Tempted by Desire Read online

  Read this classic romance by USA TODAY bestselling author Carole Mortimer, now available for the first time in e-book!

  Tempted by the Italian…

  Suzanne Hammond has spent most of her life alone. Her father hopped from one wife to the next, sending Suzanne to boarding school as soon as he could. So when her father dies and her stepmother unexpectedly invites her on a luxury trip to London, Suzanne jumps at the chance!

  Meeting suave, Italian Conte Cesare Martino is an added bonus—especially when his desire for Suzanne is as fiery as his touch! But little does Suzanne know that another woman plans to rival her affections…

  Originally published in 1979

  Tempted by Desire

  Carole Mortimer

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘Do stand up straight, Suzanne!’ snapped Celeste, herself coolly and sophisticatedly beautiful in a green halter-necked sun-dress, a perfect foil for her shoulder-length auburn hair. The two of them had just entered the hotel lounge, its quiet luxury exactly to Celeste’s liking. This holiday was costing enough, so why not expect and receive the best? She looked critically at her stepdaughter. ‘And do take that expression off your face!’

  Suzanne looked at her with wide green eyes. ‘What expression?’ she asked innocently.

  ‘What expression!’ Celeste scoffed cruelly. ‘The one of self-pity you’ve been sporting all week. You look like a lamb for the slaughter. Anyone would think it was you who had to marry an old man simply for his money.’

  Suzanne cringed at the crudeness of her stepmother’s words. ‘Neither of us needs to marry anyone!’ she objected. ‘It’s just you!’

  ‘I don’t intend to live in poverty for the rest of my life.’ Celeste’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. ‘If that father of yours hadn’t wasted and frittered away all his money, none—’

  ‘Now that’s enough!’ Suzanne’s words came out in an angry whisper. Celeste had picked the unlikeliest places to have an argument, the lounge of one of the most exclusive hotels in London! But it had to be exclusive. How else could Celeste meet this ageing millionaire of hers? Suzanne stood her ground, her eyes silently saying she would go no further. ‘My father spent what little money he possessed on you. And this is how you repay him, with recriminations and scorn.

  What he ever saw in you I’ll never know.’

  She knew she had gone too far by the two bright spots of colour that appeared in Celeste’s usually creamy cheeks whenever she was about to forget she was supposed to be a lady. Her manicured and lacquered nails clenched into fists, and if she had been a child, Suzanne would have said the other woman was about to have a tantrum. As it was, she was probably about to make a scene.

  ‘All right, Celeste,’ she sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry for that remark. Put it down to the fact that I’m tired and we’ve been in each other’s company constantly for six days. We probably need a break from each other.’

  Celeste wasn’t so easily mollified. ‘Tired!’ she burst out. ‘What on earth have you to feel tired about? Oh, I agree with you about the company—I’m getting sick and tired of looking at you if the truth be known. But you have no reason to feel tired, living here in the lap of luxury, your every whim arranged with ease. Tired!’ she repeated in disgust.

  Suzanne looked about the room self-consciously, aware that they were causing quite a lot of eyes to be turned in their direction. Although their words couldn’t be heard, Celeste’s stance was obviously one of anger and her own one of obstinacy. ‘We’ll continue this conversation some other time, Celeste,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m going to my room, but you go ahead and have your afternoon tea as planned.’

  ‘Well, thank you! I’m so glad I have your permission,’ Celeste said sneeringly.

  ‘Oh, I’ve had enough!’ Suzanne turned on her heel and left the lounge, walking uncaringly to the lift that stood empty. The other two lifts seemed to be either going up or down already, and although it seemed rather selfish to take the lift up to the sixth floor just for herself, she didn’t feel like waiting for one of the others to arrive.

  Celeste was daily becoming more and more impossible. She wouldn’t mind if she had wanted to come on this visit to London with her stepmother, but she hadn’t. Oh, the lure of luxury for a few weeks had been all too tempting, but the thought of sharing the so far unseen sights of London with Celeste of all people had rather put the damper on her enthusiasm. And so far Celeste had proved just as unreasonable as she had thought she would be. Celeste hated sightseeing, in fact, the hotel and the pool were Celeste’s only haunts, and Suzanne had perforce to share them.

  God, it was so restricting! She wanted to explore the depths of the town, wanted to walk about London until she knew every inch of it. Maybe that would be a bit impossible, she had heard that even some Londoners could become lost in the more densely populated areas, each street looking like the last. But that had been the reason behind her coming here with Celeste, the reason she had told her friends that the idea sounded so appealing.

  Robert, especially, had been against the idea of at least six weeks’ separation, but Suzanne had thought this perhaps another thing in London’s favour. Robert was all right as a friend, but what had started out as a mild flirtation was deepening into something more serious on his side. But it certainly wasn’t on hers. Robert was fun and he made her laugh a lot with his crazy ideas, but surely there had to be more to love than making her laugh. What had happened to the romantic, passionate side of a relationship? Robert’s kisses certainly did no more for her than anything else she would enjoy in an apathetic sort of way. There were certainly no flashing lights and sounds of thunder when they kissed, just a warm pleasant feeling, the same as she might feel after an enjoyable evening or meal.

  But then according to Celeste the flashing lights and thunder were purely a figment of the romantic’s imagination. Romantic rubbish she called it, and so far Suzanne had to agree with her.

  Once in her room she threw down her sun-glasses and magazine, running on to the balcony and looking longingly at the sun. It was all right coming to her room to escape Celeste’s temper, but by doing so she had also denied herself the freedom of the pool. She was in London wasn’t she! One of the most exciting cities in the world! So where was her excitement? She looked down at the teeming streets below her. Somewhere down there could be the man of her dreams, the man who would let her see the flashing lights and hear the thunder.

  He would be dark, of course, she had always preferred men with dark colouring, and he would have beautiful dark teasing eyes. And tall—he would have to be tall. At just over five feet herself she felt cosseted and cared for in the company of tall men. Yes, she knew exactly what he would look like: tall, elegant, with a lithe masculine body. And he would look at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in his world.

  She burst out laughing at her thoughts. Now she was just being imaginative. Beautiful was something she wasn’t and never could be. Short bouncing blonde curls surrounding a heart-shaped elfin face could never be called beautiful in any language. As far as she was concerned, her only redeeming feature was her huge green almond-shaped eyes surrounded by thick naturally dark lashes. But what man would want to marry her for her eyes? Robert would! But in no way could he be made to fit into her picture of her ideal man, with his reddish-brown hair and laughing blue eyes. And he wasn’t tall, at least, only moderately so, and his physique could only be described as thin. No, she wo
uld have to face it and so would Robert, he just wasn’t the man for her. Besides, he wasn’t nearly sophisticated enough. Her ideal man was older than herself by at least five years, worldly and knowledgeable, with all the self-assurance she herself lacked.

  She sighed deeply. What was the use of dreaming, with someone like Celeste about she didn’t stand a chance with any man, let alone one of good looks. Celeste, with her tall proud body, her thick vibrant auburn hair, and most of all her perfect beautiful face. Suzanne’s father hadn’t been the first man to fall for Celeste’s deceptive innocently charming demeanour. He had been flattered and bemused by the evident interest of such a beautiful twenty-two-year-old to his already forty years. So flattered that within a few short weeks of meeting the two of them had become man and wife.

  And a few weeks after that Suzanne had been sent away to school! She saw her father occasionally during the school holidays, although more often than not she had been told she was to stay on at school for the holidays too. Not that she had minded too much at first, a lot of other girls did it too, but after a time it had begun to pall. The few times she did go home for the holidays Celeste was noticeable by her absence. Not that Suzanne minded this either, she much preferred to be alone with her father, but it was apparent that her father would have much rather have been with his young, not always faithful wife.

  She had naturally been upset when her father was killed in a road accident not long before she was due to leave school. She had been sixteen, and it had been then that she had found that although her father had lived his life to the full in the last six years, he had done it by using up every penny he possessed. Celeste and she had been left destitute, and although it was a blow to her, it was complete devastation to Celeste. None of her so-called friends, male or female, had wanted to know her then, making it perfectly obvious that if she couldn’t pay her way then she wasn’t welcome. Most of these people had been hangers on anyway, and now there was nothing to hang on to.

  For Suzanne the future had been clear. She was to go to college and later to university, her main subjects being anatomy and physiology, which she hoped eventually to go on to teach. But for Celeste things hadn’t been so easy, if missing meals and walking everywhere could ever be called easy. How Celeste had survived the next three years Suzanne hadn’t gone into too deeply, but she felt sure it must have involved a man with money. Now Celeste had decided she wanted more than money. She wanted marriage, and if possible, a title. This hotel dealt only with the elite and titled, and as Suzanne knew, Celeste was a very determined woman. But as she had tried to point out, most of the earls or whatever they were called were as broke as they were. But Celeste wouldn’t be daunted, she felt confident enough of her own beauty and determination to catch herself a rich prize.

  No one had been more surprised than Suzanne when her stepmother had invited her to stay here too, and no one but a fool would have turned it down. She had lived for too long in a badly decorated bed-sitter, missing too many meals than was good for her, and studying much too hard to turn down the opportunity of six weeks of absolute luxury. She hadn’t enquired where the money had come from for them to book into one of the most exclusive hotels in London, and any guilt she might have felt about Celeste paying all the bills was quickly quenched. Celeste had calmly informed her that she was only required to lend respectability to her own stay there. Escorting her stepdaughter for her health was the story Celeste had put about, and Suzanne’s too thin, delicate appearance lent truth to such a lie. Never mind that her experiences of the last three years had given her a toughness and strength of body and mind that made her a much more durable person than Celeste. At least, she hoped it did.

  Celeste’s constant truculence was beginning to be an irritant she was finding it impossible to bear. She had imagined Celeste would quickly find her doting rich suitor and leave her pretty much to herself. Not so. Celeste was very choosy about her escorts, and although Suzanne knew a couple of them were rich and very interested in her stepmother, Celeste quickly spurned them. It was as if she were waiting for something—or someone. Someone in particular.

  Oh, it was too nice a day to let Celeste spoil it for her! She would go down to the pool anyway. She quickly changed into a green bikini that matched her eyes and slipping on a beach robe of the same colour to cover her near-nakedness she ran quickly out of the room and into the lift.

  The clothes had been Celeste’s idea too, insisting that her denims and tee-shirts weren’t suitable attire. Not that she was supposed to look too attractive, just elegant enough to be thought the stepdaughter of a rich widow. Another of Celeste’s lies. If it was known she was using every penny she possessed on this last fling then she would be known for what she was, a gold-digger.

  At almost five o’clock in the evening the pool and its surrounding loungers were beginning to empty. Most of these people would shower and rest before changing for dinner, then spend an hour or so drinking, and the same after their meal. Suzanne knew the routine so well, and she was sick of it all. Well, tonight she wasn’t going to do that. She would laze by the pool for as long as she felt like it, go up, and shower and change in her room before strolling over to one of the cafés she had seen in the square and treating herself to a simple meal. She only hoped Celeste didn’t bother to look in her room but just went down to dinner without her. Another argument tonight would be more than she could bear.

  Slipping off her robe and dropping her sun-glasses on to a lounger, she ran lithely to the edge of the pool to jump capably into the heated blue water. Mmm, it was delicious! She pushed back the hair that had plastered to her face, licking droplets of water from her lips. Over the last few days she had managed to acquire a golden tan and her hair looked very blonde against the darkened skin.

  Turning on her back, she swam effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other, revelling in her solitariness. At exclusive places like this hotel there always seemed to be someone standing beside you ready to carry out the least little request, and while it may have seemed rather exciting the first couple of days, this attention soon became rather tedious. But for once the waiters all seemed to be elsewhere, and she relaxed completely, closing her eyes and drifting dreamily.

  ‘Excuse me, signorina,’ a deep voice broke into her meanderings. ‘You are alone here?’

  Suzanne trod water, looking to the nearside of the pool. Wow! She blinked rapidly. The man of her dreams! Tall and lithe, dark hair, quizzical teasing eyes, and those faint lines at either side of his nose and mouth giving evidence to his sophistication and experience. He looked anything between thirty and thirty-five, much older than the five years’ difference she had wanted in their ages, but everything else was perfect. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was fantastic, marvellous, and she couldn’t believe she was seeing him.

  ‘Signorina?’ He frowned his puzzlement at her long silence, his blatant good looks not marred by the action. He stood at the side of the pool, relaxed and confident, his only attire a pair of white bathing trunks that clung like a second skin and emphasised the darkness of his own skin.

  There were many foreign people staying at this hotel and she couldn’t help her curiosity at his being sure she was English. ‘Why did you address me in English?’ she asked him, completely ignoring his own question.

  He shrugged his shoulders and smiled, showing clear even white teeth, giving him an oddly boyish look. ‘With hair the colour of corn you would most likely be either English or American. You also have their air of freedom.’ He indicated the deserted pool area. ‘And not many women would brave this isolation with a dangerous Venetian roaming about,’ he teased her.

  ‘Oh, you’re a Venetian!’ she sighed ecstatically. He was absolutely perfect. In every way.

  He bowed politely, and while it might have appeared effeminate on any other man dressed informally as he was, on this man it appeared only as a charming gesture. ‘Vidal Martino at your service, signorina.’

  She climbed breathlessly out
of the pool, dropping her proffered hand self-consciously as she realised it was dripping water everywhere. ‘Suzanne Hammond,’ she supplied shyly.

  ‘I am honoured to meet you. Are you alone here?’ he repeated his first question.

  ‘I’m alone here at the pool, but not at the hotel. My stepmother is probably in the process of changing for dinner right now.’

  Vidal Martino smiled again, looking deeply into her wide green eyes. ‘The proverbial wicked stepmother?’

  Suzanne laughed. ‘Not really, although we aren’t the best of friends either.’ She picked up her towel and began to dry her wet curls. She must look an absolute mess! Whatever must Mr Martino think of her?

  He indicated that she sit on a lounger, only relaxing the long length of his own body on to the one next to her after she had complied. ‘I arrived only this afternoon.

  You will have to excuse my curiosity concerning yourself. You live with your stepmother?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she shook her head emphatically. ‘No, I’m merely holidaying with Celeste. Since my father died three years ago Celeste and I haven’t been the best of correspondents,’ she laughed nervously. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with my family history.’

  ‘And you have not done so. I was merely curious as to why one so young as yourself should be staying at such a staid respectable hotel. I would have thought one of the more modern hotels, with dancing and music, would have been more to your liking.’

  ‘But surely the same applies to you, signore?’

  Vidal Martino shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘As I am a Martino it is expected of me to stay here.’ He grimaced his distaste. ‘I am here for one night only. I have just arrived from the Palazzo Martino, which is just as respectable, let me assure you.’

  ‘A palazzo!’ She reassessed her new companion. ‘You surely aren’t a count or something, are you?’ It would be just her luck if he was. No one of such importance would be interested in ordinary Suzanne Hammond. Unless of course he was one of those impoverished counts that seemed to exist in abundance? She looked at him sharply—no, this man certainly wasn’t impoverished. There was arrogance and bearing in every line of his superb body.

 
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