Sins of the Past Read Online Free PDF Page A

feigning a total lack of interest in his arrival.
    ‘Buon giorno.’
The velvety softness of his greeting made her look up, and she wished she hadn’t when the sheer impact of his masculinity made her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth.
    Sleek black hair—damp, as if he had just showered—accentuated the pristine whiteness of his shirt, which was partially unbuttoned, exposing the crisp dark hair of his olive-skinned chest. His arm was resting against the doorjamb, and where the jacket of his light beige suit had parted she could see how tight and firm his waistline was, how the fabric of his trousers stretched across the hard, lean breadth of his hips.
    ‘Were you so engrossed in your innovative ideas that you didn’t hear me come in, Riva? Or is it a determined effort on your part to show me that you aren’t the least bit interested one way or the other?’
    She shivered at how easily he could read her.
    ‘You lied to me,’ she breathed accusingly. She didn’t have to enlighten him. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
    ‘That makes two of us.’ There wasn’t an ounce of compunction in that lean, hard body as he strode in.
    She glanced quickly away as he came towards her, uncertainwhich part of his splendid anatomy she’d feel comfortable looking at. What chance had she had against that potent masculinity, she thought, when she had been a naïve creature of nineteen?
    ‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be here today.’ That was preferable to asking him why he’d lied. She knew why. He’d known she would have wriggled out of the job if she’d been forewarned.
    ‘I forgot to mention that I was scheduled for a couple of very punishing hours of squash this afternoon.’
    ‘Really?’ She didn’t believe that a man as influential and powerful as Damiano D’Amico would forget anything. He had probably relished the thought of keeping her in suspense as to when he was coming back! ‘Did you win?’ She didn’t know why she asked it. She couldn’t imagine anyone punishing him—in any sense whatsoever. Physically he was built like a god who paid homage to health and strength and fitness, and heaven help anyone who tried to pit their wits against that awesome brain!
    ‘It was a satisfactory outcome.’
    ‘Satisfactory for you? Or for your opponent?’ She didn’t need to ask. She just couldn’t seem to contain the desire to bait him at every given opportunity. And that way lay disaster if she had any intention of hanging on to her job, she reminded herself sharply.
    The freshness of the shower gel that still clung to his body invaded her nostrils as he came over to the table where she was sitting and picked up a sheet of paper, examining the various sketches that she had been making.
    ‘I would have thought experience would have taught you, Riva. I always play to win.’
    She sucked in an audible breath. ‘No matter who gets hurt?’ She couldn’t look at him as she said it. She couldn’t seem to breathe either, too aware of his scent, the sound of his voice, his disconcerting nearness, and, as he returned her sketches to the table, of the dark lean strength of his hands.
    ‘No one gets hurt as long as they know their limits,’ he assured her, ‘and don’t indulge in games which are totally out of their league. But if you’re referring to that little game you were playing with me in the past—which I’m sure you are—don’t try and pretend to me that I hurt you, Riva. Oh, perhaps a little physically—but then you didn’t exactly prepare me for your … innocence.’ His voice derided. As well it might, she realised bitterly. A virgin she might have been, but he hadn’t seen her sacrifice and everything that had led up to it as anything other than part of a calculated plan. ‘If you had, I would never have let things get so out of hand.’
    ‘What would you have done?’ Her tone was wounded, hurt, shrill. ‘Locked me in a room and used an interrogation lamp on me