Extraits

"- Je m'appelle Maggie, annonça-t-elle. C'est moi, la femme de votre frère. Et pour répondre à votre question, non, il ne m'a pas conquise avec des flatteries. Il m'accrochée par une méthode bien plus ancienne et plus efficace : le sexe."

— Peut-être, admit-il. Et toi, Maggie, c’est qui, le superhéros que tu préfères ?

Elle lança un coup d’œil empli de sous-entendus à Michael avant de répondre :

— Thor.

— Pourquoi ?

— J’aime ses longs cheveux blonds et son marteau.

Michael s’esclaffa.

— Tu es désespérante. Quelle midinette !

— Ouais, quelle minidette ! répéta Robert.

— Je ne me sens pas vraiment midinette en ce moment, marmonna-t-elle en baissant les yeux sur sa tunique tachée et trempée d’eau et de sueur.

Elle repoussa une mèche collée à son front avec son avant-bras, consciente que son maquillage devait avoir coulé depuis longtemps. Pas étonnant que les mères n’aient plus envie de faire l’amour. Que représente un orgasme face à quelques bonnes heures de sommeil quand on est au bout du rouleau ?

— Je dois ressembler à n’importe quoi, lança-t-elle.

Elle était prête à ricaner quand elle croisa le regard de Michael. Ses yeux noirs plongèrent profondément en elle, brisant sur leur passage toutes les barrières qu’elle avait érigées. L’air se mit à vibrer entre eux, chargé d’une énergie brûlante totalement incongrue dans cette atmosphère domestique. Les nerfs à vif, Maggie soutint son regard, incapable de couper le contact.

— Je te trouve très belle, murmura-t-il.

— Tu peux sortir maintenant.

Comme s’il n’avait rien entendu, il s’assit sur le rebord de la baignoire, à quelques centimètres d’elle. Il avait échangé son costume contre un jean et une chemise blanche. Étrangement, ses pieds nus et ses cheveux tombant sur les épaules soulignaient l’élégance nonchalante de sa tenue, le rendant plus sexy que jamais. Maggie eut l’impression qu’il absorbait tout l’oxygène de la pièce, qu’il n’en restait plus assez pour elle. Il émanait de lui un érotisme presque surnaturel, comme s’il était une sorte de superhéros sexuel. Que lui arrivait-il ?

Elle attendit qu’il prenne la parole, mais vu qu’elle était nue, il ne semblait pas particulièrement pressé de le faire. Finalement, elle lança :

— Qu’est-ce que tu fais encore ici ?

— J’ai envie de discuter.

— Parfait. Eh bien, tu n’as qu’à te déshabiller et t’installer, ironisa-t-elle.

Il ne bougea pas, mais une expression nouvelle apparut sur ses traits, sauvage, carnassière.

— Tu es sûre de ta proposition ?

— Tu ne m’as même pas demandé ma permission avant de l’inviter. Ne m’insulte pas en te mêlant d’affaires concernant ma famille, Maggie.

Elle continua à préparer son sac sans même lui jeter un regard. Son pyjama en satin noir ondulait sur son corps comme de l’eau, en soulignant chaque courbe. Ses cheveux soyeux glissaient d’avant en arrière sur ses épaules, le plongeant dans une sorte de transe.

— Je ne crois pas que le verbe « obéir » fasse partie de nos engagements, Michael. Quoi qu’il en soit, je t’ai déjà dit que je plaisantais quand j’ai parlé d’organiser un dîner en amoureux pour Carina. Ça te fait déjà une raison de moins de t’inquiéter.

— Ce n’est pas drôle.

Elle secoua la tête.

— Écoute, je n’ai pas eu le choix. Elle était hystérique, il fallait que je trouve un moyen de la calmer. Si tu ne l’avais pas traitée comme une gamine de dix ans, rien de tout cela ne serait arrivé.

— Carina est innocente, et j’ai l’intention qu’elle le reste.

— Ohé, il est temps de se réveiller, comte. Carina a plus de vingt ans et elle a des pulsions sexuelles. Puisque, de toute façon, elle aura des relations, pourquoi ne pas lui servir de guides ?

“So all these women you take to your bed, do you seduce them for the challenge, the pleasure, or because you hope she’s The One?”

His eyes glittered as she threw down the gauntlet. Again, he impressed her with his dual ability to switch from smooth charmer to a man who refused to play games. “I hope. I take them to bed, concentrate on their pleasure, and hope in the morning I want more.”

Her breath strangled in her throat. Her surroundings tilted as his words echoed her own empty search for someone to slay the demons in the evening and be enough under the harsh morning light.

Her heart galloped but this time it wasn’t panic that caused the blood rush.

It was Michael Conte.

Her fingers clenched around the delicate stem of her glass. The leashed sensuality radiating around his figure pulled her in and kept her caught in his web as he stared at her in sudden realization. “You experience it, too, don’t you?”

His harsh question made her flinch.

“Do you take them to bed to escape the loneliness, hoping it will end up to be more? Do you wake up in the morning with a sick feeling in your stomach, knowing you lied to yourself again? Do you wonder if you’re meant to be alone? Wonder if something deep down is holding you back?”

God, yes.

- Signora Conti, je suis très honorée de faire votre connaissance enfin. Votre fils a agit comme un idiot en ne vous prévenant pas de notre mariage. Je vous prie à sa place de l 'excuser.

(Dialogue entre Michael et sa soeur)

“I will not argue with you on this point. Now be a good girl and wash your face, get back to normal, and let’s go. We have an appointment at the consulate soon.”

Silence.

Maggie winced. Oh, this was bad. Very bad. Like an oncoming train wreck, she watched Carina’s face fall at his comment. Carina pressed a trembling hand to her mouth in order to stop herself from crying, but her voice came out broken and wispy. “Why can’t you see I’m not a baby and respect me? I wish you’d never come back to Italy!”

“I can explain.”

His voice came out whisper-soft and rattled her nerve endings. “I’m sure you can.”

Why did he seem rough around the edges? As if he called for a woman to dive beneath the polish and discover all that primitive maleness beneath? He grew up with money, a good family, and relatively few problems. She didn’t resent it, but most men she met with staid backgrounds left her cold and a bit flat. Not Michael. It would take ages to discover all his layers, and she’d bet he’d still keep surprising her. Fortunately, she had no intention of getting to know anything about his Italian temper.

Her mouth worked to spit the words out. “Well, I decided to treat Carina to a makeover while I worked so she wouldn’t have to see the models in their underwear, because I knew you wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

He snapped his voice like a whip. “And that is why I saw her on the stage with the same naked models. Because of your protection.”

She winced. This wasn’t coming out the way she’d planned. “You didn’t let me finish. And they’re not naked. So I was having a terrible time getting the shot I needed. Then Carina came out, and she was so happy about her appearance, and so much more confident . . . the men got this look on their faces, it was quite incredible, really—I’ve never seen anything so pure in this business, and I knew I had to capture the expression in order to get something fresh.”

“Pure?” His brow hiked up and fury sparked from his eyes. “You put my baby sister in your shot to be gawked at by strange naked men in order to capture purity? Is this your defense, Maggie? Would you sacrifice anything just to sell a few ads?”

Whoa. Her fear melted away. How dare he? She sneered and threw her head back. “They. Are. Not. Naked. You’re twisting my words, Count. As for sacrifice, it seems I’m willing to do a lot of that in the name of true love. Even have a fake marriage with you.”

He pushed his face toward hers and hissed under his breath. “You didn’t do it for true love, cara. Don’t ever forget you got your pound of flesh for this bargain.”

“Oh, yeah, so sorry I won’t let you pant all over my sister-in-law and make moony eyes at her from across the room.”

His mouth fell open. “You are crazy. I told you over and over I am not in love with Alexa. It is your delusions and need to control everything around you. And what does this have to do with Carina and your bit of exhibitionism?”

“I cast her in shadow; no one will really see her face. I would never expose her to anything inappropriate.”

His body shook with hot male frustration. “You already did!”

“Decklan, Roberto, Paolo, this is Carina. She’s now in the shoot with you.”

“What?” Carina squeaked.

She positioned Carina to the edge of the stage and cast her in shadow. “Cross your arms like this.”

Maggie adjusted Carina’s pose to lean against the wall in a casual stance. “Now, look out the window as if you’re dreaming of something. Something that makes you happy. Don’t worry, your features will be blurred and your figure in shadow. Okay?”

“But I can’t—”

“Please?”

Carina shook a bit, then slowly nodded. Her features tense, she tried to give Maggie what she wanted. Maggie whirled back to the models and lined them up in a jagged line. The slight bulges in their underwear didn’t embarrass her—in fact, it was exactly what had been missing in the shot.

“Listen up. Your target is her.” She pointed to Carina, who looked stiff and uncomfortable. “Imagine what it would be like to approach her, to give her her first kiss, to make her feel like a woman. That’s what I want. Now.”

She grabbed her camera and pressed the shutter release. Calling out instructions, she moved like a madwoman to capture the element of the elusive . . . of innocence . . . wanting . . . temptation. It was more than a shot about pretty-looking underwear. This was about buying an emotion.

As the time ticked, her surroundings faded away. Finally, something flickered across Carina’s face.

A small smile rested on her face. The men shifted, studied her, and then—

Click.

Got it.

Satisfaction surged and her body loosened with relief. “We’re done. That’s a wrap.”

A combined shout of approval rose from the models and staff. Maggie grinned with pleasure, turned on her heel, and came face-to-face with her husband.

Uh-oh.