by Amanda Usen
Olivia gasped. Those bottles were her father’s pride and joy. Shame made her cheeks feel hot. “I’m sorry, Mamma. Of course I’ll help.” Her cheeks felt stiff as she smiled. Resentment burned a hollow in her middle. Of course I’ll go to culinary school, business school, run Chameleon, work in your villa. If her parents needed help, she would help. She turned her thoughts away from how it made her feel and focused on solving the problem. That was easier. “Do you have reservations for the coming months? Is there any money coming in?”
“We’re half booked,” her mother said.
“At least you have some deposits to work with.” That was something, at least.
“We don’t take deposits. Guests pay in full when they arrive.”
“What?” Olivia asked, aghast. “What about cancellations? That’s a terrible policy.”
Her mother’s face tightened. “I’m not going to take money for a service we don’t provide.”
“But you can’t provide a service at all without working capital,” she argued.
Her mother grunted. “I’ll figure something out. It is a very good thing the Russos arrived when they did. Thank you for helping in the kitchen, cara. You’re a good girl.” She turned her back and walked toward the staircase, leaving Olivia to stare after her. Her mother had done it again, neatly put her in place without making her part of the larger puzzle. She could do more to help at the villa than chop herbs and vegetables.
Every restaurant struggled with labor costs, but there were always ways to scale back without sacrificing quality. Labor was the single largest expense in any hospitality business, and it couldn’t be helping Villa Farfalla to have a chef in the kitchen who wasn’t doing the work. Should she tell her mother about Alessandro? Probably, but now that he wasn’t trying to intimidate her, she actually liked the guy. He had talent and he shadowed Marco’s every move, clearly showing his commitment to learning how to cook. The fact that he had confessed his ignorance to her instead of botching the cooking class told her he cared about the reputation of the villa. Chef or not, he was an asset in the long run.
She heard footsteps and ducked out of sight as Mr. and Mrs. Russo came down the stairs.
“They serve dinner here, don’t they?” Mr. Russo sounded as grim as Sean had looked this morning.
“Yes, but I saw the loveliest osteria yesterday. We’re going to have dinner there.” Mrs. Russo’s voice was cheerful and calm. Olivia pressed her back against the wall and grinned, picturing Mrs. Russo with a sturdy fishing pole in her hand.
“I’m not.”
“Fine. Stay here. I’ll go without you. There’s my taxi now.”
“You can’t go alone!” Mr. Russo’s voice exploded in the foyer.
“What’s one more night alone, Tony? Can you remember the last time we went out to dinner together?” There was a harsh taunt in her voice that told Olivia it had taken two people to damage this marriage. She knew that truth intimately.
The front door shut behind them and Olivia walked over to the window to watch the Russos get into the taxi together. The poor guy was hooked. He just didn’t know it yet.
Sean was gone when she returned to her cutting board. Oh well, she’d see him later. Her mother didn’t expect her to sleep in the kitchen. She picked up her knife and dug into the apples again. A smile curved her lips as she thought about the ice cream and remembered Sean liked lavender too. When she saw him again, she’d bait her hook with a very seductive tarte tatin—and another fantasy.
Chapter 18
Sean savored the last bite of the best apple tart he’d ever had in his life. “Outstanding,” he said to Olivia. Dessert had been served on the back patio and the guests were clustered at the wrought-iron tables. Alessandro and even Marco had joined them tonight.
“Where’s Gia?” he wondered aloud, realizing he hadn’t seen her since last night at dinner.
“With Vincenzo.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
Alessandro’s espresso cup clattered as he set the cup in its saucer. “Mi scusi.” He pushed away from the table. “I think I left something in the oven.”
Marco glanced from him to Olivia, then stood to gather their plates, apparently deciding three was a crowd. “Buonanotte.” He winked and headed for the kitchen.
Sean felt a hand on his thigh and glanced over at Olivia. She beckoned to him and he bent to hear her whisper, “Do you still have all those towels in your bathroom? And a Jacuzzi?”
He nodded, feeling a grin spread across his face. Their eyes met. As one, they stood. He didn’t look back to see if anyone was watching them and neither did she. When they walked through the kitchen, Alessandro and Marco were nowhere in sight, and he was glad. He didn’t want to have to make any more small talk while visions of Olivia naked and slippery were floating through his head.
Olivia took the lead as they climbed the stairs. Her steps were swift. He unlocked his door and held it open for her, following her into the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, he turned her around and flattened her against the wood. She melted into his arms, all lean strength and softness. Her lips were sweet and he couldn’t wait to taste more of her.
“Get naked,” he said. “I’ll go run the bath.” He pushed away from her body and went into the bathroom.
It didn’t take long for the water to reach the perfect temperature, but it was going to take a while to fill the huge tub. He hardened, thinking of all the things they could do while they were waiting. He placed a folded towel on the wide edge of the tub. Thinking for a minute, he placed another folded towel on the bottom of the tub to cushion his knees. Yes, that would do nicely. He dug a condom out of his travel bag and tossed it next to the tub. Then he placed a few more towels on the floor to catch the drips. He stripped and was ready for her when she walked into the bathroom, wearing one of his Oxford shirts.
“Hey, what happened to naked?”
She bit her lip. “It just seemed a little…bare.”
“Really? Hmm…okay.” He noticed she hadn’t buttoned the shirt, so he reached forward and stroked the back of his hand across her flat belly. She inhaled sharply. He moved his hand up, across the hard peaks of her breasts. She swayed toward him and he opened the lapels of the shirt, so that her breasts made contact with his chest. He slid one hand into her hair and tipped her face. Their lips met, opened, tongues stroked.
He reached down to clasp her thighs and lifted her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Slowly, carefully, he walked to the marble counter. She hissed a little as he set her down, moving to sit on the tail of the shirt.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Freezing.”
“I’ll get another towel,” he said, easing her off the counter.
“I have a better idea.” She took his hand and led him to the tub. She sank down onto the towel, looking adorable sitting on the edge of the half full tub, wearing his shirt and a very naughty smile. She reached forward.
He groaned as her hand closed around him. He was unable to take a single breath as her lips touched his shaft. His eyes slid shut, but with nothing to focus on but the slick heat of her mouth around him, his control shredded. He gasped, eyes popping open, but it didn’t help. The many mirrors in the room gave him view after view of them.
Need spiraled through him, filling him with urgency. He had been planning playful Jacuzzi time, but if she kept doing that exact thing with her tongue, playtime would be over.
He put his hand on her head and she eased back, looking at him with a question in her eyes. He stepped into the water and knelt, placing his hands on her thighs to keep her sitting. “Feet in the water, please.”
She turned to face him.
“My turn,” he said, putting his hands on her knees and easing them apart. He smoothed his hands over her thighs and bent his head, inhaling her addictive scent. She quivered as he t
ouched her with his tongue and her low moan rose above the sound of the water. He looked up, glorying in the way her head was thrown back and her breasts were peeking out of the shirt.
She braced her hands on the edge of the tub and thrust her hips forward, opening to him. His tongue slid through her folds, meeting wetness. She whimpered and pressed toward him, so he focused on that spot, teasing it with his tongue while his fingers traced a path into her body. She felt so tight around his fingers that it was hard to resist the urge to rise up out of the water, carry her into the bedroom, and lever himself inside her body, over and over again.
Her fingers clutched his skull, pulling his hair. With one hand, he held her still for his tongue while he explored her core with the other. He felt her swell to meet him, so he crooked his fingers and rubbed harder, flicking her with his tongue.
Her hips thrust in time with his fingers and he caught her first few pulses against his tongue. He kept his fingers inside her, pushing deep, and pressed his other palm against her belly. She jerked under his hands and rippled against his fingers again. Satisfaction surged through him as he eased his hands away from her body.
Her eyes fluttered open. She shrugged his shirt to the floor and sagged forward into the water, making him chuckle.
“Ready for some action?” he asked, finger poised over the button that would start the jets.
Her giggle was weak and breathless as she nodded. He hit the button, bringing the jets to life, and reached behind them to turn off the taps. Her body floated in front of him, and he reached out to wrap his arms around her. The jets pummeled his back and he pondered the logistics of having actual sex in the tub. He might have made a tactical error. He should have let her finish him.
She peeled his arms from around her waist and turned to face him in the tub, wrapping her long legs around him. He felt her heels press against his lower back as she scooted forward. The softest part of her bumped up against the hardest part of him and he groaned, embracing her.
He reached over the side of the tub, groping until his fingers touched the condom. Having sex in the tub was bound to be a little awkward, possibly uncomfortable, and it might cause a minor flood in the bathroom, but what the hell. If he didn’t get inside her in the next two minutes it was going to be embarrassing anyway. “Hang on.”
He unlocked her legs from around his waist and kneeled to roll the condom onto his cock. When he sat back down with a splash, she climbed back onto his lap and gripped his shoulders while she forced her buoyant body onto his. Her breasts were at mouth level and he took advantage of that happy coincidence, entertaining himself with her sweet pink nipples while she experimented above him. He remembered from past tub encounters that the problem usually lay with lubrication. That didn’t seem to be a problem at the moment.
She shifted and ground into him, using her knees to support her body as she searched for the perfect fit. Her maneuvers left his hands free to slide between their bodies, reminding him of last night when she’d been doing a similar move on the bed. Struck by inspiration, he gripped her knees and lifted her legs around his waist again.
“No traction,” she complained.
“Just wait.” He wrapped his arms underneath her buttocks to support her weight and began moving her body up and down over him. The water swirled and roiled around them. Color rose in her cheeks. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and her eyes fell half shut. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and the little pain put a sharp edge on his pleasure.
The friction was just perfect, the drag and sweep of the water caressing his skin in a constant arousing wave of pleasure. She dropped one hand between their bodies and he felt her searching fingers brush against the spot where their bodies joined. The depth of her newly discovered sensuality astounded him, and when she opened her eyes and gazed down at him with a knowing half smile on her lips, he held her tighter and moved her faster.
Her walls quickened around him, squeezing, pulling him deeper into her body.
“Olivia,” he sighed, burying his head in her breasts as wave after wave of pleasure blinded him to everything but the taste of water on her skin and the heat of her body pulsing around him.
Her head fell forward onto his shoulder and he slowly became aware of the fact that his fingers were clutching her hips in a bruising grip. He blew a harsh breath and loosened his hold. “Sorry,” he said, reaching beneath the water. She floated in the tub as he heaved himself to his feet and took care of the condom.
“I think I’ve had enough action.” She hit the button to stop the jets and dipped below the surface of the water. She emerged dripping and reached for the shampoo.
“Let me,” he said, stepping back into the tub.
He situated himself behind her again and poured shampoo into his palm. He worked it through her hair and carefully rinsed the suds from her scalp. When her hair was clean, he soaped his hands and began to rub her shoulders.
Her head dropped forward. “Feel free to do that forever,” she mumbled.
He rinsed off the soap and kissed the back of her neck. “Why don’t we move to the bed and I will?”
“Done.” She rose and stepped out of the tub. He followed her, grabbing a towel and using it to dry every inch of her body. She smiled as she stretched up to give him a kiss, then padded out of the bathroom naked. He heard her sigh as she sprawled on the bed. God, I love that woman.
His heart slammed in his chest.
Oh my God.
He glanced into the bathroom mirror and noticed he didn’t look surprised.
***
This is what marriage should have felt like.
Olivia rolled onto her stomach and groaned as Sean smoothed lotion over her back. His hands were magic, pure magic. His fingers sought out all her tight spots. For once her stress had not been born in the kitchen. She had sliced apples, rolled dough, and piped ladyfingers at warp speed. Her tarte tatins had turned out great and the tiramisu chilling in the cooler was bittersweet bliss. Nope, spending the afternoon in the kitchen with Marco and Alessandro had been fun. Her newly identified feelings for Sean weren’t making her anxious either, although they probably should have been. Every time her thoughts spiraled into doubt, she heard him telling her not to think. So far it was working.
She had enjoyed cooking today, but her anxiety kicked up every time she thought about her promise to her mother. She didn’t want to be pressed into service every waking minute. If she spent all her time in the kitchen she wouldn’t have a chance to explore her feelings for Sean. She couldn’t be sure she actually wanted to go…home.
Not home to the restaurant—to New York. The past year felt like a bad dream now, something she could shake off, not something that was going to ruin the rest of her life. She wished she could take full credit for getting her head back on straight and regaining perspective, but she knew she owed her renewed lease on life to the man who was currently digging his thumbs into her butt.
“I don’t think you’re going to find any tension there,” she chided.
“You’d be surprised.” His thumbs dipped lower, into a hollow. Her back arched and she yelped. “See?” He soothed her zinging nerves with long, smooth strokes of his fingers.
His hands drifted to the back of her thighs, slipped between them. She muffled her moan in the pillow as her body came to life under his hands. He wasn’t even doing anything, just smoothing lotion over her legs, slowly, patiently, allowing her thirsty skin to drink up his lavish attention. She had been thirsty for a long time.
Two months ago, she had turned to him for comfort and been rejected. That seemed like a bad dream too. Her throat tightened and she felt tears well in her eyes. Even then she’d known he was a safe anchor.
A muffled trill sounded from the bathroom.
She rolled over. “Is that your cell phone?”
He nodded. “I’ll get it
in a minute.” He reached forward and wiped a tear from her cheek, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Her smile made another tear fall. He caught that one too, raising his finger to his lips.
“Never better. I didn’t know I could be this happy,” she said softly.
His eyes gleamed silver, in a look she recognized and welcomed. He grasped her hips and moved her to the middle of the bed, centering her head on a pillow and sheathing himself before he settled over her. “Let me see if I can make you just a little bit happier.”
His chest and thighs were warm as he pressed her into the bed. She wrapped her arms around him as he took her mouth in slow, soft, drugging kisses. They shared a breath as he moved inside her, their union no longer in question. He lifted his head and his intense gaze demanded surrender. She gave it to him, body, heart, and soul, trusting him to keep her safe, going with him as he led her higher, no longer fearing she might fall.
Chapter 19
Sean woke, unsure what had disturbed him. Olivia was tucked into the curve of his hips and his arm encircled her waist. Her hair tickled his nose and he smiled, inhaling her flowery scent. She felt so right beside him. He never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted to leave her side, never wanted to go home to New York without her, but he couldn’t deny she belonged here—and he didn’t. Dread stole through him, making him feel cold.
After their picnic yesterday, she had slipped on a chef coat, put her hair in a ponytail, and begun peeling apples like she’d been looking forward to it all day. He had stayed to watch her work, admiring the way she could carry on a conversation with Marco, half in Italian, half in English without once stopping the motion of her knife. When she had left the kitchen to talk to her mother, he had watched Marco and Alessandro cook, trading spaces at the stove and shifting to give each other more room when necessary. In contrast, Sean had moved farther out of the fray until he could no longer deny that he was in the way.
