That only made her laugh so hard she couldn't speak. A tear ran out the corner of one of her eyes, which she swiped away. He stared at her, befuddled, then spread his hands wide. "I give up. What's so funny?"

"What do you think?" she managed. "You're doing it again."

Ah. Now he understood. He relaxed into the cushions, his knee b.u.mping against hers as he did so. "You think I'm trying to take over her parenting? Or, excuse me, 'contribute something of value' to her upbringing? Weren't those were your words yesterday when I questioned your parenting choices?"

"Good memory."

"That wasn't my intent. It's clear to me now that you've made good choices with her. I only want her to have the best, if the best is within reach."

"I realize that. But suggesting culinary lessons at the place your head chef studied after Anna served you pizza on a kiddie party plate? Tell me that's not hilarious." She leaned forward, the movement allowing him a breath of her light, citrusy perfume. "Look, I'm glad you care about her well being. The fact you didn't know she existed until this weekend, yet you feel compelled to ensure she's happy speaks volumes about the kind of man you are. And I deeply appreciate that. But she doesn't need to be handed everything on a silver platter to be happy. She's happy already."

"Cooking lessons aren't being handed everything on a silver platter." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to argue. "But I understand your point. Cooking is off the table. So to speak."

That earned him another smile. "So to speak."

"Still, it doesn't mean I don't want to give her everything it's within my power to give. And by that, I don't mean material things. I mean experiences that will enrich her life and satisfy her intellectual curiosity. It's no different than what you said you did by accepting a job in Barcelona."

Megan sucked in a breath, making him wonder if he'd overstepped. "We need to take this slowly. She may have been fairly comfortable with you today, but there's going to be a period of adjustment for her."

"I know." He thought of the way Anna held her breath as he'd first tasted her pizza, waiting for his reaction, then trying to disguise her pride by looking down at her own slice when he'd complimented her. "I like her. A lot. Not simply because she's my daughter-or because she's yours-but for who she is. She's entertaining. And direct."

"Like when she asked you why you aren't married, despite the fact she knows better than to ask a question like that?" She screwed up her mouth. "It's tough sometimes, given her age, but she's been working on thinking first, speaking and acting second. I'm sorry if she offended you. I figured she'd have questions, but not precisely those questions."

Megan wrapped her hands around her knees as she spoke. The sun highlighted the beading in her red bracelet, making him think of that red bikini all over again. He wondered if he'd ever get that image out of his head.

He hoped not.

"She didn't offend me at all." He forced his gaze from Megan's hands and wrists to her face. "I'm afraid she gets any impetuousness from me, at least according to my parents."

"You must be joking. Calling you a whirlwind of activity, that I understand. Within five minutes of meeting you, I realized you couldn't stand to be still."

He frowned at her. "How so?"

"Whenever you found yourself with a free minute, you'd track down extra parts for a water pump or you'd jump to help someone else finish their project. You spent hours and hours playing stickball or soccer with the local kids rather than relax during your time off." Her eyes sparkled at the memory. "But impetuous? No. You always think before you speak or act."

"In public, and then only because the instinct was drummed out of me. Years of etiquette lessons, you know."

"Bet you'd have preferred cooking lessons." Her flirtatious smile sent a jolt of heat clear to his belly, then to his groin.

"No doubt." But right now, he wanted her. Her wit. Her warmth. Her pa.s.sion.

Nothing was going to drum that instinct out of him.

He covered one of her hands with his own, exploring her soft skin, taking in the texture of the bones and joints beneath. Wondering at all her beautiful hands had accomplished, both at work and in her personal life with Anna. He expected her to pull away, but she remained motionless. "I can still be impetuous. For instance, it would be a shame not to take advantage of the fact that we're alone for the first time in a decade, with no one to see us, no one to hear us. Don't you think?"

He slowly circled one of her nails with the pad of his index finger, then raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist where it peeked out from the cuff of her shirt. Still, she didn't pull away. She felt warm and alive, and he wanted her as never before. With his mouth still pressed to her wrist, he looked into her wide blue eyes and whispered, "We can do whatever we'd like."

Chapter Eleven.

Impetuous. That was one word for what Stefano was doing to her wrist. Others came to mind first, each supplanting the other as the heat of his mouth seared into her very veins, coursing straight to her heart: Divine. Sensuous. Rapturous.

If this was what he could do to her wrist, what would his touch do to the rest of her?

o.r.g.a.s.mic.

Before the thought could settle, Megan turned her energy to keeping her breath even and her expression neutral. Mustering her most unaffected tone, she said, "You're a terrible flirt, you know. It's why you draw so much media attention." His skill at it also meant he likely wasn't fooled by her attempt at composure. He knew exactly what to say and do to make any woman swoon. Her most of all.

She should stop him now, before he detected the rapid thrum of her heartbeat against his lips, which remained pressed to her pulse point. She should be responsible, ask questions about what he expected from his relationship with Anna. Set some parameters.

She should not be thinking about the way the nerves in her wrist seemed connected to every other fiber in her body. Or the way he set them all to flame with nothing more than a quick caress of his mouth.

"This isn't flirting, Megan. Flirting is nothing more than banter intended to pa.s.s the time or to bolster the ego. I want far more than that."

Her heartbeat moved to her throat at his words. He was moving so fast...and yet, not. They'd shared a bond for years, even if he hadn't known the full extent of that bond. And he was a man used to getting what he wanted.

He moved her hand to rest on his shoulder as he eased his mouth along her arm in a slow, agonizing path, pausing to kiss the inside of her elbow through the sheer lace of her shirt. Her legs remained folded between them, serving as a final defense against his a.s.sault, but where he'd placed her hand on his shoulder, she betrayed herself by spreading her fingertips to explore the firm ridges of muscle hidden beneath his shirt.

Her hand felt as if it belonged there.

His voice low and sensuous, he said, "I've wanted more than flirting from you from the first day we met, but it took me too long to realize it. I want you. And I think you want me. Unless there's someone else?" His sea green eyes bewitched her as he studied her from beneath his dark lashes. "If there's another man in your life, tell me now."

She shook her head. With that small movement, something inside her cracked, as deeply and powerfully as ice splitting from a glacier. She slid her hand around the back of his neck and moved her knees out of the way so she could pull him toward her, so close she could feel the wash of his breath against her skin and smell the crisp, clean fabric of his shirt.

For a split second, fear enveloped her. She nearly drew back, but then his lips met hers, washing away everything but the sensation that this was right. He kissed her softly at first, sending waves of electric heat through every part of her, then more pa.s.sionately as his hands came to frame her face. A murmur of pleasure escaped her, turning his kiss seductive, hungry, and full of the same pent-up need she'd felt from the moment she'd laid eyes on him in the c.o.c.ktail lounge. He pulled her closer, the heat of his hands searing her skin through her thin top, warming her clear to her spine.

He smelled like heaven. Tasted better. All thought of parameters dissolved as his tongue flicked against hers. She pressed into him, craving more.

He eased her back against the sofa, deepening their kiss, tangling one hand in her hair as the other caressed her side in slow worship before cupping her breast. She welcomed his weight, reveling in the feeling of his large, hard body against her smaller one. When his thumb found her nipple through her top, she gasped.

He smiled against her mouth in response. "Still sends you?"

"Mmmm-" She melted in his hands, stunned that he remembered details she'd long ago let blur out of a sense of self-preservation.

He kissed her again, moving his thumb in a slow, tantalizing circle before easing back, teasing her, then starting all over. When his fingers finally found the top b.u.t.ton of her blouse, she tore her mouth from his and put her hands to his shoulders. At his confused expression, she explained, "They're tricky. It's much faster if I do it."

"Be my guest." The flash of his wicked smile nearly did her in. "Because I plan to take the rest slowly."

He watched as she undid the tiny b.u.t.tons one by one. When she unlooped the last one, he slipped his hands inside her blouse, spreading it wide, and tsked at the thin camisole underneath. "s.e.xy, but inconvenient."

Bending, he took her nipple into his mouth through the fabric. She closed her eyes, arching against him, burying her hands in his hair. In one swoop, he lifted her camisole and pulled it over her head. He murmured something unintelligible as he drank in the sight of her, admiring her as if he'd never seen a woman before, then his large hands spanned her waist and he shifted to lavish attention on her other breast.

Megan reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging the crisp fabric free from his slacks, aching for the feel of his skin against hers. When he captured her hand to stop her, she felt she'd implode.

"Come with me," he stood, easing her from the sofa with him. Snaking one arm around her waist to pull her close, he raised an index finger to her lips, blotting away the moisture before tracing the outside of her mouth. "I want to be in your bed. Your sheets, your pillows."

Her very bones seemed to melt at the request. Only his grip held her steady. She pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand before meeting his gaze. "I want you there."

In one smooth, easy move, he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, his mouth making love to hers until he set her in the middle of the bed. He looked down at her with unmasked desire as he unb.u.t.toned the front of his shirt, then let it fall open as he worked at his cuffs. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his lean, muscled torso. He didn't have the build of a pampered prince; only a man who liked to test his physical limits could sculpt so perfect a body. She idly wondered what he'd done the last few years to keep himself so fit.

Not that it mattered a bit. She was about to reap the benefits of whatever trials he'd endured.

Unable to wait for him to finish, she shifted to the edge of the bed and unbuckled his belt, then took down his slacks, inch by inch, feeling emboldened enough to run her hands over his navy briefs and along his thighs as she went. Once free of his shirt, he kicked off his shoes and socks, then leaned over her and slid off her white slacks. He smiled at her thin, lace panties before he shucked them off, flicked them aside. And then they were chest to chest, skin to skin, heat to heat.

Never had she felt such overwhelming, all-encompa.s.sing want. More than when they'd been on the beach, full of young love and knowing it would be their last night together. More than in her most secretive, l.u.s.t-filled dreams.

She could hardly breathe.

Pressing her arms over her head, he kissed a hot trail from her temple to the delicate spot on her neck that always drove her mad with desire. "You are so beautiful. Bella. My Megan."

He moved lower, his hands slowly caressing her shoulders, her sides, her stomach as his breath danced across her skin. At long last, his fingers reached to her core, finding the nub he sought at the same time his mouth came over her breast. She tilted her head back, sighing in pleasure as she braced her hands against the headboard. His hands and mouth worked magic, bringing her to the edge, easing back, then driving her mad as he brought her once more to the precipice.

"Please," she murmured, reaching for his shoulders with the intention of freeing him of his navy briefs. She lifted her head, tried to move him up to meet her kiss, but he ignored her. Instead, his head moved lower as he lifted one of her legs to his shoulder and angled his mouth against the spot his fingers had been for the briefest of tastes.

"Relax." His voice was thick as he interlaced the fingers of his free hand with hers. "Don't fight it. Let me love you."

Before she could protest, he entered her with his tongue. She bit her lip as he sucked, tasted, licked. His thumb returned to her most intimate spot, exerting just the right amount of pressure to send sparks ripping through her body. Her breath came in rapid, shallow bursts as she fought to retain control.

"Stef-"

"Let. Go."

At his whispered command, she shattered, arched, came.

He held her hips, continuing to drive her o.r.g.a.s.m. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to contain the explosion he'd caused. Stars danced on the back of her eyelids as she let her free hand drift down from the headboard. His hand found hers and captured it where he held her thigh.

Before she could recover fully, he planted a heated kiss to the inside of her hip, then moved to lie beside her, holding her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he kissed her cheek and whispered in unintelligible Italian. The rough skin of his jaw sc.r.a.ped her shoulder as he scattered kisses along her neck, then her collarbone. She buried her hands in his dark hair, reveling in the sensation of his skin pressed to hers while she slowly fell back to earth. As she caught her breath and her brain re-engaged, she rolled on top of him, looking for his discarded slacks, desperate to find a condom as quickly as possible so she could bring him to the same levels of ecstasy she'd just experienced.

If such a thing were possible.

"You're not going to believe this," he said when he realized her intent. "But your search will be in vain."

She stared down at him, noting the mix of concern and humor reflected in his eyes. "You don't have anything? You? As I recall, you even had a few with you on the beach. Not that they were all effective." At least one condom hadn't worked as expected.

"Contrary to published reports, I'm not in the habit of engaging in casual s.e.x. So no, I don't have anything with me." He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"I might." As long as they hadn't expired. Condoms expired, didn't they?

And wait...did he consider this casual s.e.x?

One side of his mouth hitched up, his dimples pushing the thought from her mind. "You don't know?"

"Give me a sec." Reluctantly, she pushed from the bed. The cool air of the room sent a shiver along her spine as she crossed to her small en suite bathroom. She bent to search at the back of the drawer where she'd hidden the box from Anna's prying eyes.

Sheets rustled behind her. She turned to see that he'd angled himself for a view of her backside.

"You keep right on looking." His voice was sultry, seductive. Wicked. "I'll do the same."

She shouldn't be embarra.s.sed after what he'd just done to her, right in broad daylight, but her face heated as she turned back to the vanity. She caught a glimpse of the box, grabbed it, then flipped it over as she returned to her bedroom to find the date stamp. Still good.

"Unopened, I see."

"Are you judging me?" As if having to search for protection wasn't enough to kill the mood already.

"No." He grabbed her waist and pulled her into bed beside him. After taking the box from her and setting it on the nightstand, he stroked an appreciative hand along her hip, then moved to her hipbone, her breast, and finally to cup her cheek, tipping her face so she met his gaze. "Believe me, I'm quite appreciative."

She bent to capture his mouth with hers, allowing her hands to drift to the waistband of his briefs, then to glide down over the firm muscle of his rear. She could starve, run marathons, and do more squats than an Olympic weightlifter and still not have that high and tight a b.u.t.t.

It wasn't fair. And yet...

The thought was lost as he moved against her, the length of his c.o.c.k pressing to her hip through his briefs as he returned her kiss. For long moments they remained like that, savoring the taste and feel of each other, until she could take no more. Easing her mouth from his, she stretched to remove his last bit of clothing, to feel the entirety of his glorious body against her own.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she murmured, admiring the sight of his broad chest and narrow waist as he grasped for a condom, "but you have improved with age."

He flashed the easy grin that made him a media darling. "Say that again in a couple of hours."

"Hours?"

He answered her with a searing kiss, one full of promise, then lifted her hips so she straddled him, his mouth still melded to hers. His hands locked around her waist, allowing him to enter her with such deliberate slowness she thought she'd die of sheer desire. He held still, waiting until she opened her eyes to see the need in his before he slid his hands up her back, freeing her to move with him in an exquisite rhythm.

"Stefano," she managed as she buried a groan in his shoulder, exhilarating in the taste of his warm skin as they matched each other move for move. He knew exactly how to drive her, to make her crave more and more and ever more. To make her forget everything but this moment.

"Tell me what you want." His breathing quickened near her ear as she clenched around him. "Tell me."

"You." This. Nothing in the world mattered beside the two of them, in this room, this bed, this moment. How many years had she savored the memory of their moonlit night together? How many ways had she fantasized about meeting him again, making love to him, having him bury himself inside her with yearning every bit as strong as her own? Yet the fantasies came nowhere close to what he did to her now. No one could imagine this.

Her muscles spasmed around his length, her thighs and calves wrapping tighter to trap him within her as his hands stroked her back and cupped her rear, urging her closer and closer to release. Never in her life had she gone to bed with a man on a whim. Never had making love felt as gratifying-and as terrifying-as it did in this moment, with this man. She sucked in a breath as she neared her peak. At the same moment, he lifted her, rolled her under him, then drove into her, deeper, faster, caging her hands over her head until she tilted over the edge, wave upon wave of sensation thrumming through her body. A moment later, he shuddered his own release, his lips pressed to her forehead as he fought to recapture his breath.

"Definitely better with age," he murmured as she drifted back to earth. She could only nod her agreement as he moved to her side, holding her firm against him. His hand drifted to her thigh, gently ma.s.saging the back of her leg with long, worshipful strokes.

"And you're definitely a flirt, no matter what you say," she managed. "But that's not a complaint."

She felt his smile against her temple at the same time his cell phone emitted a low buzz, the noise from somewhere on the floor startling her. His hand stilled on her thigh for a moment before he whispered, "Ignore it."

Then her bedside phone rang. She groaned and shifted to reach for it, but he grabbed her wrist and kissed her fingertips one by one. "Don't. You're occupied at the moment."

A second ring, then a third. "I need to look. It could be Anna."

Reluctantly, he released Megan, scooting to give her access to the small cordless phone perched on her nightstand. She peeked at the caller ID, blew out an exasperated breath, then picked up. In a surprisingly buoyant tone, she said, "Hi, honey. What's up?"

Stefano stretched to retrieve his own phone from the pocket of his slacks and listen to his voicemail. A call about tomorrow's meeting. He could return that later. An inquiry from his pilot about the flight schedule. A run-through of his week's schedule from his secretary. He shoved the phone back into the pocket as Megan wrapped up with Anna.