Falling for Italy Read online

  “Do you do this on purpose, to get me hard?” he whispered in her ear, as his finger found her nipple.

  She gasped. “No, I just…can’t stand wearing a bra. They’re too tight. But I’ll put one on, if you want.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I’d tear it in a thousand pieces,” he growled and bent to kiss her.

  His phone rang, startling them both. He swore in Italian, and then got it out of his pocket, looking at the display. It was Linda. He sighed, but answered.

  “Pronto, bambina! Come stai?”

  “Hello, stranger,” his sister said into the receiver. “Where are you? As if I wouldn’t know…” she went on insinuatingly, and he could almost see her standing with a hand on her hip, cat blue eyes slanted, tongue in cheek.

  “I’m having breakfast.”

  “Breakfast, huh? It’s past noon for us, other people. When are you coming home?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you need me for anything?”

  “Well, the decorators made a mess in here and Gerard is at work. I could use a hand, but if you’re busy, I can call Mrs. Adams.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll be there in half an hour. Ciao, sorella!”

  “Ciao, amore. Grazzie!”

  He put the phone back in his pants pocket and turned to Sonia.

  “I have to go. Linda needs help picking up after the decorators. Don’t ask.”

  She laughed.

  “Okay, I won’t. Don’t you want to finish your coffee?”

  He got to his feet. Taking her hand, he pulled her up and into his arms.

  “What I’d like to finish is a different thing entirely,” he said and kissed her intimately, tasting her excitement. “But it’ll have to wait. What do you want to do tonight?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any plans. All I know is that I have to wake up early tomorrow. I can’t skip work again.”

  His voice sounded husky and enticing even to his own ears when he told her, “Don’t worry, cara, I’ll have you in bed very early.”

  * * * *

  After Giovanni left, Sonia changed into soft pink pajamas and crawled into bed. She really needed a few more hours sleep after the sexual marathon she’d had last night. She curled under her thick blankets, smiling dreamily. Giovanni was an amazing lover, the kind she didn’t even know existed. She wondered if having Italian blood accounted for his virility and sensuality, for his unimaginable ardor and intensity—not only when making love, but even when he looked at her. His eyes seemed to burn from within, like his entire being.

  Thank God she was still taking her contraceptives. It had been a long time since her last lover—she couldn’t even remember what he looked like right now—but she kept taking the pills. For good measure, it seemed.

  Giovanni had asked her last night if he should use a condom, but she’d told him about the pills. It was true they didn’t offer protection against STDs, but somehow she knew a man like him could be trusted. Granted, instincts were muzzy when hormones took over. Still, the thought didn’t worry her. She trusted him.

  She fell asleep still smiling, feeling the pleasant fatigue melting off her bones and dissipating into nothingness.

  The sound of her ringing phone awoke her abruptly. She took it from the nightstand, squinting at the display for a few moments. It was Giovanni.

  “Hello,” she answered groggily.

  “Were you asleep, princess?” he asked, his voice sounding lazy and sexy.

  “Yeah, I was just… What time is it? It’s nearly dark,” she said rubbing her eyes, then looked outside.

  “It’s half past five. I slept a couple of hours myself, after playing cleaning boy for Linda.”

  Laughter tickled her throat as she imagined him vacuuming and dusting, wearing a silly outfit. Like one of those strippers women threw their panties at.

  He went on. “Linda asked me to invite you for dinner at seven. Since you told me you didn’t have any plans, I thought you might like to come. What do you think?”

  She heard herself saying, “Sure,” thinking that Linda Coriola wanted to take a good look at the woman her brother had spent the entire night screwing. “Uh, that would be nice. Should I bring something?”

  “Just your gorgeous self. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

  “I can drive myself,” she protested yawning. “Give me the address.”

  “No way. How else can I have the pleasure of taking you home after dinner and tucking you into bed early?” he said insinuatingly, turning her brain to mush. “Be ready at half past six, okay?”

  He hung up before she could argue any further.

  She stretched languorously, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Why should she be nervous? Giovanni was a grown man—oh my, in more ways than one—and he could see any woman he chose. He would be gone soon after his sister’s wedding anyway. This thought brought an undefined and unexplainable wave of pain and grief in her heart.

  Their relationship had escalated so fast, so strong, so tumultuously that she hadn’t wanted to think of the consequences. She didn’t want to do it now either. Even if her heart would shatter when he would leave, she didn’t regret a single moment spent with him. He had taught her what a real man was like. He’d showed her what kind of a woman she was and had given her the passion she’d yearned for all her life. Yes, he was all she had ever dreamed of, not only in bed, but also outside of it. He was fun, intelligent, successful, tender and caring, attentive and hot-blooded—all in one fabulous looking package. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with him?

  She was just getting out of bed when this thought struck her and she bit her tongue hard, involuntarily.

  She swore lavishly, groping for a robe. She wasn’t in love with him, damn it! Maybe in lust, but not in love. There was a huge difference. And she simply couldn’t be in love with a man who would leave in a few weeks and whom she would never see again.

  “Gosh, would you stop this bloody female whining?” she snapped to the bathroom mirror. “He probably won’t give you a second thought when he leaves and you fancy yourself in love with him? Can you get more pathetic than this? Get freaking real!”

  Yet somewhere deep inside, she knew she was being unfair. Maybe he wasn’t in love with her, but he cared about her. She wasn’t just a vacation sex toy. She wouldn’t have accepted that in a million years anyway.

  “Don’t think about his leaving. Don’t think,” she whispered, supporting her forehead against the window, watching the grayish-white landscape outside.

  She breathed deeply and started doing her makeup. She wasn’t going to start stitching her heart before she’d have to.

  When Giovanni arrived a little after six, she was waiting for him downstairs in the building’s lobby. She’d put on black tight jeans, a black sweater and black boots. Since she wouldn’t do much walking in the cold, she had taken her long leather coat. She suspected Linda Coriola expected to see a badass, tough-looking bitch and she didn’t want to disappoint her.

  Giovanni parked just in front of her building and stretched out a hand across the passenger seat to open the door for her. When she climbed into his car, he bent to kiss her lips, making a pleasant rush warm her entire body. She smiled at him, trying to seem cheerful, hoping he won’t sense anything wrong.

  “So, your sister wants to meet the woman you’re currently nailing?” she joked, as he started the car.

  He turned his head to her quickly and his eyes darted her with such a hard glare she was stunned.

  “You know you’re more than that, Sonia. At least, for me, what we did was more than just fucking.”

  Speechless and disconcerted, she looked at his rigid profile, noticing his clenched jaw. After a tense silence, she said awkwardly, “It was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m sorry.”

  His fingers relaxed a bit on the steering wheel, but his posture was still strained. She decided it wasn’t the time to start a discussion abou
t the status of their relationship, so she said instead, “Tell me something about your sister. I want to be able to make conversation without giving away the fact I don’t know shit about art.”

  His lips twitched slightly.

  “Don’t worry. Linda doesn’t like to talk about her work. It’s not even displayed in the house, except for a small wooden thing she sculpted when she met Gerard. A pair of hands. I think it’s a safe guess whose hands they are.”

  She laughed lightly.

  “Ah… So the man has magic hands, huh? And he’s a brilliant doctor. I suppose he doesn’t like to talk about his work either. I don’t know how he does it,” she said, shuddering a bit. The thought of sick people depressed her. She couldn’t understand how doctors worked, day after day, how they managed to cope with losing patients. Yes, they saved lives, indeed. But what about the ones they couldn’t save? Something like that must haunt them forever.

  “Gerard is a very strong and dedicated man,” Giovanni said, interrupting her thoughts. “Curing people is his calling. I guess he was born with that kind of strength. But it’s weighing on him, especially now that he’s going through a bad phase. I told you about his problems in patenting his cancer treatments. If this matter isn’t resolved soon, I’ll take him to Italy and pull all my strings if I have to, in order to help him. He has to succeed for the millions of people in need of cures, as well as for his and Linda’s peace of mind.”

  She was impressed by his words. She wanted to ask if he was really such a big shot in Italy, but she didn’t want him to think she was interested in his money or other such nonsense. Instead, she asked, “What is it exactly that you do in Italy? Tuscany, you said that’s where you live? What do you do there, at your company?”

  “I deal with clients, with stupid technical questions, I negotiate deals, I listen to moronic ideas from customers, approve alpha, beta and commercial versions of software…”

  He looked over at her and she felt her eyes cross under this assault of foreign information. He grinned wickedly.

  “Do you want me to get more technical than that?”

  “Oh, no! Please don’t. It’s…quite enough. I’m very impressed, to say the least.”

  “There’s nothing impressive about it. Your job is much more exciting. Do you have time for me tomorrow?” he asked, smile still in place.

  She thought about her schedule, then remembered the next day was Tuesday.

  “Afraid not. Tomorrow I’ll have a morning session with the boys, then a very short training with the girls in the afternoon, when they get off school. After that I go to the gym.”

  “The gym? Ah, I miss a good workout,” he said as he concentrated on the traffic jam growing in front of them. “I’m going soft with Linda’s cooking and nothing to do. Do you think I could join you?”

  She looked at him. Dressed in jeans and a tight blue sweater, he looked nowhere near soft, just mouthwatering. She cleared her throat.

  “Um, sure. Why not? I got the gym to myself anyway. The owner is a friend of mine—a fitness trainer—and she gave me a key. I go on Tuesday and Friday evenings so I can be alone, without people ogling me.”

  “Well, you’ll have someone ogling you tomorrow, if you take me with you,” he said and a corner of his beautiful mouth lifted, emphasizing his dimples. She noticed he hadn’t shaved. His usually perfect smooth skin was covered by dark stubble. He looked like a sexy pirate.

  “I think I can stand your ogling,” she remarked in a low voice. “After all, you’ve been staring at me ever since we’ve met.”

  He turned his dark gaze on her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “You didn’t seem to mind it. I’ll try to behave myself tonight. Here we are,” he announced.

  He stopped in front of a massive old-looking gate and got out of the car to insert a code into a sideway panel. The gate glided open with unexpected grace. He drove down a vegetation-bordered driveway to a rust-colored brick house. It was quite big, tasteful and simple—not at all the eccentric mansion she had expected.

  “I love this house!” she exclaimed admiringly, while Giovanni parked the car at the end of the lane.

  “Me too. I feel so at home here,” he replied and climbed out of the car. He opened her door and helped her out. Together they made their way to the massive front door. Giovanni urged her inside into the big homey hallway. It was warm and smelled of classy restaurant food. A white cat came to sniff her suspiciously. When she bent to scratch him behind the ears, he rubbed himself against her legs.

  “This is Pirata,” a female voice said. Sonia glanced up to see Linda Coriola, wearing a black and blue sweat suit and fluffy pink house slippers. Her slanted blue eyes were welcoming and curious.

  “Hi,” she replied to Linda, as Giovanni came up behind her, pushing her forward with a hand on her waist.

  “Hi, Sonia. Thank you for accepting our invitation. Come in,” Linda urged. “Dinner is ready.”

  They went into a beautiful dining room, simply furnished, where a huge Christmas tree reigned next to large windows. Lights and scented candles were scattered all over the room—actually, all over the entire house—making her feel like Alice in Wonderland.

  In front of the windows was a square table. Gerard, who was sitting in one of the chairs, stood to greet them.

  “Hello, Sonia. I’m glad you joined us for dinner tonight.”

  “Hi! Thanks for inviting me. Smells delicious.”

  He smiled and she noticed how attractive he was, with his dark sandy hair and exotic green eyes.

  “Yeah, well, Linda is a great cook, when she can be bribed to put on an apron. Let me take your coat,” he said and took her coat, disappearing with it in the hallway. Giovanni winked at her.

  “Have a seat. What would you like to drink?” he asked, pulling a chair for her.

  “I don’t know. Do you have Cola?”

  “Sure. Coming right up.”

  She sat on the very comfortable chair and Pirata jumped onto her lap. She stroked him delighted, as he purred enthusiastically, sticking his whiskered nose close to hers. He had a black fur patch around one eye and black spots on all four of his paws.

  She looked through the window and gaped in amazement, seeing an army of elves and dwarves holding multicolored torches in ceramic hands. They surrounded a now unused pool and seemed detached straight from a fairytale.

  “Like them?” asked Linda, who appeared in the doorway carrying an enormous platter.

  “They’re gorgeous! Do you need help?” Sonia asked her and started to get up, but Linda gestured her back on the chair.

  “No, no, thank you, I can manage. I hope you like Chicken Valdostana,” she said, putting the platter on the table.

  “I’ve never had this,” said Sonia, analyzing the food. It appeared to be chicken slices, with a crust of cheese and something else she couldn’t identify. “It looks and smells great.”

  “It is,” said Giovanni, who had returned along with Gerard. The latter carried some plates and proceeded to set the table, while Giovanni handed her a glass of Cola.

  Linda brought another platter loaded with fries, a huge salad bowl, bread, napkins, then sent her brother for cutlery.

  “I always forget something,” she told Sonia, laughing. “I’m a complete scatterbrain.”

  “I doubt that,” Sonia replied. “I couldn’t prepare this kind of meal with a chef breathing down my neck and guiding my every step.”

  “Wait ‘til you taste the dessert,” Gerard said, sitting next to Linda, so the two couples faced each other. When Giovanni joined them, handing forks and knives, they began eating.

  The food was delicious, juicy and spicy, just the way Sonia liked it. She praised both it and the cook, truly impressed by Linda. Although Giovanni’s sister was one year younger than herself, Sonia noted she was an excellent wife-to-be and hostess, unlike herself. She and Gerard fit so well together, they shared the same ideas, they anticipated each other’s words and completed each other
’s sentences. Sonia found herself observing them during the meal with a trace of melancholic admiration, as conversation flowed smoothly around the table.

  Chapter Five

  “You know,” Sonia told Linda. “It’s funny how you and Giovanni are so different, yet so much alike. He does that all the time, crackling his fingers.” She pointed to the hands of the younger woman. Caught in the act, Linda laughed.

  “Oh, it’s a very bad habit. Mother always told us we’d get arthritis if we keep doing this, but we just can’t seem to help it. Right, fratelo mio?” she said, winking at Giovanni, who smiled back.

  “We’re very different in looks, as you might see,” he told Sonia grinning. “Our father is fair-haired and blue-eyed, like the brat here,” he explained and dodged to avoid a French fry Linda threw at his head.

  “On the other hand,” Linda picked up, “Don Juan here takes after our mother. She is tall, dark-haired and has nearly black eyes. She’s gorgeous.”

  She cocked her head, looking at Sonia. “She looks a bit like you, now that I think about it. Doesn’t she, amore?” she asked her fiancé, who nodded with his mouth full.

  He swallowed and said, “I’ve only met Giovanna—my future mother-in-law—once, but Linda’s right. You two have a slight resemblance. In fact, you and Giovanni look like you could be siblings,” he teased, smiling.

  “Thank God we’re not,” muttered Giovanni, taking another piece of chicken. “I may have many sins, but incest isn’t among them.”

  Sonia laughed, poking him in the ribs.

  As she took another sip of Cola, Linda asked, “Would you mind telling me about your job? I’m fascinated by this, by you. I mean, a woman handling guns on a daily basis isn’t somebody one has every day invited for dinner. I might just as well take advantage and pick your brain.”

  Smiling, Sonia told them briefly about her passion for guns and about the beginnings of her career.