Page 86 of Chasing Caine
A thirty-three-year-old archaeologist from a family of farmers. Who lived in a three-story villa outside Sorrento worth a small fortune. Not just farmers.
“The olive grove is ours.” He inclined his head to the east. “We also have production facilities for lemons and grapes. We ship our products all over the world. Limoncello, wine, balsamic vinegar, and a great deal of olive oil.”
“That explains a lot.”
He took a sip from his glass and leaned over me again to put it down, his body coming closer than before. I held my breath, trying to sink through the chair. His eyes left my face, scanning the length of my torso, and he moved back so my legs were trapped against him. “So, what shall we do while we’re alone?”
The hairs on my neck stood up straighter. If he hadn’t been my boyfriend’s cousin, I would have pushed him. Antonio trusted him completely, so I should, too. He wouldn’t actually hit on me. Would he? “Mario, you’re in my space.”
“You know, Antonio and I are very close.”
I gestured toward the other lounge chair a couple of feet away from mine. “I know.”
He didn’t take the hint. “He shareseverythingwith me.”
I shoved gently against him with a leg, acting like I was simply stretching.
“And do you want to hear something I’ve learned?” He leaned toward me, his eyes falling to my mouth, his lips pursing. “He has wonderful taste in women.”
My heart rate kicked up. There was enough room between us to connect my palm with his nose or an elbow to his midsection. If I slipped down the chair, I could negotiate a knee into his spine. “Mario, stop that.”
His eyes raked down to where the book covered my breasts, and he placed a hand on mine to move it. “Antonio won’t be back for hours. He’ll never know.”
“I’m warning you…” I clenched my jaw and a fist.
“I taught him everything he knows about women.” He moved the book, leaning closer to my face. “Let me show you.”
I cocked my arm back, ready to strike. Definitely the nose. “If you come one inch closer, you’ll regret it.”
A hint of a smile creased his face as he sat up straight and smacked my leg. “Molto bene, bellissima!” With a wink, he retrieved his lemonade and bounced off the lounge chair to sit on the other one.
“What the hell?” I grabbed my cover-up and held it against me, still ready to hit him if needed.
He held up a hand. “I like you, Samantha.”
Apparently.
“And so does my cousin. But I’ve known many women he’s liked whose interests were not pure.”
“Yours don’t appear to be, either.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “He told you about Faith?”
“Yes.”
“She came here once while he was working on his doctorate. He bought her things—not as much as he bought you—and she complained it was not enough. As soon as he was out the door, she came on to me. I told him she was trouble, but he didn’t believe me.” The constantly joking face had hardened. “Three months later, he caught her in bed with another man and moved back here. For a year.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
He placed his glass at his feet and leaned forward on his knees, within arm’s reach of my fist. “Samantha, he falls in love with his whole heart, but not his brain. That seems to escape him. Her betrayal destroyed him and I’ll do anything in my power to be sure it never happens again.”
“You could have talked to me about it. You know, like adults.”
He waved the hand. “This is the first time he’s left your side and you’re leaving in two days. No time for finesse.”
“Or for being polite.” I swung my good leg over the far edge of the chair and dropped my book, pulling on the cover-up. “I really liked you Mario. But this was not cool.”
“Do you love him?”