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.A muscle worked in his jaw.“Does it matter?” heasked.“I did what I had to do.For my family.I have no regrets.”Her heart squeezed and broke open.Without thought, she slid her hand across the seat and graspedhis.He threw her a startled look.“Yes, it matters.Have you ever even recognized and mourned theloss of something you loved? Not your father.Your dream.You were getting close to something you’dalways wanted and suddenly it was ripped away from you.I’d be severely pissed off.”She got a chuckle from him but he kept his gaze on the road.“My papa and I had a difficultrelationship,” he admitted.“He looked upon my racing as a dangerous, selfish hobby.Eventually, hepushed me to choose—my career or the family bakery.I chose the circuit, so he told me to leave.Ipacked my stuff, went on the road, and tried making myself a name.But when I got the call that he hada heart attack, and saw him so frail and sick in the hospital, I realized my wishes weren’t as importantas I originally thought.” He shrugged.“I realized sometimes others have to come first.As Papa oncetold me, a real man makes decisions for everyone, not just himself.I owed it to everyone to make thebusiness work, and I did.In a way, I have no regrets.”She stared at him a long time “Do you miss it?”He tilted his head as if considering her question.Then shot her a grin.“Hell, yes.I miss racingevery day.”Dear God, this man was going to break her apart.Not only was he honest, he never viewed hisself-sacrifice in any negative manner.How many men had she dated who whined about anything thatdidn’t please them or fit perfectly into their own wants or needs? No, Michael held a core of beliefsshe’d never experienced with another lover.“Your family is lucky to have you,” she whispered.He didn’t answer.Just squeezed her hand as if he’d never let her go.They reached the vacation home a few hours later.Maggie inwardly laughed at the Contes’ versionof a rental.The elaborate mansion held its own helicopter pad, lagoon, gardens, and hot tubs.Ivyclimbed over the massive brick walls and matching clock tower surrounded by jungle greens andelaborate gardens.The cobblestone path led up a massive staircase where an open terrace heldcomfortable rocking chairs and was connected to a full bar.Polished marble, brightly colored mosaictiles, and rich chocolate browns and gold made up the color scheme.A warm breeze flew through therooms from the open windows, and the scents of lilac and citrus flooded her senses.Her heels clicked on the gleaming tile as Michael grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses fromthe bar, then led her upstairs.One door opened up to a huge bedroom with a king-size platform bed.The balcony doors were opened as if they were expected and the room was already prepared.A fullbouquet of bloodred roses sat on the high table, serving as the centerpiece of the room.She walkedover the rich Oriental carpet, admiring the carefully placed antiques and fine white lace curtains.Then she realized her husband stood to the side, hip propped up against the bureau, studying her fromacross the room.Maggie swallowed.Suddenly, a rush of pure terror overtook her.This whole thing was too much—the bed, the wedding, and her realization of her true feelings for her count.The ground brokebeneath her and she scrambled for footing.Her nails curled into her fists in an urge to grab forleverage.Damned if she’d let her voice shake like a virginal bride.She chided herself for this type ofbehavior and straightened her spine.“Do you want to go to dinner?” she asked.“No.”The blood thickened in her veins.His lip quirked upward in a half smile, as if he sensed hersudden awkwardness.She stuck her chin out and refused to break his gaze.“Do you want to go for a walk in thegardens?”“No.”“Take a swim?”“Nope.”She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide the obvious thrust of her nipples.“Well, what doyou want to do? Just stand there making googly eyes at me?”“No.I want to make love to my wife.”Grief ripped through her.His wife.God, how she wanted it to be real.“Don’t say that,” she hissed.Maggie grabbed on gratefully to the anger that burned in her blood.“I’m not really your wife and we both know it.You promised to leave me alone.No sex.”He closed the distance and took her in his arms.The concern and tenderness on his face broke herin two.“La mia tigrotta, what is wrong? I would never do anything you didn’t want.” He stroked herhair back from her face and tipped her chin up.“This is a lie.” She blinked back blinding tears, enraged at her weakness before him.“We’re alie.”His breath rushed over her lips and he kissed her gently, slipping his tongue inside to tenderlymate.She longed to fight him but her body weakened under each hot stroke and his musky scent.Sheopened for him and gave back, digging her fingers into his shoulders as every carved muscle pressedagainst her curves.Slowly, he lifted his head.Inky dark eyes seethed with a blistering heat that seared through her andcrashed every ounce of resistance.“No, Maggie,” he said fiercely.“This is not a lie anymore.We arenot a lie.I want to make love to you, my wife.Right now
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