Mister Irresistible: Bachelor International Book 2

by Me, Tara Sue

  The lobby of the hotel was crowded with other beautiful people, most of them paired off, but there were a few groups and a handful of singles. Mia had told me Lucrezio would be wearing a purple flower in his lapel. I’d giggled when she first told me how Bachelor International clients did so when they needed a quick way to be identified. Now, however, it made complete sense.

  Had I not been told to look for a man with a purple flower, I couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to try to figure out who my date was. I tried to picture myself attempting to decide which men looked the most like the Italian men I’d met before, and then what? Go up to each of them and ask, “Are you my date?” That would never happen, no matter how good I looked. One second of that, and I’d be on the way back home alone.

  Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. I took a quick look around the lobby. But none of the men present had any sort of flower in their lapel. There were a few single men at the bar off in the far corner of the lobby, but I didn’t want to walk in that direction, since we’d agreed to meet in the lobby. Besides, I was a few minutes early, it wasn’t as if I was being stood up. I tried not to think about how embarrassing that would be and settled instead on people watching while looking for lapels filled with flowers.

  What I ended up doing was keeping my eyes open for a lapel flower while wondering what my boss would think of an investigative article on being stood up by the world’s biggest bore.

  Since my focus was on flowers, that’s what I noticed first. One of the single men at the bar left and started walking toward the lobby. As soon as he turned my direction, I saw the purple flower in his lapel. I found myself unable to look away from the flower, though I wasn’t sure why. Was I really that surprised he showed up?

  It wasn’t until he’d almost reached me that I lifted my gaze to see his face and ended up meeting his eyes. Eyes I’d never forget.

  I let out a gasp as the world tilted and everything went black.

  Chapter 4

  Wren

  5 years ago

  I was starting to think the Italy trip was a mistake. Pretty sad since I hadn’t been in the country for even twenty-four hours. We’d landed, made our way through customs, and were currently in a shared van on our way to the resort we were staying at. I’d never felt so out of place in my life.

  It was becoming crystal clear the members of my travel group were more interested in parties and who was going to be at them, than they were with skiing or even seeing the Italian countryside. I’m not sure why this surprised me because they did the same thing at home. Silly me for thinking they’d act any different in a foreign country.

  By the time we pulled up to the resort, I’d already come to terms with the fact I’d pretty much be on my own for the entire trip. Good thing I never had a problem being in my own company. It appeared the group felt the same way about me. No one seemed to be in a hurry to invite me along to any parties. Not that I cared, but it would have been nice to have at least been invited.

  I stood in the lobby with everyone else, waiting while the two group leaders, Laura and Betsy, went to check everyone in. The rooms were double, and that was the part I dreaded. Who would I be sharing a room with?

  Everything must have been ready because in no time at all, we were being given room assignments. I held my breath. When Laura was down to one passcard, she looked at me. “They upgraded Betsy and me to a suite, and since we have so much room, Michelle’s going to room with us. You don’t mind having a room all to yourself, do you?”

  Obviously, Michelle had drawn the short stick and yet somehow could still twist it in such a way as to make it work for her. Just as well. She had a shrill laugh guaranteed to give me a headache in under two point five seconds. At least I wouldn’t have to hear that all day, every day the entire time we were here.

  “No, of course not,” I said.

  With that settled to everyone’s satisfaction, the group turned and left for the elevators, leaving their luggage for the porter to bring later. They’d all brought more bags than they could possibly need. I’d only packed a carry-on and a checked bag. Of course, I wasn’t planning to change outfits five times a day, either.

  I didn’t want to ride the elevator with them, especially since I planned to carry my own bags, so I purposely slowed down. Laura actually took the time to glance over her shoulder and asked, “Are you coming?”

  I waved her on. Not in your life. “I need to check with the concierge really quick. I’ll be right up.”

  She gave me a little smile and turned back to the group. Their laughter lingered behind them as they walked away. I watched until they disappeared around a corner. Maybe I should have been bothered, but I wasn’t. I was in Italy for Christmas, at a beautiful resort, with days of doing whatever I wanted. It might not be the perfect scenario, but I wasn’t about to complain about it.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I reached for the handle of my bag, and somehow knocked it over. This shouldn’t have been a problem, and it wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t placed my purse on top of my bag, propped up against the pull handle. Even that shouldn’t have been an issue. Except my purse was open.

  So there I was in the middle of this gorgeous and elegant lobby set in a resort in the Italian Alps, and I’d just scattered the contents of my purse across the lobby. And because I crammed it full of stuff I thought I might need on the plane, there were tubes of lip balm, hand lotion, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, a half-filled bottle of water, and assorted nuts and dried berries decorating the floor at my feet.

  For a moment I stared at the mess, mortified, before I scrambled to my knees, hurriedly trying to pick everything up before it had a chance to escape further. I managed to gather everything up without it getting stepped on and dumped the pile into my purse. I was certain I looked like a hot mess, but the marble floor must be kept fastidiously clean because my jeans were dust free when I went to brush them off. Still feeling like everyone in the lobby was staring at me, even though I could see that they weren’t, I picked the sanitizer out of my purse and cleaned my hands.

  Finished, I ensured all my bags were closed properly and zipped up.

  “Excuse me,” a deep, accented voice said from behind me. “I think this is yours.”

  Turning, I found myself staring at what had to be the finest male specimen to ever walk the face of the earth. I was pretty certain he could serve as the example of what a tall, dark, and handsome man should look like.

  I realized I’d been staring at him for longer than what was polite when he smiled and said, “It might not be yours, but I thought I’d ask.”

  Glancing down to see what it was, I wanted to crawl into a hole when I did. Because Mr. Hotter-than-any-man-has-a-right-to-be was holding the small travel bag I used for tampons. My face heated, and I didn’t need a mirror to tell me my cheeks were red. Irritated at how my body reacted to him, I snatched the tampons out of his grip. I probably wouldn't need them and had thrown them in my purse at the last second.

  I’d often wondered later what would have happened if I’d decided not to pack the tampons? Would Luca and I have never met, or would he have found something else to pick up that day? Maybe we wouldn’t have met in the lobby shortly after my arrival, but rather later in the week having coffee in front of one of the enormous public rooms the resort had. Then I’d think, if we hadn’t met until later, would I have fallen so far, so fast? Would the accident that forever altered the course of my life not have happened?

  Could a travel bag filled with tampons really have such an immense influence on your life’s path?

  It boggled the mind.

  Of course, at that point in time, I knew nothing of what the next week would bring. All I knew was that a hot Italian guy was holding my tampons.

  “Yes, it is mine. Thank you,” I said, and he laughed.

  “I see you’ve only arrived just now,” he said.

  “Very astute,” I said, not understanding why I was acting so pissy to the hot guy. He was only being n
ice by picking up something I’d dropped. It wasn’t his fault I was embarrassed he’d found my tampons.

  “Jet lag can be a pain in the ass,” he said, seeming to ignore my less than pleasant demeanor at the moment. “How about we meet in the bar around six and I’ll buy you a drink?”

  I knew of girls who had things like that happen to them all the time. Girls who were constantly being hit on or who always had a group of guys around hanging onto every word they said. For the record, I was not one of those girls. Never had been. Never planned to be.

  Which meant instead of being gracious or thrilled that he asked, I immediately thought he was up to something.

  “Why?” I asked. “Do you normally invite newly arrived international women to meet you for drinks? Are you the resort welcoming committee? I wasn’t told to expect you.”

  “No,” he answered with an amused smile. “You’d be the first. And no I’m not on a committee.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. The thing I’d learned early about overly handsome men is they almost always knew exactly how good looking they were, and they had a tendency to use that knowledge to their advantage.

  “You don’t believe me?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  He took that in stride. “I’m not really sure why I asked, to be honest, other than I saw you standing here, looking as if you’re determined to have a nice time in Italy whether or not it kills you. And then as I’m trying to figure out why you would think it would be possible to not have a good time in Italy, you knocked your bag down.” He shrugged. “You know the rest.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, not even thinking about what I was getting ready to say. “You picked up my tampons.”

  “Is that what that was?” he asked, and it shocked me he didn’t appear embarrassed or uneasy with the topic of conversation. “I was certain they were cotton swabs.” He caught my what the heck look, and added, “I have a older sister.”

  “And if she was checking into a foreign hotel and a guy came up to her, asking if she’d like to meet up for a drink later, what would you tell her to do?” I couldn’t say why I continued to stand there talking to him instead of heading up to find my room. Maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to dance with amusement, or the simple charm of his smile. I wasn’t sure what it was, but something about him called to me in a way no one else ever had.

  “If the guy was a known player,” he said in reply to my question. “Then I’d have a problem with it. But, if he was sincere? That would be a different story altogether.”

  “True,” I said. “The problem, though, is trying to determine how sincere he is.”

  “That’s not a problem,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. He laughed and asked, “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t see how it’s not a problem.”

  “If you want to find out how sincere he is, you agree to meet him for the drink.”

  “Is that right?” I asked with a smile.

  “Yes. It’s truly the only way.”

  “There’s only one more thing,” I said and waited.

  “And?”

  “I don’t know your name.”

  His grin returned. “Luca,” he said, holding out his hand.

  I take it in mine and do my best to ignore the electric spark I know I didn’t imagine when our hands met. “Wren.”

  Chapter 5

  Luca

  It wasn’t until I heard her gasp, saw her eyes roll to the back of her head and her knees buckle that I realized it was her.

  Wren.

  “Wren!” I shouted, darting for her.

  Fortunately, I was close enough that I could reach and catch her before she fell and cracked her head open. Cradling her in my arms, I carefully lifted her and walked to a nearby bench. I sat down, and within seconds, a security guard was at my side.

  “Everything okay, sir?” he asked, eyeing the woman in my arms.

  “Yes,” I told him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Just had a bit of a shock, is all. Perhaps if you could get a bottle of water?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said and took off.

  A crowd of people had stopped what they’d been doing and ended their conversations when Wren collapsed. Now that nothing drastic seemed to be happening, no alien bursting out of her chest, no copious amount of blood involved, they quickly lost interest in the two of us, and went back to whatever they’d been doing before.

  “Sir?”

  I looked up to find a woman, a hotel employee, judging by the metal name tag she wore, holding a bottle of water and a damp cloth. The security guard I’d spoken with before stood in front of us, shielding us from curious eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the offered cloth and pressing it gently to Wren’s forehead. At my touch, she stirred slightly, but didn’t open her eyes.

  The hotel employee placed the water beside me and within easy reach. “Do we need to call for medical help?”

  I almost said no, but then realized I knew nothing of Wren’s current medical condition or if she had anything in significant in her medical history. “I don’t think so,” I told her. “But I’m not one hundred percent certain. Let’s give her a few minutes and we’ll see how she’s doing.”

  “Okay,” she said. “My name is Marsha, and I’m the front manager on duty tonight. Let me know if you need anything, and if you don’t see me, just ask anyone working and they’ll be able to find me.”

  “Thank you, Marsha,” I said, watching as she walked to the security guard and spoke to him.

  Wren shifted in my arms and I turned my attention back to her. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet, but I could see them moving underneath her eyelids. I took that as a positive sign. Hopefully, she’d wake up in the next few seconds.

  “Wren,” I whispered. “Open your eyes. It’s okay. You’re fine. Just a bit of a shock is all.”

  A bit? Ha! That was the understatement of the year. Possibly the entire decade. It seemed so surreal to be sitting on a bench in a hotel in Boston, holding in my arms the very woman I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind for the last five years.

  Her eyelids fluttered at the sound of her name. My fingers ached to touch her. Holding a damp cloth to her forehead wasn’t enough. I wanted to brush my knuckles across her cheekbones, to trace the line of her jaw, and to discover if her skin was as soft as I remembered. I pushed the temptation away.

  Then her eyes opened, and everything around us dissolved. The low level hum of activity from the people around us serving as background noise faded into nothing. For the briefest second, the entire universe consisted of two beings, me and her.

  “Luca?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She moved to sit up, and I begrudgingly let go. I picked up the water bottle and opened it before handing it to her.

  “Thanks.” She took one sip and then another, all the while looking at me as if I had two horns coming out of my head.

  “What?” I finally asked. Surely I had nothing on my face.

  “I keep expecting you to disappear into the thin air.” She shook her head. “But you’re still here.”

  Her answer wasn’t what I expected, and I chuckled despite myself. “I could say the same thing about you.”

  “Why? How?” She shook her head and brought her hand up to touch her forehead. “This can’t be real,” she muttered to herself. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the flower in my lapel. “But it is, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “You must be here to meet someone else.”

  “Why is that?” I didn’t think Bachelor International would arrange for two couples to meet initially at the same time and place, but maybe they would. What did I know?

  “Because I’m supposed to be meeting someone named Lucrezio. I’ve been told he’s a boring recluse, and that in no way sounds like you.”

  Who the hell thought I was boring? “Lucrezio is my full name, but everyone calls me Luca. I’ll own up to being somewhat
reclusive, but I have to draw the line at boring.”

  She didn’t respond to the boring comment, not that expected she would. “When did you find out you were meeting me?”

  “The second I laid eyes on you.”

  Her confused expression made little sense until I realized much of the information on her would have been in the email Mia sent, still lounging around my inbox, unread. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. “Mia sent me an email with information about you.” I scrolled through my emails until I found the one I was searching for and opened it to read.

  Wren Prescott

  I’d had this email in my possession for how long? I was a damned idiot.

  “Your last name is Prescott?” I asked.

  “You didn’t read your email?” she asked instead of answering, and I realized it wasn’t the right time to tell her she was the reason I didn’t open the email.

  “It didn’t seem necessary to read the email,” I answer. “The date was set, you’d already been given the details. What good would come from reading the email?”

  “You would at least know my last name.”

  “You’re right,” I said, not wanting to start an argument. “That reason along with many others.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “If you’d known it was me, would you have still shown up or would you have called Tenor and canceled?”

  There were so many ways I could answer that question. What would she have done if she’d known it was me? Although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that one, I had a good idea I already knew how she’d reply.

  Did I tell her I’d have said yes, because I wanted to see her? Had I not made that point very clear when she was in the hospital, refusing to see me? Or did I go the opposite reaction and answer no, I would abide by what she’d asked me for years ago, to walk away and let her go?