Reckless Nights in Rome

  Chapter Twenty

  "I'm not sure about this."

  Bronte twisted and turned in front of a mirror, studying the back of a shocking pink strapless sheath. Her feet were bare. She tugged at the bust and hem of the garment. The dress was too wide at the top and too short.

  "I like it. I like the colour."

  She shot Nico a dark look. And who asked for his opinion?

  "You would," she said and didn't bother not to sound bitter.

  No matter how hard she'd argued that she could afford to buy her own clothes, he'd steamrolled over all her objections and brought her to a place she knew was ridiculously expensive.

  It seriously annoyed her that Nico refused to believe shopping for clothes was something she absolutely loathed. And shopping for clothes with a man was a whole new experience. Two hours into new the experience and Bronte decided it was not fun. She should have been at the hospital with her injured brother, but Alexander had made it clear he would see them this afternoon. His visitors would be allowed half an hour because he was having tests. A precaution only and he hoped to be discharged tomorrow. Nico had organised rest and recuperation at his villa on Lake Como. After a heated telephone discussion, Alexander had reluctantly agreed to four weeks.

  When she'd mentioned going home tomorrow Nico wouldn't hear of it. He had a meeting on Thursday he said, so they should stay until Friday.

  Rosie was all for it, sounding happy and ruling the kitchen with a rod of iron. Bronte had found herself outgunned and outmanoeuvred.

  Dressed in casual Armani Nico lounged in a fancy chair looking gorgeous. The bastard and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Madame Carlotta, the smart, middle aged woman who owned the shop, was French. And she reminded Bronte forcibly of a bird of prey.

  Clucking her tongue, Madame sent Nico a reproving look.

  "Bronte is not comfortable in it, Nico. It would sit in the back of her wardrobe. What is the point?"

  Madame held up strapless number and led a protesting and fed-up Bronte into the changing room. She was sick and tired of being poked and prodded, measured and sighed over as if she was some sort of damned freak.

  Her temper bubbled and brewed. She'd endured two hours of sheer hell without a break, without even a sip of water. How much longer was it going to take to find a dress?

  She didn't notice Madame's secret smile as she zipped her into a boned sheath of sky blue silk that fitted her like a glove, showcasing her legs.

  ?Bronte stalked out, stood in front of Nico and struck a pose with attitude. Who in their right mind would want to be a model she asked herself. If he made one smart remark, just one, she would deck him.

  Nico sat up straight, made a twirl sign with his finger that made her growl deep in her throat. Bronte turned in a slow circle certain the top of her head was about to explode.

  "We'll take it," he said.

  Madame clapped her hands.

  "Excellent choice. And it does not require altering."

  Eyes blazing Bronte whirled on them.

  "It doesn't need altering. How amazing is that?"

  She unzipped and stepped out of the dress. Naked except for white lacy panties, Bronte picked it up and tossed it into Nico's smiling face before she marched into the changing room.

  Madame removed the garment from a laughing Nico and took it to a table. Clucking her tongue, she folded the dress in tissue and shook her head.

  "She hates shopping, Nico. Never did I think I would live to see the day you would bring me such a woman."

  Nico grinned at her. "I never thought I would live to see the day either."

  Madame patted his cheek. With an expert flick she plucked the card out of his hand.

  "She is very beautiful. Excellent bones. She can wear anything. It will be a pleasure to dress her. The items will be delivered later today."

  Face flushed, eyes spitting fire, Bronte stalked out of the changing room dressed in black from head to toe in jeans, knee high flat suede boots and polo neck sweater. She'd tied her hair in a high pony tail.

  Nico held out her black quilted jacket.

  She thrust her arms into it and gave him a look that would have melted titanium.

  Only manners that had been drummed into Bronte from childhood held her back from storming out of the door.

  She held out her hand.

  "Thank you for all your help and assistance."

  Madame cleared her throat, eyes sparkling as she shook hands.

  "I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you very soon."

  Nico held open the door and Bronte breezed past him.

  "Hell will freeze first," she muttered.

  Taking a deep breath she inhaled wonderfully cool air, spotted an empty table at a cafe across the square and made a beeline straight for it.

  Ignoring the interested looks of the local populace she plonked herself in a chair.

  Picking up a menu, she waved it at a good looking waiter who sprang to attention and flicked a glance at Nico as he sat next to her.

  "I'll have a large hot chocolate, heavy on the marshmallows," Bronte told the waiter with big a smile that made him blink. "A smoked cheese and ham baguette. A glass of Frascati, make it a large one. Oh, and a bottle of still water, thank you."

  Rummaging in her big bag, she brought out a packet of ibuprofen.

  The waiter raised a brow at Nico who told him, "I will have the same, grazie."

  The water and wine arrived.

  Bronte popped a couple of pills into her mouth, took a sip of water and sat back.

  She blew out a long breath and met those dark slightly perplexed eyes.

  "Something tells me you do not enjoy shopping for clothes," Nico mused.

  "Funny, very funny."

  His eyes widened and those lips twitched as she took a sip of hot chocolate with a little moan of pleasure.

  "You never cease to surprise me, cara."

  "Think of me as a plant for a moment." Bronte almost laughed out loud at his bewildered expression. "Would you feed and water a plant or would you leave it to die without sustenance?" And saw the light switch on.

  "Ahh, I should have realised. You needed a drink? Why did you not say so?"

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes as Nico put up his hands in a gesture of peace and Bronte continued, "I had no idea I would be spending two hours in the place being poked and prodded as if I was some sort of oddity. If that woman muttered or tutted one more time I was ready to ... What?"

  She took a breath as Nico stared at her in stupefied amazement.

  "Why do you believe you are not beautiful?"

  A flush of mortification washed over her cheeks and she wriggled in her seat.

  What was he talking about? She was okay looking.

  Her school days had been hell with her pale hair and colouring. The jeers about her too skinny legs and pancake flat chest still had the power to hurt.

  "I don't think about how I look." Liar, her conscience dug her in the ribs. Yes, but that was the breast thing, not her appearance as such.

  Nico sipped his wine, eyeing her over the glass.

  She was actually unaware of her own impact.

  "I want you to look at all the men in the cafe."

  She stared at him, shrugged and dug out her glasses from her handbag.

  He had a light bulb moment.

  "You are short sighted?"

  Bronte tossed him a belligerent look.

  "A little. I need them when I'm driving or when I'm working."

  "How do people look to you without them?"

  "From a distance? A little blurry. Why do you want me to look at men?"

  "Just do it."

  So she did. Every single one gave her a little nod, a couple even winked.

  "What's the matter with them?"

  A laugh burst from his chest and she smiled back at him as he roared.

  Nico took her fingers to his lips and stared into her eyes.

  "Never change. I ado
re you, Bronte."

  He read the wary confusion in her eyes and cursed his tongue. Too soon, Nico, too soon.

  Their food arrived and he smiled his thanks. Relaxed, he sat back and fascinated, watched her wolf down her food.

  Most women he knew made a lettuce leaf last for an hour.

  "Why do you always wear black?"

  She shrugged. "It's easy. I can't be bothered to work out what to wear every day. When I'm working I wear my chef whites. In summer, jeans and T-shirts."

  "Don't you find it boring?"

  Bronte put down her sandwich with care and met his gaze dead on.

  "No. Why do you find it boring?"

  Her raised brows dared him to reply in the affirmative.

  Nico attempted to climb out of the big hole he had dug for himself.

  "Not at all. It suits you with your colouring. Very dramatic." He shrugged. "I am thinking about the ball."

  Her eyes grew huge.

  "What was that we did this morning?"

  "That was a dress for this evening."

  "What's happening this evening?"

  "We are going dancing."

  Her jaw dropped as sheer delight entered her eyes.

  She leaned over and gripped his neck, pulling him close.

  The green of her eyes appeared more vivid up close in daylight, with tiny flecks of amber in them. Her nose had a sprinkling of freckles he had not noticed before. The scent of her surrounded him and that fabulous mouth smiled.

  "You're taking me dancing?" And she gave him a long lazy kiss.

  Nico gripped her ponytail and kissed her back, only his was hotter and harder.

  His heart turned over as he tasted her soft, silky mouth. And he wondered if she realised that it was the first time she'd made the first move. It meant so much to him he surprised himself with the well of emotion it opened up in his chest.

  Bronte ran a finger down his cheek with a wicked look in her eye.

  A little thrill ran up his spine. She was flirting with him and he loved it.

  "After we visit Alexander I'm going to need shoes."

  He gaped at her. "But I thought you hated shopping."

  "Darling, that is for clothes."

  She sent him a pitying look as he tried to recover from the shock of being called darling in that low sexy purr.

  He'd been called darling before but it had never affected him like this.

  "Shoes are an entirely different thing." Eyes a dreamy emerald, Bronte gave a couple of shoulder rolls and a little wiggle of her fingers. "I'm in Italy, the shoe capital of the world. Bring it on."

  Unthinking she stroked the back of his hand with feather light fingers sending a jolt straight to his loins as she continued,

  "You're the expert on Rome. Where do we go first to put a big fat dent in my credit card?" He opened his mouth to protest and she placed her finger on his lips as her eyes met his. "Oh no, Mr Hotshot. You can buy me a dress but the shoes are all mine."

  She looked determined and he found he didn't want to argue. "If you are happy, I am happy." He glanced at his watch. They had an hour before they could visit Alexander. "I have sent flowers, but I was thinking we should pick up a few magazines for the patient."

  They arrived to find Alexander looking brighter and more like himself.

  Hair damp from a shower, he sat against a waterfall of snowy pillows dressed in navy soft cotton jogging bottoms and T-shirt. His right arm was in a sling. With relief, Bronte noticed the swelling had gone down over his eye which already boasted a rainbow of colours spreading over his cheekbone.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she squeezed his calf and rubbed his leg.

  "These are a big improvement on that girly hospital gown. How's the shoulder?"

  "Sore. But it'll be fine." He winced as he made himself more comfortable and nodded to the flowers, glossy magazines and overfilled basket of fruit. "Thanks for these."

  She gave him big eyes and tucked her tongue firmly in her cheek.

  "Who helped you with the shower? The blonde or the brunette?" she asked, referring to the attractive young nurses lurking at the door.

  He flicked a long suffering look at Nico who only shook his head.

  "Neither, his name was Jorge. I believe he's from Scandinavia."

  Bronte bit down hard on her lip as he sent her a dark look.

  "It's not funny. How would you like a member of the same sex making sure your bits were squeaky clean?"

  Her shoulders shook as she wiped her eyes.

  "God, wait 'till I tell Rosie."

  Genuine alarm entered his eyes and he stabbed a finger at her.

  "Don't even think about it. What have I ever done to you? She'll dine out on it for months." He turned panicked eyes to Nico. "You've got to help me here. I'll never hear the end of it."

  Nico moved in, his fingers squeezing her neck as he whispered in her ear.

  "Cara, be nice."

  Her brother still looked too pale. Although he was putting on a brave face Bronte could see he was in pain so she decided to cut him a break.

  "Okay, I won't tell her. But only if you agree to four weeks recuperation at Nico's house in Lake Como."

  He glowered at her, narrowing his eyes. "I've already said I would, haven't I?"

  Yeah, but she knew her brother. What he said and what he did were two entirely different things. "Swear." She spat on the palm of her hand and held it out. Nico squeezed her neck again and she felt his body shake with laughter.

  "I don't believe this," Alexander told her, with a snarl. "What are you, twelve?"

  "It's up to you. If you don't swear, I'll phone Rosie right here, right now."

  With a look that could melt solid steel, he spat on his palm and gripped hers.

  "You'd better stick to the bargain."

  "Think yourself lucky, big boy." She flashed him a huge smile. "It could have been a blood oath."

  Alexander groaned as a nurse entered with a blood pressure machine and a tray that contained sharps.

  As his sister, Bronte knew it was her sworn duty to ensure her brother took his medicine.

  "Man up. It'll only be a little scratch."

  Nico's grip on her neck tightened in warning.

  "The helicopter will pick you up in a couple of hours. Everything is ready for you at the house, including a nurse."

  Defeated, Alexander gave them a look that reminded her of an abandoned puppy. "Okay, but it had better not be Jorge."

  Nico bit his lip. "I believe her name is Lydia."

  Perking up at the news, Alexander brows winged into his hairline.

  "Really? Blonde, brunette, red-head?"

  "Ah, I believe she might have been a brunette when she was younger."

  "Aw, come on, Nico." He winced as the nurse took his blood pressure. "Well, at least I'll have my laptop and can get some work done."

  Alarmed, Bronte sent Nico a look, but he was busy flicking fluff from his sleeve and didn't meet her eye.

  "The laptop was damaged in the accident. However, I have a comprehensive library of books, DVDs and music. And a full complement of staff to see to your every need. All you have to do is to get well."

  "For Christ's sake," Alexander said in disgust.

  A couple of doctors arrived and it was their cue to leave.

  Nico spoke to them in Italian and appeared perfectly happy with what they said.

  He pressed Alexander's good shoulder.

  "I'll phone you later. If you need anything, just ask."

  Bronte kissed his cheek. "Take care of yourself."

  Her brother looked at Nico and then met her eyes. "You too."

  It was not often Nico found himself out of his depth.

  But he had never ever seen a woman buy shoes the way Bronte did.

  It was a sensory experience for her. Totally focused she studied them from every angle. Her fingers stroked and smoothed the butter soft leather. Then she smelt them which made him grin at the assistant who appeared to share her
devotion.

  Trying them on was a whole new experience in itself. She bought four pairs, one for the evening and the others because she 'just couldn't resist.'

  "Why are you looking at these?" he wondered. "This is the men's department."

  Like a lover, she stroked a pair of boots and sent him a sly smile which got his juices flowing.

  "This might come as a surprise to you, Nico, but you are a man. Try them on."

  Her arms wound around his waist as the assistant went off to find his size. She gazed up into his face with wide eyes.

  "Big feet? Hmm, you know what they say about a man who has big feet?"

  Laughing into her naughty face, his breath caught in his throat.

  He tried them on then did as he was told and walked up and down.

  "Do you love them?" She wanted to know.

  "They are comfortable."

  "No, do you love them?"

  The look in her eye reminded him of a zealot priest.

  He nodded. "Absolutely, I love them."

  Thrilled to bits, she handed over her credit card to the assistant without a blink.

  She tucked her arm in his as they strolled down the Via Borgognona.

  "I feel another coffee coming on." She steered them to an empty table, piling boxes onto an empty chair.

  "You should not spend so much of your own money."

  He blurted it out before he thought about how she might take it. But although her eyes flashed, she just gave him a cool little smile and crooked a finger. He leaned closer.

  "I work hard. The business is in the black. I can afford a couple of pairs of shoes, Nico. Say thank you."

  "I apologise I did not mean to offend you. Grazie, for thinking of me."

  Her annoyed expression was replaced by one of genuine bewilderment.

  "Has a woman never bought you a gift?" she demanded with a glint of temper in her eye.

  The thought had never occurred to him. Those emerald eyes widened in amazement as she shook her head. She poured sugar into her cappuccino, stirred it and then slapped down the spoon.

  "All I can say is you are mixing in the wrong company." She took a sip, held his gaze. "And it's a damned disgrace."

  He looked stunned.

  Bronte eyed him over the rim of her cup. What sort of women did he mix with? Okay, don't go there. Frowning, she realised that Nico appeared to live an incredibly isolated existence.

  A couple with a small child, a boy of around three years old with glossy curls and happy chocolate eyes, sat at the next table. The father said something to Nico and he laughed as they entered a conversation in Italian she couldn't follow.

  She permitted her attention to wander over the rest of the customers.

  Busy place. Italian men were incredibly attractive, she'd give them that. Then she spotted a big man sitting in a quiet corner staring intently at Nico.

  She pulled her glasses out of her bag and took a better look.

  Weird, he looked like an older, harder version of Nico. Maybe he came from the same part of the country? By his expensive clothes, she surmised he was a businessman.

  The man caught her eye. She shivered at the chill in eyes scarily like Nico's. His mouth thinned as he jerked a nod at her. Bronte kept an eye on him as he paid the bill and left. Yes, he was tall and broad too. He even held himself like Nico as he walked.

  Laughter from the other table brought her attention back to the couple with the adorable little boy.

  "What are they saying?" She smiled at them thinking she should mention the man to Nico.

  "They asked when we are going to start a family."

  Her heart took a stumble in her chest.

  To distract herself she gave him a teasing look.

  "There speaks the man who never wants a family or commitments. I hope you told them we are not married."

  Dark eyes, perfectly serious now, held hers.

  "A man might change his mind if he found the right woman."

  A fist to the gut would have hurt less.

  Giving what she hoped was an unconcerned smile. Bronte sipped her coffee and shivered.

  "Come, cara, you are getting cold."

  They said goodbye to the family and she ordered herself to pull it together.

  It was ridiculous that an innocent remark should have the power to destroy her peace of mind. But her heart felt as frozen as the icy wind that whipped through the streets.

  A few flakes of snow whirled around them and they picked up the pace.