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“Carina,” she said in a rush, choosing her middle name for protection, to put distance between them. “My mother calls me Cara. Everybody else calls me—” She stopped, realizing she was about to start babbling, something she did when she was nervous.
“Cara,” he breathed. “In our country your name means beloved. It suits you.”
The air between them seemed to grow even hotter, if that were possible. Or maybe it was only she who was ablaze.
He was good. But how much did someone of his caliber cost? Not in the mood to ask and discover his price excessive, she put the all-important question off.
“Are you hungry?” he murmured. “Or would you prefer to go straight to your hotel?”
Did having dinner with him cost more? And what would the staff of her palazzo think when they saw her with him in the restaurant? Did he go there often?
“I ate a late lunch,” she said.
“So did I,” he murmured.
He leaned closer. He slid one hand around her waist. His other hand lifted her fingertips to his sensually curved mouth, and he kissed each long nail and fingertip, lingering a little on the tips of her nails. Then he stared into her eyes. Everything he did was infinitely gentle. Somehow, nothing he did seemed faked or practiced, and long after he’d let her fingers go, the pit of her stomach felt hollow.
When she lowered her hand to the ceramic table again, she sighed. Good. She wasn’t ready for the serious kissing to start. Not in public, anyway.
He leaned closer and traced her mouth with his fingertip, flooding her with more erotic heat. His eyes followed the path of his finger. He swallowed hard. So did she. The girls, who were watching, giggled again.
“Che bella,” he whispered, scooting his chair back a little.
He wasn’t subtle. But what had she expected? He was a gigolo. Not to mention Italian. This was a business relationship. She should applaud his talent and his professionalism. Instead, she was so caught up in what he was doing it was hard to remember this wasn’t real.
He held up his hand for the check. Before she could rummage in her purse, he threw a wad of euros on the table, cupped her elbow and escorted her out of the bar. She was acutely aware that, when he’d stood up, everybody stopped talking. Even the music stopped. When he turned at the door to wave to the bartender, a final burst of girlish giggles saluted them.
He’d paid, no doubt, for appearances’ sake.
He was one classy gigolo.
Remembering the Maserati, and the Ferrari and the yacht, Simonetta, where he’d spent the night, she began to wonder if she had enough cash in her purse.
If she didn’t, would he take a credit card or at least escort her to the nearest ATM if they finished at a late hour?
Then she remembered he was one classy gigolo.
Of course, he would!
Two
Regina stepped out of the shower, dried herself with a warm towel and put on the hotel’s thick, white fluffy robe as Nico had suggested. Her damp hair felt heavy and soft about her shoulders as she left the bathroom. Picking up her cell phone, she padded through the bedroom and then out onto her private belvedere to wait for Nico, who had left her suite to take a phone call.
Nico. She gulped in a breath of warm humid air. Trying not to think about him and what they were about to do, she looked down at the quaint town and its lush gardens. Nevertheless, her hands were shaking as she punched in her friend Lucy’s number back in Austin.
Surely, heaven couldn’t best Ravello. The jewel-like, medieval village seemed to hang suspended from its mountainside over the Amalfi Coast. The views from Regina’s hotel, formerly a fourteenth-century palazzo with crumbling, vine-covered walls and Moorish arches, were breathtaking even now when the shadows were lengthening.
Flowers perfumed the balmy sea breezes. The bees were gone, and the church bells were ringing. Cliffs and villas alike seemed to tumble to a dark, turquoise sea.
Not that she was all that interested in the white yachts or Simonetta or the sparkling water or even the palazzos. She was too consumed with excitement and fear.
“Pick up, Lucy,” she whispered, tapping a bare foot with impatience on the sun-warmed stones. She could hardly stand feeling so alone and uncertain.
“Pick up!”
Pacing while she waited, she spotted Nico four floors beneath her. He was also striding back and forth on a terrace near the aqua pool, looking just as impatient and upset as she felt.
Did he want to be with her, or did he hate his work and dread the time he’d be spending with her? Or was it his conversation that had him on edge?
She wished his phone hadn’t rung. She wished he’d look up and wave reassuringly, but his dark head was bent over the phone, and he seemed so absorbed she wondered if he’d forgotten her existence.
His cell phone had buzzed just after he’d ordered champagne, strawberries and an assortment of cheeses, and had suggested they get into the hotel’s white, fluffy bathrobes and enjoy a drink on her balcony. When he’d recognized the caller’s name in the little blue window on his phone, he’d frowned. Then he’d cupped Regina’s chin, kissed her on the forehead, and apologized because the call was too important to ignore. He’d answered the phone with a smile and endearments in Italian and had excused himself, which had made Regina curious about the caller’s identity, and a little jealous.
Was it a woman? A client? Whoever it was, the call was very important to him.
Just as Regina was worrying that her attraction to Nico might be heading toward an obsession—something she’d never experienced before in her orderly, controlled life—Lucy finally answered, her voice breathless.
“Hi!”
Lucy was pregnant by the sperm donor who she and her partner Beth had agreed was a perfect fit for them. They had pictures of him and his children, future half siblings to their own much-wanted child, posted all over their apartment.
“You’ll never believe where I am,” Regina began.
She went to the closet, pulled out the painting of the little boy playing in the sand, then returned with it to her balcony.
“Italy!” Lucy answered.
“I mean—” Regina stared down at Nico again “—where in Italy? And you’ll never guess what I’m doing….”
The little boy’s painted hair shone like black satin, exactly as Nico’s did.
“You probably just got through jogging and are about to treat yourself to some tomatoes and fat-free mozzarella while you make long lists of must-see tourist attractions for tomorrow.”
“Ravello! Which is the best place ever. I don’t think anybody has ever heard of fat-free cheese over here, either. Are you familiar with Maxfield Parrish’s paintings?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Ravello is like those paintings.” Regina lowered her voice. “I’ve met a man.”
“Those are the four most dangerous words any other woman could say…especially if he’s an Italian. But then you’re you, so he’s probably smart, ambitious…”
“He’s not! But don’t worry, this isn’t serious. He’s absolutely gorgeous, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. But…”
“But what? With you, when it comes to your men, there always has to be a but.”
For a long moment, Regina hesitated. She almost regretted calling Lucy.
“But? I’m waiting!”
“I—I think he might be a gigolo.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Regina remained silent.
“That is such a cliché. And not a good one. Not for you! You’ve got to come home now! You’ve definitely been over there too long. You were supposed to relax, enjoy good food, art, pretty scenery, visit your grandmother in Tuscany….”
“I think the art may be part of the problem. The sculptures here are so erotic.”
“Pay him and then drive straight to the airport,” Lucy ordered.
“But he’s so hot. I feel like I’m burning up.”
“Did he slip something in your drink?”
“No!”
“Don’t do it! This is all because Bobby said you were uptight and frigid and because you were pushing yourself at work way too hard. You don’t have to prove you’re a hottie in disguise. You don’t! Now you know you called me because you wanted to hear the voice of reason.”
No, Regina had called Lucy because she’d wanted to share something that felt important.
“I think I’ve been having doubts about E-321. I think Italy has made insemination just seem way too impersonal. I’m not you, you know. I can…be with a man.”
“We talked about this, girlfriend. E-321 has gone through numerous screenings…. Use a condom with this Italian fellow if you don’t come to your senses! What do you know about him except he’s hot and that he charges gullible women like you a bundle for the pleasure of his body? I would think there would be plenty of free, horny Italians over there.”
“Not like him.”
Even three stories below her, Nico’s tall, dark figure in jeans and a white shirt radiated power, assurance and masculinity. And something more.
When he looked up and smiled warmly, her breath caught in her throat.
She waved, as thrilled as a high-school girl with her first crush.
“I—I feel this weird, totally powerful connection to him.”
“And you haven’t even had your first orgasm! Not good. Run for your life! This is not a good thing.”
“But it feels like a good thing.”
“This is very, very bad.”
Regina’s cell phone began to beep. She saw Susana’s name. Her flaky baby sister, who didn’t have a digital gene in her body, never called her.
The name Susana flashed in bold blue.
“Oh, my God! Today’s the day the twins are being christened. Susana’s calling me! She’s actually calling me—in Italy! I’ve gotta go! I totally forgot to call Susana!”
“One word! Airplane!”
“I’ll call you right back.”
“That sounds like a plan!”
Regina punched a button and took Susana’s call. There was a loud wail on Susana’s end, which meant either Regina’s niece, Gina, who’d been named after her, or one of her twin nephews was unhappy.
“Hi, there,” Regina said, feeling guilty. “How was the christening?”
“It’s you! It’s really you! Gina, she answered! I can’t believe I really got you…on my fourth try even! All the way to Italy. Not that you know where that is, Gina, sweetie!”
“How’s the christening going?”
“Everybody’s here…except you.”
Regina’s guilt deepened.
“We’re all out in the backyard. It’s so hot. But you know Daddy. He had to grill. Mama’s hovering to make sure he doesn’t burn the steaks like he did last time. She keeps saying maybe you’ll meet a man in Italy. She’s still upset that you dumped Bobby. She hasn’t given up on you meeting an Italian even though we all know that’s not why you went. Don’t tell her I told you, but she made me call you. She even dialed. She wants to know if the love bug has bitten.”
Regina stared down at the extraordinarily good-looking man on the terrace and then swallowed. “Right.”
“It has?”
“No!”
“She’ll be so disappointed. She was sure Italy would do the trick.”
Regina swallowed, her throat feeling extremely dry all of a sudden.
“Gosh, I miss you,” Susana said. “Gina asks about you every single day. When are you coming home?”
“Three days.”
“Gina’s crying her head off. She wants you here. We all do. Especially since Daddy just said the most awful thing to her.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know what gets into him. I quote, ‘Now that we’ve got two new cute baby boys, we don’t need you anymore.’”
Oh! “He didn’t! Not again!”
“Again?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing…only…
Time whirled backward. Instantly, Regina was transported to the day when a darling, bald Susana had been brought home from the hospital in a flurry of parental excitement. Flushed with pride at being a big sister at last, three-year-old Regina had run to the baby carrier.
Her father had knelt, and she’d climbed into his lap and had thrown her arms around him.
