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him see how deeply that knife had plunged.

“I didn’t mean to suggest you’re selfish. I was speaking of the characteristic in general.”

“Oh, but I was,” she assured him. “I was a self-involved brat until such time as that luxury was denied me.” She’d been hurt and feeling abandoned by her parents after they’d divorced and shuffled her off to boarding school. She’d made demands for things she didn’t even want in a clichéd cry for the love and attention she really craved.

Her behavior had spiraled from there and yes, Amy carried some of the blame for what had happened with the field hockey coach. She had known what she was doing was wrong, but so had he. And he’d been a man of twenty-nine while she’d been an eighteen-year-old student in his class.

“I didn’t always direct my independent streak in the best way,” she admitted. “But it annoys me that pushing back on how girls and women are ‘supposed to’ behave is considered rebellion. That’s what I was really fighting. My mother was always saying, ‘Don’t speak up. You have to fit in.’ She buys into this silent agreement with society that women aren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves because it pulls the spotlight from the really important people. Men,” she stated with a scathing eye roll.

“Ouch,” he said ironically.

She bit her lip, quelling her smile.

He was shaking his head, but taking her remark with good-natured amusement.

She liked him, damn it.

Best to focus on why she was here. “Can I show you the women I’ve identified who might be willing to ruin you?”

“I thought I was already looking at her,” he drawled.

Amy faltered in retrieving her phone.

He sobered. “That was a joke.”

“I know. I didn’t realize you knew how to make one.” She shakily breezed past her tiny betrayal of a guilty conscience and brought her phone to him. “These are celebrities I know well enough to approach. I am neither confirming nor denying they are clients.”

“Noted.”

They stood so closely, she could feel the heat off his body and detected the mellow scent of his aftershave. He picked up his wine and she heard him swallow as she began to thumb through images, providing a brief biography for each.

“German car heiress trying to start her own fashion line. Country music star, American, won an award for a song about her messy divorce. This is a cousin of a British ambassador. She has a popular online cooking series.”

Luca rejected them all just as quickly. “Too young. No one will believe I listen to American country music. Where would I have met an online chef?”

Six more went by and Amy clicked off her phone. “You’re being too picky. No one will be perfect. That’s the point.”

“If I don’t believe I’m attracted to her, no one else will.” He set aside his glass again.

“What kind of woman do you want, then?” she asked with exasperation.

His gaze raked down her face and snagged on her mouth, then swept back to her eyes. The heat in the depths of his blue irises nearly set her on fire before he looked to a corner.

Amy caught her breath, swaying on the skinny heels of her shoes. She had really hoped this attraction was only on her side. It would have made this a silly infatuation where she was reaching out of her league and had no chance.

It was a lot harder to ignore when she knew he felt the same. The space between them seemed to shrink, drawing them in. Her gaze fixated on the tension around his mouth.

“I...” She had no words. She should have moved away. “I thought you were...” She thought back to that dismissive rebuff he’d given her in London. “Indifferent to me.”

His lips parted as he exhaled roughly. “You do speak your mind, don’t you? I want to be indifferent.” The air crackled between them. “But I’m not.”

What was she supposed to do with that? She could only soften with helplessness. He had to be the strong one.

As they both fell silent, she felt the pull of an invisible force. He moved in such small increments, she thought she imagined that he was drawing closer; but he was suddenly so close that a prickle of anticipation stung her lips. She dampened them with her tongue.

“Amy.” It was a scold that rang with defeat. His hand found her hip as though to ground them both as his head dipped and he covered her mouth with his own.

Sensation burst to life in her. His lips were firm and smooth and confident. Smothering in the most delicious way as he angled and fit and claimed her. Devastated her.

How long had it been since she’d kissed a man? Really kissed one with hunger and passion and a hand that went to the back of his head, urging him to ravish her?

His arm banded across her lower back, dragging her in so her body was plastered to the hardness of his. They rocked their mouths together, pressing tighter, opening wider, exploring deeper.

A moan left her throat and she wound her arms around his neck, clinging weakly as she lost herself to the delirium. No one had ever made her feel like this. Never, ever.

Suddenly he took her by the shoulders and set her back a step. The regressive light in his eyes stopped her heart before he ruthlessly leashed whatever animal was alive inside him.

His hands dropped away as he turned to stand directly in front of her.

“Sì,” he barked and the door opened.

Oh, God. Someone had knocked and she hadn’t even heard it. She dropped her face into her hands.

She recognized Guillermo’s voice, but stayed exactly where she was, hidden by the wall of Luca’s back as she tried to gather her composure.

The men exchanged words in crisp Italian and the door closed again.

“There’s a call I must take.” Luca’s arm reached past her to snag his wine. She heard him finish it in one gulp. “I’ll be tied up for hours. Your meal will

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