Temptation's Song. Janice Sims

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      The suite, decorated in modern Italian, had a color scheme of earth tones. The thick carpeting muted their footsteps as they crossed the room. Elle gestured to the pale golden sofa in the living room of the suite. “Have a seat.”

      Looking back at him over her shoulder, she added, “I’m going to change. These shoes are killing me. There’s a bathrobe behind the bathroom door in the spare bedroom, if you’d like to get out of your clothes, too.”

      Dominic knew this was an innocent suggestion. She just wanted him to be comfortable, but the thought of getting undressed while he was alone with her in a hotel room made him imagine other reasons why she’d ask him to get out of his clothes.

      Watching her leave the room, her full, shapely hips moving enticingly beneath the white sheath she had on, he felt his groin tighten. He managed a strangled, “I’m fine, thank you. But you feel free to do whatever it is you do to prepare for bed.”

      “All right, then. If you say so,” she said lightly as she disappeared around the corner, into the hallway.

      In her absence, Dominic removed his jacket, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt at the wrists and rolled the cuffs up to his elbows. That was as comfortable as he intended to get tonight.

      In her bedroom, Elle hurried to the closet, removed her dress and hung it on a hanger, kicked off her sandals, bent down, picked them up, returned them to their shoe box and placed the box on the closet shelf. Even with Dominic Corelli waiting for her in the next room, she was, admittedly, anal-retentive and couldn’t just toss her clothing in the closet.

      She went into the adjacent bathroom, ran a brush through her long, curly hair and tied it back with a blue ribbon, washed the makeup off her face and flossed and brushed her teeth. When she stripped to put on her pajamas, Violetta’s card fell to the floor. She picked it up. She would keep it as a memento.

      Barefooted, she went back into the living room.

      Dominic looked up and burst into laughter. “You look like a little girl!”

      He had expected her to change into something feminine and soft. He had been hoping for it. Just because he intended not to touch her didn’t mean he couldn’t get his fill of admiring her.

      Elle folded her legs under her as she sat down. Amusement lit up her dark brown eyes. “I’m glad you find my pajamas so funny. That’s just the reaction from the opposite sex I was hoping for when I bought them. That, or an irresistible urge to revert to childhood and sit in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn and watch cartoons.”

      His laughter under control, Dominic regarded her with a warm smile. She was an unusual woman, sitting in front of him with her legs tucked beneath her. Her face scrubbed clean of makeup and in pajamas. Either she was the most unsophisticated woman he had ever met, or she was confident about her sexuality.

      Admittedly, she looked beautiful without makeup. Her skin was smooth and clear, a lovely shade of brown with red undertones. He bet he could actually detect it when she blushed.

      Maybe he should test it.

      “Believe me,” he said softly, his eyes caressing her face, “I am well aware that you are a fully grown woman underneath those pajamas.”

      He had been right. She blushed all the way to the tips of her pretty ears. He got a certain satisfaction out of knowing he’d caused that reaction.

      Elle cleared her throat. She had to mentally shake herself before she found she could think straight again after that hot flash he’d purposely inflicted on her. She would have to be on guard around him. It was obvious he liked to flirt. She wasn’t exactly an amateur herself. But now definitely wasn’t the time to practice.

      That’s why she had put on the armor the pajamas were meant to be. She hadn’t met a man yet who had found them sexy. Except the men who were determined to get her into bed, no matter what. Dominic Corelli couldn’t be that hard up for a woman. He could have any woman he wanted. What would he want with a young, inexperienced, albeit good, opera singer dying for her big break?

      If he were a less scrupulous man he might be coming on to her right now. But she sensed he was an honorable man. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have allowed him inside of her hotel room, no matter what he’d said. She was raised in Harlem, after all. She might be young, but she wasn’t naive.

      Refusing to rise to the bait, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

      Dominic relaxed with his arm along the back of the sofa and stretched out his legs. “I could never have ignored your call,” he told her. “You’re alone in a strange city. I know it must have been an ordeal for you.”

      “I thought it was a myth,” Elle told him.

      “What?”

      “That Italian men pinch women tourists on the behind,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. “Patrice, Belana and I went all over Italy and no one touched us inappropriately. I mean, there was flirting going on, on both sides, but no touching! And then along comes that cop, who acted like he took me for a common prostitute. He said that’s what women tourists are looking for when they come to Italy.” She hugged herself as if she were suddenly chilled to the bone.

      “I assure you, most Italian men are respectful of all women, tourists or otherwise,” Dominic said. He wanted to go to her and wrap her in his arms, but thought better of it. “They are—we are—good husbands and fathers. We love our families. You had the bad luck of running into a drunk and a lout. Policemen aren’t exempt from foolish behavior. Isn’t it true that you can find disrespectful men anywhere on the planet, not just Italy?”

      “I know,” Elle said, trying to be fair. “I won’t let this experience change my opinion of Italy. I’ve loved my visit here.”

      Dominic smiled indulgently. “I’m glad.”

      “Thanks again, Signor Corelli.”

      Dominic was taken aback when she called him Signor Corelli. But then he remembered that was how she’d addressed him at the police station. She considered him her employer, after all. They hadn’t gotten to know each other on a social level yet. Earlier, he had been presumptuous to address her as Elle. But then, he had been a bit emotional upon seeing her sitting next to an apparent prostitute. He’d forgotten social niceties.

      “Why don’t you call me Dominic?” he said.

      Elle blushed again and said, “Maybe when I get to know you better.”

      Dominic laughed softly and shifted his big body into a more comfortable position on the sofa. “Come now, we’re going to be working together. Everyone calls me Dominic.”

      “I can’t,” she insisted. “I’ve spent the last six years studying your work. I think you’re a genius and I’m going to have to work my way up to calling you by your first name. So don’t insist, because it won’t make the process go any faster.”

      “My father is Signor Corelli,” Dominic said. “You make me feel old before my time.”

      Elle laughed softly. “I know how old you are. You’re thirty-three. СКАЧАТЬ