Page 50 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

“We catch a ferry to Positano. The storm has passed, so they should be running again. Maybe pick up a couple of caprese sandwiches for the ride back.”

She pushed at his chest, and he stumbled backward, surprised by her sudden outburst. “Are you being deliberately obtuse, or are you really this stupid? I’m not talking about food or ferry rides. I’m talking about when we get home. I mean, back to the villa.”

Fuck. She was right. He was an idiot. Chalk it up to post-coital haze. But the fog was clearing, and he finally understood what was bothering her.

“Never mind,” she huffed, obviously mistaking his silence for rejection. “Forget I said anything. We’ll go back to business as usual, avoiding each other. Me in my room with Houdini, you alone in yours.”

She grabbed her pile of freshly laundered clothes from the chair and headed for the bathroom. He blocked her path again, determined not to let her go before he could set the record straight.

“Is that what you want?” He ran his hands down her arms, taking her smaller, more delicate ones in his. “Because it’s not what I want.”

Her eyes blazed with a fire that he wished was desire but suspected was outrage. He consoled himself with the fact that she hadn’t released his hands. That had to mean something, although he wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t sure of much where Zoe was concerned. Off-balance seemed to be his normal state when she was around.

He held her gaze, hoping she’d see the sincerity in his expression.

“What do you want, then?” she asked. “I’m not a mind reader, and you’re not the most communicative guy on the planet.”

Nicole had had the same complaint. He felt a twinge of guilt at the memory but shoved it down deep, needing to deal with the very real, very angry woman in front of him.

“Simple.” He stepped closer so their bodies were almost touching, their faces inches apart. There would be no misunderstanding this time. “I want you.”

The anger in her eyes drained away, replaced by a softness that stunned him like an uppercut to the jaw. “I thought maybe this was a one-and-done thing.”

“Don’t you mean four and done?”

“You know what I mean.” Her pale cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I thought—”

“Stop.” He put a finger to her lips. “No more thinking. Just feel.”

“My grandmother used to say only a fool is guided by his feelings.”

“And mine says feelings are sometimes more important than facts.”

“So where does that leave us?” she asked, a little breathless.

He turned her hands over in his, massaging her palms with his thumbs. “You’re in Italy for two more weeks, right?”

She nodded.

“Then it leaves us with two weeks to spend together. Wherever and however we like.” That was all he could give her. Nicole had taught him that love was temporary, so temporary was all he had to offer. Some fun and physical release until it was time for Zoe to return home. He only hoped it was enough.

She studied him for what seemed like an eternity while he held his breath, half anticipating her answer, half dreading it. Then she slowly backed away from him until her hands slipped from his. “I need to shower.”

Right. That was it, then. He watched as she continued on her way to the bathroom. She stopped at the open door to turn, untie the belt of her robe, and let it fall slowly, agonizingly to the floor. “Care to join me?”

He stalked toward her, loosening his own belt as he went.

Cappuccino andcornettiwould have to wait.

…

Zoe knelt down on the cold kitchen tile and stared at her trainee, sitting on his haunches across the room. According to everything she’d read online—and there was a surprising amount of information available—the key to successful communication was to be on the same eye level and speak in a firm, authoritative voice. She held out a piece of popcorn and waved it temptingly. “Come.”

Houdini did the same thing he’d done the last ten times she called him, enticing him with a long string of his favorite treats—apple slices, halved grapes, Cheerios, and finally air-popped, non-salt, non-buttered popcorn.

Nothing.

“Come on, boy. You can do it. Come to Mama.” She needed him to master this basic command so they could move on to more advanced stuff, like sit and stay. It would make his eventual trip back to San Francisco much easier if he had at least a few skills under his figurative belt.