by Amanda Usen
Mrs. Marconi raised her glass. “Yes, Olivia? Were you saying something?”
Olivia shook her head. Tentatively, her fingers began to explore his in return, a whisper-light caress that made him forget to eat, his attention completely focused on the subtle dance of their hands beneath the table. It seemed to him as if their hands were making love. Did she feel that way too or was he reading too much into a little hand-holding? Her thumb slid into his palm in an unmistakably sensual motion.
He forced himself to move his fork to his mouth and eat.
Mrs. Marconi was speaking and Sean hoped he was managing to nod and smile in all the right places. His thoughts were miles away from the events of the upcoming week and his heart beat unevenly in his chest. Clearly the alcohol had stripped his inhibitions because it was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from pulling Olivia away from the table. He wanted nothing more than to finish what they’d started that afternoon, before her mother had knocked on the door.
Alessandro removed his plate from the table and Sean realized he’d eaten every bite without tasting a thing. Now that was tragic. Olivia was carrying on a conversation with her father. He brushed his palm over the back of her hand and watched a tiny shiver shake her before Alessandro stepped between them to deliver dessert, and Sean was forced to drop her hand.
Sean couldn’t imagine having room for more food, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He nudged some purple flowers out of the way with his spoon.
“It’s lavender. Edible, I swear,” Olivia whispered.
He arched an eyebrow at her and scooped up one bite of the pale purple ice cream. He raised the spoon to his lips. From its appearance, he expected it to be grapey, but the flavor was complex, more floral than fruity. The grape was there, but it hummed in the background, more scent than taste.
“I love it.” He took another bite because he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted more of the flowery perfume that hit his tongue and his nose at the same time. “It reminds me of something.” He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to pull the scent from his memory. Whatever it was, it was giving him an erection. His eyes popped open at the realization.
He glanced at Olivia. She gave him a tiny smile. “I picked the flowers today. I’m glad Alessandro found a use for them.”
“Beautiful,” Sean said, not talking about the flowers. He smiled and took her hand beneath the table again.
***
Olivia had no idea hand-holding could be so erotic. The way Sean’s fingers glided down her palm should be illegal. She swallowed, wondering if he could tell her heart was racing. From the slight curve of his lips, she imagined he could. She stole another sideways glance and saw he was watching her eat her ice cream. His eyes held a wicked gleam. Her parents seemed oblivious to the play happening under the table. Her father was staring out the window at the vineyard and her mother was busy outlining Olivia’s list of responsibilities for the week.
“Our guests arrive at various times tomorrow. We also have a morning tour of the vineyard followed by a five-course lunch for the Garden Club. I’m sure Alessandro has the lunch under control, but you can help with dinner after you’re done with your cousin. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stay out too late after the opera tomorrow because the cooking classes start on Sunday, and we’ll be in the kitchen for most of the day. A limited room-service menu will be available tomorrow for anyone who prefers to eat in their room.”
Olivia blinked hard and picked up her spoon. It was hard to shift into work gear when Sean’s fingers were making her head buzz. The wine wasn’t helping her either.
Alessandro silently placed tiny cups of espresso next to each of them. “I’m afraid I must take the afternoon off tomorrow. A family emergency.”
Mrs. Marconi’s eyes sharpened. “Dinner isn’t going to make itself.”
Alessandro shrugged. “I am sorry. It can’t be helped. I will make everything ahead of time and come back to serve it.”
“I’ll handle dinner, Mamma,” Olivia volunteered, surprised she felt no panic at the thought of working in the unfamiliar kitchen. Wine to the rescue once again.
“I said I will be back to serve it,” Alessandro repeated.
Naturally, the herb girl couldn’t be counted on to cook.
She took a bite of gelato and nearly swooned in spite of her irritation. It was sweet and flowery with just enough acidity from the grapes to balance out the rich cream. She could almost forgive Alessandro’s arrogance if he could create food with this much subtlety. At least he had the skill to back up his superior attitude.
Her mother crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “The villa will be completely full by tomorrow night and we have a very busy week ahead of us. Cooking classes, wine and cheese seminars, vineyard tours, trips into Verona and Padua. We also have to get ready for la Sagra dell’Uva this weekend. I’m so glad you’re here to help, Olivia.”
The weight of her mother’s expectations was heavy but familiar. Olivia sipped her espresso, feeling pleasantly numb around the lips. The pastries she’d scarfed in Paris couldn’t stand up to the wine. Counting their dinner last night in New York, she’d had more alcohol than food in the past twenty-four hours. Was it only last night? Their Trio dinner felt like it had been last week.
She could probably blame that on the wine too. Prosecco. Valpolicella. Amarone. It was no wonder she was feeling light-headed. No doubt her father would insist on Recioto after dessert. Maybe she could drink it lying down. Her head began to whirl.
“I need some air.” She stood carefully and Sean stood beside her, ever the gentleman. “I’ll be right back to help with the dishes, Mamma.”
“No need, cara. Marco will get them,” her father said.
“Wonderful.” Olivia didn’t expect to receive an offer like that very often, so she made her way toward the front door, intending to lie down on one of the lounge chairs, because it was closer than her bedroom and she wouldn’t have to climb any stairs.
“Thank you for dinner,” she heard Sean murmur to her parents. Would he follow her to the porch? Did she want him to follow her?
She pushed open the front door and let it shut behind her. As she felt the warm tile under her bare feet, she realized she’d left her sandals lying under the dining room table. She’d have to remember to fetch them before guests arrived. She lowered herself onto a lounger and stretched in relief. Maybe she would sleep here. Maybe she would spend the week here.
She heard the front door open. She kept her eyes closed, hearing Sean groan as he lay down on the lounger next to hers.
She giggled. “I know, right? I’m never going to move again.”
He took her hand in his. They lay together, separately, linked by their lazily intertwined fingers. She was exhausted, yet every nerve was alert, attuned to the man beside her. She could almost sense the blood pulsing through his body.
“Can we sleep here?” he asked.
“No,” she sighed. “But the thought of staggering up to my room is more than I can handle.”
“I’ll help you.” He seemed to be marshaling the effort to move but then he groaned again, surrendering. “In a minute.”
“More espresso, maybe?”
“I’ll explode. That lavender ice cream was spectacular.”
Olivia turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. In the moonlight, his eyes were silvery. She caught her breath. He was beautiful—and at the end of the week, he’d be gone.
Her lassitude began to dissipate.
She slowly sat up, still holding his hand. “I use lavender shampoo, you know.”
“That must be why I liked the ice cream so much.”
Maybe it would be different with Sean. Maybe some of those fascinating things she’d heard happened to other women would happen to her. She knew one thing for ce
rtain—they would never happen if she didn’t give it a try at least. She would never have a better opportunity to experiment. So what if it ended in epic failure? He was leaving. The disaster would be short-lived. And if it was good…they had a week to enjoy it.
Sean’s eyes were half shut as he watched her, but she knew he was waiting to see what she would do. It was his way, to wait. The expression in his eyes always seemed to say your move, and suddenly it seemed like a cowardly way to operate. Anger chased away her exhaustion. Naturally, he wanted her to make the first move, while he lay there safely removed, taking none of the risks.
She pulled her hand out of his and stood. She didn’t know how to stage a seduction, not if he was just going to lie there. She couldn’t do this alone. “Good night, Sean.” She turned to walk toward the house.
He chuckled softly. “Coward.”
She looked over her shoulder. His grin made her feel exposed. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Swiftly, he rose to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. An involuntary shiver shook her. She swallowed, trapped between the lounge chair and his body, unable to move forward or back. His large palm firmly cupped her small breast, making her nipple peak under his fingers. She twisted in embarrassment. Her ex-husband had preferred big breasts; what if Sean did too?
His arms tightened around her, stilling her movement, holding her immobile until she became aware of his arousal. He pressed his face to the curve of her neck and kissed her. His breath puffed softly against her neck. Longing swept through her, bringing tears to her eyes.
Best just to get it out there. He couldn’t be disappointed if he wasn’t expecting much. “I’ve never felt this way before, Sean. I don’t know what to do.”
A laugh shuddered through his frame. She stiffened. Was he laughing at her?
She pushed against his arm and he caught her hands and held them. “I’ve never felt this way either, Olivia. Not like this. I don’t care about anything else when I’m with you. It scares the hell out of me.” His rough voice reassured her.
She stopped struggling. She wanted to turn around and look at him, but God, what would she do then? “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
He kissed her neck again, raising goose bumps. “Relax, Olivia. You don’t have to do anything at all.” His arms tightened around her. “Although I can think of a number of things I’d like you to do, we don’t have to rush. I would love to just kiss you. But not right now.”
“Why not now?” she asked, surprising herself and wresting a rough chuckle from Sean.
“Let me rephrase that. Not right here. Your parents don’t seem to care for me and that chef gives me the creeps. Want to make a run for it?”
Yes, she thought, and then no. There was no turning back from a premeditated dash up to his bedroom. But to deny him now would make her feel like even more of a failure.
He turned her gently in his arms and pulled her body into his. They fit together. Pressed against him, she felt soft and womanly, desired. His hands coasted slowly over her hips, up her back, to her shoulders, and down again, molding her body firmly to his. Her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, her lips a fraction away from his neck. He smelled of clean skin and faint aftershave. Her awareness of him grew with every breath. This was Sean, she reminded herself—solid, dependable, thoughtful Sean.
She raised her head. The rising moon lit his blond hair and she reached up to brush her palm across his head. She half expected the glow to rub off on her hand. She touched his cheek, watching him watch her. There would be no faking it with Sean. He was too observant. He’d guess, or he’d know.
Was that what she wanted? She moved restlessly against him. He moved with her, making her gasp. If he kisses me, I’ll say yes.
His eyes flashed as if he had read her mind, and his lips descended.
Chapter 8
Sean kept the kiss gentle, although the urge to lower her to the lounge chair and cover her body with his pounded through him. His desire for her had been a constant in his life for so many years that it was hard to go slow, but her uncertainty made him cautious. He wanted to erase her doubts before anything more happened between them, and that wouldn’t happen if he rushed her.
He focused on her lips, responsive to every movement of his mouth. She followed his lead but didn’t try to take charge of their kiss. As long as he had known her, Olivia had been deliberate and controlled in her words and actions. She was direct, but not a risk taker. Was that because she was afraid of doing the wrong thing? After meeting her mother, he could understand how that might be the case. Maybe her idiot ex-husband had convinced her she made mistakes in the bedroom too.
Her arms crept around his waist and he didn’t muffle the low groan that ripped from his throat. He wanted her to know what she did to him and give her a good idea of what he wanted to do to her. He could sense her passion, tightly controlled, and he wanted to free it.
He pressed against her until there was no space between them. His body throbbed. She probably wasn’t aware of her slight forward thrust, but he sensed every motion of her hips, felt every rapid beat of her heart and involuntary shiver, heard every sigh and gasp. He hoped they could move this conversation to a room with a securely locked door soon. For some reason, she didn’t think she could do this, but he was determined to prove to her, beyond a shadow of a morning-after doubt, that she could. He would make her feel safe enough to lose control—to take control.
As if she had sensed his thought, her mouth opened under his and he felt the tip of her tongue touch his lip. He followed her invitation. Their tongues met, stroked. They shared a breath. He groaned again. If she continued to kiss him like this, she was going to wind up beneath him on the lounger despite his best intentions and the proximity of her parents.
The strangled noise she made so closely mirrored the protestation of his restrained desire that he almost ignored it, but he couldn’t ignore the hand she placed on his chest when she pushed.
He released her. With relief, he saw her eyes held desire not doubt. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but I can’t, we can’t…” She gestured around the patio. “My parents.”
“Thank God,” he breathed. “Your room or mine?”
“Mine is closer.”
“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house, wondering if they could get past the kitchen, through the foyer, and up the stairs without running into anyone. Her lips were swollen with his kisses, her silky hair had tracks from his fingers in it, and her eyes were shining. He wasn’t in any more presentable shape—the front of his pants was distinctly tented. Baseball, roadkill, starving orphans on lifeboats, he chanted silently.
They entered the house. It was silent. He sighed in relief. They tiptoed down the hall. The sudden clatter of the dish washing machine as they passed the kitchen door made them both freeze.
Olivia giggled.
“Shh,” he warned and tugged her down the hall. He held up a hand before he stepped into the foyer. Looking cautiously left and right, he motioned her quickly up the stairs. She darted in front of him. At the sound of voices in the dining room, she stifled a shriek and broke into a sprint.
The voices got louder and she sagged against the banister, giggling. A chuckle bubbled up inside him. For God’s sake, they were both adults. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs, although it was almost worth getting busted if sneaking around like a teenager put a smile like that on her face. Almost.
They careened to a stop in front of her door. Laughter shook her shoulders and it took her three tries to get it unlocked. “Hurry,” he urged, making her laugh harder.
The voices rose in the stairwell just as she twisted the knob. They fell into her room and he shut the door behind them, checking to make sure it locked.
&nb
sp; The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the lace curtains. Olivia walked over to the bed, still laughing softly. Her hair shone and he admired the smooth, white curve of her cheek as she turned to smile at him. He crossed the room and bent to turn on the lamp beside the bed.
No longer smiling, she put her hand on his arm. “I like it dark.”
He shook his head. Olivia wanted to cling to the safety of the dark. She wanted to hide, but he wanted to show her there was nothing to fear. He took a step toward her.
She took a step back and stumbled. He caught her around the waist, holding her until she regained her balance. She pushed against his hands and lurched again, forcing him to grip her more tightly.
Damn, he’d forgotten about all the wine they had drunk tonight. Disappointment surged through him, killing his desire. He gave her a gentle shove down onto the bed and sat beside her, stroking her soft hair away from her face.
He looked down into her eyes, gone dark with doubt again. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Part of me wants to do this more than you can possibly imagine, and when I get enough wine in me, it seems like a really excellent idea. But I can only keep myself fooled for so long before I remember…well…” She paused and he would have given anything to know what memories were passing through her head that made her look so sad and defeated. “It’s too big a risk. I don’t have a lot of people in my circle, Sean. My ex-husband is a total loss. Marlene and Joe are wrapped up in each other. It’s obvious I don’t have the easiest relationship with my mother. I don’t want to do anything that might damage our friendship.” Her fingers clutched his hand. “I might need a friend when my mother disowns me and kicks me out of the villa.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She doesn’t tolerate fools or failure. It’s pretty much her way or the highway and always has been. I’m picking the highway, Sean. I just came here to tell her. You’re right—I can’t go back to Chameleon. I’m not even sure I want to go back to New York.”
