Temptation's Song (Kimani Romance) Page 6

  “This is a surprise,” Ana said, eyeing Elle speculatively from head to toe.

  “It’s more like a miracle,” Sophia disagreed as she stepped in front of her younger sister to get in Elle’s face. “She’s too young for you, Dominic. What is she, eighteen?”

  Elle laughed. “You have the wrong idea. I’m not…”

  “She’s American,” Ana said excitedly. She glared at her brother. “Why have you kept her a secret?”

  Dominic’s parents and Gianni and Francesca looked on with amusement. They were all aware that Elle was not Dominic’s girlfriend, but the new leading lady in his opera. It was gratifying to watch his sisters lay into him for keeping her a secret. As for Elle, she was too riveted by the drama unfolding before her to interrupt.

  Poor Dominic. Even though he was much bigger than his sisters, could barely hold his own when they got upset with him. Ana was pointing an accusing finger at him and Sophia was giving him the evil eye.

  Dominic threw his hands up in surrender. “Elle was trying to tell you that she’s my leading lady in the new opera, not my lady!”

  “You’re lying,” Sophia said, tossing her braids across her shoulder with a flick of a hand. “Look at her. She’s just your type.”

  Elle was enjoying this. She had never thought she would see Dominic Corelli sweat. He was so take-charge, so confident, it appeared that nothing could get to him. But here he was taking a tongue-lashing from his younger sisters. That must mean one thing: he truly loved and respected them. She liked him even more.

  “He’s telling the truth,” she said, finally coming to his rescue.

  “Prove it,” Sophia challenged Elle.

  “Look,” Dominic said, “you’re just going to have to take my word for it. I didn’t bring Elle here to sing for her supper.”

  “That would be lunch,” Elle joked.

  Everyone laughed.

  “I was speaking figuratively,” Dominic countered with a smile in her direction.

  “Lunch, supper—whichever. I’m hungry, so I’m going to sing,” Elle said. Then she stepped back from Dominic and his nutty sisters and began singing “Ave Maria.” It was Sunday, after all.

  “Oh, my God!” Ana and Sophia exclaimed in unison after hearing the initial notes. They stared at Elle as if they couldn’t believe that sound was coming out of her body.

  Elle sang the song, not in its traditional style, but with a gospel flavor. It was the way she had sung it in her grandfather’s church.

  Natalie had tears in her eyes. Dominic stood smiling at Elle. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He had never been more attracted to her than he was at this moment. She was so generous to humor his sisters in this way. He felt another crack forming in his armor.

  When Elle finished, both Ana and Sophia hugged her in turn.

  “Girl, you can blow!” Ana said, smiling admiringly.

  “I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” Sophia said in earnest. She glared at Dominic. “It’s just that this confirmed bachelor brother of ours doesn’t ever seem to want to settle down, and when we saw you with him we got our hopes up. Forgive us?”

  “It was just a misunderstanding,” Elle graciously said.

  Natalie stepped forward and hugged Elle. “That was so moving,” she whispered. “You’ve got a God-given gift. Never take it for granted.”

  “Bellissima!” Carlo said, kissing her on both cheeks. “The song was lovely, too.”

  Everyone laughed again, after which they sat down to lunch.

  Elle sat between Dominic and Sophia during the meal. Sophia, who worked with her father in their garment-manufacturing business, told her it wasn’t at all glamorous work.

  “But I enjoy watching a garment go from an idea to a ready-to-wear item of clothing. Sometimes I can spot our clothes on the street, and those are the times I feel very proud of our contribution.”

  “What sort of clothing do you specialize in?” Elle asked. She knew very little about the fashion industry. She only knew what she liked to put on her body. Her friend Belana, on the other hand, was a fashion maven.

  “High-end women’s clothing,” Sophia said, “from top to bottom.” She smiled. “That’s Papa’s way of saying we make it all—hats, lingerie, casual, everyday clothing and the dressier fashions for formal occasions like weddings and the opera.”

  “Where can I buy them?”

  “Oh, darling, we ship to stores all over the world,” said Sophia. She lowered her voice. “But you don’t have to buy them. Come to my office one day and I’ll show you around and you can pick out some samples.”

  “Samples?” Elle asked in her ignorance.

  “Pieces of clothing that we used as samples for the buyers, and we simply donate them to charity or allow the employees to take them home,” explained Sophia. “They’re perfectly good clothing. Brand-new and they’re this season’s line, so you can make out like a bandit.”

  “Oh, girl, you’re better than a bargain basement at Saks,” Elle said.

  Sophia laughed. “I know!”

  Feeling a bit left out, Dominic said to his sister, “Will you stop monopolizing Elle? I’d like to get a word in every now and then, too.”

  Sophia smiled knowingly. It wasn’t for her to say, but Dominic seemed to want more from Elle than just conversation. She hoped her hardheaded brother would realize it before too long, and especially before he tried to pull that I’m-married-to-my-work thing on Elle. She liked Elle and thought she deserved more than that.

  Somewhere along the way her brother had started believing his mantra about not falling in love in order to preserve his precious work. He wasn’t fooling anyone but himself.

  “You and Elle are going to be working together, so you’ll have plenty of time to chat,” Sophia said to her irritated brother. “I was just about to ask her if she’s seeing anyone.”

  She turned to Elle with raised brows.

  Elle was reluctant to mention her last boyfriend, Tony, because their breakup had been so humiliating. He was also a member of the chorus at the Met. She’d caught him coming out of a closet with a soprano backstage after a performance. She’d confronted them then and there and was told they had been planning to tell her at the end of the season that they were in love. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t deny his feelings for the other woman any longer. Elle had been mortified when, by the end of their shouting match, half the chorus was standing backstage observing it all. He and the soprano were still members of the chorus.

  Elle sighed now. At least this was some consolation: she wouldn’t have to ever see Tony and his soprano again.

  “No, I’m not seeing anyone,” Elle replied, and left it at that.

  “That’s great,” Sophia said, squeezing Elle’s arm affectionately. “We’ll exchange numbers and stay in touch, and one weekend we can go clubbing together. My boyfriend, Matteo, has some very nice friends who would no doubt love to meet you.”

  Dominic bit his tongue. If he said that Elle would be much too busy rehearsing to go clubbing with Sophia, his sister would jump on it with both feet, demanding to know why he thought he was the arbiter of what Elle did in her spare time. Oh, no, he didn’t want to get into that.

  He was pleasantly surprised when Elle said, “Oh, I can’t promise anything, Sophia. I’m sure your brother is going to try to work me to death once rehearsals start. I may not see the light of day for some time.”

  Sophia smiled. “I understand. He can be a brute to work for. We’ll exchange numbers, anyway. You can call me and complain about him.”

  Elle laughed. “That’s a deal.”

  Dominic grunted irritably and ate a spoonful of strawberry gelato. “Women!”

  Elle and Sophia laughed.

  Later, they retired to the back patio. The men kicked a soccer ball around on the lawn, more than anything else as an amusement for little Gianni, who ran circles around them, whooping it up.

  Elle, Natalie, Sophia, Ana and Francesca sat on lou
nge chairs watching the men and sipping lemonade.

  “He’s having a ball,” Elle said of little Gianni, whose giggles were music to her ears. She loved children and wanted several eventually. She had been lonely as an only child and didn’t wish the same fate on her children.

  “He loves roughhousing,” said Francesca. She had dusky brown skin, clear brown eyes and golden streaks in her abundant wavy brown hair. She patted her belly. “I hope this one is a girl. I don’t know if I’ll survive two daredevil boys.”

  “Congratulations!” cried Elle.

  By the reaction of the other women it was obvious they were already aware of Francesca’s condition.

  Francesca beamed her pleasure. “Thank you. We’re very happy about it.” She looked at her husband and son playing on the grass. Now little Gianni had big Gianni down on his hands and knees and was riding him like a horse. She laughed. Gianni would be worn out by the time they went home this afternoon. When they put little Gianni down for his nap, big Gianni wouldn’t have the energy for their special afternoon activity. She laughed with the other women. She had been looking forward to it.

  “Gianni’s thirty-four now,” she said to Elle. “He thought we should go ahead and have another child while he still has the energy to raise one. And I agreed.”

  “Well, at least your mother and father will have two grandchildren,” Natalie said. “I can’t get my children to give us even one.”

  “You’re not old enough to be a grandmother,” Ana said, smiling at her mother.

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Natalie returned.

  “I’ll give you a grandchild, Momma,” said Sophia. “Just as soon as I convince Matteo to give up the notion that just because I make more money than he does, it doesn’t mean he won’t be the man of the house when we get married.”

  “Italian men,” Francesca groused.

  “I’m not holding my breath,” Natalie said to Sophia.

  “Well, you won’t get any grandchildren from Dominic anytime soon,” Sophia told her. “He’s still convinced that if he falls in love and gets married, his muse will stop inspiring him. Mozart was married and had six kids.”

  “Beethoven never married,” Ana pointed out.

  “Both girls had music lessons when they were young,” Natalie explained to Elle.

  “Beethoven never married because he was gay,” Sophia said, sounding very sure of herself.

  “What makes you think that?” Ana cried. Next to her brother, Beethoven was her favorite composer and she prided herself on knowing everything about him.

  Sophia turned to her sister and began ticking off points on her fingers. “He never was even linked with a woman. His own friends didn’t know of any affairs. All men had affairs back then.”

  “They still have them, my sister,” put in Francesca.

  Undeterred, Sophia continued. “When he died his friends found letters in his house addressed to somebody he called Immortal Beloved. Now, nobody mentioned the sex of this Immortal Beloved person. It was probably a count or some other royal whose identity needed protecting. But I’m not going to argue the point. Our brother’s thinking is off. That’s all I’m saying. Igor Stravinsky, said to be the greatest composer who ever lived, was married more than once. And he composed music well into his seventies. He died at eighty-seven. It could be said that being happily married helped his career. Dominic is full of it.”

  Elle simply sat and listened. This was better than any soap opera on TV. So, Dominic Corelli believed that falling in love and getting married would negatively affect his work. That was good to know. She didn’t know what she would do with the knowledge, but it was good to know.

  “What about you, Elle?” Ana asked. “Are you one of those career-and-nothing-else types?”

  “No,” Elle replied. “I believe you can have a personal life and a professional life.”

  “I do, too,” said Ana. “I just haven’t met the right man.”

  “Neither have I,” Elle said wistfully.

  The men, all breathing hard as if they had played in a real soccer match, invaded the patio and flopped down on chairs. Sophia got up and poured lemonade into glasses for them and handed them around. “So, the Spartans return from the field of battle,” she joked.

  “The Spartans were Greek,” Dominic reminded her.

  “Actually, the Spartans started out as the slaves of the Greeks and fought for and won their freedom from the wimpy Greeks. I think they were Italian with some African thrown in for good measure,” Sophia contradicted. “After all, Africa is only a stone’s throw from Italy.”

  “Good theory,” said Dominic. “Too bad it’s wrong. Sparta was a city-state in ancient Greece. It says so in the history books. And I suggest you return that Gerard Butler movie, 300, to the video store. You’ve seen it quite enough. It’s rotting your brain.”

  “Honey, it’s never enough,” laughed Sophia. “Sometimes that movie’s better than a date on Saturday night.”

  Elle laughed. Sophia was something else!

  On the drive back to her hotel, Dominic kept stealing glances at a silent Elle. She looked pensive, as if something were weighing heavily on her mind.

  “My family really liked you,” he finally said.

  She turned to smile at him. “I liked them, too,” she said.

  “Good, because I’m sure Sophia is going to make good on her threat of taking you clubbing to meet men. She loves to dance.”

  “How about you? Do you dance?”

  Dominic was experiencing the effect again of being turned on by the sound of her voice. In the confines of the car her voice was so intimate that he felt as if it were caressing his skin. As if she were gently blowing on his naked body.

  “All Italian men love to dance—it’s in our blood. You know, the Latin lover,” he joked.

  Dominic wasn’t the only one whose senses were assaulted by thoughts of luxurious sensual pleasure. Elle imagined being in his arms on the dance floor, their bodies entwined. In her imagination his hand was at the base of her spine, the feel of it sending sparks of intense pleasure along every pulse point of her body.

  Her nipples hardened as her imagination ripened and he pulled her close and kissed her deeply while molding her body to his.

  “Elle?”

  Caught daydreaming, she sighed softly and regarded him with innocent eyes. “Yes?”

  “Care to share what you were just thinking?” The mischievous glint in his eyes told her he could guess what kind of thoughts had been going through her feverish mind.

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “Care to share what you think I was thinking of?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I didn’t think so,” she said with a smile, and looked away. She pretended to admire the passing countryside. The Corellis’ villa was a few miles outside the city limits. Their route followed several winding roads that required a driver’s strict attention.

  Elle was glad of it because that meant Dominic had to concentrate on his driving and wouldn’t be trying to engage her in continuous conversation.

  She was thinking of what Sophia had said about her brother. Was that really how Dominic felt about love and marriage? Not that Elle thought she stood a chance with him.

  But up until today she had been able to dream that maybe, one day, he would begin to see her as something other than a good singer.

  She was so attracted to him. No, attraction wasn’t a strong enough word. She had been attracted to Tony. What she felt for Dominic Corelli bordered on the addictive. His presence had a pull on her body, and her mind. She literally ached to be touched by him. Was it because he was so overwhelmingly masculine and just plain hot? Or was it because she respected his genius? Genius could be very sexy. Intelligence in a man had always been enticing to her.

  She closed her eyes. Why did she always want what she couldn’t have? Was that some kind of trick the gods pulled on humans just for their entertainment? She was in Italy, an ancient country where t
he gods had once been worshipped. Did they still linger here as spirits, causing mischief, making a mere mortal fall for someone who was incapable of returning that love?

  Admiring his profile, she gave a barely perceptible sigh, filled with longing.

  Stop it, she firmly told herself. I’ve got the job. Be remarkable at it. Bring the house down every night. Make each show a wonderful experience for the audience. Hopefully I’ll have a long run. Then I can go back to New York triumphant. But don’t start dreaming that I’m going back home with Dominic Corelli on my arm. That dream’s too big.

  At her hotel, Dominic parked and turned off the ignition. Elle turned to him and forced a smile. Why couldn’t she shake this melancholy feeling?

  “Thanks. I had a good time,” she said softly.

  Dominic fought the urge to reach out and gently touch her face. The gesture would be inappropriate. He smiled back instead, and said, “I’m glad.”

  Elle moistened her lips with a flick of her tongue, and seeing that small action was almost his undoing. He wanted to taste her. He knew it would be a flavor he would never tire of, as addictive as any drug.

  But he was technically her boss now. He couldn’t cross the boundaries that existed between them. “Elle, I…”

  “Yes?” she asked. Was her tone as hopeful as he imagined it to be? Did she hope for more between them than they already had? The expression in her beautiful eyes was expectant. Did she want him as much as he wanted her?

  He leaned forward just a little. She leaned in also. Their eyes, if nothing else, were devouring each other. Never had the temptation been so great for him to simply grab a woman and kiss her. But it wouldn’t stop there and he knew it. When he kissed Elle Jones, that is, if he ever kissed Elle Jones, their next step would be the bedroom. He knew that with every ounce of his being.

  Their mouths were just inches apart now. Dominic breathed in her essence and tried to be satisfied with just that sustenance.

  Elle demurely lowered her eyes. Someone had to be strong enough to stop this nonsense. The sexual tension was thick enough to be seen with the naked eye. But neither of them was free to act on it.