A Clash With Cannavaro
humiliating—of her life!
    She wasn’t prepared to stoop to his level, however, deciding he wouldn’t have cut himself so viciously if it hadn’t been for her. And he had helped her with the dog.
    Discarding her mug and grabbing some cotton wool from the first aid box she took out of the cupboard under the dresser, she went over to the sink and moistened it under the warm tap. Then, with her heart thumping ridiculously, she waited for him to unfasten a button and turn back his cuff before applying the cotton wool gingerly to his wound.
    She heard his breath catch and felt him stiffen on that initial contact with his wrist.
    ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ she expressed, as she would have done with anyone.
    ‘Didn’t you?’ he responded dryly.
    After that he stood without complaint as Lauren attended to his wound, catching his hand in her palm and carefully bathing away the grime from the painfully torn flesh.
    With no words breaking the silence and only the clock on the dresser ticking away the minutes, Lauren was painfully aware of Emiliano’s regular breathing and the way he inhaled more deeply occasionally, as though he were breathing in the scented freshness of her hair.
    And he wasn’t the only one whose nostrils were working overtime! she thought as the familiar fragrance of his cologne made her head swim from the memories it evoked. The slight salty taste of his skin as her tongue had traced a provocative pattern over his contoured, hair-sprinkled chest. The way he had laughingly caught the hair at the nape of her neck to hold her there, governing her kisses along the exquisite symmetry of his strong, hard, masculine body.
    Unable to stand there performing such a personal task for him while her mind was running riot with erotic images, she knew she had to say something. Huskily, she told him, ‘I didn’t plan what happened in London, you know. Even though you want to think I did.’
    ‘Oh, I didn’t want to, Lauren.’ That deep chest expanded and fell again. ‘It is, however, in the past and as such, it is best forgotten.’
    ‘No, it isn’t.’ She’d be darned, she thought, if she let him—or anyone, for that matter—carry on thinking such a terrible thing about her. ‘It might be something you can leave. But no one accuses me of something so nasty and gets away with it. I don’t know what you think you heard when you were eavesdropping outside that room—and I know some of the things Vikki said left a lot to be desired. But whatever it was you heard or didn’t hear me say really isn’t my problem. And, whatever you think of me, I can tell you this much, Emiliano Cannavaro. I wouldn’t touch your money or your lifestyle with a bargepole! If you really think I’m holding on to Danny just for what monetary reward I can get out of it, then I’ll tell you now that if you keep up that line of accusation it’ll be me taking you to court for defamation of character!’
    ‘Why don’t you try using the scrubbing brush?’ he suggested, with a wry glance down at his wrist, shaming her into realising just how fiercely she was rubbing at his skin.
    ‘Perhaps I should have,’ she responded, when she knew she should really have been apologising.
    Instead, taking control of herself, she turned his dark wrist to inspect the wound and satisfy herself that it was completely clean. ‘You really should put a plaster on that,’ she advised, suddenly self-conscious of his proximity. And let out a gasp as he caught her wrist now, drawing her just a little too close for comfort.
    ‘And you, mia bella , really should have put on more clothes.’
    Lauren’s mind screamed in rejection of the wild sensations that were suddenly leaping through her. ‘Let me go!’
    He laughed very softly. ‘Not until we can come to some agreement about Daniele.’
    Lauren tensed, trying to stifle the feelings that were coursing through her from his dangerous nearness, from the heady musk of him mingling with

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