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nod, pressing her lips together as she did so, because she knew without him adding that dry comment, how badly all of this reflected on Elise.

     ‘Leo is an…awesome guy,’ she continued. ‘He is the very hands-on head of the Savakis shipping empire as well as being a respected international lawyer, expert in British, Greek and American corporate law—’

     ‘Skip the CV. I know about Leo Savakis,’ he coolly cut in.

     Of course he would know about Leo. Most people who moved in high business circles would have heard about her brother-in-law’s remarkable career.

     ‘He’s a very busy man.’

     ‘Aren’t we all?’ drawled this high mover—in the business world at least.

     ‘S-sometimes Elise feels—neglected.’

     ‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘So I am to get the sob story before you lurch into the ugly part.’

     ‘Don’t mock what you have never suffered, Mr Villani!’ Rachel flared up in her sister’s defence. ‘When you’ve gone from being the face on every glossy magazine to a stay-at-home wife and mother with no identity to call your own, then you might begin to understand!’

     He didn’t even bother to respond to that heated outburst. ‘So she feels—neglected…’ he prompted instead.

     ‘And lonely.’ Once again Rachel steadied her breathing. ‘When Leo works abroad he prefers Elise to stay put in London or on his island in Greece. He says it’s all to do with security,’ she explained. ‘He’s made enemies in his line of work and…’

     ‘Naturally feels the need to protect his wife and his son.’

     ‘Wouldn’t you?’ Rachel flashed.

     He raised a black satin eyebrow. ‘Are you working in defence of Mr Savakis here or his poor neglected wife?’

     ‘Both,’ Rachel declared loyally. ‘Ilike Leo…’

     But she wouldn’t want him as a husband, she added silently. He was too overwhelmingly unreadable and dauntingly self-controlled. He adored Elise though, she was certain of it. It was just that…

     ‘He’s been virtually living in Chicago for the last twelve months, working on a high-profile case that only allows him back home for the occasional flying visit.’

     ‘Hence poor Elise feeling lonely and neglected—’

     ‘If you don’t stop being nasty about her, I’m going to leave!’

     He shifted his shoulders against the black leather, then moved his legs, bending them out of their lazy sprawl so he could rest one ankle on the other knee. Rachel’s eyes were drawn to the lean bowl between his hipbones where the expensive black fabric of his trousers sat easily against—

     Oh, please, someone help me! she thought despairingly and wanted to run away again.

     He moved a hand next, lifting it up so he could stroke a long finger across the flat line of his lips. Above the stroking finger, his grey-green eyes feathered a ponderous look over her in a way that further fanned the sexual charge.

     Did all Italian men have an ability to seduce just by using body language, or was it just her misfortune that they affectedher like this?

     Disturbed by the whole hectic physical war going on here, Rachel put some distance between them by walking across the room to stand staring out of one of the huge plate glass windows. London—the River Thames, Westminster and Tower Bridge—lay spanned out before her in a familiar night scene.

     Behind her his silent study pin-pricked her spine.

     He had not even bothered to challenge her threat to leave. It was as if he knew she was becoming more and more trapped here by the sexual pull and he was enjoying feeding it.

     One of the friends she’d made during her stay in Naples had once claimed that Italian men could seduce you and make you feel wonderful about falling in love with them without so much as considering falling in love themselves. It was the Italian way. Apparently you were supposed to feel blessed that they’d bothered to notice you at all.

     Because they were conceited and