An Invitation to Sin(2)

His eyes narrowed at her evasive answer. ‘Just as long as that profile isn't going to suddenly pop up and hurt my movie.'

‘It won't.' She shifted her weight to ease the pain in her feet. She'd  forgotten how uncomfortable stilettos were. Still, at least it took her  mind off her growling stomach. ‘You can relax. If there is any scandal  attached to your movie, it won't come from me.'                       
       
           



       

‘It's your first public appearance since you disappeared.' His tone was  hard. ‘Everyone is waiting for you to slip up, you know that, don't  you?'

‘Then I predict they're going to have a very boring time.'

‘No drinking.'

‘Is that why you had me sewn into the dress? So I can't use the bathroom?'

‘The dress shows your body. Your body is one of your assets.'

There had to be some benefit for being permanently starving. ‘And there  was me hoping you wanted my acting skills.' The bitterness leaked into  her voice and he narrowed his eyes.

‘I do, but I'm not so naive as to think your looks don't help. It's all  about the film, Carmichael. Don't answer any questions about the past.  You are the Mona Lisa. All they get is an enigmatic smile.'

‘I can tell you now there is no way Mona would have smiled if she were  sewn into her dress. If she were forced to wear what I'm wearing she  would have been the Moaning Lisa. And now we've established the ground  rules, point me towards hell.'

‘Wait. You didn't answer my question-' He caught her arm. ‘What have you  been doing with yourself for the past two years? You just disappeared.  Were you in rehab or something?'

Rehab.

Of course they would think that. It never occurred to anyone that there could be any other explanation for her absence.

‘Sorry,' Taylor murmured, disengaging her arm from his grip, ‘I'm absolutely not permitted to talk about my past. Your rules.'

‘You're a beautiful woman. There won't be any shortage of men  interested, not in you but in the potential to make some money from  selling a story. You screwed that up before.'

The pain was so intense he might as well have punched her. ‘I was young.  Trusting. I'm not any more. And as for men-' Taylor managed a careless  shrug ‘-I can assure you there isn't a man out there hot enough to tempt  me.'

Luca Corretti downed another glass of champagne to numb the boredom of behaving well.

For the past twenty-four hours he'd driven under the speed limit for the  first time in his life, declined seven party invitations and made it to  bed before dawn. The fact that he hadn't been alone at the time didn't  count. As far as the outside world was concerned, his behaviour had been  impeccable. The only thing he hadn't done in his quest for instant  respectability was kissed a baby and even he wasn't prepared to descend  to those levels of hypocrisy just to impress the board of directors  who'd decided his lifestyle wasn't compatible with running another chunk  of the family business. Apparently business flare counted for nothing,  he thought savagely, wondering whether he could get away with swapping  the champagne for whisky.

And now, to add insult to injury, he was expected to sit through his cousin's wedding.

Was he the only person who hated weddings? All that happy-ever-after  crap that everyone knew was a temporary illusion. Or maybe it was a  delusion. Luca didn't know and he didn't intend to find out. He was  going to be out of here at the first opportunity, preferably with the  brunette bridesmaid he'd spotted on his way in.

‘Luca! I've been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?'

Before he could react, Luca was enveloped in soft bosom and a choking  cloud of perfume. At any other time he would have thought it wasn't a  bad way to die, but he was conscious that heads were turning and, when  heads turned, disapproval was bound to follow. It irritated him that he  had to care. ‘Where have I been?' He disentangled himself. ‘Avoiding  you, Penny.'

‘My name's Portia.'

‘Seriously? No wonder I didn't remember it.'

She giggled. ‘You are a wicked, wicked man.'

‘So people keep telling me.' Luca put down his empty glass, trying to  think of a method of stress reduction that didn't involve sex or  alcohol.

Portia lowered her eyelashes. ‘About last night-'

Aware that his one indiscretion was about to be made public, Luca  removed the drink from her hand and swapped it for orange juice. ‘Last  night? I have no idea what you're talking about. Last night I went to  bed with a book.'

She gave a snort of laughter. ‘Well, you certainly turned my pages. I'll  never forget it. How could I?' Her eyes on his mouth, she leaned  towards him. ‘You were amazing. It's never been like that for me before.  You're a genius.'

‘So I keep telling the board,' Luca said in a flat drawl. ‘Unfortunately  my opinion doesn't seem to count. For some reason they seem to think  activity in the bedroom saps my mental abilities so for the time being I  have to prove I can keep my pants zipped.'                       
       
           



       

‘We could be discreet. leave the wedding.'

‘I love weddings and I love my cousin,' Luca said immediately. ‘I  couldn't possibly leave until he's married … married-' what the hell was  her name? ‘-the woman of his dreams.'

‘You love weddings? Honestly?'

‘Weddings never fail to make me cry,' Luca said truthfully. ‘The thought  of two people promising to love each other for ever makes me want to  break down and sob like a baby.'

‘Oh. I had no idea you were so romantic.' Her eyes misted. ‘And I'm so  pleased that all those rumours that you hate your cousins are wrong.  You're nowhere near as bad as everyone says.'

‘Bad?' Luca adopted his hurt expression. ‘I'm a saint compared to some  people.' He hoped she didn't ask him to name someone as bad as him  because he knew he'd struggle.

‘You're quite a softie-' she stroked his arm with her fingertips  ‘-except in the one area that counts.' She'd moved closer to him again  and Luca stood up, cursing his lack of thought in picking up a guest at  the wedding.

What he'd taken to be a few moments of fun, she'd taken to be a future.

Now he had to shake her off before the Corretti board gave him another black mark.

Unfortunately Portia didn't want to be shaken anywhere. ‘Will I see you tonight, after the wedding?'

‘The definition of a one-night stand, angelo mia, is that it lasts one night.'

‘You were keen enough last night.' She pouted. ‘What's wrong? Don't you like me in this dress?' The words robbed him of breath.

Do I look good, Luca? Do I look better than her? Will he love me if I wear this?

‘Luca?'

He dragged himself out of the black pit of his past and stared into  Portia's over-made-up eyes. ‘You look great,' he said flatly, relieved  when one of the wedding guests shrieked a greeting and Portia was  reluctantly dragged away.

Relieved by his narrow escape, he was momentarily distracted by a sheet  of blonde hair that hung down the back of a woman standing on the far  side of the terrace. People were pressing close, all desperate to get a  piece of her, and he shifted slightly to see who she was.

When she finally turned her head, he felt a flash of surprise.

Taylor Carmichael. Well, well.

It cheered him up to know that there was one person present whose reputation was as bad as his.

According to the media, she'd done it all-drink, drugs and partying. And  then she'd disappeared for a couple of years. He wondered what she'd  been doing with herself and decided it was probably something  disreputable. She was one of the few people at this wedding who could  make him look saintly. Almost.

Luca watched her across the room and remembered reading that his cousin  Santo had recruited her to play the lead in his latest film.

She had the most incredible body. Thinking that all that blonde hair  would look good spread over his pillow, he took a step towards her and  then remembered that members of the board were watching his every move  and waiting for him to step out of line.

Exercising a restraint he didn't know he possessed, Luca turned away and  engaged a suited man in a conversation about the economy.

If Taylor had been able to take a big enough breath, she would have screamed.

‘You poor thing,' the woman said in a voice sweet enough to rot teeth. ‘This wedding must be so stressful for you.'

‘Why would it be stressful?' Taylor kept her smile in place and wished  Zach would show up. She was going to need someone to lend her a jacket  when her stupid dress split. ‘It's the perfect opportunity to meet  interesting people.' Unfortunately you're not one of them.