Natale looked up when her office door swung open. “I didn’t know you were stopping by, Papa.”

Giovanni Durante closed the door with a quiet click. “Ericka told me you received another envelope today.”

She struggled to keep her expression calm, she had a feeling she knew where he was going with his thinly veiled line of questioning. She was hoping to keep their conversation light. “We get a lot of mail, Papa.” She gestured to the fabric on the table. “Three boxes of fabric came today, you should see the quality-”

A gruff sound of irritation was her answer from her father. “Natale, stop trying to distract me. It will not work.” Still he ventured closer to look at a watered silk that was near the edge of the table. Touching the fabric with a reverent caress he continued on, “Until this threat to you has ended. I’ve hired you a bodyguard.”

“Papa, no!” She gave her father a long-suffering look that bordered between begging and exasperation. “We’ve discussed this-”

“No,” his tone was stern but tinged with warmth and more than a measure of laughter, “I’ve discussed this. You told me no.”

She ran her hands over the recently delivered pile of luxurious fabrics, feeling the raised embroidery tickling the tips of her fingers. “Please, Papa. We’ve been over this-”

“Yes, we have, Natale.” He leaned on the edge of the table, his perpetually well-manicured nails touching the polished wood with a soft tap tap. “And you’ve ignored my wishes. Today, that stops.”

“Papa, please.” Her voice had climbed higher than her usual contralto. “We don’t have the money.”

She heard her father’s sudden intake of breath and saw pain watering his eyes. “Natale, Vita Mia… my life, without you at my side, none of this,” he gestured toward the wall where over a hundred years of fashion photographs marched across the wall in a chronological history of the Durante Fashion house, “matters one bit. If I had to sell every last thing I own, I would gladly do it.”

She felt a knot twist in her stomach. When her father got that tone in his voice, there was no arguing. Not at all. Natale sighed, the same sigh she’d used since her childhood when her father sat her down to instruct her in the correct way to line a bodice, or finish a dart. This wasn’t something she was going to get to argue about. Turning away from her fabric she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

When he spoke, she could hear the indulgent tone in his voice. “I know you don’t think this is a serious threat, but when I spoke to the gentleman at Orsino Security, he thought it was serious enough to take the assignment. When he arrives later today, you will give him your full attention. Please, Natale, for my sake, will you-”

“Yes, Papa, for you.” She gave him a hug, enjoying the strength in his arms as he returned the gesture.

When she stepped back, she saw a genuine smile on his lips.

“I’m so relieved, Natale. You have made your father happy, yet again. Now come,” he gestured to the pile of elegant fabrics on the desk, “tell me what it is you have planned for these.”

* * *

In the workroom, Ericka let out a low whistle around the straw of her Frappuccino. “So you’re going to have a bodyguard?” She giggled and took a long sip. “Sweet.”

“No,” Natale set down her Gingher shears, “it’s not sweet. We have our first New York Fashion Week show for the Bellezza line in less than a week. I don’t have time to deal with some wannabe cop with a gun.”

“You never know,” Ericka narrowed her eyes at her best friend, “he could be a hawt wannabe.” Another long sip almost drained her Frappuccino.

Natale groaned. “Stop teasing me!! You know I can’t have those anymore.”

“Oops.” Ericka took her last sip, emptying the cup and dropped it into the wastebasket under the cutting table. “Sorry, they had a special flavor today.”

Rolling her eyes, Natale grabbed for her tape measure and then her clipboard for the model’s 3-D measurement scans. Natale was always struggling with her weight, a problem that Ericka didn’t have with her lithe figure, but it didn’t usually bother Natale. “Right, that’s the reason why you’re trying to kill me. A special flavor?”

Ericka winced and then relaxed into a shoulder shrug. “It was a gooood one.” Her soft laugh was punctuated with a hiss of carnal appreciation. “Hot yummy caramel.”

That turned Natale’s head. “Wait, you don’t like caramel.”

She watched as Ericka pointed toward the door. “I’d swallow it whole if it looked like him.”

Natale turned to look at the doorway and regretted it a moment later. She didn’t need a distraction, couldn’t afford one with everything she had to do, but the man standing in the doorway was just that. A complete and utter distraction. Given her eye for measurements, he was nearing six feet five, with broad shoulders and a muscular form that rivaled that of the Rock. Granted, she’d never seen the actor in her workroom, but she’d walked past him and his wife at the Victoria Secret fashion show the year before. As gorgeous as the actor was, he’d never looked ‘this’ good, not even in her dreams. Dark hair which had that carelessly perfect tousled look and a beard and mustache that she knew would tickle against her skin. Every inch was another exercise for her self-control, but when her gaze touched on his hands she had to swallow against the knot in her throat so she could breathe. She really couldn’t care less, she told herself. He was going to be gone in a moment as soon as he realized he’d walked into the wrong room.

Until then, she was willing to keep staring. He could probably do her a solid if she skipped lunch. She’d be willing to go without dinner if it came to that.

“Girl,” Ericka let out a low whistle, “you better get on that before Caprice sees him.”

The mention of her cousin did nothing to make Natale relax. It only made her skin itch and her stomach ache. Caprice would catch his eye in a heartbeat. With her honey blonde hair and willowy body, her bow-like lips and doe-like eyes, she was definitely the one that people recognized when they thought of Durante Fashion House. If this man saw Caprice-

“What difference does it make?” Natale shook her head, but he didn’t seem to notice. “He’s probably lost and looking for-”

“Natale Durante?”

She couldn’t move. Didn’t dare. The sound of her name on his firm lips had turned her legs to mush and the rest of her into a warm quivering mess, it was deep and heavy. The gravely scratch was nearly a growl and she wanted to hear more of it. She could feel the vibrations of it tracing over her skin.

He crossed the workroom, passing cutting tables and mirrors one long stride at a time. Everyone stopped to watch. Correction, everyone stopped to salivate, including Ericka. He didn’t look at the other people in the room. He didn’t even begin to turn his head as he rounded the table and stopped in front of her. Taking the card in his hand he slipped it into his coat pocket. “Are you Natale Durante?”

He was staring at her, but Natale couldn’t seem to make a sound, not when she was busy memorizing every inch of his gorgeous face.

“Miss?”

She saw his mouth move, but it was her best friend who brought her back to the moment at hand. Ericka elbowed Natale as she leaned forward to hold out her hand.

“I’m Ericka,” she shook his hand and then let go of it with a sigh, “Natale’s best friend, assistant, and I’m happy to volunteer for whatever you need her to do.”

He deftly pulled his hand from her grasp before he settled his eyes on Natale, again.

With a sudden indrawn breath she forced a smile on her face. It was better than staring at him with open-mouthed wonder. After measuring and sewing her whole life, she was sure the exquisitely tailored suit that he wore was only hiding a muscular and extremely fit body. She was sure that even with her curvy form, he could probably bench-press her.

The thought rolled through her only to be followed by an image in her head of him pressing her, against a wall, and her mouth went dry while her knees went weak. “Yes,” she wanted to wince at the breathy need in her tone, but she shrugged it away and met his eyes with the same aplomb that had gotten her through press interviews with some semblance of sanity, “I’m Natale.”

A moment later, she was sure that she’d lost what was left of her mind. His eyes darkened and maybe it was because she’d had a good six hours of sleep in two days that her brain said his eyes had gone black as he looked at her. She sucked in a breath of surprise, but before she could say anything, he shocked her again.

“You need to come with me.”

“I need to- what?”

“I’m here to take care of you.”

Natale was fairly sure her lower jaw had fallen straight to the ground. The rumbling growl in his voice had rolled right over her like a steam train, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the reaction of her staff.

She heard Ericka’s moan and then her low appreciative whistle. “Yes, sir.”

Then Natale heard the silence instead of the normally crazy blast of sound that seemed to fill her workroom. She may not have perfect vision, but she could see the room at a glance, and the half a dozen seamstresses and fitters were staring at her, watching the unfolding drama with rapt attention.

That wasn’t going to work. This wasn’t going to work, not with less than a week to go before their show.

“No.” She leaned toward him when she said the word and just as quickly leaned back when she heard a huff of sound from his lips. “We’re not doing this. I,” she heard her voice raise in both volume and intensity, “am not doing this.” She pointed at the door. “Thanks for stopping in for whatever this is, but you can leave now.”

Stepping back again, she looked around the room and knew that she had everyone’s attention. “I’m going to take a few minutes, and then I’ll be right back. So let’s get to work, we don’t have time for distractions like this. Yes?”

Her whole team seemed to hit the afterburners, everyone lurched into motion, even though they all seemed to move just for the sake of looking like they’d taken her directions to heart.

She spared a glance for Ericka, who was the only one who hadn’t jumped into motion. Her best friend gave her a pointed look and an eloquent raised brow before she slid a glance at the man standing before them. With a low whistle, she spun on her heel and walked away.

Her head was full of confusing thoughts, her heart beating out a frantic rhythm that she hadn’t felt in forever. And as she walked she grumbled under her breath, coming to a stop just a few feet from her door.

Turning around, she saw him standing a few feet away, almost too close for comfort. In fact, who was she trying to kid? Having this man within fifty feet was too close for comfort.

He was built. There was no hiding that fact, or that he didn’t seem to make a sound when he moved. But he was also imposing and sexy as hell.

“You were told to leave.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but when his brow lifted over his right eye, she had the distinct impression that he was humoring her. On top of that, she was fairly sure that if he wanted to, he could just pick her up and take her with him. To spend a few moments wrapped in his arms, that might not be all that bad.

But that know-it-all expression got under her skin. It always did.

With a frustrated groan, she continued down the hallway. A reflection in an office window told her that he was a step behind her. How could a man that big, move that quietly? She paused just outside her door and swung around, pushing a finger into his chest.

“You can’t just follow me!”

Like a dark cloud over the head of an old-time cartoon character, he loomed over her as she turned away. She took in a breath and scented his cologne. Dear God, why does he have so smell that good?

She kept her head held high, and struggled to come up with an idea that didn’t involve her hiding in her office with a chair under the doorknob. An opening door at the end of the hallway gave her an idea that might allow her a few moments of space, some breathing room.

Putting an extra burst of energy in her steps she hustled down the hall, ignoring the frustrated huff of sound that blew from his parted lips.

She groaned inwardly. How could she know his lips were parted? How was it that she’d memorized nearly every inch of his face even though she’d only known him for a few minutes? Usually she saw people in dimensions, proportions. But with this man, she saw strength and energy, heat and raw power. She saw hands and skin and she felt. Felt emotions and need and recognized that it was her own. That scared her more than deadlines, more than failure. She wasn’t a person who enjoyed casual touches, hugs made her shudder with anxiety, but she wanted to feel his touch and to tremble under the exploration of his mouth.

Natale pushed the door to the bathroom open and stepped inside, making a beeline for the sinks. The barely out of date marble and brass features of the room made the enclosed space cold and impersonal, just what she needed. And when the cold water splashed into her palms, she gasped at the rush of pain and pleasure at the sudden chill.

“Natale-”

And the cold vanished, only to be replaced by a rush of heat. “Seriously?” She spun around, putting the counter at her back. “I don’t even know you and you want to ‘take care of me?’”

“I’m Salvatore Orsino.” His tone fairly echoed in the small room. Instead of making her feel small, the sound of his voice caressed her like a touch and got under her skin even more. “I’m the head of Orsino Security. Your father hired me to keep you safe.”

“That’s great, really, but I don’t need your help.” His heavy accent was enough to make her tremble, she loved the rich round syllables of the Italian language. Romance languages were great on the whole, but maybe it was because her family originated in Italy that she really liked the sound of the language. The gorgeous tone of his voice was enough to make her shiver, but she wasn’t about to let him know how much he affected her. She was trying to make him go away, not lift her up onto the counter and… she forced her thoughts into the back of her head. “This is a private bathroom.”

He leaned his hip on the edge of the counter and settled his eyes on her face. “This isn’t open to discussion. I’ve made my decision. You need to let me do my job.”

“All you’re doing is irritating me.” She leaned both hands on the counter top and let out a huff of breath. “Please, can’t you just wait outside?”

“It’s too far from you.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, struggling to get herself under control. She didn’t need to snap at him. It wasn’t his fault that her father had dragged him into the whole situation. “I have work to do, and if you’re hovering near me,” she sighed, “I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

The echo of his voice touched her skin like a caress.

“No,” she answered him, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

She felt the heat of his skin against her cheek, the weight of him against her back, even though they weren’t even touching.

He took a step closer, and she held out her hand, flattening her palm against his chest. The touch was enough to steal her breath. “Stop. Don’t come so close to me,” the words whispered from her lips, “I can’t think.”

She didn’t have to look up into his face to know he was smiling. She could feel it. And she wanted to wipe that smug look off of his face, but she knew that touching his bare skin would be a huge mistake.

“Look, I don’t want to argue. I know you’re only here because of my father. And I appreciate that, Mr. Orsino-”

“Call me Salvatore.”

Whoa, add that to the list of things she was not going to do, ever. Calling him by his first name was definitely not going to happen. She was trying to fire him, not make a personal connection between them.

“Mr. Orsino,” she repeated, “you can stay in the workroom, until I talk to my father and get this all worked out. But you will sit or stand beside the door. The front door,” she clarified, “and I expect you not to distract anyone from their work.”

He nodded, a short movement that said he agreed to her terms. “I just need to know that you won’t leave the workroom without me.”

She gave him a look that told him exactly what she thought of his edict. “The only ways I get out of this space are that front door, or a window onto a catwalk,” she turned and gestured in the direction of the south wall, the rest of her words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them, “and I only used the catwalk when we had a fire on an upper floor. I nearly had to grease my hips with butter to get them out of the window.”

Realizing what she’d just said, she looked back up with a hot flush in her cheeks, only to find her built bodyguard taking a long thorough look at her hips. When he lifted his gaze back to her face, she saw his eyes go dark again.

She didn’t care if it made her crazy, but she liked the way he looked at her. And that made Salvatore Orsino even more dangerous than the reason he’d been hired.

“So,” she struggled to steady her hands as she gestured to the door, “you’ll remain at the door and try not to disrupt our workroom and I agree that once we’re done for the day, we’ll talk over this assignment you think you have to take care of me.”

He opened his mouth to speak and she held up her hand.

“Nod or shake.”

He moved closer, leaning toward her until she was nearly breathing him in. His eyes roamed over her face, a lazy smile curving his full lips between his mustache and beard. When his lips passed within a hair of her palm he grinned until his teeth shone white between his suntanned skin and firm lips. He tilted his chin down in a nod. The rough scratch of his mustache tickled down her palm, sending shivers through her body.

And then he was gone, walking to the door with confident strides, and all she could do was stare at the way his suit hugged his form. Sure, she’d been all straightforward sass with him, but she couldn’t deny to herself that Salvatore Orsino was one man who could take her mind off of Fashion Week. This persistent bodyguard could do more damage than anything else if she let him.

She watched him pull the door open and wait for her to leave the room, his intense chocolate stare warming her all over. Lifting her chin in the air, she walked past him with a resolute stride and her heart quickening in her chest.