Making over the Billionaire (an Italian Connection Novel) (Entangled Brazen) by Joan Kilby Page B

intimate and…bonded. At least she thought they’d connected. She wasn’t at all certain about how he felt. And that made her uneasy.
    She traced his brow with the tip of her forefinger, smoothing the ruffled hairs into a thick dark arc. “It’s what I want.” Beads of perspiration dotted his temple. She blew lightly to cool his skin. “I’ve heard so much about the Blue Grotto on the island of Capri. Oh, and the Amalfi Coast. Maybe we could rent a car.”
    “I will decide in the morning whether or not we stay longer.” He shrugged.
    Layla didn’t pursue it. She had tonight at least. A lot could happen before dawn. She moved pleasurably at the thought of what they would do when they returned to the boat after the football match.
    She ran her hand down his side to his waist, his hip, his thigh. “What happened here? Was this from the same accident that gave you the scar on your eyebrow?”
    He rolled off the bed and bent to pick up his boxers from the floor. “Get dressed. We’ll go up on deck.”
    “Of course. Whatever you say.” Was the accident the same one that had killed his brother? He’d died in a car crash, but that’s all she knew. The incident had been hushed up at the time and no details were available. She wanted to learn more about Giorgio, find out what he was hiding, and if there was some way she could help him overcome the scars of his past. She wanted…
    Forget it. She was only a pawn in this game. Her job was to get him to the yacht and keep him there until Tina and the others arrived to take over. She didn’t have to know him or find out his deep dark secrets, or fix him, for God’s sake. That was his family’s job. Not hers.
    Now that she knew him better, though, she felt a little guilty about helping his sisters. But she hadn’t lied to him, except by omission. She was here because he intrigued her. And he was the sexiest man she’d ever met. So what if they had a little fun? They were adults.
    He rose, his naked body rippling and beautiful, and hurriedly dressed without looking at her. Their intimacy of a few moments ago vanished as he retreated inside himself.
    It’s only a fling, she reminded herself—if she needed reminding. The sex was awesome, but it was only sex. Not a love affair. It was enough that she liked him and enjoyed his company. But she could enjoy him, and she would, as long as possible. If she played her cards right she would have him for two more days. Two more glorious days. But first she had to convince him to stay.

Chapter Eight
    Giorgio gripped Layla’s hand tightly as they wove through the surging crowds outside the stadium. They could have entered through the VIP private entrance, but he wanted Layla to experience the excitement of an Italian football match. The blare of hand-held horns, the waving sponge fingers, the fans dressed in their team colors—it all took him back to his carefree youth.
    “Are soccer games always this rowdy?” Layla asked as they passed a group of chanting young men wearing Real Madrid jerseys.
    “Italians are a passionate people, and football is our national sport,” he said.
    “Soccer,” she insisted, despite conceding to him earlier.
    “Football.” He smiled indulgently, happy to forgive her for being wrong. After their amazing sex this afternoon he was in the most benevolent mood he’d been in for months. Or was it years? She was uninhibited and sensual. The sounds she made as she came, the way she moved her hips, and those breasts, so full and ripe—
    Abruptly, he squashed those thoughts. He was getting hard, and this was no place to deal with arousal. But later tonight…
    The jostling increased as the crowd funneled through the narrow gate. He was pushed into a man with a shaved head wearing the pale blue Naples jersey. “ Scusi .”
    “ Non problem ,” the other man said and there was something very familiar about his voice. “Gino? Mio vecchio amico ?”
    Giorgio’s head swiveled. Who was calling him old