A Clash With Cannavaro by Elizabeth Power Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Power
harbouring some romantic feelings for him. She regretted it even more, feeling foolish, when he didn’t even deign to give her a reply.
‘I told you I wasn’t prepared to let you take Danny out of the country,’ she reminded him, suddenly fearful that he had come to do exactly that.
‘You did,’ he agreed, with his thick hair falling over his forehead as he concentrated on easing the last few barbs away from one muddy black and white foreleg.
His fingers were long and gentle, yet strong and capable too. Hands that had stroked and caressed and excited her like no other hands had ever done...
‘There. I think that has sorted you out, boy.’
Freed at last, the dog scrambled to his feet, and Lauren was glad of the distraction from her disconcerting thoughts as he tried to shower gratitude on Emiliano, who was grinning as he dodged the over-zealous canine tongue.
Gently examining the dog as best she could for any wounds that might need medical attention, before satisfying herself that there was no real harm done, Lauren picked up the carton of milk which she’d fetched from the farm earlier and discarded on the ground and then, grabbing the animal’s collar, steered him through the metal gate that Emiliano had just opened, patting the dog’s rump as she told him, ‘Go home now, Brutus. Go on!’
When the dog finally obeyed, loping back towards the farm, Lauren glanced at Emiliano. His hair was glistening with droplets of fine rain. There was mud on the front of his shirt beneath the immaculate jacket, and one downward glance showed that his black shiny shoes were now muddy too.
‘Oh, no! You’ve snagged your sleeve!’ A thread had been pulled in the expensive fabric of his jacket, just beneath his now not so immaculate shirt cuff.
‘It is only a suit,’ he stated laconically, closing the gate, which was nothing compared with freeing a painfully trapped animal. Was that what he was saying?
She preferred to think he’d meant that he had more designer suits than he could possibly hope to get his money’s worth out of wearing, because anything else might have made him more likeable to her. And she didn’t want to like him.
‘We were talking about Danny,’ she said, remembering why he had come.
‘You were talking about Daniele,’ he answered pointedly.
‘Did you see him?’ It suddenly occurred to her that he’d probably met his nephew if he’d been to the house first. ‘Emiliano...’ She ran after him as he strode purposefully back to the car.
‘Not the time, nor the place,’ he said dismissively as he skirted the vehicle and proceeded to open the front passenger door. ‘I am wet and I am muddy and you look as if another five minutes out in this...’ he tossed a glance towards the rain-hung trees and the heavier rain clouds that were gathering thickly across the valley ‘...will have you in bed with pneumonia.’
‘I’m used to it,’ Lauren told him, trying to sound nonchalant because the way his eyes were travelling over her drenched hair and her damp sweater and jeans was causing little flames of desire to lick along her veins, making her aware, for the first time since he’d arrived on the scene, of what an untidy mess she must look.
‘Used to what?’ he queried with a mocking twist to his mouth, holding open the car door. ‘Being in bed with pneumonia? Or running round the countryside rescuing stray dogs?’
‘Brutus isn’t a stray. He’s Stephen’s dog,’ she said with deliberate casualness and, from the formidable look she earned herself as she stepped into the car, gleaned a guilty satisfaction from knowing that her drenched hair was probably dripping all over his immaculate creamy leather upholstery.
* * *
Boiling a kettle of water in the farmhouse kitchen, Emiliano heard the pipework juddering from the flow of water in an upstairs bathroom.
‘Go and shower,’ he’d insisted as soon as she had let them in and, although she had resisted at first, she had seemed
‘I told you I wasn’t prepared to let you take Danny out of the country,’ she reminded him, suddenly fearful that he had come to do exactly that.
‘You did,’ he agreed, with his thick hair falling over his forehead as he concentrated on easing the last few barbs away from one muddy black and white foreleg.
His fingers were long and gentle, yet strong and capable too. Hands that had stroked and caressed and excited her like no other hands had ever done...
‘There. I think that has sorted you out, boy.’
Freed at last, the dog scrambled to his feet, and Lauren was glad of the distraction from her disconcerting thoughts as he tried to shower gratitude on Emiliano, who was grinning as he dodged the over-zealous canine tongue.
Gently examining the dog as best she could for any wounds that might need medical attention, before satisfying herself that there was no real harm done, Lauren picked up the carton of milk which she’d fetched from the farm earlier and discarded on the ground and then, grabbing the animal’s collar, steered him through the metal gate that Emiliano had just opened, patting the dog’s rump as she told him, ‘Go home now, Brutus. Go on!’
When the dog finally obeyed, loping back towards the farm, Lauren glanced at Emiliano. His hair was glistening with droplets of fine rain. There was mud on the front of his shirt beneath the immaculate jacket, and one downward glance showed that his black shiny shoes were now muddy too.
‘Oh, no! You’ve snagged your sleeve!’ A thread had been pulled in the expensive fabric of his jacket, just beneath his now not so immaculate shirt cuff.
‘It is only a suit,’ he stated laconically, closing the gate, which was nothing compared with freeing a painfully trapped animal. Was that what he was saying?
She preferred to think he’d meant that he had more designer suits than he could possibly hope to get his money’s worth out of wearing, because anything else might have made him more likeable to her. And she didn’t want to like him.
‘We were talking about Danny,’ she said, remembering why he had come.
‘You were talking about Daniele,’ he answered pointedly.
‘Did you see him?’ It suddenly occurred to her that he’d probably met his nephew if he’d been to the house first. ‘Emiliano...’ She ran after him as he strode purposefully back to the car.
‘Not the time, nor the place,’ he said dismissively as he skirted the vehicle and proceeded to open the front passenger door. ‘I am wet and I am muddy and you look as if another five minutes out in this...’ he tossed a glance towards the rain-hung trees and the heavier rain clouds that were gathering thickly across the valley ‘...will have you in bed with pneumonia.’
‘I’m used to it,’ Lauren told him, trying to sound nonchalant because the way his eyes were travelling over her drenched hair and her damp sweater and jeans was causing little flames of desire to lick along her veins, making her aware, for the first time since he’d arrived on the scene, of what an untidy mess she must look.
‘Used to what?’ he queried with a mocking twist to his mouth, holding open the car door. ‘Being in bed with pneumonia? Or running round the countryside rescuing stray dogs?’
‘Brutus isn’t a stray. He’s Stephen’s dog,’ she said with deliberate casualness and, from the formidable look she earned herself as she stepped into the car, gleaned a guilty satisfaction from knowing that her drenched hair was probably dripping all over his immaculate creamy leather upholstery.
* * *
Boiling a kettle of water in the farmhouse kitchen, Emiliano heard the pipework juddering from the flow of water in an upstairs bathroom.
‘Go and shower,’ he’d insisted as soon as she had let them in and, although she had resisted at first, she had seemed