Bound by the Italian's Contract(29)

                If only she could say the same about being in Luciano’s company again.

                As she made her way to his office with five minutes to spare, she admitted that on a physical level, she was attracted to him. The unwelcome feeling grabbed her unbidden and caused her stomach to pinch tight.

                She didn’t know how to squash it. But she would.

                The last thing she wanted or needed was a man in her life. Tolerating this stubborn Italian through the completion of their contract was all she ever wished to manage.

                She paused outside his office suite and took several deep breaths. Game on. Affecting a smile, she pushed through the door. His secretary’s head snapped up, the woman’s attention switching from the neat stack of papers on the desk to her.

                “Caprice Tregore to see Mr. Duchelini,” she said

                “Right on time,” Luciano said, before the secretary could open her mouth.

                Caprice whirled to find him standing in a doorway that had been closed a heartbeat ago, one broad shoulder propped against the doorjamb, perfectly sculpted lips pressed firmly together. Those intense eyes made one lazy sweep of her length, but this time there was something besides anger or challenge lighting his eyes.

                A shiver of anticipation streaked through her, awakening that part of her that had slept for far too long. Pure animal attraction that she refused to act on, now or ever.

                “Is the design team here?” she asked stiffly.

                “No. Please, come in.” He motioned her inside his office, but instead of stepping back to free the doorway, he stood like a sentinel with his back to the jamb.

                If this was some tactic of his meant to intimidate her, he had wasted his time and effort. She gripped her portfolio and squeezed past him, cursing him for his mulishness and hating how her nipples tightened.

                “Where should I set up?” she asked, struggling with the nervous fear that kept her stomach queasy and her palms damp.

                “To the left of my desk,” he said, coming toward her. “Let me help you.”

                “Thanks, but I can manage.”

                He took the easel from her before she could stop him. “I didn’t say you couldn’t, but this way you will be ready in short order and time is of the essence.”

                Arguing with him would leave her in the wrong state of mind for giving the best presentation, and he did set it up in the ideal spot, so she bit her tongue and suffered his help in silence.

                “Is there anything you need?” he asked.

                A break from his close presence, which she knew wouldn’t happen soon enough. “Nothing,” she said and sent up a prayer as the door opened and his secretary poked her head in.

                “Germaine and Fuseli are here to meet with you,” the woman said.

                “Buono,” Luciano said. “Send them in.”

                In moments, a dapper man and a tall, elegant woman joined them, the man toting an expensive portfolio while the woman clutched a netbook. Luciano quickly made introductions.

                Caprice stepped forward and extended her hand toward the elder of the pair, making it clear she wished to take charge of her program. If Luciano took offense at her boldness, he certainly masked it well. In fact, he appeared as eager as her to get past this phase.