Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  “The ferry from Capri is returning. Look.” Luca pointed to the passenger boat as it emerged from a bank of cloud. To the west, a rainbow arched over a luxury yacht cutting a leisurely path through blue-grey water.

  “You must love living here.” A wistful note crept into her voice.

  Well, who wouldn’t? Her London bedsit overlooked a suburban railway line. “I bet the sunsets are glorious”—she glanced at the cloud cover moving back in to the coast—“at least, when it’s not raining.”

  “They are beautiful. As is the sunrise.” A deeper note of meaning underscored his deliberate pause.

  Does he expect me to say I’d like to see a sunrise?

  She dared a glance his way.

  He half-turned, watching her with an intensity that drew the air from her lungs. How does he do that to me?

  He watched her, his eyes alight with expectation. “Would you like to stay and watch it?”

  “You mean—?”

  “Exactly that. Stay the night with me. We are simpatico, no?”

  “No, I mean, yes, we are.”

  “And there is a small matter of lesson number two to consider.”

  Oh my. Heat rushed north and south, and her gaze landed on his lips. They tipped up in a carnal grin.

  “You weren’t joking?”

  “You challenged me. I can never resist a challenge. Now you must give me the chance to prove to you how dangerous making love can be.”

  “Dangerous, um . . . that sounds—”

  “What’s the matter, bella? Not thinking of withdrawing the challenge? The woman who took on her first bike ride on the Amalfi coast road isn’t afraid of a little—danger, are you?”

  The certainty of a night in Luca’s arms, in his bed, had her insides spinning like a Catherine wheel. She sipped her wine in an effort to regain some control, and slowly ran her tongue across her moist upper lip.

  Let him make of that what he would.

  Aiming for cool and sophisticated, she tilted her chin up and met his gaze, her own wide-eyed. “I never back away from a challenge—either given or received.”

  “Thank goodness, because it gives me much pleasure just planning how I will win.”

  Hunger filled her. And need. And heat.

  She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. This gorgeous man filling her personal space, who had already given her a fighting chance to win over the car manufacturer, was now offering her a night of pleasure.

  With him.

  Her legs nearly gave way and she reached for the balustrade. Her elbow landed on the broad top and she leaned back, glad of the support.

  The doorbell chimed, a muffled peal from this distance.

  “Scusi. I will not be long.”

  Luca placed his glass on top of the balustrade and strode inside. Voices rose and fell in a brief conversation before the heavy wooden front door closed, muffling the burst of a passing scooter. She waited while his footsteps passed across the dining area and returned.

  Serena pressed a hand against her stomach to quell the fluttery jitters. Did she want a slow anticipatory build up or was it better to go for broke?

  Which do I want? Does it matter?

  Only that she wanted this. Wanted Luca, with an intensity she’d never known before. In her most daring dreams, she’d never expected to run into a man like him.

  Run into, she mused—

  LOL, he ran into me. Almost.

  But he could have palmed her off after the doctor’s visit.

  Instead, he arranged transport for her to keep an important business meeting, tracked down her lost luggage, and arranged for it to be brought here for her convenience.

  Few men would have gone to so much trouble.

  Luca returned, his grin satisfied. “All is arranged and dinner has arrived.”

  “Dinner?”

  Maybe the Italian gods of love were feeling kindly today. Images of him spread out on a table for her delectation titillated her imagination.

  She licked her lips.

  Her brain had gone on holiday, and she found it hard to focus on simple conversation. He must be thinking her simple minded the way she continued to parrot him. But then food wasn’t preoccupying her thoughts.

  It was a dark-eyed biker whose deep, dulcet tones thrilled her and who wanted her in his bed, and offered her love—and danger.

  “Si, mi amore.” He grinned, took her glass and placed it beside his.

  Had he guessed at her naughty thoughts? Were his similar? “Is wine on the danger list?”

  “Later. When one undertakes a challenge,” he murmured softly in her ear, “it’s good to have one’s wits working.”

  Hands either side of her waist, he drew her close.

  Savouring the proximity, her hands crept up his chest, and she relished the firm muscle beneath her fingertips, its responsiveness to her touch.

  She rubbed her thumbs across his nipples and, to her delight, they budded beneath the fabric of his shirt. She flicked a nail across one.

  He drew a quick breath and covered her hand with his, preventing further teasing.

  For now.

  She arched an eyebrow and met his gaze. Dark, with a definite promise of danger. “So I’m a challenge?”

  “You are a mystery, an anticipated pleasure we will explore together.”

  He raised her hand to his lips, turning it palm up. His thumb caressed the fleshy mound, his lips sought her wrist, cool, but leaving a trail of fire. Surely he must feel her runaway pulse?

  He took his time, trailing kisses along her forearm to her elbow. When had an elbow become so sensitive, so—erogenous? Legs flexible as spaghetti barely kept her upright.

  Luca wasn’t playing fair.

  His ‘I always win’ hinted at skills Serena had never experienced. If only she could—

  He sucked the soft inner curve of her elbow, teeth grazing her skin, before he soothed the spot with his hot tongue.

  Desire, hot and urgent, shafted through her body, and she bit back a gasp of surprise.

  Slowly, carefully, he drew her arm up and around his neck. His fingers trailed down her arm and, with the lightest touch, skimmed the side of her breast. He found the dip of her collarbone, traced the ridge with his tongue and ascended the column of her neck. As he nibbled her ear lobe, warm puffs of breath raised goose bumps down her arms.

  Her breathing, short and sporadic, barely allowed her enough oxygen. He pulled her hips against him, and the hard ridge of his arousal pulsed against her belly.

  Her hips moved spontaneously against his, salsa-sexy and urgent.

  Soft Italian words were murmured in her ear between softer kisses. Slow seduction served by Luca—her new favourite appetiser.

  “Andiamo, cara. We need the bedroom for our next course.”

  6

  Apples and berries—the scent tickled his nose and he breathed deeply. It was the scent of his grandmother’s orchard, her kitchen, of home.

  And Serena.

  Strands of her hair rose and fell with each breath he took, tickling and caressing his cheek. Nestled against him, their positions reversed the erotic bike ride when her breasts teased him at every curve, with every turn. Yesterday, he’d had the promise of her as they rode the coast road, each tensing of her thighs bracketing his as he’d steered them through the turns. Fantasizing about riding with her in the way they had explored together last night.

  She loved astride.

  And so did he.

  With her.

  And now he knew her entire body, her hills and valleys, her secret places.

  He knew what stirred her, what sent her wild.

  And her sexual invitation, instinctive and innocent, was a far cry from the practised come-on of a courtesan, like the women he usually took to his bed.

  The lessons in love he’d taught her had taken them both to the edge and beyond, and her delight was unfeigned.

  Maybe he was a chauvinist, but her innocence delighted him.

  His e
rection hardened. Still asleep, she pressed against him, firmly into his thighs. Peachy cheeks wrapped around his length.

  Breakfast would have to wait, because he couldn’t.

  His arm tightened around her waist, his hand seeking the rounded swell of her breast. Her rosy nipple already peaking, she murmured his name and reached a hand back to stroke his thigh.

  And Luca knew one night with Serena wasn’t enough.

  The length of his thigh quivered as she trailed her fingers up and back. A mountain of man warmed her back, wrapped her in a muscular embrace, tender for all its strength, and kept her safe. Warm breath puffed across her cheek and a hand caressed her breast. She wriggled as ribbons of delight wound through her, and his body stirred against hers.

  He was so male, so insistent, and he’d given her such pleasure, the likes of which she’d never known existed.

  His knee slid between her legs.

  “Buon giorno, cara.” She felt his voice murmuring in her ear, rumbling in his chest against her back. The deep tones reminiscent of dark chocolate and Cointreau, a temptation designed to test her self-control.

  She’d always been great at self control. Before I met Luca.

  Stubble scraped against the tender skin of her shoulder, a silent invitation to enjoy the pleasures of his flesh one more time.

  Hot fingers stroked down her back leaving a trail of shivery anticipation in their wake. Nerve endings danced to his touch. He trailed his fingertips across her stomach and slid between her thighs.

  And her self-control didn’t stand a chance.

  An hour later, showered and dressed, Serena pulled on her ruined skirt and yesterday’s shirt, grimacing as she examined it. All but forgotten in last night’s lusty encounter, bright daylight revealed the wear and tear of the accident. Apart from the slits Luca had made, dirt patches and an oil stain over her bottom marked the material.

  There was no way she could appear in such clothing. But she had no change of clothes. Constrained by flying on a cheap carry-on luggage only ticket, she’d brought her laptop and briefcase. And the airport check-in had argued about three hand pieces when they saw her capacious handbag. Travelling cattle class was the pits.

  And she was expected to sell the idea of her stepfather’s engine to Luxia. It was brilliant and it suited the new carmaker’s edgy and innovative direction.

  And without it, Dad’s business is finished.

  She stepped back to survey her appearance in the cheval mirror and grimaced.

  Maybe Luca could direct her to a market stall. Did they have markets mid-week in Sorrento? With a sigh she twisted her hair up on her head, aiming for a professional look. She pinned the last wayward strand in place and turned.

  Luca leaned against the doorframe, watching her while he slowly buttoned his shirt. He worked from his waist up, leaving her a mouth-watering view of olive skin.

  “That won’t do, cara.”

  “I know. Is there a—cheap clothes shop in town where you can drop me?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” He strolled into the walk-in robe and emerged a moment later with a fancy carrier bag dangling from his fingers. “But I can find out if you prefer that to what’s in here.”

  Mystified, she sat on the edge of the bed and drew out the contents of the bag. A slim-fitting black skirt and a silky, silver-grey shirt tumbled onto her lap.

  Was this payment for last night?

  She’d never had a one-night stand.

  Not before last night.

  Her night with Luca was far from a tawdry quickie. At least for her. But did he see it that way?

  A shard of ice pierced her pride and she stiffened her spine. After the most earth-shattering sex of her life, she refused to be made to feel like a hooker. Swallowing hurt and anger, she looked up to where he lounged in the doorway.

  “I can’t accept it.”

  His gaze travelled slowly over her face then pinned her with a hard look. A muscle tugged beside his mouth. “It’s not that.”

  “What?”

  “What your expression screams. Serena, I’m not paying you off.”

  He came over and hunkered down beside her, fingers pinching a dirt stain on her skirt. “It is only right I should replace your outfit since I am responsible for its condition. Although the slit improves the look of your skirt, that oil on your bottom is not at all fashionable.”

  His reasonable explanation made her anger evaporate. She felt a rush of gratitude and sense of mortified pleasure. “But how—when?”

  “I described your figure to my PA. That was why she was delayed yesterday, shopping for these. Do you like them?”

  “They’re beautiful, but I can’t—”

  “Please.” He held up a hand. “Don’t say you can’t accept them. I damaged your outfit, I am repairing that damage. Your meeting, it is important?”

  She nodded, her hand clenching on the fabric of the skirt she held. Luca couldn’t possibly know just how important it was to her, and her stepfather.

  “You can’t wear damaged clothes.”

  “And I can’t wear my birthday suit.”

  A sexy grin lit his face. “Now, that’s one meeting I’d like to be in on.”

  Serena went hot and cold all over.

  “Thank you, I’ll accept your gift for now, but I will reimburse you for them. Give me the bill.”

  “No.” His brows lowered in a scowl. “Don’t be so, what do you call it? Stuffy. Now get changed or you’ll be late for your meeting. Breakfast is ready, and then we must leave.”

  He was—forceful rather than arrogant, she decided. She knew the accident was her fault. Her glance fell on the bedside clock. But he was right about the time.

  Excited, she slipped into the new outfit. It was gorgeous. Not to mention the first new clothes she’d had in a couple of years.

  Smoothing her hands down the skirt, she realised how much she’d missed having anything new and pretty.

  Not that she would ever complain.

  Helping Dad with his research meant there was no spare money for luxuries like new clothes.

  With a sense of satisfaction, she dumped the grey suit in the bin in the bathroom and ceremoniously washed her hands.

  “Bella!” Hands on her shoulders, Luca drew her back against him. “But there is something not right.”

  “Have I left a tag on? What?”

  He plucked out two hairpins.

  She grabbed at her bun as it wobbled. “I’ll fix it.”

  “No, bella.” He tugged the other pins free and tossed them on the bathroom bench. “With such beautiful hair, it is criminal to hide it.” He ran his fingers through the weight of hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Si, molto bene.”

  “But I’m going to a business meeting. How can I go dressed like this? They won’t take me seriously.”

  “Serena, if you want to make an impression on an Italian man, on any man for that matter, dress sexy. Use your incredible body.”

  “I want them to listen to my proposal.”

  “They will listen, believe me. And they will be happy listening while they look at you. Now let’s eat.”

  “You’re sure this is the address?” Luca pulled up in front of the modern office building and turned to her.

  She checked her phone again. “Yes, this is it.”

  The sad phrase hung between them.

  This was it. The moment of goodbye. There was no choice but to move on and that meant relegating Luca to a beautiful memory. She steeled herself to meet his gaze.

  He tucked her hair behind an ear. Was he as reluctant as her to part company? “What does your father do?”

  “He’s a designer. Of engines. If he hadn’t fallen ill, he’d have been doing this presentation.”

  “Engines?” He frowned and glanced at the building behind her. A half-smile tugged up one side of his mouth.

  “What is his name?”

  “Gregory Mason.”

  Luca’s lips twitched. “And you know all the de
tails? Can answer all the questions?”

  “Yes. I have an engineering degree. I worked with him on it.” Over months and months. Pride in their achievements helped her focus. She could make it through this farewell without tears.

  He nodded as though satisfied with her answer, though why she couldn’t say.

  “Well, bella. I will say ciao for now.”

  Ciao.

  That was for when you expected to meet again. For people who lived in the same country, who had coffee and dinner and slept together more than one night because they could.

  Ciao was full of the promise of another meeting, and sweet kisses, and Luca in her arms, inside her again and again.

  Ciao was not theirs to give.

  “Shouldn’t it be arrivederci? It’s not like I’ll get back to Sorrento again.”

  “Serena, I think we both know last night wasn’t enough. We will have more.”

  “You sound sure.”

  “Si. I am. Now—” He undid one more button on her shirt, ran a finger down her chest and tilted his head to the side, examining the effect. “Better. I wish you good luck. Show them who you are.”

  He leaned across the centre console, touched her cheek with his fingertips, and then leaned in. His kiss was gentle, the passion of last night reined in, but simmering just below the surface.

  Ciao.

  Her heart ached for his words to come true. How could she give up what they’d shared? And yet, how could she afford to come back to Italy?

  She pressed into the kiss, seeking to make it last a few seconds longer. Breathing in his scent—woodsy cologne, musk, Luca.

  The half hour chimed from the duomo clock tower opposite and she swallowed. Nine-thirty.

  It was time to go.

  “Thank you—for everything.”

  “Ciao, bella.”

  She slipped out of the car and stepped away.

  With a quick wave, Luca pulled out into traffic and disappeared around the corner.

  Head high, she entered the building and was directed to the correct floor. As she approached reception, the first flutters of nerves began. She moistened her lips as the receptionist looked up.

  “Ah, Signorina Bannon, welcome. I hope you are recovered from your accident, si?”