Read Online Italian Passion by Jayne Castel - Free Book Online Page A

around,
her eyes wide in shock. At first glimpse, it appeared as if she did not know
how to swim.
    Without thinking, Max dove in to save
her.
    The cold lagoon water took his breath
away after the evening’s warmth. Resurfacing, Max swam across to where Faye was
treading water and attempting to paddle her way to the moss-covered steps that
led back up to the street. He placed an arm under one of her armpits and towed
her towards the steps. Still struggling to regain her breath, she let him help
her without a word of protest.
    Together, they emerged dripping from
the canal and climbed the steps. Faye was trembling from shock, her green dress
plastered tantalisingly against her body. They squelched up the worn stone
steps, careful not to slip on the moss that carpeted them. Once they reached
the street above, Faye grasped her sodden hand bag to her breast and turned to
face him.
    Max saw the anger smouldering in her
hazel eyes. Still, it came as a shock when she lashed out, and slapped him hard
across the face.
     
    Faye slapped him so hard that her
palm stung afterwards. Then, she lowered her arm and clenched her fist.
Ignoring her burning hand, she glared at Max Paolini, ready to follow up with a
punch if he took just one more step towards her.
    “Bastard,” she snarled. “Wasn’t
insulting me enough? You thought you’d try and kill me as well?”
    He stared back at her, shocked that
she had actually struck him. He did not put a hand up to the cheek, where she
had hit him, although Faye knew if her palm was anything to go by, it would be
on fire.
    “I deserved that,” he admitted
quietly; the rage and arrogance she had seen in him that afternoon gone. “I
didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to catch up with you so that I
could apologise. Why did you run?”
    “I ran because I didn’t want to speak
to you – wasn’t it obvious?” Faye replied, aware that her dress now stuck to
her body like wet paper. She had seen his gaze slide over her when they reached
the top of the steps – it was another reason why she had slapped him.
    How dare he!
    Max raised placating hands before
him. His handsome face was flushed from running, his eyes dark pools in the dim
light. “You’re right, I was rude to you today. There’s no excuse for it. I
should have been pleased you wanted to interview me; I should have cooperated –
instead I acted as if it was an imposition. I’m sorry.”
    Faye continued to glare at him. His
apology seemed sincere enough. Yet, it was such a marked difference from the
man she had clashed with earlier that she had trouble accepting it. When she
did not reply, Max continued.
    “I’m not used to speaking about my
personal life. In fact, I’ve buried myself in my work to avoid having to face
certain things. You asked me about my brother. The truth is, we fell out after
I discovered he had been pursuing my girlfriend. They ran off together and are
now married with two children. Even now, years later, speaking about them hits
a raw nerve.”
    Faye’s anger abated. Listening to his
explanation, she suddenly felt embarrassed about her insistence during the
interview. She should have seen that her questions were upsetting him, and
shown a bit of sensitivity.
    “Then maybe I should also apologise,”
she said quietly. “I’ve been a journalist for a while, and too often it becomes
just about the story. I sometimes forget there’s a human being behind it. I’m
sorry.”
    Her apology hung in the air between
them. Faye was aware then, that Max’s clothes – jeans and a t-shirt – also
clung to him like a second skin, outlining his broad shoulders and athletic
frame. Faye’s cheeks grew hot and her breathing caught in her chest. He was
standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, and the spicy
trace of his aftershave that had not been rinsed off by his dip in the canal.
    “I can swim you know,” she raised an
eyebrow at him, in an effort to dissolve the tension of a