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realize this could work. He would make it work. Ana was intrigued, interested; she hadn’t said no. He’d expected her to say no immediately, a gut reaction. But she hadn’t betrayed her own desire—he’d seen it before, at dinner, a flaring in her eyes—as well as, perhaps, her own sense of logic.
    When he’d spoken to Enrico about the match, the old man had been surprised but accepting.
    ‘Ana is a practical girl,’ he’d said after a moment. ‘She will see the advantages.’
    Vittorio could see her now, considering those advantages, wondering if the comforts he could give her outweighed the lack of feeling. And yet there would be feeling…affection, respect. He wanted to like Ana; he simply didn’t want to love her.
    And, Vittorio acknowledged with a surprised wryness, he would desire her. Somewhat, at least.
    Ana took her shot and then stepped aside so Vittorio could take his. As he passed by her, he inhaled her scent; she wore no perfume and smelled of soap and something else, something impossible to define. Dirt, he realized after a moment and nearly missed his shot. She smelled of sunshine and soil, of the vineyard he’d seen her stride through only days ago, as if she owned the world, or at least all of it that mattered.
    It was not a smell he normally associated with a woman.
    He straightened, stepping back so Ana could take her shot, making sure to step close enough to her so his elbow brushed her breast, as if by accident, just to see how she reacted. And how he reacted. Ana drew her breath in sharply; Vittorio shifted his weight to ease the intensifying ache of need in his groin.
    She was untouched, he was sure of it. Untouched and untamed. And, despite the terrible clothes, the complete lack of feminine guile or charm or artifice, at that moment he wanted her. He wanted her, and he wanted to marry her.
    He would .
    She won. Ana knew she should feel triumph at this victory, yet in the light of everything else she found she felt little at all.
    ‘It seems I must concede the game,’ Vittorio said as he replaced his cue stick in the holder. ‘Congratulations. You did warn me.’
    ‘So I did.’ Ana replaced her cue stick as well. She felt awkward now the game of stecca was over; a glance at her watch told her it was nearly midnight. They hadn’t spoken of the whole wretched business proposition in over an hour, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring it up now.
    ‘So,’ Vittorio said briskly, ‘you’ll need a few days to think about my business proposition?’
    Vittorio obviously did not share her reluctance. ‘A few days?’ Ana repeated, her voice rising to something close to a squawk. ‘Vittorio, I don’t think—’
    ‘Surely you won’t dismiss it out of hand?’ he countered, cutting off the objection she hadn’t even known how to finish. He leaned against the billiards table, smiling, at ease, his powerful forearms folded. ‘That is not good business, Ana.’
    ‘Perhaps I don’t want my marriage to be business,’ she replied a bit stiffly.
    Vittorio’s gaze dropped to her mouth. She could feel his eyes there, on her lips, almost as if he were touching her. She could imagine his finger tracing the outline of her lips even though he hadn’t moved. She had; she’d parted her lips in a silent yearning invitation. Her body betrayed her again and again. ‘I think it could be good between us, Ana,’ he said softly. ‘Good in so many ways.’
    His words thrilled her. They shouldn’t—words counted for so little—but they did. They gave her hope, made her wonder if Vittorio could see her as a woman. A woman he wanted not just with his mind, but with his body. Unlike Roberto.
    ‘In fact,’ he continued, his voice as soft and sinuous as silk,‘as we have just finished a game where you soundly trounced me, we could shake hands.’
    Automatically, Ana stuck out her hand, ignoring the tiny flip-flop of disappointment at his sensible suggestion. This was how she did business, had