Falling for Italy

by De Ross, Melinda

  “Yeah, Miss Galsworthy,” the boy said proudly. “What d’ you think?”

  “I think you must be nuts to drill more holes in you than you’re supposed to have.” She inclined her head to study their saggy jeans, full of rips and holes.

  “What happened to you today?” she asked them. “Is this what you call fashion these days?”

  “These are cool, Miss. Everybody wears ’em like this,” another boy said.

  “Cool, huh? I must be getting really old,” she muttered, to the boys’ amusement. “Come on, let’s get to work. Start warming up,” she ordered as she unlocked the door to the training area.

  They worked out more enthusiastically than the girls, while she supervised them. They were still at the age when they thought handling a gun was—first of all—awesome, and a reason to boast to their friends.

  She led them through the same routine, starting with precision, and continuing with speed training. She paced slowly, as the noise of synchronized shots echoed in the large space.

  “Peter, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, as the culprit straightened his shoulders and adjusted his grip, staring at the target, while he waited for it to turn and face him. “Don’t panic when the blasted target turns and looks you in the eye! Be ready. Start lifting the gun as soon as the silhouette moves. And squeeze the trigger slowly, progressively, don’t brusque it.”

  As the rounds ended and she went to her telescope, she noticed Giovanni was watching from the doorway. She signaled him to come in before starting to calculate the boys’ scores.

  Finally, she announced the end of training and waited for them to pick up their guns and put them in their destined places. She locked the gear as the boys said goodbye, heading to the door. Then she turned to Giovanni. He’d followed her advice, and was dressed in jeans and a black sweater under a thick jacket.

  “Hello,” he said. “I’m very impressed.”

  “By what?”

  “By you. How did you know that boy, Peter, had made a mistake, when you weren’t even looking at him?”

  Sonia smiled, stuffing her hands in her jeans pockets.

  “Oh, that. It’s something acquired over the years. It’s about the sound, the rhythm. I couldn’t quite explain it.”

  She caught him looking at her décolletage, then lifting that dark bold gaze to her face.

  “Ready for training?” she asked self-consciously, going to a desk from which she produced earplugs and glasses.

  “Of course.”

  He took off his jacket, placing it on a bench. She noticed her first assessment regarding his body had been accurate. His black sweater fit like a second skin, displaying muscled arms and broad, rounded shoulders. He pulled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted with black hairs. Sonia swallowed as a wave of heat formed in her stomach, heading south at full speed. He took the Glock from her, and then positioned himself at the desk she indicated. As she went to get a new paper target, she stole a glance at his back. Perfect—wide and muscular, yet graceful as a feline’s. Though no feline she’d ever seen had such a sexy ass.

  She cleared her throat before she began reminding him the basic and most important rules. There was no need for that. He already moved better than yesterday. She assumed he could be among the best if he set his mind to it.

  He emptied a few magazines, each execution better than the previous one. At the end, she looked through her telescope and whistled admiringly.

  “Wow! You are a natural, Giovanni! You could really become a pro if you’d be interested in this. It’s lousy pay, lots of sweat and long hours, but we do it for passion,” she mocked philosophically.

  He came up behind her, so close she could smell his aftershave—an exotic, spicy scent that could madden the senses of the most un-reckless woman, which she surely wasn’t.

  “Can I take a look?” he asked, and she felt his breath next to her ear, breezing stirringly on her bare skin. She turned her head and looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Be my guest. It’s your target.”

  She stepped aside, her clothes brushing against him with an almost sensuous rustle. Giovanni glanced through the telescope at his handiwork and smiled, flashing white teeth framed by that pair of unbelievably soft-looking lips.

  “Did I do that?”

  “Yep. I told you, you’re really good.”

  “Am I?” he teased, the smile still in place. “Why don’t we go out for coffee and talk more about it?”

  “I already had one earlier,” she said, tongue in cheek. After a beat, she added impulsively, “But I wouldn’t refuse a doughnut.”

  They decided on taking her car, since Giovanni had told her he couldn’t find anything without a GPS. Sonia drove to a nearby mall, where they could have their pick regarding food and activities. Giovanni suggested they watch a movie, but nothing on the display list appealed to her. The place was extremely crowded—what a wonder on a Saturday evening—so apparently he felt compelled to place his hand on her waist and hold it there lightly. She liked it far too much. His warm palm seemed to spread heat throughout her entire body, making her want to nestle closer against him, to press her back against his chest and let him hold her tight. The temptation was so strong it became reality for a short moment, when a couple carrying what looked like a ton of bags bumped into them. Her side collided with his chest and he tightened his arm around her, talking close to her ear to make himself heard over the loud music.

  “Make sure you stick close to me. You wouldn’t want me to get lost without a car and my GPS. I’d probably spend the night outside in the snow, looking for my sister’s house.”

  She turned her head in time to see his mouth quirk into a wicked grin, causing her heart to skip a beat. She recovered her wits just enough to sound casual as she said, “Stay close to me, Poster Boy. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for losing Italy’s computer king.”

  He laughed softly.

  “Poster Boy? Computer king? I’ll make you explain later when we can talk without shouting.”

  “What’s with the holiday music anyway? It’s barely the beginning of December, for Heaven’s sake! Almost a month ‘til Christmas and people are already getting the holiday madness. Look at this.”

  She indicated a mother with four children, who was carrying so many bags and packages she was nearly buried under them. The kids were dragging behind her, duckling-like, holding each other’s hands. The last one—a little girl who looked as though she’d barely learned to walk—sucked her thumb as if it was a nicotine lollypop.

  “Why do all kids have that stoned look?” she asked rhetorically. “I mean, they all look as though they’re lost in space, or have their own world, thinking their weird thoughts. How do their parents know they don’t conspire to kill them in their sleep?”

  He burst out laughing, hugging her to his side.

  “You don’t like kids much, do you?”

  “I don’t dislike them. It’s just…I don’t get them. When I’m around a kid, it looks at me and I look at it and neither of us knows what to make of the other. They stare with those stoned eyes and blabber incomprehensible things, like they expect you to do something. I never know what to do with them.”

  He chuckled.

  “I feel the same. Isn’t that funny? But I hope to have a bunch of kiddies one day, someone who’ll inherit my empire,” he said jokingly.

  They made their way through the walls of people to a pastries stand with a few tables scattered around. They bought a dozen doughnuts and a couple of sodas, for which Giovanni insisted paying, then they sat at one of the tables.

  As they ate, she asked, “So, what’s this computer empire business? What are we talking about here? I’ve put a gun in your hands, but I know very little about you.”

  He paused, reflexively licking the sugar off his fingers. Watching the motion of his sexy mouth, she swallowed, mesmerized. A sphere of heat and desire burned in her solar plexus, making it hard for her to look him in the eyes
when he replied.

  “It’s really nothing like that. I told you, I own a company that produces software. I started it over ten years ago, just a friend and me. It took larger proportions, but it’s not an empire. Let’s just say it pays the bills,” he added grinning.

  “Aha…and you’re here for your sister’s wedding, you said. When is that?”

  “December fifteenth.”

  “Who wants to marry in bloody December? Who wants to marry and why, period?” she demanded, choosing another doughnut with chocolate icing.

  One corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Oh, I see. Afraid of marriage and children. A woman after my own taste.”

  When she smirked, he went on, “In answer to your question, I suppose couples who love each other want to marry any time of the year. Linda and Gerard are very anxious to make their relationship official.”

  She stopped, her forehead creasing in concentration.

  “Linda…Coriola…the sculptress? Your sister is Linda Coriola, the sculptress? Why didn’t I make the connection sooner?”

  “Yes, she’s my baby sister. You know her?”

  “Not know her, but I’ve heard about her. Who hasn’t? Well, maybe not everybody has, but I’m a news junkie, so it was hard to avoid seeing her on TV now and again. She’s very talented. And I like her art. It’s not like other stuff, too abstract you can’t see anything artistic in it.”

  He laughed.

  “She would love to hear that.”

  “She’s marrying a doctor, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, Gerard Leon. He’s a hell of a guy, a brilliant researcher. As a matter of fact, he is about to put on the market two treatments that could eradicate cancer. But for one reason or another, someone’s always giving him grief about it. If I were paranoid, I’d say someone is sabotaging him,” he said thoughtfully, washing down the doughnuts with some soda.

  “Why would anybody want to do that?” she asked, tasting her own drink.

  “A sick mind doesn’t need a reason to do something. Gerard believes—and I tend to agree—there’s a worldwide conspiracy to prevent lethal diseases from being cured. Who, what and why? I couldn’t answer that. But this theory is far too popular and logical not to contain a grain of truth. Anyway, I’ve lured you away with doughnuts so I can find out more about you, not to talk about me and mine,” he teased. Supporting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, he stared at her deeply.

  “Who are you, Miss Galsworthy?”

  Sonia reclined in her chair.

  “Are you asking as my trainee?”

  He chuckled, amused, but then his smile faded as he said seriously, “I’m asking as a man who wants to know you very well. You’d better tell me now if you’re not interested.”

  She let herself be captured in the dark intensity of his gaze. No more games. Here it was—the moment of truth. Was she interested? Hell, yeah! What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be?

  “I’m flattered by your interest, Giovanni. And I believe you’re an interesting man yourself. I wouldn’t have shared the doughnut experience with you if I thought otherwise. So, what do you want to know about me?”

  “Everything,” he replied simply and his eyes wondered down, focusing on her lips. To his credit, he didn’t stare at her breasts, though she had the feeling it was tremendously hard for him not to. She put down her soda, hoping her nipples weren’t visible. Commodity aside, maybe she should start wearing a bra, even though she hated being constrained by such garments. She returned her thoughts to the matter at hand.

  “I’m a twenty-nine-year-old London-born-and-bred girl with a passion for guns and an addiction to fashionable clothes. To my late parents’ dismay, I’ve loved guns and weapons since I was three and got my first water pistol. They always asked themselves where they’d gone wrong with me, why wasn’t I playing with dolls and pink teddy bears like our neighbors’ little girls, etcetera…”

  He burst out laughing, running a hand over his face.

  “Wow! That was…precise. I gather people often wonder about your career choice. Why is that?”

  “I ask myself that every time. I guess most people still believe the lil’ women should be trained to be perfect housewives, raise kiddies and bake cookies all their lives.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Hell, no! Do you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement and defiance.

  “No way. I’m a modern man, Sonia.”

  “Modern enough to fear marriage and children?” she scorned playfully.

  “Correction—rational enough to…cautiously avoid that sort of thing. At least for now. I don’t have anything against it by principle. Just haven’t felt the need as yet.”

  He waited a beat and asked, “Have you?”

  She thought it over for a while, chewing slowly the last doughnut.

  “No, not seriously. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able or ready to be a good mother. As for marriage, the routine of it scares me. I’m not a party girl, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up next to the same man every day, forever. That’s the word that scares me. Forever. I wouldn’t want to do anything forever. Take motherhood for instance, if it doesn’t work, how the hell can you undo it? You have to stick all your life with someone you don’t know if you want or like.”

  “Interesting point of view. I guess I’ve never thought of it like this. I used to be a party boy.” He grinned sheepishly. “But lately I’ve settled down some, bought a house, adopted a dog…”

  She looked at him dubiously. “Wow. Looks like you’re all prepared for the next step in this domesticity thing. I got a plant,” she put in brightly. “I nearly killed it, but it’s still green. Maybe I’ll get a puppy. I really love animals. And my job isn’t so time demanding as it used to be.”

  “A plant,” he repeated grimly. “I suppose now’s the time to encourage you and say that’s a good start.”

  She laughed out loud until tears almost came into her eyes. When she could speak again, she told him, “God, I haven’t had so much fun in…I can’t even remember. You’re a fun guy, Giovanni. I like you.”

  He smiled insinuatingly.

  “I like you too. Very much.”

  He slid his hand across the table to touch hers. When she didn’t protest, he slowly linked his fingers with hers. This apparently innocent touch had shivers of pleasure and lust rippling through her, as she stood lost in the dark depths of his eyes.

  “Linda and Gerard are having a party tomorrow,” he said in a low, evocative voice. “An extravagant thing—a masquerade party. I’d really like for you to come.”

  She felt as though in a trance, but at his words she blinked.

  “A masquerade party? In this century?”

  His teeth flashed in a quick smile.

  “I told you it was a bit extravagant. I like the idea though.”

  She thought it over for a moment, and a feline smile spread across her face.

  “I like it too. I’d love to come. I’ve never been to this sort of thing in my life.”

  “Neither have I. Should be interesting. It’s a modern sort of thing, not with historical costumes or stuff like that. Give me your address so I can pick you up. The party starts at eight.”

  “Forget it,” she said. “I won’t have you driving around London all day to find me, just so you’d end up lost and miss the party. You give me your sister’s address. I’ll drive myself there.”

  His brow creased.

  “No way. I’m a gentleman, Sonia, and a gentleman collects his date right from her door. Besides, the party isn’t at Linda’s house. They’ve rented a restaurant or club.”

  “Impressive! But the bottom line stays. You’ll still be a gentleman if I come alone. No arguments. Or don’t you want me to come?”

  His eyelids seemed lazily heavy, but the enticing sparkle in his eyes was very much alert when he replied, “I do want you to come, Sonia. I want it very much.”

  Her breath f
elt like steam in her chest and on her lips when his fingers tightened slightly on hers.

  “You speak English very well, don’t you?” she finally said, her voice unusually husky.

  “I do my best. In everything.”

  The sensual tension increased by all those innuendoes and the mind-blowing effect he had on her only by touching her fingers became suddenly unbearable. She’d never been so overwhelmed by a man’s presence. His nearness, the exotic scent of his aftershave, his gorgeous body and face had her blood pumping faster through her veins. She cleared her throat, gently sliding her fingers away from his. She produced a pen and notepad from her handbag and asked him to tell her the address of the club where the party would take place.

  As he did, he watched her scrawl untidily.

  “You write like a doctor,” he observed, sounding amused.

  “Yeah, well, most of the time I don’t understand my own writing. But don’t compare me to doctors. I’m terrified of them.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They’re just like bees,” she said, stuffing the writing materials back in her bag. “They just…buzz around you, like bees. And they have needles. I have a needle-phobia,” she went on, shuddering slightly.

  “You’re kidding, right? A woman who handles guns like toys is afraid of a little needle?”

  She looked at him dead serious.

  “Any rational person fears needles and dentists, Giovanni. At least a bullet kills you quickly—it doesn’t slowly scare you to death.”

  He let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

  “You know, you’re really something, Sonia. I can’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company so much.”

  She smiled one-sidedly, then stood.

  “I think we’d better go. It’s late and freezing out there.”

  He helped her into her leather coat, his hands lingering on her shoulders as she slipped it on. He pulled on his own jacket and they made their way through the crowds, while Mariah Carey sang cheerfully All I Want For Christmas Is You.

  Outside was indeed freezing and big snowflakes fell lavishly, dancing over the city. She was too cold to enjoy the beauty of the December night. Her teeth chattered as she hugged herself tightly. Giovanni noticed. He unzipped his jacket and, wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her to him, so she was half-covered by his jacket as he held her close with a strong arm. Grateful for the warmth of his body, she cuddled against him, putting her arm around his waist.