by C. C. Gibbs
“Depends how much they spend,” Rafe said casually.
“Or if they’re hoping for a second hookup.”
“As if that’s going to happen.”
“But Nicole’s different—right?” Jack’s voice was mellow with liquor and friendship.
“Right. Which reminds me—you’re on the clock for the full month regardless of whether I last that long or not. Your call. And for Christ’s sake don’t discuss any of this with Fiona.”
“Your secrets are safe with me; we’re family, dude. But, no shit, I’m consumed with burning curiosity about your upcoming holiday.”
Rafe laughed. “Not as much as me. Ciao.”
After a glance at the time on his phone—midnight—Rafe’s next call was to a personal shopper he used to buy gifts for his mother. “Sorry to wake you,” he said with cultivated politesse. Although Alessandra was extremely well paid, so he wasn’t unduly concerned about the late hour.
“You didn’t wake me. I’m just back from dinner. What can I do for you?”
“I have a commission right there in Rome, although you’re going to have to wake up some people. I need these things in Monaco by morning.”
“When in the morning?” Alessandra Puglisi was never flustered. She’d been an assistant to Fellini in her youth. She understood improvisation and chaos.
“Early. I’ll have a plane standing by tonight. You just have to messenger the items to the airport.”
“Item one?” she asked, imperturbable and cool.
When Rafe gave the location of the shop, she immediately knew the name. “That’s Degli Effetti. They stock several designers, all wonderful. What do you need?”
Rafe described the silver dress. “If it’s available in other colors, send those as well. Then add whatever else you like in dresses—American size four. Shoes too, size six. I’d say more, but this lady finds it difficult to accept gifts.”
Her trill of laughter was bright with merriment. “Where did you find this paragon of womanhood? I’ve never heard of a woman who won’t take gifts.”
“I’m not sure she’s a paragon so much as difficult and troublesome.” Alessandra was like an elderly aunt, charming, chatty, and blind to rules of conduct. He’d known her for years.
“Ah, that’s why she intrigues you. She doesn’t say yes. Good for her.”
“We’ll see.”
“My dear boy, mastering one’s feelings is much overrated. I understand you’re dealing with some demons—with a father like yours, who wouldn’t. But this young lady sounds fascinating. Put your reservations aside. Enjoy yourself. Need I remind you—there are no redoes in life. If you have a chance to touch the stars, however briefly, you’ll never regret it. Now, enough unwanted advice,” she said crisply. “Why don’t I send along a few more things your little girlfriend might like—for your pleasure and hers?”
“I never said girlfriend.” His blunt protest was manifest male phobia.
“Rafe, darling, have you ever once asked me to buy something for your—what do you call them—fuckees? No. So resist or not, and most men like you think they can go around sticking their dick into random women for the rest of their lives—until suddenly, presto, like a shot—the girlfriend checks in and knocks you on your ass. Now, I’ll have the gifts nicely wrapped with pretty name tags that will make her happy, which will make you happy, et cetera, et cetera. So stop being obstinate and listen to your clever aunty.”
He had a pretty good idea debating the point would be useless. “I should get a discount for a verbal flaying,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “My pet, it’s the best advice you’ll ever get.”
“I’m not saying I believe you completely,” he said in a slow, considering tone, “but maybe the door’s open an inch or two when it comes to a bona fide girlfriend. She has knocked me on my ass. It feels good though, so thanks—as always.”
“You’re such a sweet boy with such lovely manners,” Alessandra cooed.
Rafe laughed. “No point in pissing you off when you’re doing me a huge favor.”
“Not just good manners but smart too. Your father died opportunely. I hear the company is doing exceedingly well since you took the helm.”
“I’ll never be as smart as you,” Rafe said, a smile in his voice, enjoying Alessandra’s delight in life, her directness. “Spend whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“I know that, darling. And I’d love you even if you were a pauper. Tell your Nicole she’s very lucky.”
“I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t, of course, but he might show her how he felt.
Next, Rafe chartered a plane in Rome rather than ask his pilots to make a round trip in the middle of the night. Then a last call. Monte Carlo was open late or all night in some cases, so finding a flower shop that would deliver wasn’t an issue.
When all was arranged, he walked back into the bedroom and stood bedside for a few moments, feeling an unalloyed happiness. Alessandra was right. Why question every sensation, decision, possibility? Simply enjoy.
Nicole suddenly cried out and he smiled, recognizing the sound. She was dreaming—of him he hoped—but certainly she was enjoying herself. And he waited in the event she woke. But she didn’t, and when she was sleeping deeply again, Rafe left the bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him. Walking downstairs, he stood outside, called the main house, and five minutes later, Madame Laplace, who’d been at the house as long as he could remember, arrived.
“Sorry, to keep you up, Josephine,” Rafe said, speaking French, “but I need someone I can trust. Sleep in late tomorrow. Right now, I’d like you to sit outside my bedroom with the door ajar so you can hear Miss Parrish if she wakes. If she does, call me and I’ll come right back. Don’t frighten her, just call me. You have a phone with you?”
The plump, elderly woman nodded. “She’s a lovely girl, Rafe.” She’d met Nicole in the kitchen. “She has my endorsement.”
Rafe smiled. “I’ll let her know you approve.”
“Be nice to her.”
“That sounds like an order.”
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Then we understand each other.”
“I could fire you, you know,” Rafe grumbled.
“No, you couldn’t. The household would fall apart within a day.”
Rafe grinned. “True.” Josephine was the titular head of the property. “And Nicole is very nice, I agree.” He dipped his head. “I won’t be long. I’m just going up to check on Ganz.”
Madame Laplace sniffed and brushed her palms down her serviceable skirt in a little restive gesture. “He’s very disruptive as usual.”
“But a damned genius. And I need him.”
“I know. The computer room is being readied as we speak. Everything should be in place by morning. Seven, you said?”
“It’ll probably be more like eight before I wake Ganz. But we can’t wait too long.”
She clicked her tongue. “Such nasty people in the world. They never give up, do they?” This wasn’t the first time Rafe had assembled a defense against this particular government. She was familiar with the drill.
“They have a twelve-story building filled with people who aren’t allowed to give up. Their job is to steal secrets, plans, and formulas from people who actually do the work. So no,” he said with a sigh, “they won’t be giving up.”
“Make sure you get some rest at least,” she said gently.
He smiled. “I will. As soon as I see Ganz to bed.”
“Good luck with that,” she said, her eyebrows sliding upward.
“Yeah, no shit.” Then with a lift of his hand, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 17
Ganz had decided he needed a swim, so Rafe found everyone in the pool room when he walked in from the garden. With a glance at the swimmer apparently trying to set new world records, Rafe moved toward his friends seated in the corner conveniently near the bar.
“He’s on lap fifty,” Henny murmured, tipping his brand
y glass toward the pool.
“Did he take the roxy?” Rafe dropped into a cushioned chair, stretched out his legs, and sighed. “I hope so. I want him to sleep. I’m fucking beat.”
“He took it, but not knowingly,” Basil said, looking up from the martini he was stirring in a pitcher. “I put it in one of those iced coffees he likes. Coffee aside, he should be slowing down soon, maybe sleeping in a half hour or so, twenty-nine, thirty, and… a half.” Basil made martinis like a scientist. “When does Ganz have to be up?”
“I’m getting him up at eight. Josephine said everything will be ready by seven.”
Henny gave Rafe a jaundiced glance. “The usual suspects?”
“Fuck, yeah. I wish they’d get a new business model that doesn’t involve ripping off everyone.”
“That’ll happen right after world peace becomes more than a roseate hope for the naïve,” Henny drawled. “And none of us is fucking naïve. So can you do more than stop them this time? Can you ream them a new one?”
“I’m definitely in the mood. Since they took down Ganz’s father in Paris two months ago, he’s more than ready to do scorched earth.”
“His mom’s in hiding?”
Rafe nodded. “Remember that cop in Zurich whose daughter needed help on her drug charges? He’s paying me back and keeping an eye on that little farm of mine outside town. Ganz and his mother have been holed up there. She’s safe. He came in on a semi-legal chartered plane to avoid flight records.” Rafe shot a glance at the swimmer powering down the Olympic-size pool. “Fuck, he’s going to have a heart attack with all the pharmaceuticals in him. I better go and see if I can coax him out.” Placing his hands on the chair arms, he paused a second, tired as hell, then heaved himself to his feet and smiled. “Wish me luck.” He turned back after two steps and nodded at Henny. “Do me a favor. Fucking change your clothes tomorrow. You’re ruining my appetite.”
“Didn’t look like it at supper. You ate like a horse.”
“Come on. What’ll Nicole think?”
Henny grinned. “Why didn’t you say so. I’ll even shave for her. How about that? I wouldn’t want to piss off your latest dewy-eyed piece of ass.”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Because?” Henny held his gaze, looking amused.
“Because he likes her, Henny,” Basil softly reproached before smiling at Rafe. “More than most, right?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Basil gave Henny a censorious look as Rafe walked away. “Don’t tease him. He’s goddamn happy after sleepwalking through tons of naked women who wanted to have sex with him—without ever once breaking a smile. Nicole’s different; he’s clueless why but he’s willing to risk finding out. You fell in love, so you know what it is. I’m finally willing to give it a shot. Yeah, look surprised. I called Claudine. I’m going up to Paris in a few days, see if we can work things out. Look, all of us are fucked up in our own way, but Contini père’s twisted view of women and child-rearing did a real number on Rafe.”
“And you’re saying this chick will open his eyes to love?”
“I’m saying she might. She’s lasted more than a few hours and she’s in his bed.” Basil’s brows lifted slightly. “Two recent miracles. So give him a break.”
“God, you’re sweet, like it’s your God-given mission to spread happiness.” Henny’s smirk creased the rust-colored scruff on his cheeks. “I see why all the poetry-loving groupies jump into your bed.”
Basil smiled. “There’s something wrong with poetry?”
“Hell no, not if it gets you some fine ass,” Henny drawled. “Hey, look.” He jabbed his finger toward the pool. “Success. The man is fucking smooth. No wonder the ladies love him. He even has Ganz smiling and he was in a fierce, crazy mood.”
“The roxy’s taking him down.”
“Whatever. Our boy, Rafie, could sell ice to the Eskimos. Not that I’m complaining. I wouldn’t mind a few hours of sleep.”
Henny and Basil were on their feet waiting when Rafe and Ganz walked up.
Henny grinned. “Anyone want a nice hot chocolate in bed?”
“You gonna tuck me in too?” Ganz was dripping all over the floor, seemingly immune to the coolness of the air.
“Of course, baby,” Henny said sweetly. “I’ll give you a kiss too if it will fucking put you to sleep. Morning comes early and I’m guessing everyone’s going to want breakfast. Which means I have to get up and cook.”
“Waffles. The ones you make with strawberries and whipped cream.” Ganz’s lashes drifted lower for a moment, then he jerked, his eyes flew open, and he was back in the world. “Café au lait with that hazelnut liquor of yours too.”
“You got it.” Henny surveyed the small group. “Any other requests?”
Rafe caught Henny’s gaze, dipped his head toward Basil. “Nothing special for me. Can you all take it from here?”
“No problem,” Basil murmured.
“Call me if you need anything,” Rafe said cryptically. “Anytime.”
“Will do. Sleep tight.” Basil winked. “If she lets you.”
“I still have a few things to do. So fingers crossed she’s still sleeping.”
“Whoa.” Henny’s eyes widened. “You’re turning down sex?”
“What? As if I can’t?”
“You can’t.”
“Can too.”
“Cannot.”
“Jesus, are you two in primary school? Get the fuck out of here, Rafe,” Basil ordered.
Rafe didn’t have to be asked twice. He was burned out. He hadn’t slept last night, nor much the night before. And he had to be up at the crack of dawn. Even the warm night air conspired to add to his fatigue and by the time he reached his bedroom he was practically asleep on his feet.
Josephine clucked in sympathy when she saw him. “For pity’s sake,” she murmured, patting his back as she had when he was young and she’d put him to bed, “you’re exhausted. Go right to sleep.” She shook her finger at him as he started to speak. “Don’t argue. The world won’t come to a stop if you sleep for a few hours.”
“Nicole didn’t wake?” he said instead, because arguing with Josephine never got him anywhere.
“Not a peep. The darling girl is sleeping like a baby. See that you don’t wake her—you hear?”
Rafe smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Am I dismissed now?”
She snorted. “Don’t get smart with me, young man. Someone will call you at half past seven.” She gave him a shove. “Now get to bed.”
He wasn’t planning on sleeping because he still had hours of e-mails that had come in while he’d been playing with Nicole. But when he sat down at the desk to log on to his laptop, he woke up a second later and found himself staring at his screen saver. Crap. A couple of hours of sleep might not be a bad idea.
Quickly undressing, he slipped under the covers and gently eased Nicole into his arms in order not to wake her. But he needed her softness and warmth, her sweet scent and sweeter body right next to his. Ummm… he felt a quick shot of happiness, like he must have done something right and been given a present. A small, perfectly formed, beautiful gift that brought a strange sense of peace with her in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was just not being alone or the feeling of not being alone when his entire life had been intensely private. Or maybe just the feel of her in his arms made his world richer.
An almost invisible thought drifted into his consciousness, filling him with gladness: Take good care of her.
A first for him.
He fell asleep with a smile.
Nicole came awake to a low mutter of obscenities, half opened her eyes, and found the source of the sound seated at his desk, marginally dressed in shorts, his bronzed, muscled body a killer sight to wake up to. “Did you sleep?” she murmured drowsily, thinking once she woke up she was going to throw herself at him and beg for sex.
Rafe swiveled around, his smile bathing her in sunshine. “I did. It’s still early though. Go back to sleep
.”
“What time is it?”
“Five thirty.”
“What are you doing?”
He tapped his laptop with his finger. “E-mails.” He grinned. “Some people actually want an answer.”
She slowly stretched, then sniffed as a familiar sweet scent drifted into her nostrils. “Why do I smell roses?”
“There’re a few roses here.”
She came up on her elbows, scanned the room, gasped, and sat bolt upright. “A few?” she whispered. Every square inch of surface, floor and furniture, was filled with bouquets and baskets of roses.
“I told them to send what they had. I should have been more specific. I guess the guy figured this was his chance to pay for his kid’s university education. There’re more in the hall. And downstairs… everywhere downstairs.” He took a small breath and held her gaze. “This is me trying to apologize for last night. I messed up and I’m sorry. You deserve better than some wild-ass animal going crazy.” He smiled, a small private smile. “I don’t actually know what’s going on with us, but it’s good. So maybe you should pull the covers up”—he exhaled, made a little motion with one hand—“because you’re tempting as hell, I’m trying to behave, and I haven’t had much practice.” His mouth twitched. “I’m giving my hard-on a serious pep talk about right and wrong.”
A playful light warmed her eyes. “So if I said I wanted to lick you all over, it might be a problem?”
“Just a little.” He dragged in a breath, his gaze sliding over the round, luscious swell of her breasts, downward to the bit of sheet still covering her sex, then flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Toy with me,” he said softly, “and I can’t guarantee I’ll behave.” A small half smile slowly lifted one corner of his mouth. “Or are you looking for some serious action?”
“I was thinking more like wake-up sex,” she murmured.
“There’s not just one kind, pussycat,” he said, hushed and low, shutting down his laptop. “Put in your order. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re going to piss me off is what you’re going to do unless you reword that comment,” she said, her eyes alight with resentment. “As far as I know, there’s only one kind of wake-up sex.”
