Innocent of His Claim by Janette Kenny Page B

alone with him. Feeling far too natural with him. It was bad enough her body betrayed her, weeping for his touch, throbbing for the press of his steely length against her.
    But to think the past could have easily gone a different route terrified her.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Yes, you do,” he said. “Us.”
    “There is no us,” she said, her upthrust palms warning him to back off.
    Marco filled her vision, filled her world. His gaze probed so deeply she shivered as his intimate touch whispered over her heart, her soul.
    He planted both palms on the wall behind her, forcing her to draw her hands in to her breasts to keep from touching his oh-so-admirable chest. How easily he caged her in, towering over her, standing so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold light his dark eyes with a sensuous glow that made her body cry for him.
    Marco was everything she had always wanted and everything she should avoid in a man.
    That was never more evident than now. So why did her body refuse to listen?
    “Yes, there is an us,” he said, stroking his thumb along her jaw and smiling when she surrendered to a shiver. “There will always be us.”
    She shook her head and crushed her fists against her traitorous heart. Pride kept her from admitting he was right, and right now pride was all she had to cling to.
    He pushed away and extended his hand to her, his gaze challenging. “Come. Our table is waiting.”
    “I’ve lost my appetite.” Delanie smoothly ducked beneath his arm and strode toward the door, determined to walk the distance. To run if she must.
    Marco allowed a small smile and enjoyed the enticing sway of her hips. “Where are you going?”
    “To Montiforte.”
    “I’ll drive you,” he said, catching up with her easily before she’d made it halfway across the entryway.
    “Thanks, but your housekeeper assured me it wasn’t a long walk.”
    “I will take you.”
    That stopped her, as if his order had strings to pull her up short. She glanced back at him, body stiffened, not fully turning. But it gave him a clear view of the ripe fullness of her breasts pushing against her top.
    A rosy flush kissed her neck and cheeks—from desire? Anger? Perhaps a bit of both over the way he bested her every attempt to avoid him.
    The harder he pushed the more she pulled away, like magnets fighting an invisible force. But he wasn’t about to back off.
    He wanted her in his arms, in his bed where she belonged. At least for as long as she was here. Maybe this time when they parted he would be able to pluck her from his memory.
    “Don’t you have work to do?” Delanie asked.
    “Nothing that can’t wait,” he said, exchanging a nod with his astute PA standing in the shadows who instantly disappeared to rearrange his schedule.
    Her eyes, a clear blue that rivaled a Tuscan summer sky, met his and he found it difficult to draw a decent breath. The indecision reflected in her gaze clutched at his gut.
    “Well, I do have things to do, mainly getting a wedding planned in short order,” she said.
    “You can begin after lunch,” he said.
    Her mouth thinned and for a moment he feared she would refuse. “Fine. We will eat and then I will get to work.”
    She resumed her rapid walk toward the door. He tarried a moment, enjoying the view of her firm bottom cupped in tight black denim.
    Marco suffered the heaviness in his groin and strode after her. Outside he pressed his palm to the luscious small of her back and escorted her to his red Bugatti.
    In moments he guided the sleek sports car down the hill toward Montiforte. “You won’t find a room in the village.”
    “That’s what your housekeeper told me.”
    “You don’t believe her.”
    A beat of silence pinged between them. He could be a gentleman and remove himself from his house, giving her the privacy she sought—the distancing from him.
    But he wanted her. Wanted? No he
had
to have her again. And he would have her, he vowed, allowing a