away, and the way people moved aside to let him through. Everyone except me .
Adrenaline burned through Cristiano‘s veins as he ran down the Casino steps. The cool air, with its whisper of pine and the sea, felt good—tasted better than the champagne he‘d been avoiding all evening—and out in the street-lit darkness the pounding inside his head was less intense. He knew that Silvio would be looking for him now, wanting him to stand in front of the two cars on the platform while the flashbulbs of hundreds of press photographers exploded all around, but he didn‘t care.
He didn‘t care about anything except finding Kate Edwards.
She had gone into the Hotel a Paris when she‘d run out of here. Standing in the middle of the marble floor, still reeling from the realisation of who she was, he had watched her crossing the square, dodging in front of a car in her haste to get away.
He nodded curtly at the doorman, who leapt forward to open the door for him as Suki‘s words came back to him. She wasn’t your type at all…seriously plain and boring…
She was right about the first bit at least—Kate Edwards was different entirely from the women he usually bedded, and yet there was something about her that tugged like a fish hook in his brain and left him in no doubt that he‘d slept with her that night.
And that the experience had been worth remembering.
Worth repeating—especially if it helped him to remember.
The receptionist glanced up from her computer screen as he approached the desk and, seeing who he was, started visibly.
‗Can you tell me which room Kate Edwards is in?‘
Her pink-painted mouth had fallen open, and she was looking at him in undisguised awe, so it was a second before she answered. ‗ Pardon , Signor Maresca…b-but really I shouldn‘t…‘
‗I hope Miss Edwards would disagree with that.‘ He dropped his voice and, looking her straight in the eye, smiled. ‗Please?‘
Colour flooded into her cheeks as she tapped the keyboard, and Cristiano felt a grim moment of satisfaction. It had been a long time since he‘d actively flirted with anyone, but that at least was something he could still do. He just hoped that Kate Edwards would fall for it as easily.
Because she was his best hope of recovering those lost hours. He‘d slept with her then—would sleeping with her again bring them back?
So that was it.
After four years of waiting, hoping, dreaming and wishing, it was finally over.
With a shaking hand Kate swept up all the brand-new expensive cosmetics so carefully picked out by Lizzie and shoved them back into her make-up bag.
Most of them hadn‘t even been opened. What a waste of money, she thought, stifling a sob.
But what was money compared to four years of her life?
She pulled her cheap suitcase down from the rack by the door and threw it onto the bed. She didn‘t intend to waste a second longer on a man who couldn‘t even remember sleeping with her. A shallow, cold-hearted playboy, with eyes like black ice and a heart of stone.
Straightening up for a moment, she clenched her fists and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes and her throat burned with the tears that she couldn‘t shed yet. Not while humiliation and fury and bitterness were still so raw.
And the desire.
Her stomach still fluttered with it, and her legs felt weak and shaky. Passing the long mirror on her way to the wardrobe, she caught sight of her reflection and saw that her eyes were huge and dark-centred, her make-up smudged, her lips red and swollen.
She stopped, one trembling hand flying to her mouth, her rapid heartbeat seeming to echo in the muffled silence of the opulent room as her mind replayed the kiss.
How could she have been so stupid ?
Not just tonight, she thought bitterly, kissing him like that, but for the last four miserable years. All those nights of waiting, looking out into the darkness and wishing for him. The loneliness of antenatal appointments,
Adrenaline burned through Cristiano‘s veins as he ran down the Casino steps. The cool air, with its whisper of pine and the sea, felt good—tasted better than the champagne he‘d been avoiding all evening—and out in the street-lit darkness the pounding inside his head was less intense. He knew that Silvio would be looking for him now, wanting him to stand in front of the two cars on the platform while the flashbulbs of hundreds of press photographers exploded all around, but he didn‘t care.
He didn‘t care about anything except finding Kate Edwards.
She had gone into the Hotel a Paris when she‘d run out of here. Standing in the middle of the marble floor, still reeling from the realisation of who she was, he had watched her crossing the square, dodging in front of a car in her haste to get away.
He nodded curtly at the doorman, who leapt forward to open the door for him as Suki‘s words came back to him. She wasn’t your type at all…seriously plain and boring…
She was right about the first bit at least—Kate Edwards was different entirely from the women he usually bedded, and yet there was something about her that tugged like a fish hook in his brain and left him in no doubt that he‘d slept with her that night.
And that the experience had been worth remembering.
Worth repeating—especially if it helped him to remember.
The receptionist glanced up from her computer screen as he approached the desk and, seeing who he was, started visibly.
‗Can you tell me which room Kate Edwards is in?‘
Her pink-painted mouth had fallen open, and she was looking at him in undisguised awe, so it was a second before she answered. ‗ Pardon , Signor Maresca…b-but really I shouldn‘t…‘
‗I hope Miss Edwards would disagree with that.‘ He dropped his voice and, looking her straight in the eye, smiled. ‗Please?‘
Colour flooded into her cheeks as she tapped the keyboard, and Cristiano felt a grim moment of satisfaction. It had been a long time since he‘d actively flirted with anyone, but that at least was something he could still do. He just hoped that Kate Edwards would fall for it as easily.
Because she was his best hope of recovering those lost hours. He‘d slept with her then—would sleeping with her again bring them back?
So that was it.
After four years of waiting, hoping, dreaming and wishing, it was finally over.
With a shaking hand Kate swept up all the brand-new expensive cosmetics so carefully picked out by Lizzie and shoved them back into her make-up bag.
Most of them hadn‘t even been opened. What a waste of money, she thought, stifling a sob.
But what was money compared to four years of her life?
She pulled her cheap suitcase down from the rack by the door and threw it onto the bed. She didn‘t intend to waste a second longer on a man who couldn‘t even remember sleeping with her. A shallow, cold-hearted playboy, with eyes like black ice and a heart of stone.
Straightening up for a moment, she clenched her fists and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes and her throat burned with the tears that she couldn‘t shed yet. Not while humiliation and fury and bitterness were still so raw.
And the desire.
Her stomach still fluttered with it, and her legs felt weak and shaky. Passing the long mirror on her way to the wardrobe, she caught sight of her reflection and saw that her eyes were huge and dark-centred, her make-up smudged, her lips red and swollen.
She stopped, one trembling hand flying to her mouth, her rapid heartbeat seeming to echo in the muffled silence of the opulent room as her mind replayed the kiss.
How could she have been so stupid ?
Not just tonight, she thought bitterly, kissing him like that, but for the last four miserable years. All those nights of waiting, looking out into the darkness and wishing for him. The loneliness of antenatal appointments,
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