Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim

‘It is my pleasure to do so.’

He even bowed slightly, but his tone suggested it was anything but a pleasure for him.

Katie’s worst fears were confirmed. Rigo Ruggiero was hiding disappointment. Having heard her husky voice over the phone, he had imagined he had come to the airport to meet a siren. They had both been misled, Katie reflected wryly. Now this was not business for her; it had become personal. Rigo Ruggiero had shadows behind his eyes she couldn’t resist and wanted to understand, and he was so handsome he made her heart ache.

‘You had a good journey, I hope.’

‘Very good, thank you.’

She registered the fact that he had spoken to her in a tone of voice she imagined he might use with a maiden aunt. He was so much taller, bigger and had a more powerful aura than her imagination had allowed and was far more rugged. He was the type of man who could look dangerous even in tailored clothes. The dark trousers complemented his athletic figure and the crisp blue shirt was open a couple of buttons at the neck, revealing a hard, tanned chest, shaded with black hair. The sight of this gave parts of her that were largely unused a vigorous workout. If this wasn’t lust at first sight, it was the closest Katie Bannister had ever come to it.

But what she needed now, Katie reasoned with her sensible head on, was some form of identification to prove to Rigo Ruggiero she was who she said she was. On plundering her bag she managed to spill the contents all over his designer-clad feet.

‘Allow me, Signorina Bannister…’

To his credit, he immediately dipped to rescue her passport, tickets, toffees, tissues and all the other embarrassing detritus she had accumulated during the flight.

‘Why don’t I take your bag?’ he suggested, staring her straight in the eyes as he straightened up.

My shabby, disreputable-looking bag? ‘That’s very kind of you. And here’s my passport for purposes of identification.’

‘I don’t think we’ll need that,’ he said, lips pressing down in an unfeasibly attractive way. And then, in a final cataclysmic put-down, he suggested, ‘Why don’t you put your passport somewhere safe before you lose it?’

So she wasn’t a maiden aunt, she was a child.

She’d made a great first impression. He even held the bag steady for her as she stuffed her possessions back inside. She glanced at him apologetically. He had no need to flag it up. Her clothes, her gaucheness, her red cheeks and clumsiness, all told a story Rigo Ruggiero had no interest in reading.

‘And my stepbrother’s personal effects?’ he pressed, gazing past her.

She wondered if he expected a packing case to be following on. ‘Your stepbrother’s effects are right here.’ She patted the breast pocket of her jacket to reassure him.

‘That doesn’t look like very much.’

‘Well, it is a very small package.’ She blushed violently to see him conceal a smile.

‘OK,’ he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, ‘I’ll get the car.’

‘Honestly, I’m quite happy to take a cab—’

‘So we arrive at my penthouse in convoy?’ he suggested, shooting her a look.

How much better could this get? ‘See your point,’ she murmured with a nervous laugh.

How much better? A lot better, Katie realised as a blood-red sports car drew up at the kerb. She didn’t need to remember the blonde in the magazine to know she was hardly in this class. A sick, heavy feeling was building in her stomach as an admiring crowd gathered around the high-performance vehicle and its elegant driver. They had recognised Rigo, of course, and now they were eager to find out who he was meeting at the airport.

That was what she had to walk through to get to the car.

‘I don’t bite, Signorina Bannister.’

The throaty drawl drew her attention to the man leaning over the roof of the low-slung sex-machine.

A laugh rippled through the crowd as she locked gazes with him. Everyone was staring at her and she could feel their disappointment. She was not some famous beauty or a supermodel. She was about the furthest thing from that you could get. Steeling herself, she took the half-dozen steps required to close the distance between herself and the car. Signor Ruggiero had already stowed her bag, and so all she had to do was get in—but that meant she had to slot herself into an impossibly narrow-looking opening.

‘When you’re ready,’ he drawled.

She had already anticipated that folding her inelegant body into such an elegant car was a skill she didn’t possess. She was right and, to her horror, she got stuck.

What made it worse was that Signor Ruggiero came to help her, and all but lifted her into the formed seat, which she now discovered had been moulded around a fairy’s bottom.

But at least she was out of sight of the crowd, Katie reasoned as he slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

‘Comfortable?’ He glanced at her to check.

‘Perfectly.’ On edge.

Now she had to convince herself that you couldn’t die from the shock of meeting a man like this in person, and that the air in the confined cabin hadn’t changed with an overload of ions and his delicious scent. But it had. And it was charged with something else…sex, Katie realised, primly tugging down her skirt. Rigo Ruggiero radiated sex.

‘You can understand my impatience, I’m sure,’ he said.

She gripped the seat as the engine roared like a jet.

‘This bequest from such an unexpected quarter has intrigued me,’ he went on.

This was business, she told herself in a silent shout, but that reassurance was growing a little thin.

‘I ask myself,’ he said, ‘what can be so important that only a personal delivery of the documents would do?’

As he glanced at her, Katie thought: And by a girl like this? She shrank beneath a gaze that took in every stitch of manmade fibre until finally it came to rest on her sensible, lowheeled shoes. She quickly tucked her feet away, out of sight. ‘I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.’

He shrugged. ‘I must have missed you, somehow.’

Searching for that husky-voiced siren would do it every time.

‘But never mind,’ he added dryly, flashing that wolf smile of his. ‘I’ve got you now.’

‘Indeed you do.’

He shrugged as he released the brake and pulled away. The adventure begins, Katie thought, hoping she was up to it. She didn’t need Signor Ruggiero to spell it out. Katie Bannister was hardly the type of woman he would normally put himself out for.

She held on tightly to the seat as he steered smoothly away from the kerb. ‘Ten kilometres an hour OK for you?’ he murmured as they joined a crawling stream of traffic.

‘Sorry, I’m just not used to…’

How many people were used to driving in a sports car? Katie asked herself sensibly. She had entered a world that was completely alien to her, and it would take a while to adjust. Closing her eyes and wishing herself a million miles away wouldn’t work this time, because this time she really was living the fantasy.

She didn’t realise how tense she had become until she heard Signor Ruggiero say, ‘Don’t worry, Signorina Bannister. I shall strive to achieve a balance between my impatience and your obvious lack of confidence in my driving ability—’

‘Oh, I’m not—’ Her mouth slammed shut when she realised too late he was mocking her. And now the set of his jaw did nothing to encourage conversation.

He was hardly her typical client, but this sort of impatience was universal. The reading of a will was notoriously full of surprises and, whether those surprises turned out to be bad or good, human nature demanded answers fast.

Katie’s hand crept to the breast pocket of her suit, where she wished fervently for some last small legacy of love for him contained within the envelope she was carrying—though, if past experience was any guide, she was wasting her time.

OK, so meeting Katie Bannister had been a shock, but he was growing used to her unique vibe. She was as different from the women he was used to mixing with as it was possible to imagine, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, only different. He didn’t need false breasts and false smiles—but neither did he need complications. Signorina Bannister was a quiet little mouse and awkward, which meant he would have to spend more time with her than he had anticipated, but how could he throw her to the wolves in Rome? She was out of her comfort zone and had anticipated more time to prepare before meeting him. She found herself in a much bigger, faster world than her comfortable country cocoon and would have to adapt quickly. Meanwhile they had a forty-five minute journey ahead of them and he couldn’t stand this uncomfortable silence. ‘I’d like you to call me Rigo.’

She bit her lip. Her pale cheeks blazed. She said precisely nothing.

Ducking his head, he checked the road before steering north-east to Rome. It gave him an excuse to flash a glance at her. ‘Try it,’ he said, thinking she looked like a rabbit trapped in headlights. ‘Rrr…igo…’

She pressed back in her seat. He felt instinctively that this was someone to whom life had not always been kind. Did he have time to be a social worker? OK, so she brought out his protective instinct, but he was no bleeding heart. Perhaps it would help if he let her know he was no threat to her—absolutely no threat at all. ‘You don’t even have to say my name in Italian,’ he said dryly. ‘English will do.’

She said his name—a little reluctantly, he thought. ‘Bene,’ he said. ‘That was very good.’

‘And you can call me Signorina Bannister,’ she said.

He laughed. And for the first time that day, he relaxed. ‘Very well, Signorina Bannister,’ he agreed. ‘Your wish is my command…’ At least on the subject of names.

CHAPTER THREE

MAYBE the client was always right, but she was going to keep this formal. She would never get used to a man like Rigo Ruggiero in the short time available as he seemed to think she could, and so it was better not to try.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this quietly. This tasty slice of la dolce vita was her first real adventure. Rigo Ruggiero—Roma, Italia—a real-life Italian playboy driving a blood-red sports car with Katie Bannister sitting next to him. The closest she had ever come to this before was in her fantasy world.

The view from the tinted window was extraordinary. They had cleared the boring industrial places and were driving into Rome. It was like entering the pages of a living history book—if one with a serious traffic problem, traffic Rigo Ruggiero had no problem negotiating. Her confidence had grown, Katie realised, noting how relaxed she had become. She could get used to this—the Colosseum here…Trajan’s Market there. The only place she dared not look was to her left, in case Signor Ruggiero thought she was staring at him. But she didn’t need to stare to know he was built like a gladiator and had the commanding face of a Roman general. She could feel that in every part of her.

‘Trajan’s Market has recently been reopened to the public.’

She refocused as he spoke. This conversational tone was not what she expected from the gladiator in her head, but then she hadn’t expected him to speak at all. Signor Ruggiero was being kind by entering into conversation with her—and at least it gave her an excuse to stare at him. ‘Really?’

She knew her eager gaze was gauche, but he was perfection, which made it hard not to stare. If she could have designed a man, this would be him. Even her imagination couldn’t have mapped a face so perfect or a body made for uninterrupted sin—

‘Even in AD 113,’ he went on, ‘these large shopping malls were in demand.’

As he smiled, a flash of strong white teeth against his tan made her think even more wicked thoughts. She could think of a better use for those firm, mobile lips and those wolf teeth, and when he angled that rough, stubble-shaded chin towards the remarkably well-preserved Roman buildings she felt a pulse begin to throb where it had absolutely no business doing so. Did he know the effect he was having on her? Katie wondered, blushing when he looked at her for her opinion. Hopefully not.

‘I read somewhere that Trajan’s Market was the experiment in bringing shops together under one roof,’ she said, trying to seem gripped by Roman history when the only thing she wanted to be gripped by was him.

His face creased in an attractive smile. ‘It was the first—unless you know of one dating from earlier times, of course?’

She shook her head. Obviously he knew more than she did about his own city, but she remained silent, because she thought it was safer to keep things formal rather than to chat. And she had only visited one shopping mall in her whole life. The girls from the office had persuaded her to accompany them and she had vowed, never again! The lights, the crowds jostling her, the shops full of things she didn’t need or want. Give her the wide open spaces in the country any day…

‘I think Rome is going to be quite an eye-opener for you.’

You could say that again, Katie thought as Rigo steered the sports car down a fashionable shopping street with more glitz and glamour than her poor fantasies could hope to conjure up.

Katie’s head was still spinning with all the lavish things she’d seen when she sat down in Rigo’s vast, ultra-modern study. Light flooded in, revealing every flaw—or would have done had there been any, but, as she might have imagined, Rigo lived in unimaginable luxury. His penthouse was immaculate, and his study boasted every conceivable high-tech man-toy. She found it starkly beautiful, with its colour scheme of steel and white. There was glass everywhere and vibrant modern art on the walls. Incredibly, the roof could be open to the sky, which it was. Her jaw dropped as she stared up to watch birds wheeling overhead in a flawless cobalt sky. So this was how the rich lived. After the chaos and bustle of the city streets, Rigo’s eyrie at the very top of an ancient palazzo was a haven of quiet. She could even hear the birds singing if she held her breath.

Katie forced her attention away from the aerial display as Rigo came to sit across the desk from her. He sprawled in such a relaxed fashion, while she was anxiously perching on the very edge of one of his divine cream leather chairs. It was showroom-new, like the huge glass desk in front of her—and that was another concern. What if she left a smudge on its pristine surface?

‘Do you like the view?’ he prompted.

‘I love it.’ There were windows to three sides overlooking the rooftops of Rome, but Rigo’s husky baritone attracted her more. Her heart squeezed tight as he looked out of the window and she looked at him. He was so perfect. And she would never know him, not properly. But she would never forget today, or how attractive he was, or how polite to her—though how that would affect her future when it came to men remained to be seen. They would all fall short if she compared them to Rigo.

For his part, Rigo seemed to have got over the shock of meeting her and was treating her with indulgence like a young relative recently arrived from the country.

‘There’s the Colosseum,’ he said, pointing it out. ‘Can you see it?’

And was that St Peter’s Basilica? She wanted to ask, but realised he would only think her more gauche and awkward than ever. Signor Ruggiero’s home in Rome was in one of the most fashionable squares and had a panoramic view of so much of the beautiful city.

‘I’ll draw the blinds,’ he said, when she impulsively shaded her eyes to take another look. He pressed a button and it was done. He pressed another button and a tinted glass roof closed over their heads. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, glad to be in the shadows again.

And now it was down to business—no more time wasted on wishing Signor Ruggiero could look at her and see her differently, someone with more class and polish than she possessed…and no flaws.

‘Are you cold, Signorina Bannister?’

Try frigid.

‘You’re trembling,’ he said.

‘Just travel-weary, I expect.’ By then he had pressed yet another button on the console on his desk, activating some invisible heat source.

‘Travel-weary?’ he murmured, and there was a faintly amused look in his eyes. ‘I forgot—you’ve had such a long flight.’

And it would be the same short flight home, Katie thought, knowing she would have to sharpen up with this man or be made a complete fool of. She started by putting a professional smile on her lips. ‘Shall we begin?’

‘Whenever you’re ready,’ he said, still looking at her with faint amusement.

Reaching for the thick manila envelope she had put in front of her on the desk, Katie opened it. But concern for its contents washed over her and she stopped. She had heard so many unkind things expressed in wills, and was well aware they could be used like a weapon to hurt those left behind. She hoped she wasn’t the bearer of some last bitter note from Rigo Ruggiero’s stepbrother.

‘What are you waiting for, Signorina Bannister?’

Yes, why should she care what was in the will? She fumbled the sheets and finally managed to spread the document out in front of her. ‘This is the last will and testament of—’

‘Cut to the chase—we both know whose will this is.’

Rigo Ruggiero’s charm had evaporated. He could change in an instant, she had discovered. It would be a foolish person who underestimated him. He had charm only when he chose to have charm.

‘My time is short, Signorina Bannister.’

And you are handling this badly, his expression clearly said. She wasn’t supposed to get involved. She had received this same criticism at work. It was her only failing, the senior partner had told her at her annual assessment. Deal with the facts, Ms Bannister. We are not employed to dole out tea and sympathy—and make sure you keep an accurate time sheet of every moment you spend with the client.

Even at times like these when she could be revealing anything to Signor Ruggiero? Was she supposed to close her heart and send the bill? She had never managed to do so before, and now she stood less chance than ever. Her clock wasn’t running. They should have sent a more experienced member of the firm if they wanted her to account for every second of compassion in her.

‘Please move on.’

She did so with a dry throat. Even her so-called sexy voice sounded strained. There was clearly no love lost between Rigo and his stepbrother. Didn’t he feel any nostalgia for his childhood? His darkening expression suggested not. She was out of place, out of step here…

Reminding herself she was merely a servant of the firm, she pulled herself together and got on with it, only to have Rigo explode with, ‘Tcha!’ as the phone rang. He made her jump as he banged the table. Obviously he didn’t want to be interrupted at a time like this, and as he reached for the telephone she spoke up.

‘If I answer it I can put them off for you. I can say I’m your PA…’

Briefly, she thought she saw something light in his eyes, and then with a curt nod of agreement he withdrew his hand, leaving her to pick up the phone.

‘Pronto?’ She shot Rigo a glance. People had different ways of expressing emotion when someone close to them died. Carlo Ruggiero had been part of Rigo Ruggiero’s life once—he must be feeling something, though he was hiding it well.

Refocusing on the call, Katie continued to talk in fluent Italian, and only slowly realised that Rigo was staring at her in astonishment.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Italian?’ he said accusingly as she ended the call.

‘I didn’t realise it would be of any interest to you.’

He looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. ‘No, you’re right. Well?’ he said impatiently. ‘Are you going to tell me who it was?’

She managed her feelings. This was none of her business. ‘It appears you have forgotten a rather important engagement…’

He jumped up immediately when she explained. Extracting a phone from his pocket, he placed a call and began to pace.

He would only break off this meeting before he found out everything for one reason and this was it. The scheme he had set up to fulfil children’s dreams came ahead of his personal concerns. If taking a child around the track in his sports car was being brought forward then there must be a very good reason for it. ‘Of course he can come right away,’ he told his friend.

Moving out of earshot so Katie Bannister couldn’t hear, he explained his schedule for the day had been thrown thanks to missing the solicitor he was due to meet at the airport—and, yes, he had found the young woman, eventually.

‘A young woman?’ his friend murmured with a knowing air.

‘A very quiet and respectable young woman,’ he emphasised, staring at the back of Katie Bannister’s head. She had thick, glossy hair the same shade of honey as her eyes, but she wore it scraped back cruelly in a way that did her no favours. He refocused on his conversation and shut her out. His friend brought her back in again.

‘What a disappointment for you, Rigo,’ he drawled, ‘but no doubt you have a plan in mind to change this young woman’s way of thinking?’

Actually, no, he had no plan, and his friend’s comment had left him feeling vaguely irritated. ‘I’m leaving now.’ He ended the call. This was not the moment to be discussing such things, and something about Signorina Bannister called for the role of protector, rather than seducer. She was far too young for him, and almost certainly a virgin—or at least incredibly inexperienced; ergo, she was not his type at all. He stowed the phone in his shirt pocket and turned back to her. ‘You’ll have to keep this reading on hold. I’ve been called away. We’ll reschedule—’

‘But my flight home…’ she said anxiously.

‘I can only apologise.’

Katie frowned. It wasn’t up to her to judge the client, but this was unforgivable. Rigo Ruggiero intended to leave something as important as the reading of his stepbrother’s will to race his sports car around a track. Couldn’t he do that some other time? His equally arrogant friend hadn’t been prepared to tell her much more, but she gathered that was the plan. ‘There’s no need to apologise,’ she said coldly, remembering the senior partner’s words. ‘After all, you’re paying for my time—’

‘Plus ça change,’ he interrupted and his expression registered nothing more than resigned acceptance of the way of things.

Now she was insulted. Her motive in coming to Rome had not been money. The fact that she had come here to fulfil his stepbrother’s last request didn’t matter to him at all, apparently.

He saw this change in her and emphasized, ‘This is something I cannot miss—’

‘And I cannot miss my flight,’ she said, standing up.

‘You can change it—’

‘I’m not sure I can—’

‘Why not?’

Because she would have to buy a new ticket—an expense that would mean nothing to this man and that in their present parlous state her firm probably wouldn’t reimburse. She had bills to pay—and the prospect of no job to return to ahead of her.

She had tried so hard to strike the right tone and be professional, but she was growing increasingly agitated as she faced Rigo Ruggiero across the desk. Like it or not, they were in conflict now. ‘Couldn’t you change your appointment?’ she suggested hesitantly.

‘No.’

‘But you are eager to get this over with?’ she reminded him. And not put off by a drive around the racetrack with the boys.

‘I assure you I am every bit as eager as I was before, but now I must go—’

‘Shall I wait for you?’

Already halfway to the door, he spun around. ‘Make yourself at home.’

Tension had propelled her to breaking point. She might be a small-town solicitor, and dull as ditchwater if you compared her to the blistering glamour of a man like this, but she wasn’t anyone’s doormat. ‘Signor Ruggiero, please,’ she called, chasing after him. ‘This just can’t wait—’

‘And neither can my appointment,’ he called back to her from the door. ‘You must be content—’