfurling of desire in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she felt like a non-swimmer who was out of her depth—and that was a very precarious place to be.
    ‘Your glass is empty,’ he observed. ‘Come, let us find you another drink.’
    Had she really drunk a whole glass without noticing?
    Gianluca took her to the far end of the room where wine was being served and poured them both a couple of glasses, watching her as he raised his glass. This morning he had idly been wondering whether a real woman lay beneath the outer armour of her unimaginative suit—but the contrast between what she had been and what she had now become was blowing his mind. His senses were shocked and his body was aroused and he wanted her.
    Now.
    ‘So,’ he said huskily as he touched his glass to hers in a toast.
‘Salute.’
    ‘Salute,’
Aisling echoed as she manoeuvred the drink to her lips.
    ‘You like it?’ he queried softly.
    ‘It’s … wonderful.’
    ‘Ah, Aisling—but you find everything wonderful tonight,’ he teased.
    ‘You’d rather I objected?’
    His lips curved. ‘Now
that
is more like it.’
    ‘Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?’
    Gianluca heard the defensiveness in her voice. Did she have an Achilles heel like other mortals? Was the icemaiden seeking his approval? ‘One of the reasons you are so good at your job is because you have a critical and discerning eye—but it seems to be absent tonight. And that is no bad thing.’ He smiled. ‘Relax,
cara.
Don’t look so tense. Tell me what you know about wine.’
    ‘Well, nothing really,’ she said quickly. ‘Except how to drink it.’
    ‘Then perhaps I should educate you. What do you think—would you like me to teach you everything I know?’
    Aisling bit her lip.
Everything he knew.
How much would that be? As she met the sensual question in his eyes she found herself wanting far more than being taught about wine appreciation. Gazing at the perfection of his hard body, she found herself wondering what it must be like to be made love to by him. Had he
meant
her to think that? You
work
for him, she reminded herself—but it didn’t seem to alter her chaotic thoughts.
    ‘Education is never wasted,’ she said primly.
    Gianluca gave a soft, low laugh at the repressive note in her voice and felt the ache in his groin increase.
Ah, sì.
This was novel indeed. A woman who was keeping him guessing about whether she