“Back in a minute, baby,” he said, smiling at me.
While he was gone, I pulled on a baggy T-shirt that I used for sleeping in, and pulled out my laptop to catch up with emails.
My editor was fuming, still unable to expedite my travel documents. With a frisson of guilt, I realized that I hadn’t even told him I was on the move. I tapped out a hasty email of explanation, and offered him a light travel article as a bonus.
Jenna and Alice had sent long and chatty emails about a new gallery they’d been to see in Manhattan, with a particular mention of how the cheap wine had been undrinkable. I wrote to tell them I was traveling through Italy with an old friend, and that I’d finally seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa for myself. It made me feel comfortable to be connected and to have news from home.
True to his word, Sebastian returned quickly from the shower. He seemed relieved when he walked back through the door. Perhaps he thought I’d run away while he was gone.
“You doing your writing?” he said, nodding at the laptop.
“No, just catching up with my girlfriends.”
“Did you tell them about me?”
“I told them I was traveling through Italy with an old friend.”
He looked disappointed, but didn’t question me further.
“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he said. “Look at more old buildings?”
I was amused by his tone: obviously he was trying to please me, but the look on his face screamed no more old buildings or I’ll want to stab my eyeballs with a fork!
“Whatever. This is all a bonus anyway. Where would you like to go?”
“There’re a couple of surf spots I’d like to check out, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking hopeful.
“I don’t mind, Sebastian. I could use some beach time: sleeping in the sun sounds perfect about now.”
“Okay, cool!” he said, clearly relieved. “The surf isn’t great in the Med, but there are a few breaks that look like they might be rideable.”
He peeled off his T-shirt while he was talking, and I couldn’t help my eyes drifting over his chest. Damn, he was in good shape.
I dropped my eyes back to my laptop before he caught me staring.
I heard, rather than saw, the rustle of fabric as he tugged off his jeans. I couldn’t help glancing up, and noticed that he’d kept his briefs on. That was thoughtful. I knew I wanted him in my bed again, but not yet. This time last night, he’d been yelling at me, calling me an untrustworthy liar. Memories like that took some swallowing.
He jumped into his bed and lay back with his arms behind his head, smiling across at me.
“Are you going to tuck me in?”
I laughed. “I think you’re old enough and ugly enough to do that yourself.”
“Ugly?”
“Hideous. I can hardly bear to look at you.”
“You could close your eyes.”
“I could, Sebastian, but I might get the urge to peek.
He thought about it for a moment. “Well, can I get a goodnight kiss?”
“Sure. I’ll ask Signora Battelli if she’s available.”
He pulled a face. “I’ve never kissed a woman with a mustache.”
“First time for everything, Sebastian.”
“Please, Caro,” he said, pouting cutely at me. “I’ll be good. Promise.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard your promises before.”
He looked so sad and sort of lost, I couldn’t resist him anymore.
“Okay, one kiss. But that’s all!”
He grinned at me, delighted he’d got his own way.
I stowed my laptop back in its case, and sat on his bed. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down gently.
I snuggled next to him and lay my head on his chest while he stroked my back.
“We’re okay, aren’t we, Caro?”
I could hear the anxiety in his voice.
“Getting there.”
I wriggled free of his arms and planted a quick kiss on his lips. He held me briefly, then let me go, an expression of regret on his face.
“Night, Chief.”
I turned off my bedside light and heard him murmur.
“Night, boss.”
The helicopter was so loud I had to hold my hands over my ears. The whirling blades kicked up plumes of yellow dust that coated my nose and throat so I could taste them. A man in desert fatigues was yelling at me, but I couldn’t hear the words. And then his face disappeared in a bloody mist.
“Caro, wake up!”
Sebastian was shaking me hard. I sat up, wide-eyed and trembling.
“Fuck, Caro,” he said, more quietly. “Another nightmare?”
I nodded silently.
“Come here, baby.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tightly into his chest.
I gulped in air; my lungs burned as if I’d been underwater for a long time, and I could almost taste the acrid dust in my mouth.
Damn, that had been a bad one.
“What was it about, baby?”
I shook my head. “Just a nightmare.”
“You can tell me anything, Caro,” he said, rocking me slowly.
No. Not anything. Not that.
But he didn’t press me, and I was happy just to have him hold me.
After a few minutes, my heart rate had returned to normal.
“Scoot over,” he whispered. “I’ll just stay till you go back to sleep.”
“Thank you.”
He slid down next to me and I felt his warm body press into mine. There was no anger, no ugly accusations, no tension: just his gentle hands around me.
Finally, the nightmare drifted away, and I slept.
When I woke up the next morning feeling happier and refreshed, bright sunshine was filtering through the shutters, and Sebastian’s body was still twined around me in the narrow bed. His breath was hot on the back of my neck and his heavy arm pinned me down.
I tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but he mumbled something unintelligible and pulled me in more tightly.
It felt good waking up in his arms. Hell, it felt better than good, it felt… right. We still had some issues to resolve – pretty important ones – but I began to feel hopeful that we were getting there. Like I’d said.
I stroked his long fingers that were resting across my stomach, and I felt him move, stretching out in the bed like a big, old sleepy cat.
I shifted around so I could look at him.
A slow, sexy smile appeared on his face as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“Wow, I’ve got this beautiful woman in my bed: I really like this dream.”
“Actually, Sebastian, you’re in my bed.”
“Oh, yeah. You must be one of those fast women I heard about at boot camp.”
“Hmm, well, I think that lecture was supposed to warn you off them.”
“Oh, I guess I didn’t hear it right. I suppose that explains why I didn’t get into Officer Candidate School.”
“Did you try?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nah, not really. Not my thing. I took some college classes for a while, but then… I was already fucking around. Guess I pissed off the wrong people.”
“You’d make a good officer, Sebastian. Maybe you should think about it.”
He shrugged. “I’m a Warrant Officer: that’s what the title ‘Chief’ is – highest ranking for noncoms.” He correctly interpreted my expression. “Yeah, you know that stuff. Sorry. I did get asked to join the Navy SEALs, though.”
“Really? That’s great! I mean, that’s a real honor, isn’t it? You’d like that: all that super-macho stuff.”
He smiled, and ran a finger down my arm. “I turned them down.”
I gaped at him. Nobody turned down the chance to join the Navy’s elite team. “Why?”
He looked at me as if the answer was obvious.
“Caro, there’s no way I’d join the same service that my father is in. Fuck that! Can you im
agine if we ended up at the same Base? I’d end up killing the bastard.”
“Shh,” I said, resting my finger on his lips, as his voice started to get louder. “We’re in Italy; it’s a beautiful day, and we’re going to go and find some waves for you to surf.”
He took a deep breath and smiled. “Okay,” he said, happily.
Then his hand drifted down to my thigh and he circled, slowly, his fingers tugging at the material of my panties.
“You know what would make this day even better?” he said, suggestively.
“Oh no, Sebastian. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to take a shower, and you’d better have some damn clothes on by the time I get back.”
I rolled out of bed before he could stop me, and stomped around the room picking out clean clothes to wear.
“Are you sure?” he said, smiling lasciviously, as his hand disappeared under the sheets. I could tell he was stroking himself, and the thought of what I could do with the result was very arousing.
I shook myself out of reverie. No, I’d promised myself that we had to get through at least another 24 hours without having another major meltdown before I’d give in. It was just being smart. If I let him in any further without some sort of proof that I could trust him with my heart, I was a damn fool, and deserved everything that happened to me.
I headed for the shower, cursing myself for not having taken a photograph of him lying there in my bed, all hot and wicked. I’d need something to entertain myself with during the dark, lonely nights when I was an old woman, and boring anyone who’d listen about that summer vacation where I’d had more sex than Madonna. Well, maybe – I was still thinking about it.
The shower was cool enough to put out the flames of passion that Sebastian had been stoking in me.
Twenty-four hours I chanted to myself.
When I got back to our room, he’d gotten as far as pulling on a pair of jeans, but that was all.
“You shouldn’t wander around like that,” I admonished. “You’ll give Signora Battelli a coronary.”
He winked at me but took no notice whatsoever, as he sauntered out of the room.
While he was gone, I searched through his jacket pockets until I found his map. I scoped out the beaches that might have enough swell for surf, then Googled them on my laptop. There were two possibilities within an hour’s drive. We’d already gone past one of the best surf spots at Levanto. The next best spot was outside Rome, but that was a five hour drive. I decided we could save that for another day.
“Whatcha find?” said Sebastian, as he wandered in from his shower, still only wearing his jeans.
He knew damn well what that was doing to me!
“We seem to be in between surf spots here, but about 30 miles away, there’s a place that looks like it might be okay. There’s a big campsite there and it says they rent out boards, so it seems like a good bet. Want to try it?”
“I’ll try anything with you, baby.”
“Sebastian, focus.”
I pointed at the map.
“Sure, baby,” he said, smiling. “I just need to fill up the gas tank, but otherwise we’re good to go.”
He wrapped his hands over my shoulders and kissed my hair.
“Come on then, Hunter,” I said, throwing him one of his ubiquitous white T-shirts. Let’s go see what Signora Battelli has got us for breakfast.”
Breakfast: the word was deeply inadequate for what Signora Battelli had laid out. It was more like a banquet of breakfast foods: fresh oranges and wild berries; panini; sweet rolls; fette biscottate; muesli; three different homemade yogurts; caciotta and pecorino baccellone cheese; and a chef’s delight of salumeria – cold meat – including the local specialty of wild boar.
Sebastian’s eyes glowed, and he completed at least three circuits of the buffet table before he was satisfied, or possibly too embarrassed to go around a fourth time. Maybe not: I didn’t think Sebastian did ‘embarrassed’.
At the next table sat a couple of American students who were wide-eyed at the spread in front of them. One of the girls was asking Signora Battelli’s opinion on different types of fresh pasta.
“But how much should I give guests at a meal?” she said. “How will I know how much to buy back home?”
“Young woman,” said Signora Battelli, swelling with knowledge. “You buy a half pound of fresh pasta per person… except for my son: he eats one pound of pasta!”
I was rather hoping the son would appear so I could see if he lived up to expectations, but we were to be denied that pleasure. Signora Battelli explained that her son had taken a job in Rome.
It was the same story everywhere: young people leaving their small towns and villages to seek their fortunes in the big city. But wasn’t that always the case?
As soon as they realized that we were Americans, too, the girls were determined not to leave us alone. Well, I’m sure I could have disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and they wouldn’t have noticed – their eyes were welded to Sebastian instead. I couldn’t blame them, and I was sort of curious to see how he behaved with them.
One of them reminded me of his ex-girlfriend, Brenda. Maybe it was her propensity to toss long, shiny hair over her shoulder, and gaze at him from beneath her long lashes.
Jeez, she was flirting with him right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!
Sebastian answered their questions pleasantly. It was obvious they were angling for a ride with us, and it was almost comical how far their faces fell when he told them we were traveling by motorcycle.
“I’ve never ridden a motor-sickle,” said the one called Lydia.
And today won’t be the day either, lady.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when you get the chance,” said Sebastian, evenly. He stood up to go, and held out his hand to me. “Come on, baby,” he said.
I placed my hand in his and he pulled it to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. A warm feeling traveled up from my feet, and settled somewhere in the area of my groin.
He was delicious and dangerous and my resolve to wait another 24 hours crumbled away.
The girls looked like they were in agony, and I couldn’t resist smiling at them as Sebastian and I walked away hand in hand.
“What?” said Sebastian, catching my eye.
“Sometimes you can be very sweet.”
I heard his breath catch in his throat; he looked so raw and vulnerable as he stared down at me.
“Tesoro, what did I say?”
He looked into my eyes, then let his forehead rest on mine.
“I love you, Caro,” he said.
Chapter 8
Standing outside Signora Battelli’s breakfast room, my world changed.
“I love you, Caro, so much.”
I couldn’t believe he was saying these words to me.
“I haven’t changed how I feel. I still love you – I’ve always loved you. It’s only ever been you.”
I thought my heart would stop beating.
Ten years ago he’d said these words to me, told me that he loved me. I’d believed they were the words of a lonely, infatuated boy: real, but not lasting. Now the same man was standing before me, saying that he’d loved me all this time – and that it was real. He didn’t care that I was older than him; he didn’t care that I was ridden with insecurities; and he’d forgiven me for doubting him.
Was I brave enough to accept his love? Could I accept that he wasn’t perfect, that he had his own problems to deal with, that he drank too much, and his hot head led him into trouble more often than not? Could I accept that he did a dangerous job in a dangerous world, and that we would be apart for months on end?
He’d asked me once if I was brave enough to take a chance on love. I finally knew the answer.
“I love you, too, Sebastian. More than you’ll ever know.”
He gasped, staring at me with wonder. And then he kissed me.
Not the boiling, surging kisses that heated my blood and shredded my reso
lve; but a kiss so sweet and gentle, so honest and simple, that my heart cracked open, and filled with love.
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