Then his hand pulled me closer but his head veered to the side and, at my ear, he whispered, “You cannot bullshit me, you know what kind of man I am. What you don’t know is, I like to get me some but everything you do, everything you wear, everything you say, every signal you give tells me I’m gonna really like gettin’ some of you.”
Oh.
My.
God.
Ohmigod!
Oh. My. God!
Before I could get my stalled systems (heart, lungs, brain) functioning again, he released me and he did it in a way I’d never forget, in a way no woman would ever forget, in fact, I figured I should find some way to tell the world so his smooth move could hit history books.
And this was, his mouth left my ear and his lips trailed down my jaw at the same time his hand left the back of my neck but his fingers also trailed down the other side of my jaw. Both touches were light, a tease, a dare, making me want more and telling me I’d have to go for it to get it.
And when his presence was gone because he was exiting the car and the valet opened the door at my side, I was left frozen, turned toward the empty driver’s seat, probably looking like a lovestruck idiot but thinking about nothing, not one thing, except how damn badly I wanted to go for it.
Chapter Four
Fearless
It was unfortunate I had not recovered from the crazily veering emotions I’d experienced on the ride there, particularly the last five minutes in the Lamborghini, by the time Sam, holding my hand again, walked me into the villa because, although there were a large number of people there, Luciana appeared out of nowhere and she did this shouting Italian.
Sam stopped us and I blinked because I was not the kind of girl who bought glossy fashion magazines (not that my husband would let me) but still, I recognized her and if she was beautiful from the back, she was exquisite in a lush, smack you back, wish you were her with all your heart, Sofia Loren kind of way from the front.
She was also affectionate.
I knew this right off (though it was impossible to miss) because she threw herself in Sam’s arms like she hadn’t had dinner with him yesterday evening but instead hadn’t seen him in two decades and she didn’t do the cheek touch, switch, cheek touch business. Instead she kissed his cheeks back and forth and back and forth and back again, alternately babbling at him in Italian.
“Luci, girl, you know I do not understand one fuckin’ word you’re sayin’,” Sam informed her, his arms having gone from a close hug to his hands at her waist and he set her firmly away with a practiced hand that gave me a strong indication this was a familiar dance.
She grinned up at him and admonished, “I’m always telling you, Sam, you need to learn Italian.”
“Why?” he replied. “This is the second time in my life I’ve been here.”
Sam had only been in Italy twice?
Hmm. Interesting.
“Because,” she returned.
“That’s a reason?” Sam asked when she said no more.
She rolled her eyes, wisely gave up before she lost to Sam, and I had a feeling not many people won with Sam, including stunning ex-models.
Then she turned to me and cried, “Kia!” very, very loudly and threw herself in my arms so forcefully, I went back on one of my delicate gold heels and my arms automatically folded around her, mostly so I wouldn’t tumble backwards.
Then she kissed my cheeks back and forth and back again while babbling Italian and I let her because she was my hostess so I figured pushing her off would be rude and also she was Sam’s friend so pushing her off would definitely be rude.
She finally stopped, pulled back but grasped my upper arms and shook me gently while her eyes went from top-to-toe to toe-to-top and back again and she cried, “Bella!” Then, not letting me go, her head jerked to Sam and she noted in her sexy, throaty, Italian accented English, “Oh Sam, so much better than the last one.”
I blinked once again.
Sam’s head tipped back and he scanned the ceiling.
Luci turned to look at me.
“Cara,” she said low, “I did not like the last one.” She leaned into me and whispered, “She wore Burberry…” she paused then said with deep meaning, “obviously and profusely.”
“I don’t own any Burberry,” I assured her with the God’s honest truth.
“Oh Burberry is delightful,” she declared, letting me go but sliding an arm around my waist and propelling me into a huge room with beautifully tiled floors and lush, plush but comfortable looking furniture scattered around that practically begged you to collapse on it and have a nap and huge, arched, opened doors that led out to a flower bedecked terrace with a view to the lake. “But obvious is bad any way you can be obvious and profuse is definitely bad no matter how you’re profuse, no?”
Clearly, Luciana went to the same How to Be a Sophisticated and Chic Woman Class as Celeste but missed the day where they taught you not to accost people even in a friendly way and also the day where they taught you not to blab about your friend’s exes or, at the very least, former dates within seconds of meeting his current one.
“Well,” I started, “profuse being bad as in, you’re faced with a box of chocolates you really like, then eating so much of them it makes you sick so you never do something that idiotic again then, no. Profuse as in, using a heavy hand while spritzing perfume, then, yes.”
Luciana threw her dark mane back and laughed a throaty laugh and I noted around fifteen men turned their heads to watch. Then I turned my head and looked over my shoulder to see Sam talking to a white-coated waiter.
I hoped that meant champagne, I was thinking I was going to need it.
She stopped us in a pocket of privacy and turned to me, dropping her arm and asking, “So, Lago di Como, how are you liking my home?”
“It’s beautiful,” I told her and meant it.
“Sì, bella,” she murmured, her eyes moving over my face and I got the impression she was complimenting me but I didn’t have the opportunity to react to a stunningly beautiful woman implying I was the same.
No.
Instead, for the first time I had the opportunity to take her in fully and she was stunningly beautiful but the rest was a complete and total farce.
She was kidding herself if she thought she was hiding the pain in her eyes.
And I was learning a good deal about kidding yourself since I’d been doing it for years.
And for some reason I didn’t know and even later, thinking back, I didn’t get, before I could think better of it, my hand shot out and caught hers. When it did, I gave it a firm, warm squeeze and, just as quickly as I did it, I let her go.
I realized my mistake and wished I could take back my gesture when the sorrow so close to the surface suffused her face, I watched her swallow then she turned her head, buried it shallowly below the surface again, clapped and cried, “Bravo! Champagne,” at an approaching Sam who was carrying two flutes filled with champagne.
I made a mental note to tread more cautiously with the effusive but clearly fragile Luci as Sam made it to us. He gave me mine, gave one to Luci and then slid in beside me, his long arm curving at a slant down my back starting high at my side and ending with his fingers curled in at my hip. I felt funny standing there like that and I had three choices, pull away (which would be rude), put my arm around Sam (which, uh, no way in hell I was ready for that) or lean into him.
I chose door number three and when I did, Sam’s arm curled tighter and the pads of his fingers dug in at my hipbone.
My knees went weak.
Luci spoke.
“Why don’t you have a glass?” she asked Sam.
“Because I’m driving,” Sam answered.
She waved a hand in front of her face even as she took a sip of champagne then she dropped her glass and stated, “Drink, enjoy, I’ve plenty of bedrooms. You get tipsy; you and Kia can spend the night in one.”
Unfortunately, at this announcement, I too was sipping champagne therefo
re, hearing her words, I choked on it.
Sam chuckled.
I tipped my head slightly to the side on a turn, giving him a look out of the corner of my eye.
Sam chuckled deeper and longer.
Whatever.
I looked to Luci and declared, “This Cinderella has a curfew.”
Mistake.
Luci’s brows snapped together with adorable confusion but I didn’t take much of that in before Sam’s arm around me curled, taking me with it, so instead of my side leaning into his long, hard one, my front was pressed to it.
My head tipped back to see his was tipped down and he asked, “What?”
“I have a pre-booked boat tour that takes off at seven. I have to be in bed early so I can be rested and enjoy my tour.”
This, actually, was true.
“How early?” Sam asked.
“Ten o’clock,” I tried even though I probably could push it to eleven.
This time, Sam’s brows drew together and it wasn’t confused or adorable. It was scary.
“Baby, it’s quarter to nine now and we just got here.”
“Sorry, I’m seeing maybe I should have told you this before,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Luci butted in. “Drink, eat, enjoy and miss your tour. Stay the night. I’ll let you borrow some clothes tomorrow so you can sleep in. While you have breakfast with me, Sam can pop back to the hotel to get something to wear then you two can use my boat and he can take you on a personal tour tomorrow.”
Uh-oh.
There were so many things wrong with this suggestion I didn’t know where to start. First, she was at least two inches taller but still twenty pounds lighter than me so she had to be two sizes smaller than me. Second, I was not spending the night in her house with Sam under the same roof, in the same bed I was in (definitely!) or not. I could do a hotel. I could not do a home. Don’t ask me why, that was just the way it was. Third, that was my only night with Sam. No way was I spending a day in a boat on a beautiful lake in romantic Italy alone with him.
No way.
“I –” I started.
“Works for me,” Sam said over me. “My shit is done, got all day.”
I looked back up at Sam and opened my mouth to say something when Luci again butted in.
“Perfect. I’ll have Giuseppa pack you a lunch. Something gorgeous.” She aimed a brilliant, perfect teeth against kickass cranberry-colored lipstick lips and flawless, olive skin smile at me and declared, “Done!”
Uh-oh!
“I –” I started again but that time it was kind of me who interrupted me.
Or, at least it was my cell phone ringing in my bag.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, pushing back a bit from Sam (or, as far as he’d let me go, which, frankly, wasn’t very far), juggling my drink while opening the clasp on my bag (or I did for the nanosecond it took Sam to slide the drink out of my fingers like the gentleman he was), pulling out my phone, shoving my bag under my arm, looking at the display and seeing it said, “Paula.”
“Sorry,” I looked between Sam and Luci. “I have to take this.”
“So take it,” Sam invited but, I will note, he didn’t let me go.
The phone kept ringing. I waited for him to let me go or Luci to wander away. He didn’t and she didn’t.
Damn.
I flipped it open and greeted, “Hey, girl.”
“There’s a bidding war on your house!” she shrieked so loudly, I had to jerk the phone away from my ear and I knew, because I heard it, that Sam and Luci heard it and, probably, anyone in a ten foot radius.
I put the phone back to my ear and began, “Paula –”
That was as far as I got before more screeching that forced me to take the phone away from my ear which meant, again, Sam and Luciana could hear everything.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, OHMIGOD, it’s been months and no nibbles, NOW THIS! My commission is gonna be KILLER AND I just heard word there’s a unit that’s opened up at The Dorchester! EXACTLY WHERE YOU WANTED TO MOVE!”
When she shut up, quickly I put my phone to my ear and told her, “Paula, honey, I’m at a party and everything you scream, everyone can hear.”
Silence then, a whole lot quieter, “Oh shit, sorry.” Pause then, “You’re at a party?”
“Yeah,” I replied and said no more.
Paula, being Paula, didn’t let it go at that. “You’re on vacation, how are you at a party?”
“Uh… I’ll explain later,” I evaded.
“Okay but, cool. Parties are fun,” she informed me.
This one, we would see.
“This is good news though,” I said softly, bringing the discussion back in hand and it was good news.
Unloading the house I hated and restarting my life at The Dorchester, which was an absolutely awesome condo complex, was seriously good news and, even better, it was very rare a unit opened up for sale.
So this wasn’t good news, it was awesome.
“Totally, babe,” Paula told me. “This is huge. I love it. Now, I know you’re vacationing with the rich and famous…” Jeez, she had no idea and when she learned, I’d have to put cotton in my ears she was going to scream so loud. “But I gotta move on this. I’ll see if they have digital shots or a web listing set up, if not, I’ll get in the unit and take some, e-mail them to you. Can you go somewhere, get on a computer and pick up your webmail?”
“Probably,” I answered.
“Good. I’m gonna do that today. And tell the two couples I have on the hook that they gotta get their shit sorted by end of business. Get that nailed down, get your deposit. If you give the go ahead on the photos, I’ll move on The Dorchester. Do we have a plan?”
I couldn’t believe this. This was amazing. This meant I got to go home, have my yard sale and get on with my life. My life. My life with Memphis that had no nuance of Cooter in it except, of course, the existence of Memphis but that wasn’t her fault.
I loved this.
And that was why I smiled at the phone and whispered, “Yeah, honey, we have a plan.”
“Killer, babe. Kill… er. I’m freaking out, I’m so happy. It’s like… I know this is gonna sound totally unhinged and so far beyond bitchy, I may go straight to hell, but it’s like Milo blew a hole in Cooter’s head and at the same time he blew you a shitload of luck. His pension, five million dollars, the vacation of a lifetime and now this.”
At her words, I closed my eyes, my body got stiff and I was so freaked, I didn’t notice Sam’s arm going tight or his body closing in on mine.
When I didn’t speak, Paula whispered, “Oh shit, I took that too far, didn’t I?”
She did.
She was right with what she said, of course. It sucked for Milo, who was a good guy who was driven to do a very bad thing, but there was no question his actions meant good things for me including getting my life back, getting a shitload of money and dodging a bullet, literally because Cooter and Vanessa were going to hire a hit man.
But still. I wasn’t ready for it to be laid out like that and certainly not when I was experiencing all that was Sam. I wasn’t prepared. I was vulnerable and her words brought shit to the surface I didn’t want to deal with unless I was in familiar surroundings and close to Memphis who would cuddle, give me doggie kisses and make me feel better.
I sucked in an unsteady breath but didn’t open my eyes when I replied quietly, “No, honey, that’s okay.”
Silence then, “No, it was too far.”
“It’s okay.”
I heard her take in breath then say cautiously, “I know we haven’t gotten ‘round to talking about this, babe, but you know we’ll have to and –”
I shook my head then tipped it down, opened my eyes and looked at the floor, whispering, “I can’t do this now.”
More silence then, “Oh God, I forgot. You’re at a party.”
Yes, I was.
Oh shit.
I was.
With ex-model Luciana who had a vi
lla, a Lamborghini, four other cars and a boat and Sampson Freaking Cooper who I noticed belatedly was holding me front-to-front in one arm.
Shit!
I looked up at him, he was staring down at me with that intent look and, I knew, listening to every word.
“Yes,” I answered Paula, my eyes sliding away. “I’m at a party.”
“Right, well, okay then, don’t hate me but I’m gonna take this shot.”
Oh man.
Sneak attack!
Before I could intervene, she kept talking.
“I’m gonna get your house sorted for you and then me, Teri and Missy are gonna get you sorted, babe. No,” she said the last word swiftly like she thought I’d refuse which, totally, I would, that was I would if I didn’t have an audience. “When he was alive, we get it, he was a threat. You don’t see your girl with bruises on her face too often to count for seven years and not get that, babe. And also not get that that shit dished out regularly would put the fear of God in anybody. But he’s gone and we’re gonna sort out the shit he left behind and, Kia, we all dig that you think you can just put it behind you, get rid of all that was him and move on but that shit isn’t gonna fly and, deep down, I know you know it, girl.”
“Paula, please, now is really not the time,” I whispered and when I did, Sam’s other arm slid around me.
Damn it!
“I know, I’m just saying, when you get home, we’re making it the time.”
And I was just thinking that maybe I’d find a place on Crete and never go home.
“Kia? Babe?” she called.
“Fine,” I whispered because at that moment I had no choice.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
“I’ll find a computer to pull up the pictures you send me but it’s late here so it won’t be until morning.”
“Right.”
“Okay.”
“Well then, have fun at your party.”
Impossible.
“I will,” I lied.
“Ciao, babe,” she said and I could hear her smile in her voice but could only guess it was relieved.