Bestselling Authors Collection 2012(91)

“As much as I hate to admit it, he usually is.” She glanced at him hesitantly. “And after we leave? What then?”

“We’ll get to know each other better.”

Her brows shot up. “We’re going out on a date?”

“Nothing so formal. I thought I’d show you around Romano Restoration. It took a lot of work to put everything in place without you being any the wiser. But I wished to surprise you by having it fully operational when I arrived. It helped that Ariana was in Italy so she didn’t accidentally let it slip.” He glanced down at himself and grimaced. “Going to Romano’s will also give me the opportunity to change since my apartment is above the office complex.”

He didn’t dare remain in her bedroom a moment longer. He retreated to the kitchen where he leaned against the counter and drank a second cup of coffee. Maybe it would help him regain his self-control. Because if he planned on spending any time around Gianna, he’d need every bit of it. To his relief, she didn’t keep him waiting for more than ten minutes.

She appeared downstairs wearing a casual pair of camel-colored slacks and a cream silk blouse. Not as attractive as the shift, but definitely safer. She’d secured her long, gold-streaked brown hair with a simple clip, the curls rioting down her back in joyous abandon. Her makeup was minimal, a touch of mascara and lipstick. She’d used a heavier hand with the blush, no doubt to hide the lingering paleness resulting from the events of the night before.

“I’m set,” she announced brightly. Her gaze swept over him and a broad grin spread across her mouth. “My, aren’t you looking…dissolute.”

He glanced down at the dress shirt and tux jacket he’d rescued from her bathroom floor. He suspected the wrinkles might be permanent. “It’s the new me. I call it my morning-after look. What do you think?”

“Very sexy.” She actually sounded like she meant it.

He dumped the dregs of his coffee in the sink and rinsed the mug. Turning, he held out his hand. She didn’t hesitate, but laced her fingers through his. Their palms melded and the burn from The Inferno flared to life, creating an undeniable heat, tightening the bond that had been created when they first met. Together they headed for the garage.

A few minutes later they were moving easily through the Sunday morning traffic toward Romano Restoration. He found a parking spot on the street, though he could have used the underground lot that serviced the building. This was just more convenient. They entered through the front door of the office complex and took the private elevator to the floors housing his company.

The doors parted and he gestured for her to take the lead. “Romano Restoration occupies the top four floors plus the building’s penthouse suite,” he explained. “The lower floors handle the business side of the company—accounting, contracts, that sort of thing. The upper two levels deal with customer relations, and the more creative aspects. like architectural and interior design.”

A handful of lights sent a soft glow across the pearl-gray carpet, the cloudy morning leaving the remainder of the floor in silky shadow. Even in the dim light Constantine could see the questions building in Gianna’s expression. He kept his distance, careful not to touch her. If he made that mistake again, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. And from there it would be a short, sweet step to making her his in every sense of the word.

“It’s very elegant,” she offered without hesitation. “I love the openness and the understated elegance. It really showcases your business.”

“Thanks.” He gestured toward the corner office. “That one’s mine.”

She immediately crossed to look. “Mmm. Nice.” She took a deep breath and swung to face him. He could see her steeling herself to say something, something he wouldn’t like. “Just one question…”

He tempted fate by taking a step in her direction and cut straight through to the heart of the matter—the issue that had hovered between them like an angry, black cloud ever since his return. The issue that had driven her into d’Angelo’s arms and come so close to ending in disaster.

“Why did I wait so long to return to you?” he asked. “Is that what you want to know?”

The question provoked an immediate reaction. The anguish filling her eyes threatened to snap his control. “You said you’d come back.”

“And I did.”

She shook her head, her mouth tightening. “It took too long. Far too long.”

“I came as soon as I could,” he argued.

“You never responded to my emails or phone calls. You actively discouraged our communicating and you flat-out refused to let me visit you in Italy.” She stepped closer. “Couldn’t we have done that much, at least?”