by Amanda Usen
“You can have all the space you want. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. Mostly.” Her eyes widened. “Relax,” he urged. “You don’t want to cause a scene. We’ll only end up delayed.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re doing this.” She lifted her chin, eyes hard, like jade only colder. Her blond hair fell forward into her face and she brushed it back in a quick gesture, biting her lower lip.
He had fantasized about the taste of her lips for so long that he had made it a rule to keep three solid feet between them while she was married. His heart beat faster as he stepped closer to her, close enough to smell the flowery scent of her hair.
He leaned down to whisper, “Because it’s never too late. You put your house on the market and you gave Marlene power-of-attorney over Chameleon. I know you put all of your financial affairs in order too.” As her lawyer, he knew exactly how she had rearranged her finances after the divorce. “You’re running away, Olivia, and I’m starting to think you aren’t coming back.” He paused, feeling his pulse hammer. “So my question is this: Did you think I wouldn’t notice, or did you think I wouldn’t care?”
He heard the sharp rush of air as she gasped. Fear, or maybe guilt, crossed her expression before she spoke. “I didn’t think it was any of your business.”
“But you’re my client, Olivia, and as such you are my business. Speaking of which, how did Marlene react when you gave her those papers?”
Olivia looked away.
Sean pressed his advantage. “You didn’t give them to her, did you?”
She didn’t answer his question. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The security guard had run out of patience with them. Thankfully, Olivia responded to his curt gesture and walked through the metal detector. Sean spoke to her back as she collected her shoes. “Olivia, we have a layover in New York. You can ditch me there if you really want to be alone, I promise.” He stepped back, giving her the space she wanted. For now.
“Fine.” She swept forward, leaving him behind with her carry-on. Relief and triumph soared within him as he followed her to their gate.
She ignored him until their flight was called and didn’t comment when he pointed to their first-class seats. Apparently, a business-upgrade wasn’t going to score him any points, but at least they would be more comfortable. He was prepared for a barrage of questions, but she said nothing, instead turning to stare out the tiny window as he took his seat. He waited, allowing his gaze to slide over her with a familiarity he wouldn’t dare use if she were paying attention. He longed to soothe the coiled tension from her shoulders, to brush her soft hair away from her face.
“Why are you here, Sean?” She spoke without looking away from the window.
“Same reason you are.”
“That’s not an answer. Don’t give me lawyer double-talk.”
She looked at her lap and her hair fell forward again. He caught it with his fingers and tucked it behind her ear. Satisfaction burst through him, but subsided as she froze like a trapped rabbit.
The plane began to taxi, and she gripped the arms of her seat, looking like she might shatter if they hit a bump on the runway. Tired of resisting, he picked up her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. He could feel the strength in her palm, the callus at the base of her index finger, and the rough skin created by constant abuse in the kitchen. They were capable hands, working hands, and sexy as hell.
She turned toward him as they lifted into the air. Her expression was tense, and he ached to smooth the lines between her brows until they disappeared. He wanted her green eyes to be clear and unshadowed, not haunted and bruised. What had prompted her to close up her life like a summer resort in September? People didn’t sign over power of attorney and put their house on the market just to take a vacation. She was running away, and he didn’t want her to go.
Her green eyes flashed and he knew he had to answer her question somehow. When in doubt, stall—his favorite legal trick. “Olivia, we’ve got a five-and-a-half hour layover in New York, and I have dinner reservations at Trio. Can we talk then?” He let that sink in.
If he could get her to dinner, maybe he could get her to Italy. Trio was rumored to be the next restaurant in New York to receive three Michelin stars. Reservations were nearly impossible for the average mortal to attain, but Nonna Lucia’s position as Big Daddy’s girlfriend had distinct privileges. Nonna had also been happy to share Olivia’s itinerary, once he had admitted his desire to join her.
“I want to talk now,” Olivia insisted.
“Not before I get some wine into you,” he countered.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. You and wine have a bizarre effect on me. I don’t want to embarrass myself again.” Her words hung there, finally acknowledged.
“I didn’t say no,” he said quietly.
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Could have fooled me.” Her words were bold, but her hand trembled in his.
“I said ‘not tonight.’ Remember?” Of course she did or she wouldn’t have used the exact same phrase yesterday.
She tugged her hand out of his grasp.
Recklessly, Sean reached out to cup her cheek. “Was there an expiration date on your offer?”
***
Olivia felt her jaw drop. She shut her mouth with a click she hoped was only audible to her. You bet your ass there’s an expiration date. And it had run out the minute Sean left her house last June and she’d finished that bottle of wine by herself. Actually, no, before that—it had run out the very second she had read rejection in his blank expression and had known her ex-husband was right. She was a cold bitch, and no one else would ever want her.
Olivia gripped his wrist. His hand still framed her face. She tugged on it, but he didn’t budge. His eyes flashed from their usual calm gray to hot silver and she paused, startled, a stinging retort caught in her throat.
He covered her mouth with his lips.
For a split second, her body sagged in relief, surrendering so suddenly and profoundly that she felt as if someone had cut her strings. Breath whooshed out of her lungs. Her hands gripped his jacket for balance. His lips moved confidently over hers and his sweet, warm breath filled her mouth.
Sean thrust the armrest out of the way so it no longer divided their seats, and she felt his hand slide into her hair. What should she do? Push him away or pull him closer?
He kissed her again before she could decide.
His hands were warm on her cheeks as he tilted her head to better align his lips with hers. She shut her eyes and let go of all thought. His mouth was soft and firm at the same time. His lips led hers in an easy dance, not giving her a chance to falter.
She felt the tip of his tongue tease her lips and she stiffened, inhaling sharply. Doubt chilled her. She released her grip on his lapel and flattened her palms on his chest, pushing him away. Too much. Too fast.
Sean locked his arms behind her waist and kept her as close as their fastened seat belts would allow. She arched her back and cleared her throat loudly. “It’s not very professional to kiss your clients, counselor.”
“I’m on vacation.” His eyes flashed again, warning her. “And I quit. Kissing is the least of what I want to do to you.”
The distance she had put between them seemed to disappear. “Sean, I wasn’t…that night, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I don’t want—”
“Yes, you did. And I hope you still do.”
She was frightened by how much she wanted to bury her face in his neck and discover if his shirt would feel soft beneath her cheek or if the dry cleaner’s chemicals had left it scratchy and rough. Sean was the genuine article, a good guy, dependable—and a big, fat, glaring contrast to her ex-husband. Sean had always been there for her. It was why she had gravitated toward him in high sch
ool and also why she had wanted him to make love to her two months ago. It was damn hard to resist him now. But leaning on Sean wouldn’t solve her problems. She didn’t want to drag him into her meltdown. Olivia reached behind her and removed his hands from around her waist.
She cleared her throat again but was mercifully saved from speaking by the intercom clicking on as the pilot made an announcement about their cruising altitude. She gathered her thoughts. “Sean, that was two months ago—why now? Why yesterday?”
“I’ll tell you during dinner.” He pulled the flight magazine from the seat pocket in front of him. “Want one?”
She shook her head in disbelief, angling her body away from him as he opened the magazine. How could he be so blasé about what had just happened between them? Her thoughts felt as scattered as the cirrus clouds beneath them. Why couldn’t he have said yes two months ago? They could have had their catastrophe and gotten it over with.
She blinked, rolling her eyes as they began to sting. This situation called for laughter, not tears. He was following her to Italy to have sex with her, and she wasn’t even good in bed. The irony was hilarious.
The sudden jolt of the plane touching down on the runway made her jump. How long had she been staring off into space? She hadn’t even realized they were descending. When the seat belt light blinked off, she quickly unbuckled and waited for Sean to step aside so she could retrieve her luggage. He lifted it easily from the overhead bin but didn’t object when she grasped the handle and tugged it out of his hand. He stood so close behind her she imagined she could feel the line of his long body pressed against her. Her heightened awareness of him became painful as she waited.
She exhaled in relief as the line of passengers began to move. When they reached the humid tunnel, Sean kept pace with her. He caught her arm as they entered the concourse. “Please have dinner with me.”
She gave him the first excuse that came to mind. “I’m not dressed for Trio.”
He shrugged. “You look perfect.” He expertly herded her toward the moving walkway.
She halted and stood firm against the hand he placed on her lower back. All evidence to the contrary, she was not a sheep. “You wore a fancy suit on a transatlantic flight, so that you could take me to dinner in New York?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t think that’s impractical? Or at the very least uncomfortable?”
His grin was as careless as his shrug. “I spend all day in a suit. Doesn’t bother me. Casual wear was easier to pack anyway.”
Olivia crossed her arms. Curiosity rose inside her. He had followed her, kissed her. Two months ago he had rejected her. Yesterday, he had propositioned her. Why had he changed his mind?
He leaned down to whisper. “Chef’s tasting menu.” She shivered but didn’t take the bait. “Wine pairing,” he murmured, urging her forward with an arm around her waist now.
Olivia dug in her heels and stared defiantly at the dry-looking sandwiches in the airport café display.
The air from Sean’s sigh stirred the hair at her temple. “Let’s make a deal. If I can’t convince you it’s a good idea to let me go with you to Italy, then I’ll fly back to Norton tonight.” She glanced up at him. The grim light in his eyes told her that he had conceded more than he wanted to.
“Deal.” She took a step toward the walkway, but Sean held her back. His arms encircled her waist. He raised one hand to smooth her hair out of her eyes. Olivia felt her lips part.
A faint smile drifted across his lips. He didn’t kiss her again.
Chapter 3
A glance around the posh Trio dining room confirmed that she was tragically underdressed. After a closer glance at the food as the maitre d’ led them to their table, she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to get a look at the menu. The room hummed with quiet murmurs and the clink of silver on china.
“Nothing with strawberries, please,” Olivia requested after they had both ordered the five-course chef’s tasting menu. Sean cocked an eyebrow. “Allergic,” she supplied. Since he had promised to see her safely onto the airplane, with or without him, Olivia ordered wine paired with every course.
“Start talking, counselor.” On the taxi ride from the airport, he had expertly ducked her questions and kept her busy talking about Marlene and Joe’s upcoming wedding, but it was time to get some answers.
Sean nodded, swirled his pinot noir, and held her eyes with his calm, gray stare. “You were married,” he finally said.
“Huh?” Was he serious?
He shrugged. “When you asked me to stay—you were still married to Keith.”
She crossed her arms. “In name only.”
“Sleeping with clients is unethical, Olivia, especially when you are negotiating a divorce. I don’t like Keith, but I couldn’t sleep with his wife.”
Olivia added that to the list of ways Keith had ruined her life.
Sean’s eyes gleamed. “Now, his ex-wife…” he continued. “I am all about sleeping with Keith’s ex-wife. Anytime. Any place. Any country. Italy would be perfect.” His lips curved in a wicked grin that made her believe she might have misjudged him. Power suits and reassuring courtroom presence notwithstanding, Sean might not be a safe choice after all.
She took a quick sip of wine, choked, then coughed.
He handed her a crystal glass of water. “See, that’s why it’s simple. I’m using the business I need to conduct in Italy as an excuse to follow you to Verona and indulge in the fantasies I’ve had about you since high school.”
“Seriously?” she gasped.
His nod was slow and definite. “Crush doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt about you. You walked into freshman biology and every other girl disappeared.”
“But you never asked me out.”
“I couldn’t ask anyone out.” He took a deep breath, released it. “My mother was a drunk and I couldn’t leave my little brother home alone with her. I didn’t dare bring anyone to the house either. I never knew when she’d be passed out on the couch or having a screaming fit.” He shrugged. “The moments I stole with you were the only ‘dates’ I had until my mom got sober. You must have noticed that I stared at you in study hall, ate lunch at the table next to yours, and walked blocks out of my way so I could pass your parents’ restaurant on the way to and from school every day.”
She’d noticed—and wondered why he’d never made a move. Now she knew. And it broke her heart that she hadn’t been self-confident enough to make an effort herself. It sounded like he’d needed a friend.
Sean cleared his throat, breaking the spell of the past. “But as I said last night, we’re adults now. I don’t have to take care of my little brother. You don’t have to work. We’re headed for one of the most romantic countries in the world, and I’ve wanted you for at least half as long as I’ve been alive. Put me out of my misery and say yes, Olivia.”
The waiter set a plate in front of her.
She tore her eyes away from Sean’s disturbing gaze and looked down at the table. Pure, professional awe eclipsed her personal freak-out. Well, professional awe and her well-developed gift for denial.
For a full minute, she stared at her plate. Then she picked up the fork farthest to her left and delicately assembled a bite of the exquisite smoked salmon salad, making sure to get a taste of every component onto her fork, particularly the preserved lemons. Food, she understood. Food, she could handle. She did not have the same confidence regarding this familiar stranger in front of her. She stole a quick glance across the table. Sean was frowning.
“What?” Olivia asked.
He picked up his fork and speared a shrimp on his plate. “Nothing.”
***
Sean chewed, but he didn’t really taste the food in his mouth. Oh, he was smooth, all right. Smooth like the freakin’ Alps, no doubt about it. He didn’t
want her pity, he wanted to seduce her, but Olivia looked more bowled over by the food on the plate in front of her than by his proposition.
She had initially responded to his kiss on the plane but then froze in his arms. That did not bode well for his plan. He shook his head slightly, taking another bite and watching Olivia savor her food. She smiled a little every time her lips closed around the fork. Anticipation swirled inside of him as he thought about all the other ways he wanted to bring her pleasure. Her kiss had been so sweet—raw response mixed with hesitation. He wanted to kiss her again, over and over until she relaxed and opened to him. He wanted to know if their bodies would fit together as perfectly as their mouths—but first he had to convince her.
Olivia sighed and set her fork down with a clink. Immediately, a busboy swooped in to retrieve their empty plates. She took a long drink of her wine, then folded her hands in front of her on the white tablecloth. She met his eyes squarely. “I think you’d better tell me more about those high school fantasies, counselor.”
His pulse jumped. Maybe he had a chance, after all. “Are you sure you don’t want me to whisper them in your ear on the airplane?” She couldn’t say no after they were in the air.
“Positive.” She tipped her chin up, so her eyelids were at half-mast. Her expectant expression made him think of her head on a pillow, gazing down at him while he…
“Last chance to avoid shocking our waiter,” he warned.
“You can’t shock a waiter in a place like this.”
Sean was certain she was incorrect, but out of public decency, he kept his voice low. He began to weave a fantasy, noticing that every server who passed within earshot of their table discreetly slowed his steps. Olivia attempted to taste the next course delivered by a wide-eyed waiter but dropped her fork with a clatter when Sean mentioned blindfold and gondola in the same breath. Still, he had to give her credit. After dropping her fork, she had focused her attention entirely on him and had barely twitched a muscle.
As he neared the end of his pitch, Olivia’s head was cocked to the side and her eyes were glazed. He’d thrown in everything but the kitchen sink, hoping that something might pique her interest. She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. “There aren’t any gondolas in Verona. The canals are in Venice.”
