Read Online Innocent of His Claim by Janette Kenny - Free Book Online Page A

man staring at her giving her that bubbly, fuzzy feeling that coursed through her veins.
    “Lovely,” she got out a bit breathlessly.
    “I am glad you like it.” He moved closer, almost prying her glass from her stiff fingers then backing her up against the sun-warmed expanse of wall oh so easily. “The fruity taste lingers on the tongue while the tart acidity awakens the palate, don’t you think?”
    He was going to kiss her. She read it in the dark smoky glint of his eyes. Sensed it in his obviously aroused body pressing close to hers. And, God help her, she wanted that kiss. Wanted his mouth on hers, his hands stroking her body.
    Her heart raced like the wind and her mind spun in a bizarre panic. She couldn’t let it happen and yet that’s exactly what she wanted him to do. Kiss her. Mold her to his length.
    “Our relationship is strictly business,” she said, clapping a palm against the steely wall of his chest, desperate to stopthis, to avoid a repeat of history that would fling her right back into the hot swirling depths of consuming passion.
    “It can be whatever we wish,” he said, stepping so close her scent swirled about him like silken scarves.
    “No. You’re wrong.”
    She held her ground, looking up at him with eyes that had known pain, known heartache. One night long ago he’d glimpsed the beginnings of that grief and believed it, got lost in her need and his own. He wasn’t gullible now.
    Yet instinct told him that what he read in her eyes was real. This was a reflection of pain learned one way—by experience.
    “Why so wary?” he asked. “I’ve abided by all you asked.”
    “I’ve had little cause to trust anyone.”
    Hadn’t they both? “A lesson learned from your father?”
    Her chin came up, her gaze frosting. “And from you.”
    He flinched as the salvo struck his heart. “How can I possibly be blamed for your distrust?”
    Dammit, were those tears in her eyes? No matter. He wouldn’t let them influence him again.
    Ten years ago he’d fallen for her sob story until the truth had won out. It was a painful reminder of how devious a woman could be, a lesson learned from his mother’s infidelity.
    Nothing learned in his recent investigation of Delanie swayed him to believe her now. She’d tricked him, betrayed him …
    “You said you would come for me,” she said. “You promised to help me and my mother. But you lied.”
    His fingers tightened on the glass until they numbed. That was the last thing he expected her to bring up.
    “No, that most certainly wasn’t a lie,” he said.
    “Then why didn’t you come for me? Why didn’t you call?”
    Because he’d found her out to be the liar. The one using him in a new way. Yet now he had trouble dredging up that same level of distrust. He found himself questioning what had once seemed so clear.
    He drove his fingers through his hair, hating this sense of uncertainty. Is this a hell similar to that his own father had lived with? That had left Marco feeling isolated as a teen? Abandoned? Unloved?
    “Papa, why do you ignore me? Why do you and Mama argue all the time?” he’d asked soon after they’d moved to Umbria.
    “Ignore you? I’m a busy man,” his father had said. “Ask your mother why we are like this,” his father would say.
    And when Marco had, his mother would burst into tears.
    Just as Delanie had when confronted with her betrayal.
    Yes, revenge had sounded sweeter than the succulent sagrantino grapes ripening in his vineyard to Marco. He’d lived for this moment. Planned it well. But the reality of forcing Delanie to do his bidding tasted as bitter as fruit harvested far too soon.
    The impulse to touch her was too strong. Too overwhelming to ignore. He brushed back errant strands of hair that looked and felt like silk, careful not to touch her skin. Careful not to spook her.
    “I did come, Delanie,” he said. “I made arrangements to spirit you both away and met with your mother as I’d promised. But when