One Night with Morelli(50)

                He gives and then he takes away she thought, snatching her chin from his grip and rubbing angrily with the heel of her hand at the tingling area of skin where there had been contact. ‘You say the n-nicest things,’ she said with an insincere smile.

                ‘You do take life seriously.’

                Her jaw tautened as she tossed back a scornful response. ‘That’s the difference between you and me; I think life is serious.’

                He gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement. ‘Life is also sad and funny…’ He stopped as his car drew up beside them at the kerbside and, nodding to the driver, he opened the rear passenger door for Eve. As she got in he wondered why the hell he was discussing the meaning of life with this woman. He could have asked himself why he was here with her at all, but that question was more easily answered, though no less strange.

                He wanted her, not in itself strange but the compulsive nature of it was. If he had thought about it too deeply Draco might have been troubled, but he didn’t; he mentally categorised it as an appetite like any other, and like any man when it came to sex Draco enjoyed the pursuit.

                But when was the last time he’d actually rearranged his schedule to pursue any woman…?

                Dismissing the question, he reminded himself that, no matter how intense the attraction between them or how seemingly insatiable the hunger this woman aroused in him, history would inevitably repeat itself and he would lose interest. He was unable to exactly recall his sister’s recent exasperated assessment of his love life, but he did remember that she’d likened him to a child in a sweet shop.

                All that instant gratification, Draco, but one of these days, brother, you’ll lose your taste for sugar and realise that what you need is something with a bit more bite.

                * * *

                ‘It’s a matter of balance, cara,’ he mused out loud as he slid into the limo beside her. ‘The tough times in life are made bearable only if you don’t waste the good ones.’ He leaned forward and gave the driver instructions, speaking in Italian. The man, who was as big as a bear, replied in the same language.

                ‘What self-help book did you get that little gem from or was it a Christmas cracker?’

                ‘My father died unexpectedly, and it was devastating for those of us left behind, especially my mother, but the thing she clung to and still does is that there was not a single day in his life that he didn’t live to the full. Not that he did spectacular things—it was the little things he took pleasure from, be it a great bottle of wine or his grandchild’s first step.’

                She was instantly remorseful for her snappy retort. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

                ‘As my father would have said, bad stuff happens but until it does laugh a little.’

                She shifted uneasily in her seat under the directness of his penetrating stare. ‘I get the feeling that you don’t laugh a lot, which is a shame as you have a nice laugh. It sounds like your hair feels on my skin… Speaking of which, do you put it up because you like me taking it down?’

                She swallowed and lowered her gaze in confusion. All it took from him was a couple of husky-voiced compliments and her heart was tripping like a steam hammer. ‘I p-put it up because it gets in the way.’

                He leaned back in his seat, crossing one ankle over the other. ‘And you like things neat.’

                ‘Is that a crime?’ she flared.

                ‘Do you want to know what I think…?’