Italian Rhapsody

Damn it all, he cursed under his breath. Get yourself under control, he warned himself. You don't really want this woman. She's not your type. You can live six weeks without having sex. You won't have any trouble finding a willing woman in Sicily. Cefalù had an abundance of stunning Latin beauties. He'd had his share of them when he was there working undercover.

A few hours later, he entered her room, eying the rumpled covers on the bed, imagining himself and Roxie between them. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. I was restless."

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I had too much on my mind."

"Not having second thoughts about our deal, are you?" He wished she would move over a couple of feet and get out of the direct line of lamplight that silhouetted her form through her modest-but-thin cotton gown. He could see every round, luscious inch of her body. The contours of her broad hips. The curve of her firm, womanly rear end. The ripe swell of her full breasts. The outline of her shapely legs.

"Second thoughts?" Roxie's breath caught in her throat. Moisture coated the palms of her unsteady hands.

Her heartbeat thumped a little too loudly in her ears. She wanted him to leave, to go back to his room and out of her sight. She wasn't used to having a man in her bedroom at night, with her wearing nothing but a gown. Actually, she wasn't used to a man being in her bedroom at all. And to make matters worse, Daniel Fox wasn't just any man. He was overwhelmingly, dangerously attractive in the most basic, primitive way a man could be. He stood there, only a few steps away from her, his feet bare, his unbuttoned shirt hanging loosely around his hips, and a thick strand of his long, black hair falling over his shoulder, the tips brushing one tiny male nipple. Roxie deliberately avoided looking any lower than his waist or higher than his knees. She couldn't ogle this man simply because he was a good-looking Native American, most likely Cherokee. A pink flush rose up her neck and onto her face. Turning from him, she glanced away, out the windows, hoping he wouldn't notice her embarrassment. She didn't want him to think she was interested in him; in a sexual way. She wasn't. But if he thought she was, he would probably laugh in her face. A man like Daniel wouldn't want a woman like her any more than she wanted him. If ever two people were from different worlds, with opposing sets of morals and life-styles, those two people were Daniel Fox and herself.

Roxie heard his footsteps on the wooden floor as he walked up behind her. She drew in a deep, calming breath and held it. Please, dear God, don't let him touch me.

"There's no need for you to put yourself through weeks of torture, when we both know I can't whip you into shape, into fighting form, in six weeks." He gripped her shoulder, then wished he hadn't. Her skin was silky soft yet youthfully firm. Being this close, he could smell not only the flowery scent of the toiletries she'd used, but the sweet, inviting aroma of the woman herself. "I can put you on a bus or a plane for Tampa tomorrow," he told her. "And I can be in Palermo by tomorrow night."

Roxie tensed. His hand was big, hard, and warm, and although his touch was gentle, she sensed the lethal power in his grip. This man probably could break her in two with very little effort. She didn't doubt that he was capable of snapping her neck like a twig. But the fear she felt when his flesh touched hers was not fear for her physical safety, but a deep, primordial, woman's fear of man. He could take her if he wanted and she would be powerless to stop him. And she had to admit that the thought that she might not want to stop him was what scared her more than anything. She pulled away from him, moving directly in front of the big windows that overlooked the swamp. "Are you trying to back out of our deal, Mr. Fox?"

"No, I'm not trying to back out," he said. "I'm just giving you a chance to change your mind before we waste both your time and mine."

She gazed out the windows at the barely visible trees of the swamp, illuminated by only the faint glimmer of pale moonlight.

"You promised me that if I could survive six weeks of training, you'd take me with you." She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. "I have to go, so I will find a way to survive the next forty or so days. No matter what you put me through, I won't give up. If you think that just because my body isn't sleek and lean and toned to perfection, I'm going to fail your fitness test, then think again. When a person wants something as badly as I want to get to Sicily to get Carlo, she will do whatever is necessary."

"If all you needed was stubbornness and determination, then you'd be prepared right now. But it's going to take physical stamina to swim ashore at night. And depending on what we find when we eventually get to Cefalù, we could well end up on foot, climbing up the mountain or just running for our lives in some out-of-the-way village."

She pointed her index finger at him. "I'll diet, I'll exercise, I'll follow every one of your commands in order to get in shape. All I want is for you to keep your promise to me."

"It would be so much easier if you'd let me go to Palermo and get your nephew. You wouldn't have to risk your life, or maybe my life, if you screw up."

"I have to go with you. I...You don't understand how I feel," she told him. "Pierfrancesco and Mariana would want me to keep Carlo safe. Now he's with an evil criminal who wants him to grow up and be like him. I will not let that...animal have him. I have to be the one to rescue him. I have to..." Her voice cracked with emotion. She swallowed the unshed tears trapped in her throat.

There was no way he was letting this woman near her grandfather. He would kill her without a second thought.

Grasping her shoulders, Daniel forced her to face him.

She lifted her chin and glared defiantly into his dark eyes. What would he say if she'd tell him that she would even let him sleep with her if he would help her? There was no way she wanted to let any man into her bed. It would be wrong and it went against everything she believed in, but it would be for a good cause.

He tightened his hold on her and drew her closer, looking down into her beautiful face. She glared at him boldly. Suddenly he noticed that the eyes he'd thought an ordinary green were, in reality, a color green as brilliant and bright as the green waters of some cold mountain lake.

"I've known some stubborn women in my time, lady, but you take the title."

Her chin quivered. Her eyes misted. Damn it, she was going to cry. He hated weepy females. He couldn't tolerate tears. Other men might hang around and put up with a blubbering woman, but he made sure his relationships were so brief that a woman didn't have time to get emotional on him. The few times he'd been caught off guard by a woman's tears, he had walked away. He'd never cared enough to stay except to get sexual gratification from her. That's why he liked sex with Alexandra. Sex with her was intense and she knew what to expect from him. No strings attached. Just pure animal sex.

Roxie clenched her teeth, refusing to give in to the tears threatening to reveal her weakness to Daniel. Why was he looking at her like that? As if he wanted to strangle her and kiss her at the same time? A tear dropped from her eye and trickled down her cheek. She bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to control the feelings raging inside her. Gazing at him, her eyes questioned him.

He loosened his tight hold on her shoulders, but did not release her. Instead he slid his hands down her arms to her wrists and slowly eased upward again, stopping at her elbows. When she sucked in her breath, he released her. A second tear cascaded down her cheek. Reaching out, he wiped the moisture from her face with a thumb.

She gasped. Involuntarily, their bodies swayed toward each other. The magical moment enveloped them in its spell, drawing them closer and closer. Almost touching. A hairbreadth separating their straining bodies.

Roxie had never felt anything so powerful, so absolutely compelling. She could not look away, could not break the hypnotizing eye contact with Daniel. His intense gaze devoured her, consuming her with its heat.

Daniel wanted to pull this woman into his arms and drink his fill of her sweetness. He wanted to lay her down in the big, soft bed and take her with all the wild passion that was riding him so hard.

"Daniel?" Why she had used his given name, she would never know. It was as if she had known this man forever, since the dawn of time. As if his name had been the last name on her lips in lifetime after lifetime.

He forced himself to break the spell, to release them both from the enchantment of the moment.

What the hell was going on? What was happening to him? He stepped backward, putting some distance between Roxie and him. Then he glanced away from her. Get the hell out of here now, he told himself. Turning around, he rushed toward the door, not pausing a second in his flight from her room. During his hasty departure, he mumbled, "Good night, belladonna."

He had said it again. For several seconds, Roxie stood frozen to the spot, unable to move until she heard Daniel slam her bedroom door in his abrupt departure. Finally she willed herself to move. She walked slowly over to the bed and sat down, then grabbed a feather pillow. Curling into a ball, she clutched the pillow to her stomach and cried silently, not quite sure exactly why her heart was breaking. Maybe it was because of her brother and his sweet wife's untimely, senseless deaths.

Down the hall, Daniel stormed into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower. Stepping beneath the cold spray, he threw back his head and allowed the water to drench him thoroughly. He was hot, hard, and aching. He hadn't wanted sex this badly since he'd been a teenager and unable to control his raging hormones. He had no idea what had just happened between Roxie and him. All he knew was that it had scared the hell out of him, that he couldn't get away from her fast enough, and that he didn't dare let it happen again.

Tears didn't affect him. Not anyone's tears; man's, woman's or child's. And yet Roxie's tears had gotten to him. When he'd seen those tears falling down her cheek, all he'd been able to think about was wiping them away; of comforting her. He neither gave comfort nor accepted it. Not in the past. Not in the present. And not in the future. Roxie Serbati didn't mean anything to him. And she never would. Hell, just because he wanted to take her to bed, didn't mean he cared about her. As the water covered his body in prickling rivulets, he tried to erase her from his mind. But as the image of her standing there in her thin cotton gown, the outline of her lush body visible in the lamplight, flashed through his mind, his sex continued to harden painfully, lengthened until he was fully aroused. While thinking of a woman he couldn't have, he braced himself against the shower wall, and gave himself the relief he dared not seek in her virgin body. His seed spewed from his body in eight spurts, watching as it mingled with the water before disappearing down the drain.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! She cursed to herself, surprising herself in the process. Now I'm going to change into my bathing suit and let him get a good look at my fabulous figure. It wasn't that she disliked her body. A hundred or so years ago her form had been the ideal. She also knew Arab men liked their women plump. But in today's world, waiflike models and skinny-legged, silicone-breasted actresses were the ideal beauty. And she didn't have a doubt that Daniel was the type who would appreciate the current trend in long, lean, toned bodies. After all, he himself possessed a rugged, muscular, hard-as-nails body.

Once back at the house, Roxie took her time changing into her one-piece blue swimsuit. The suit wasn't overly revealing or the least bit sexy, but somehow with it on, she felt completely naked. Grabbing one of the huge bath towels from the stack on the wicker wall shelves, she draped it around her hips and overlapped it on one side. Bracing her shoulders, she marched out of her room, along the hall, up the stairs and through the house.

Her soon to be tormentor waited for her by the pool. She took a really good look at him and wanted to run back to her room and lock the door. He was, without a doubt, the most magnificent man she'd ever seen; tall and muscular, with a to-die-for body, sleek bronze skin over finely toned muscles, long, powerful arms and legs, jet-black hair that hung loosely down his broad back, like the mane of a black stallion. And he was naked, except for a pair of tiny black briefs that did absolutely nothing to disguise the well-endowed proportions of his lower body.

"What took you so long?" he asked. "I thought I was going to have to come and drag you out here."

"You're exaggerating," she said. "I'm not that late."

"I've been waiting at least twenty minutes." His gaze traveled the length of her body, as if taking inventory.

"Get rid of the towel and come over here."

Reluctantly, she loosened the towel, pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby lounge chair. She felt as naked as the day she was born.

Move it, she told herself. Get your too-big behind over there and do what you have to do. It doesn't matter what Daniel thinks of your body. You don't care whether or not he thinks you're fat. You're not here to impress him with your beauty. You're here to fulfill the agreements of a bargain.

Daniel watched her walk slowly toward him. "Hurry it up, lady. We're running behind schedule as is."

She marched over to him, her chin held high, her cheeks flushed. She stopped directly in front of him and narrowed her gaze, focusing on his face.

He wasn't quite sure what he had expected Roxie to look like in a bathing suit. Fat and soft and unattractive, maybe. Well, if she'd been in a skimpy bikini she might have looked fat. But in the blue one-piece she wore, she looked voluptuous, flawless, with smooth ivory skin. Soft flesh covering a surprisingly firm body. Large breasts swelling out of the top of the modestly-cut swimsuit bodice. And a mane of raven black hair that cascaded over her shoulders, almost reaching her waist.

"I'm ready," she said.

After they'd done several laps, he dragged himself up onto the edge of the pool. She halted in the middle of her lap and swam over to him, but stayed in the water.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You're a...darn good swimmer," he said. "Not quite fast enough, but with practice..." What the hell was he saying? With practice, she would become fast and strong enough to swim the distance from a raft a half-mile offshore to the secluded beach on the island of Sicily?

"I'm surprised that you'll admit I'm not a total flop in the physical-fitness department."

"All I said was that you're a good swimmer," he told her gruffly. "That alone doesn't prepare you for making this trip with me."

"Give me the next forty days and I'll prove to you that I'll be able to go on this mission." She smiled at him.

She actually smiled at him. Daniel hated the way she smiled. With warm, genuinely friendly, happy smile. He was used to women whose smiles were coy and flirty and cunning. And usually fake. There was nothing fake about Roxie or her smile. She was good, genuine human being. A good woman. No, not just a woman; a sweet, old-fashioned lady, with an innocence untouched by cruel, ugly world.

Angered by his own feelings, he pushed her to make as many laps in the pool as she possibly could; and then he demanded that she make one more. If he was going to break her, he couldn't allow his admiration for her determination or his respect for her as a person to interfere with his plans.

After the swimming exercise, he surprise her by his next suggestion. "Before we do anything else, I need to take your measurements and weigh you."

"What!"

"I expect you to lose a few pounds and inches, if you stick with this training for the entire six weeks. I want to be able to check your progress."

Roxie poked Daniel in the chest with her index finger as she talked. "Now, let's get one thing straight. Only I, my doctor and God know how much I weigh. And my measurements are not any of your business."

"Don't act so silly about this. I can look at you and pretty much guess your measurements; which are about 39-27-39, I'd say. And as for your weight..." Roxie covered his mouth with her hand and glared at him. She felt his lips twitching beneath her palm as if he had kissed it.

"You're not going to weigh me and you're not going to take my measurements."

He kissed her palm again, causing a pleasant sensation to go through her. Gasping, she jerked her hand from his mouth.

"What if I told you that if you don't agree to being weighed and measured, you'll be breaking the terms of our deal by not following my orders?"

"I'd say your weighing and measuring me has nothing to do with our deal; that you just want to embarrass me in the hopes I'll run away and cry."

"Will you be embarrassed?" he asked. "Will you run away and cry?"

"I might be embarrassed, but I won't run away and cry."

"Then go step on the scale while I find the tape measure." He didn't think she would do it. He knew how vain women were about their weight and measurements. Women usually lied about their weight as often as they did about their age. If looks could kill, he would be a dead man. Roxie glared at him with pure, undisguised loathing. But she stomped across the room and stepped on the scale. Well, I'll be darned, he thought, impressed with her. She actually did it. He could barely hold back from smiling at her.

He rummaged in a corner desk, retrieved a tape measure, pad and pencil and walked over to where she waited for him. She didn't look at him or acknowledge his existence in any way while he weighed her.

"Hmmm. You weigh more than I thought," he said. "It must be because you're so solid." He scribbled her weight on the pad and stuck the pad in the pocket of his shorts.

"May I step down now?"

When he reached for her arm, she jerked it away. He chuckled. "Are you angry with me?"

"I'm so mad I could hit you...right in one of your evil eyes." She spoke slowly, enunciating every word.

"Now, let me get your measurements." He didn't know when he'd enjoyed anything quite so much as irritating the heck out of Roxanne Serbati. She was fit to be tied and would like nothing better than to scratch his eyes out. But despite the anger rising inside her, she retained a calm, controlled facade.

One thing was certain, by encouraging her anger and hatred, he was making sure she didn't get any foolish, romantic notions about him. After last night, he'd worried that Roxie might mistake plain old lust for something else.

Daniel whipped out the tape measure, eased it around her waist and clicked his tongue. He had been right. Twenty-seven inches. Removing the tape, he pulled out the notepad, wrote down the figure and then stuck the pad back in his pocket. He measured her hips. He was close on that one. Forty inches. He let out a long, low whistle. She stood perfectly straight and still. Not moving a muscle, barely breathing. He wrapped the tape around her back and brought it across her breasts.

When his knuckles scraped across her nipples, she sucked in her breath. Instantly, her nipples puckered to hard points.

He swallowed hard. Forty inches. He hadn't meant to touch her intimately, to arouse her or himself. But the damage had been done. Her nipples were tight, and so was his sex. He was swollen so hard, he was sure the front of his pants were going to rip open allowing his rampant erection to burst forth.

"Upper arms and thighs, now." He measured her arms, then knelt before her and slipped his hand between her legs, parting them.