Italian Rhapsody

She shivered involuntarily when he measured her. His big hand was warm and hard against the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

Standing quickly, he pulled out the notepad. His hand shook so badly, he had to wait a couple of seconds before he wrote down her other measurements. He had suggested weighing and measuring her as a scare tactic, one that might put an end to this ridiculous bargain they'd made. But all his "scare" tactic had done was make her dig her heels in, more determined than ever to prove herself to him. And his actions had also given him a raging hard-on. If Roxie thought she'd made a pact with the devil, she was right. He was the kind of man who did whatever was necessary to win, no matter who got hurt. But what he hadn't counted on was that it bothered his conscience to hurt her.

Very early the following morning, Daniel hesitated outside Roxie's door. He glanced down at his wristwatch. Fifteen minutes after five. Lifting his hand, he formed a fist and knocked softly. For the life of him, he wasn't quite sure why he hated disturbing her. He thought he had talked himself out of feeling sorry for her. After all, she was the one who had agreed to this bargain, who had insisted on being stubborn and unrelenting. It wasn't his fault if she didn't have sense enough to know she wasn't capable of undertaking a dangerous mission that required the kind of physical stamina she didn't possess.

He had put her through a fairly rigorous routine yesterday, especially for someone unaccustomed to daily physical exercise. She had panted and heaved and grunted and sweated. But not once had she begged for mercy. Not once had she refused to do what he asked. She'd been so exhausted that she'd almost fallen asleep during dinner and had gone to bed immediately following the meal. He'd been tempted to check on her before he went to bed, but he hadn't. He on the other hand had showered and jerked off.

He knocked again. No response. Maybe her alarm hadn't gone off. Or maybe she'd turned off the alarm and gone back to sleep. She was probably irritable since every muscle in her body was bound to be sore from yesterday's workout.

"Roxie? Are you awake?"

"Yes," he heard her groan.

"Are you decent?"

"If you're asking if I have on any clothes, then yes, I'm decent. I'm still in my nightgown."

He opened the door and walked in. Frowning when he looked into the bedroom and saw her still in bed, he marched through the sitting room and straight to her bedside. He flung back the covers.

Roxie screeched.

"Get up and get ready. I thought you understood the importance of being on time for your exercises."

"If I could get up, I would." She lay on her side, her gown bunched up around her hips, her full, shapely body exposed from just under her buttock cheeks to her toenails.

Instinctively, he leaned over and swatted her on the behind.

She cried out in pain.

"I didn't hit you that hard," he said. "What's wrong with you?"

"For your information, Mr. Fox, my body is in agony. There isn't one inch of me that isn't aching. I'm so sore I can barely move."

"It's only natural that you'd be sore from all the exercise you did yesterday. The best thing for you is to get up and work the soreness out of your body." When he grabbed her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position, she screamed in pain. He released her immediately. "Damn it!"

"Don't you dare curse at me, you...you...slave driver, you! If you hadn't pushed me so hard, expected me to jump through hoops for you, I wouldn't be in this shape."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you'd had enough, that you couldn't take any more? I would have slowed down." He noted how pale her face was since he'd forced her to sit. "All you had to do was say the word and we could have stopped."

"And have you call me a quitter?" She glared at him, her green eyes focusing on his face. "No way was I going to give you an excuse to call off our deal."

"Damn, stubborn, idiotic female," Daniel said, then lowered his voice and grumbled a few choice curse words that she couldn't hear. "Just stay where you are. I'll be back in a minute."

When he went into her bathroom, she called out to him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you a hot bath ready. You need to soak those tired muscles. Then, after your bath, I'll give you a massage and work out some of the soreness."

"How do you suggest I get to the tub? Crawl?"

Daniel chuckled. "Are you that sore?"

"You're being a total jerk about this, you know. But I shouldn't have expected anything else from you, should I?"

He walked out of the bathroom and hovered in the doorway. "Don't be so glum. You'll live."

"There's not one spot on my body that doesn't feel sore. Even my hair seems to hurt."

"After a good hot soak and a massage, you should be able to go for our morning trek around the swamp and then do a few laps in the pool." He grinned wickedly. "After that, you can take the rest of the day off. We'll check out the obstacle course in the late afternoon and get in a little target practice, too."

Roxie groaned. "You're too kind," she said sarcastically. "I can hardly wait to see the scene of my future torture. And the thought of handling a deadly weapon doesn't excite me."

"Get your butt in motion, lady." Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed her from the top of her tousled black hair to the tips of her toes. "I'd carry you to the bathtub if I didn't think I'd throw my back out doing it." He'd made the statement as a joke, but the moment he saw the stricken look on her face, he wished the words back. He'd hurt her feelings again. He saw it in her misty eyes, her clenched jaw, her flushed cheeks. Why the heck should he care that he'd hurt her feelings? The meaner, the more rotten he'd treat her, the more likely she'd give up this insane notion of training for a dangerous mission into Sicily seething with Mafia gangsters. The more she hated him, the better. If she hated him, she wouldn't get any romantic notions about him.

When Roxie tried to crawl out of bed, she gasped, then bit down on her bottom lip and continued the effort. By the time she was on her feet, her face was as pale as chalk, sweat coated her forehead and tears trickled down her cheeks.

Suddenly Daniel felt like the jerk she had accused him of being. She was in obvious pain. Any fool could see how badly she was hurting. He had done this to her. Pushing her beyond her limits in his effort to make her run. He had convinced himself that she had sense enough to tell him when she'd had enough. Obviously her stubbornness and determination had overruled her common sense. And his own stubbornness and determination had endangered someone he had been hired to protect. Without saying another word to her, he rushed across the room, lifted her into his arms and headed toward the bathroom. She cried out when he swept her off her feet. Hastily, she threw her arm around his neck.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her startled, tear-filled eyes fixed on his face. "Put me down. I'd never forgive myself if you threw your back out."

"Shut up, will you? You might not be a lightweight, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm a big, strong man." When he reached the bathtub, filled with steaming-hot water, he eased her feet down to the floor and felt a twinge of sympathy when she gasped in pain. He undid the top button on her gown, but she slapped away his hands.

"Now what do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you undress."

"I think I can manage," she told him. "Go away and leave me alone."

"Maybe I should wait outside, just in case you need me."

"I won't need you."

"Okay. I'll go down to the kitchen and get breakfast ready and bring it up here. We can eat before I massage the kinks out of your sore muscles."

He was gone before Roxie could reply. She stood on wobbly legs, her stomach queasy, her hands shaky. Unbuttoning her gown proved to be easy compared to easing her sore arms through the sleeves. Why had she been such a fool yesterday? Why had she allowed him to goad her into over-exerting herself like she had? She blamed him for being such an overbearing taskmaster, for pushing her beyond her limit. But she had to take at least partial blame for allowing him to drive her so hard. After dropping her gown down her hips and onto the tiled floor, she lifted one leg over and into the tub, testing the water. Groaning as pain sliced up her calf, through her thigh and into her hip, almost causing her to collapse in pain. She cautiously lifted her other leg, slid down into the whirlpool and immersed herself in the hot water.

Twenty minutes later, Daniel knocked on the bathroom door. "Time to get out. Just wrap yourself in a towel and come on in here. Coffee is hot."

She shook her head. No. Absolutely not. He was crazy if he thought she was going to parade around in front of him in nothing but a towel. By nature and her upbringing, she was a modest woman. Exposing herself to him in her bathing suit had been unnerving. The very thought of presenting her body to him for a massage was unthinkable, especially if she was covered with only a towel.

She eased up and out of the tub, wrapped a towel turban-like around her wet head and dried her body slowly, being careful not to stretch too much in the effort. After slipping into her gown, she walked out of the bathroom. The hot bath had helped ease her sore muscles a little, but she was still aching so much that she doubted her body would ever fully recover.

Standing in the sitting-room doorway, he held a cup of coffee out to her. She accepted the black coffee. She preferred sweet, creamy, strong coffee, but Daniel had pointed out yesterday that sugar and cream were not on her diet.

"Thanks." Lifting the mug to her lips, she sipped the strong brew. "The hot bath helped some. I don't think a massage is necessary."

"Let's eat breakfast." He nodded to the round, cloth-covered table where he had placed their meal.

She followed him to the table. Acting gentlemanly for the first time since she'd met him, he pulled out a chair and seated her. "Thank you."

"Eat up." He removed the cover from the breakfast tray, revealing two bowls of dry cereal, a pitcher of milk and two glasses of orange juice.

"Don't tell me that you and I are actually going to eat the same thing for breakfast this morning. You can't test my willpower if you don't eat something tempting, the way you did yesterday."

Daniel sat opposite her, lifted the pitcher of milk and doused his cereal. "All right, I admit that I went a little overboard yesterday, in every way. It was cruel of me to eat bacon and eggs in front of you, while you had to eat non-fat yogurt."

"Yes, it was cruel. And petty and mean and..."

"Let's just agree that I acted like a real bastard yesterday...I mean a jerk, and leave it at that." When he noted the disapproving frown on her face, he groaned. Look Ms. Serbati, I am not going to clean up my language for you."

Glancing away, she set down her coffee cup and picked up her juice glass. They ate in silence, each avoiding eye contact with the other. The minute she finished the last bite of cereal, he scooted back his chair and stood.

"Go lie on the bed, facedown," he said. "A massage should get out enough kinks so you can get in your morning walk and swim."

"I don't need a massage. I'll be all right without it."

"This is a perfect example of why I don't want to take you into Sicily." He jerked her chair away from the table, grabbed her arms and drew her to her feet. "In a dangerous situation, I couldn't afford the time to argue with you, to try to convince you to follow my orders. Your stubbornness could cost us both our lives."

"We aren't in Sicily, and this is hardly a life-or-death situation." She glared down at his big hands tightly holding her arms.

"No, but this is a part of your training. Obedience to my commands and punctuality are as crucial as your physical training."

"Oh, all right." Roxie pulled away from him. "Give me the damn...massage." She whirled around and stomped off into the bedroom.

The sound from Daniel's throat was a combination of groan and chuckle. Damn. He supposed that was the closest Roxie ever came to cursing.

She flopped, facedown, on the bed. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get this over with."

He hesitated momentarily as he braced himself for what was to come. Roxie needed this massage, but it wasn't going to be easy putting his hands on her body and remain unaffected. Usually, when he touched a woman, it was for one reason and one reason only...foreplay. Already he had masturbated twice. His sex stirred to life just at the thought. He retrieved a bottle of massage oil from the bathroom, then crawled onto the bed and straddled Roxie's hips.

She stiffened and didn't move a muscle or say a word, but her breathing accelerated and deepened. Removing the towel from around her hair, he lifted the long, black mass off her back, separated it into two sections and laid them across the bed on each side of her head.

"Unbutton your gown and ease it down to your waist," he told her.

"Is that really necessary?" Cocking her head to one side, she craned her neck and looked up at him, wincing as she did so.

"No, it's not necessary." Reaching behind him, he clutched the hem of her gown and lifted it. "If you'd rather, I can pull your gown up to your neck and..."

"No!" She wriggled beneath him, her hips brushing his thigh. "I'll unbutton my stupid gown."

After she undid her gown, he helped her ease the garment to her waist. She lay beneath him, her large breasts flattened into the mattress, and held her breath, waiting for him to touch her.

Daniel squirted some of the jasmine-scented oil into his hands, spread it across Roxie's naked back, then grasped her shoulders. The moment he encompassed her shoulders, she tensed.

"Relax, Roxie."

"I'm trying."

Within five minutes, she was prepared to conclude that Daniel's touch was pure magic. He rubbed and kneaded her neck, shoulders, back and arms. With each stroke, the pain intensified and then subsided, leaving her weak and relaxed. Then he lifted her gown to her upper thighs and began working on her feet and legs. She had never experienced anything quite so gloriously hedonistic. She sighed when he massaged her thigh, one hand kept going between her legs, his fingers biting into her flesh, occasionally brushing against her feminine folds. Every time she felt his fingertips getting near her feminine core, she instinctively moved against the gentle touch. Quivers of awareness spiraled out and over her nerve endings. Pinpricks of sensual pleasure alerted her to danger. She was sure she was going to climax soon if he didn't stop. Her nipples tightened. Her feminine core clenched and unclenched. This shouldn't be happening, she thought. This is wrong, and...sinful. But if she made him stop, would he taunt her, telling her that she was weak and not capable of seeing a job through to the finish?

You don't want to stop him, an inner voice told her. Admit the truth to yourself. You are enjoying this, enjoying the way he makes you feel. And you want more; so much more from him. Again, she thought about letting him make love to her, over and over again.

He knew he should put an end to the massage. He'd been a fool to think he could touch this woman and not want to make love to her. During the past fifteen minutes, he'd gotten hard as a rock and stayed that way. The more he touched her, the more he wanted to touch her.

What would it be like, he wondered, to teach this sweet innocent about the pleasures of the flesh? He'd never had sex with an inexperienced woman before, not even when he'd been an untutored boy with raging hormones. His first time, when he was fourteen, had been with a friend's older sister; seventeen-year-old Maria, a Latin beauty, and she had been a talented lover, but in reality she had been a porn star, and had been sexually active since she was of a very young age; an unbelievable eleven years old. A fifteen year old boy had taken her virginity. The poor boy hadn't really taken her virginity, more like she had her way with him, not giving him much of a choice, and had also taken his virginity in the process.

During the message, he softened his touch, turning the massage from therapeutic to sensual, waiting to see if she would protest? Or would she succumb to the pleasure? He was sure she would succumb. Already he could feel her arousal; felt her move slightly whenever his fingers neared her sex.

Daniel fought a war within himself. His libido urged him to discover the unknown, to take what was before him...and his conscience be damned. But his mind warned him that if he pursued this any further, he would regret his actions.

If he made love to her, she would expect more from him than he was willing to give. More than he had in him to give.

No matter how much he might enjoy the experience of seducing a virgin, he had no right to take away Roxie's innocence and give her nothing in return... nothing except a few fleeting moments of pleasure. She was the kind of woman who would want and need and expect love and a commitment. He could offer her neither.

He yanked her gown down to cover her legs, then lifted the bodice and pulled it up her back. "That should do it." He slapped her beautifully rounded behind. "Get dressed while I clear away our breakfast." He shot up off the bed. "Meet me outside as soon as you're ready."

Roxie lay on the bed for several minutes, stunned by the intensity of the pleasure he had given her. She had wanted to protest, to cry out and beg him not to leave her, to continue touching her, caressing her. She was sure she had been on the verge of an orgasm.

Moaning into the covers, she curled up into a ball. "Idiot," she mumbled into the sheet. Daniel was giving you a massage, not making love to you. You don't interest him in the least, remember that. He could have his pick of women. Why would he want you?

A week later, after a long day of exercises, Roxie went for a walk amongst the trees. Daniel wouldn't be back for another hour so she decided to head back to the house and take a swim in the pool. Kneeling down at the pool's edge, she dipped her hand into the it and tested the water. It was invitingly cool, and she was hot and sweaty from her day of workouts.

Stripping, she let her attire lay where they fell and, pinning up her long hair, she got into the pool and floated on her back, her breasts poking out of the water, the hard nipples pointing straight up. Before long she was happily swimming and then leisurely floating about the pool. The late afternoon sunlight dappled the water, and she freer and so relaxed than she had since coming here with Daniel. Turning to swim to the pool's ladder to get out, she was startled to see Daniel hunkering by her clothes and regarding her with amusement. Her feet touched the bottom rung, and she regarded him, half angry, half shy.

"Come out, my little Italian beauty. You will shrivel your lovely skin."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?" His face grew worried. "Do you have a cramp?"

"I'm...I'm not accustomed to being naked around men."

"I can change all that." He grinned at her.

"Please, Daniel..." Her eyes pleaded with him, but he was not to be swayed.

"If you don't come out, my little mermaid, then I shall come in." Chuckling, he removed his shirt. His broad chest was smooth and tanned and very well muscled.

"You will find the water refreshing."

So, she wants to play, thought Daniel, surprised. The little vixen! He stripped his boots and pants off, never noticing that Roxie kept her eyes on his face. Plunging in, he surfaced to discover himself alone in the pool; she had hurriedly climbed out as he dove in, and was frantically trying to get into her clothing. Swimming to the pool's edge, he vaulted out with ease. He was furious, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable.