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He half-expected her to demur, to say that wouldn’t work either, but to his relief, she smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Seven
“WHATEVER’S IN THAT BAG, it smells amazing.”
“Seeing as you couldn’t come to Florence, I brought Florence to you. Well, my favourite food anyway.”
Portia’s heart twisted. She was starving, but not just for food. In the end, Dante and Marco had stayed longer in Florence than they’d intended, working through the contract details and sounding out the board of directors of Acto on the possibility of a second purchase offer being in the pipeline.
From the notes Portia had seen, the negotiations had been tense and long and she had no doubt Dante would be in at the office early the next day to finalise what they’d covered.
But meanwhile, there was Marco, at her door, with Italian food and a body to die for, and after almost a week without seeing him, she was craving him in a way that couldn’t be ignored.
“Can we eat…later?” She asked, gesturing for him to come inside.
Marco’s smile was pure white-hot sexy. “Much, much later,” he promised, placing the brown paper bag on the entrance table as he scooped down and lifted Portia, carrying her through her apartment with a strength and warmth that made her body tingle all over.
Over a glassof wine and re-heated pasta, Marco broke down the nuances of the meetings, the feelings he’d had, and as he spoke, Portia leaned across the table, transfixed by him and the passion that was so clearly evident in his face.
“You like this stuff,” she said, shaking her head a little. “Youreallylike it.”
Marco sat back, sipping his glass of wine, saying nothing.
“You’re such an enigma.” She shook her head. She’d pulled on an oversized tee-shirt and nothing else. It gaped a little at the front and Marco’s eyes dropped to the hint of cleavage exposed by the loose fabric.
“An enigma?” He drawled, grinning at the description. She couldn’t help smiling back.
“Sure. I could have sworn you didn’t care about your family business at all. Yet here you are, passionately invested in the outcome of these negotiations…”
“I care.”
Her heart stammered. “Really?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just you don’t really…” Her voice trailed off into nothing.
“Work?” He prompted taking another sip of his wine.
“I don’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended.”
His self-confidence was one of the sexiest things about Marco. She liked that he knew what his strengths were, and didn’t need to be managed. Jack had always needed her to assure him that he was good at things, that she was impressed by him. It had been as though his confidence was entirely derived from the outside world, rather than coming from within.
“I would have liked seeing you in action,” she admitted begrudgingly, feeling that it was dangerous to admit as much to him.
“You could have.”
“Not without risk.”
“No,” he agreed, reaching over and lacing their fingers together. “You were right about that.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
“Dante is perceptive. Not only that, he’s protective of you.” Marco’s eyes skimmed Portia’s face. “I didn’t realise how close you were.”
“We’re…friends,” she said after a beat. “I never thought we would be. We’re so different. At first I think he just really relied on me, but then, somewhere along the way, we opened up to each other. He talks about them, you know. Just little things, like when he’ll be telling me about a trip he took and he’ll say ‘we’ loved the beaches there, or whatever.”
