The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle by Spencer Catherine

Author:Spencer, Catherine [Spencer, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-12-26T17:31:19+00:00

Chapter 7

Misunderstanding, Domenico froze. “Did I hurt you, tesoro?”

“No,” she was quick to reply.

But she knew he would, if she didn’t control her runaway imagination. Falling in love with him wasn’t an option. For her, it meant commitment, marriage, children. And within hours of meeting her, he’d made it clear enough how he felt about all that.

I’m waiting for the right woman to come along. You have a list of requirements she must meet, in order to qualify as your wife, do you? Of course. Happiness, like sexual compatibility and physical attraction, will run secondary to suitability…. And therein lay the problem. Plain, ordinary Arlene Russell no more measured up as suitable wife material for a man like him, than she belonged in a corporate jet or a plush suite at the Paris Ritz. From the very beginning of her association with him, she’d been miles out of her depth, socially and economically. To delude herself into believing otherwise, just because they’d had unbelievably fabulous sex, would invite nothing but a badly broken heart.

On the other hand, what was so marvelous about the emotional limbo she’d occupied for so long? Wasn’t she the one who’d declared so positively that life without risk, without adventure, sapped the spirit from a person and left her numb? Why else had she consigned her safe, dull existence in Toronto to hell, and chanced everything on a fresh start in a new place?

To backslide now and let fear negate the splendor of the passion she’d shared with Domenico would be a crime. In one respect, at least, he’d elevated her from the ordinary to the sublime with his persuasive finesse.

“Arlene? What is it? What are you thinking?”

Snapping out of her introspection, she looked up and found him watching her. No trace remained of the tempest that had consumed him. His breathing was normal and his eyes, which minutes before had grown dark with passion, were once again a sharply focused, uncompromising blue.

“That I owe you so much more than I can ever repay,” she said. “Until tonight, I had no idea making love could be so incredible.”

He lowered his lashes in a long, slow blink. “What are you trying to say, Arlene? That you came to me a virgin?”

“No. But would it have mattered if I did?”

“Only insofar that I’d have tempered my own desire with more consideration for your needs. A woman’s first time with a man should be memorable for its tenderness and I…” He shook his head in evident self-disgust. “I was caught up too much in my own pleasure to give proper thought to yours.”

She touched a hand to his face. “Don’t say that, Domenico. No woman could ask for a better lover—not that I’m exactly experienced in that department, as you probably guessed, but I do know wonderful when I see it.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I wish I had been your first.”

“Well, you were, in a way,” she confessed, so completely under his spell, she could hold nothing back.

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