Reckless Nights in Rome Read Online Free PDF Page B

morning.
    Nico shook his
head, frankly amazed at himself that she had such an effect on
him.
    He liked women.
He particularly liked them tall, dark and stacked. He liked
experienced professional types who knew the score and were too busy
for a long-term commitment.
    This thing he
had for his best friend’s sister might not be a good idea. He
chewed on his bottom lip; Alexander’s reaction to her dating was
over the top. But he would do nothing to jeopardise their
friendship and business relationship.
    As for Bronte
herself, she had a refinement that sang to him. Her vulnerability
also appeared to bring out the protector in him. Who’d have thought
it? Anthony, he thought with a grim smile, would think twice about
hurting another woman.
    Nico couldn’t
forget the feel of Bronte, the tingle of awareness that still
warmed his system and how small her waist had been between his
hands. He smiled remembering her embarrassment at being caught in
the act. Naughty too, with those big eyes full of pretend
innocence.
    The light
floral scent of Bronte still lingered in his car; it was warm,
sweet and feminine. How could he have missed her on his previous
visits?
    The thought
brought his mind back to the task in hand – The Dower House.
    The plans he
had for the place warmed his heart as he tugged the brass bell
pull.
    He’d been
clumsy threatening her like that. What had he been thinking? Again,
he shook his head and told himself to focus on the task at hand and
not on the woman.
    The door
opened.
    A curvy,
dark-haired, dark-eyed female poked her head out and looked him up
and down with bright-eyed interest. By her clothes Nico surmised
she was a cook.
    He smiled and
opened his mouth.
    “Deliveries are
received at the back. Follow the road all the way round,” she told
him and closed the door in his face.
    Bemused, he
looked down at his ancient boots and jeans. Okay, it was an easy
mistake to make. Nico wound a black cashmere scarf around his neck,
strolled to the car and followed instructions.
    The road led to
a courtyard and a large coach house converted into four
garages.
    A snazzy mini
cooper convertible in shiny black was parked next to the frosty
lawn. Two gleaming black vans with ‘Sweet Sensation’ painted in
gold on their sides, stood with their rear doors open.
    A couple of
young girls, dressed in chef whites, were busy loading shelves,
wheeling trolleys carrying white cardboard boxes.
    The girl who
had opened the front door widened her eyes when she saw his
car.
    She was trying,
Nico realised as he got out, not to laugh.
    “I’m so sorry.
I thought you were a delivery. Can I help you?” Her eyes sparkled
into his.
    “I am Nico
Ferranti for Bronte Ludlow.” He frowned as her eyes cooled and the
smile slipped.
    “Of course you
are.”
    “Please, call
me Nico, and you are?” He held out his hand wondering what in the
world he had done to offend her.
    “Rosie Gordon.
Bronte’s partner.” She took his hand with a distinct lack of
enthusiasm that tickled his sense of humour. “How do you do?”
    Curious and
surprised at the set-up, he looked around.
    “Is Bronte
available?”
    “Sure, follow
me.” She led him through a narrow hallway, a busy compact kitchen
and into a larger space with a high vaulted ceiling.
    Nico didn’t
have a particularly sweet tooth, but the scent of fresh baking,
toffee and chocolate made his mouth water. Fifty per cent of the
room, he realised studying the space, was a recent addition and
constructed of heavy oak beams and glass.
    Acres of
stainless steel food preparation areas, fridges, cold stores and
ovens gleamed in the fragile winter sun.
    Wearing chef
whites, Bronte stood at a central island decorating the bottom tier
of one of the most spectacular wedding cakes he’d ever seen. Not
that he took much notice of such things, but the cake was
incredible. In cream and pale pink, it towered above her.
Constructed of six octagonal pieces he assumed would be dismantled
and