Reckless Nights in Rome by C. C. MacKenzie Page B

had to clench her jaw to remain calm.
    “I am sorry,”
he said.
    Bronte read the
truth and genuine regret in those grey eyes before she nodded and
he let her go.
    “I’m going
home.”
    “Let us go
dancing instead. What do you say?”
    For the first
time in her life, Bronte honestly felt that she was simply not on
the same page as another human being. He’d kissed her as if she was
the most wonderful woman in the world and then stepped back. She’d
just unravelled in front of him. She’d barely been able to restrain
herself from spilling out grief, sadness and fear. And now he
wanted to go dancing? The man gave her emotional whiplash.
    She swayed on
her feet while he watched her with a gentle intensity. Why did he
have to look so gorgeous? Those eyes, they hypnotised her and made
her forget everything but the need to be with him. She let out a
barely audible sigh and told herself she was a bloody fool.
    “That would be
nice.”
     
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    There was nothing worse
than being confused.
    Nico had been
the perfect host Bronte mused as he drove her home. Insisting on
dancing every dance and holding her close, just not too close. As
if he wanted to give her a bit of space to recover from her earlier
turmoil.
    Yet she still
felt hurt. And why shouldn’t she? Yes, she’d been the one to put a
halt to their intimacy, but he hadn’t put up much of a fight, had
he? One minute he was all over her the next he held back. It wasn’t
every day she had an earth shattering kiss.
    She slanted a
look at him.
    His hard jaw
was firm, his attention fully focused on the road ahead. The
Bentley slid into her driveway and he brought it to a stop outside
her door and turned off the engine.
    Fingers tapping
the steering wheel Nico didn’t look at her as they sat in
silence.
    Bronte decided
to make an effort.
    “Would you like
a coffee?” And hoped she didn’t sound pathetic and desperate.
    He appeared not
to have heard her, his attention riveted straight ahead.
    Okay, it was
better to find out that someone was moody ahead of time. She’d
simply draw a line under this evening and put it down to
experience.
    Her hand
fumbled for the door handle as she struggled to keep her voice cool
and unconcerned.
    “Well, thank
you for an interesting evening.”
    She turned to
leave and his hand lay heavy on her shoulder.
    “We need to
talk.” His deep voice was stiffly polite.
    Frowning,
Bronte stared at him.
    His face was
blank as he studied the steering wheel as if it held the answer to
world peace.
    “I’m
listening,” she told him, nudging him along.
    “I do not know
what to do about you.”
    “You’ve lost
me.”
    “I cannot
alienate Alexander. He is my friend. He will not approve if we have
a relationship and things are already tense between you.”
    Irritation with
her brother and with Nico made her voice harsh.
    “My brother
does not run my life. Although he’s doing his level best to
interfere in every single thing. If anything happens between us,
Nico, we should be adult enough to deal with it.” And she hoped to
God she could take her own advice.
    “I am not like
you.” Clenching his jaw, he stared into the night.
    She blinked,
trying to read his hard features.
    “Okay.”
    Then he turned
to her and took a huge breath.
    “Unlike you, I
was not born with certain privileges. I have seen things that you
can never imagine. I am not a man who needs or wants a wife,
children or commitment. I am committed to myself and my business.
That is it.”
    He took her
hand and furious grey eyes glared into hers.
    Her brows
winged into her hairline.
    “That’s
it?”
    Studying her
hand, he frowned, his finger stroking the sensitive soft skin of
her palm. The move sent hot sizzles of awareness to every erogenous
zone in her body.
    “You must
understand I cannot give you what you need.”
    “And you’re the
expert on what I need?”
    She removed her
hand from his. And read doubt, confusion in his dark eyes. Well,
that made