Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3)

by Andrea Simonne

  “What Paul did for me years ago was also no small thing.”

  “But what was it? Did he save your life or something?”

  Giovanni takes a deep breath. “In a way, he did. I don’t know if I’d even be a doctor today if Paul hadn’t helped. Definitely not a surgeon.”

  “What did he do?”

  He opens his mouth but then closes it. A little smile tugs on the corners. “I don’t have to answer your questions unless you win that bet.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Hey, that was the wager.”

  “You’re definitely going to lose. In fact,”—she puts her hand on her hip and glances around the room—“despite this being the honeymoon suite, you should know we won’t be sharing a bed anymore. I hope that couch is comfortable.”

  He blinks in surprise. “Why not?”

  “You already know why.”

  He studies her a moment before looking away. “I see. So you really are still angry.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” She barrels forward. “You can’t just leave me alone in a hotel room with a credit card like some kind of hooker!”

  His eyes go back to hers. “It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

  “It’s how you made me feel.”

  He seems genuinely mystified. “We wanted each other. There’s nothing more to it than that. And I left you that credit card because you admitted you were nearly broke after being robbed.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up before leaving?”

  “I already told you. I didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so hard.”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  The natural flush on his cheeks goes from pink to red. His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “Don’t fucking lie, okay? That’s the second time you’ve done that to me, but it’s also the last because I won’t let it happen again.”

  He nods. His expression is hard, but there’s something else there, and she suspects he’s upset about more than just sleeping with her again.

  “It’s never like this for you, is it?” She watches him closely. “You never have to see the women again and deal with their anger. But here I am, and you don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m sorry you feel this way,” he says stiffly. “But you’re overreacting.”

  “No, I’m not.” She goes over to where he left her suitcase by the desk and grabs the handle, pulling it behind her toward the bedroom where she sees a large king-sized bed. “I’m taking a shower and then I’m going to sleep. Alone.”

  It’s dark when Lindsay wakes up, and for a moment, she’s disoriented, though she senses it’s still night. There’s movement beside her and then someone—Giovanni—switches on the bedside lamp.

  She’s lying on her back and covers her eyes with her forearm. “Turn that light off.”

  He sits beside her on the bed. “Do you remember what I told you back in Berlin?” His voice is low. “How I couldn’t give you anything more?”

  “I remember.”

  “It was the truth. I never meant to hurt you, Lindsay.”

  She takes her arm away and looks up at him. “Maybe not, but after everything we went through that day and then spending the night together, you shouldn’t have left like you did.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I haven’t been in a real relationship with a woman in years.” He’s wearing his usual tense expression, and it’s clear he’s struggling with something. “I’m just not . . . able to.”

  “Why?”

  He only shakes his head, licks his lips. “I want to. In fact, I wish I could.”

  His eyes stay on hers. Against her better judgment, she reaches out and puts her hand on his cheek, moving her fingers lightly up over his brow. His skin feels warm beneath her touch.

  She caresses his face. So handsome, and strong too. Even in his vulnerability, Giovanni emits a kind of resilience.

  “I can’t let you treat me like that.” She puts her hand back down. “You have to know that.”

  “Of course.” He nods, his expression sober. “I understand.”

  “What happened to you? There must be something, because you’re so capable in every other way. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s the dichotomy, isn’t it?” He lets out his breath. “But it’s a long story.”

  “I don’t mind long stories.”

  He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

  They gaze at each other, the lamp casting their shadows across the wall. She wishes things were different, wishes he were easier. Wishes he was like all the other guys, the ones who follow her lead, fall at her feet and don’t need fixing. But then she wonders if she’d want him as much if he were easy.

  Probably not.

  “I’d like to show you something,” he tells her, a smile pulling on his mouth. “It’s out in the other room.”

  She sits up on her elbows. Her eyes go to the drawn curtains, where there’s definitely no light peeking through. “What time is it?”

  “It’s just after midnight.”

  “Are you serious?” She groans and flops back down. “No wonder I’m still exhausted. I need to sleep.”

  “You can, but first come see this.”

  “See what? Can’t it wait till morning?”

  “Trust me, it’s worth waking up for. At least come out and meet them.”

  “Them?” She sits up all the way. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Joseph and Sara, Paul’s kids. I’m going to Skype with them in a few minutes.”

  Her brows go up. She climbs out of bed and follows him into the suite’s living room area, noticing how his laptop is set up on the coffee table, stacked on a couple of phone books.

  He takes a seat on the couch in front of the computer. “I figured you might want to meet the kids you’re helping before we get married.”

  “You’re calling them right now?”

  “Yes. They’re about thirteen hours ahead, so it’s midday for them. I texted Joseph to let him know.”

  She sits beside him on the couch. “They have cell phones over there?”

  Giovanni nods, focusing on his computer. “You’ve never done any traveling in Africa, I take it?”

  “No.” She watches the screen as he shuts down his e-mail and some other documents he was working on.

  “Everybody has a cell phone. I’ve been to places so poor there’s no access to clean drinking water, but people still have their phones.” He shakes his head. “It’s crazy.”

  Lindsay looks at him with surprise.

  “But Paul’s a physician, so his family has always lived comfortably.” He pauses and grows momentarily serious. “Was a physician.

  She touches his arm and their eyes meet. She sees the sadness in his. “You’re a good friend to him, even now.”

  He nods, but doesn’t say anything more.

  She watches as he opens Skype. There’s a basket of fruit on the table, and she reaches over to grab an orange, realizing she’s starved. When she turns back, Giovanni has finally connected, and there’s somebody on screen.

  It’s a young teenage boy with close-cropped hair and dark skin. He’s grinning with straight white teeth. “Uncle John!”

  “Hey, Joseph, it’s good to see you. How are things?”

  “Not too bad. It is good to see you too,” he says with accented English. “I am very glad you called because I have something here you might enjoy.” Joseph holds up some kind of comic book.

  Giovanni opens his mouth with surprise. “Are you kidding me? Where did you get that?”

  “A friend of mine gave it to me. Ha-ha! I knew you would be jealous.”

  “I am jealous!”

  Joseph laughs with mischievous delight. “I can let you borrow it, so no worries.”

  Lindsay remembers the comic books from Berlin and realizes they did belong to him. She watches as the two of them talk and is amazed at the change in Giovanni. He’s joking and relaxed, obviously in
his element with kids.

  “Is Sara around?” Giovanni asks. “I have Lindsay here, and I’d like you guys to meet her.”

  “She is here, let me call her.” They both hear Joseph yelling loudly for his sister to come to the computer.

  A few moments later, a pretty, dark-skinned girl of about ten comes into view. She’s wearing a white blouse and blue ribbons in her pigtails. It looks like some kind of school uniform. “Hi, Uncle John!” She tilts her head as her whole face covers the screen.

  “That is too close, Sara.” Lindsay can hear Joseph in the background.

  Sara finally moves back and Giovanni introduces her.

  “Hi.” Lindsay waves. “It’s great to meet both of you.”

  “Oooh, you’re pretty!” Sara says with big eyes. “Uncle John didn’t tell us how pretty you are!”

  “Thanks.” She smiles. “I think you’re very pretty too.”

  Sara grins and murmurs, “Thank you,” though she seems shy.

  Lindsay says hello to Joseph as well, and the four of them talk for a while. The kids tell her about their school and their grandmother. They mention Phillip and how they hope they’ll be able to go live in the States soon. They’re worried because it’s taking so long. Giovanni explains how everybody’s working on getting them here. He’s calm and reassuring to both children.

  It’s not a long conversation, but by the end of it, both kids are in good spirits. Sara tells her a funny story about how her grandmother’s goat ate her math book recently, and how she’s happy about it, and Lindsay laughs.

  Seeing and conversing with them changes everything. Suddenly, Lindsay finds she’s really glad to be able to help these two.

  After the four of them say their good-byes, she nods over at Giovanni. “That was great. Thank you for setting it up.”

  “You’re welcome. I thought it might help if you met them and saw for yourself how they’re not just an abstract concept, but real children.”

  “You’re right. It does make a difference. I hope I get to meet them in person soon.”

  “Me too,” he agrees.

  Lindsay thinks about the conversation. “I’m curious about something though—why were they calling you Uncle John?”

  “Oh, that. Paul and I were friends in college. I’ve known those two since they were babies.”

  “I figured that much, but why John?”

  He glances at her with confusion as he shuts down his computer. “Because that’s my name.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, Giovanni is John in English.”

  Lindsay’s mouth drops open. “I didn’t know that!”

  “Lots of people call me John.”

  “Weird.” Her eyes roam over him. “So, what you’re saying is nobody calls you Olaf?”

  He chuckles. “No. You’re the only one.”

  “What name do you prefer being called?”

  He takes his computer off the phone books and sets it directly on the coffee table. “Either is fine. My family calls me Giovanni, so I associate that with people who are close to me, but I have plenty of friends who call me John.”

  “What should I call you?”

  He shrugs. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

  Lindsay considers the options. “I like Giovanni. It has a romantic ring to it, though we both know Olaf is your true name.”

  He smirks. “Just don’t let my mother hear you call me Olaf. For her, nothing in this world is as good as being un Italiano.”

  “Also, I’m curious, do you really read comics?”

  He chuckles. “Sometimes. I always keep a stack in my bag for my patients.”

  “A surgeon who reads comic books.”

  He shrugs. “I have to read a lot of medical text, so it’s a nice break.”

  Lindsay’s thoughts go back to the kids she just Skyped with. How lively they were in their conversation. “It’s weird, but you’d never know Joseph and Sara lost a parent recently. They didn’t seem sad or anything.”

  “That’s not uncommon.” His expression goes serious. “Losing a parent is so devastating for a child they can’t take in the loss all at once. It’s too much. Their grief is spread out over a lifetime.”

  She nods, thinking back to her own childhood. “I lost my dad when I was a kid too.”

  He looks at her with surprise as he sits back down on the couch. “I didn’t know that. How old were you?”

  “About Sara’s age. Eleven.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it. “Were you close?”

  She nods. “I idolized my dad, even after I found out the truth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All his secrets and lies.” Lindsay looks down at Giovanni’s hand holding hers. “He won huge amounts of money playing poker, but half the time we barely had enough food to eat. He was constantly losing it at the track or the blackjack tables. Spending it on women when he should have been taking care of us.”

  “Jesus.” He shakes his head.

  “He used to always tell me how much we were alike. He’d say, ‘You and I are made of the same stuff, Lindsay.’” She takes a deep breath. “Sometimes, I worry it’s true.”

  “Where was your mother in all this?”

  “Burying her head in the sand, as usual. She was an artist who drank too much. She still does.” She gazes outside at the fountain. “Natalie is the one who raised me, even though she was just a kid herself.”

  “I’m sorry, Lindsay. I didn’t know. It sounds like it was tough for both of you.”

  “Yeah.” She smiles with embarrassment. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. It must be the exhaustion from traveling.”

  “People tell me things all the time. I am a doctor, after all.”

  He’s still holding her hand, stroking his thumb over the top of hers, and even that bit of touch from him relaxes her. Their eyes stay on each other.

  A part of her wants to invite him back into her bed tonight. He feels so familiar, so right. God, she’s even telling him her secrets.

  Not all of them though.

  She wants to absorb his essence, his strength. Giovanni is a force to be reckoned with, and the fact is he’s sexy as hell. But then she remembers what happened after they slept together in Berlin and pulls her hand away.

  “And besides . . .” His voice takes on a humorous note. “It’s not long before I’ll be your husband. We are getting married tomorrow.”

  Her eyes go wide as adrenaline rockets through her. “Did you say tomorrow?”

  Giovanni’s back aches like a son of a bitch from sleeping on that damn couch all night. Fortunately, it pulled out into a bed, but unfortunately, the mattress was too short to accommodate his six-foot-three body, and his feet stuck out. Of course, the metal bar running across the center was the real cherry on top. It dug into his spine with such accuracy he’s certain it was designed by military intelligence as a torture device.

  He considered calling downstairs for a cot, but in the end decided it would probably be just as uncomfortable. Plus, he wasn’t sure if he could deal with the embarrassment. He was seldom embarrassed about anything, but staying in the honeymoon suite while sleeping on a cot was just enough that it might tip the scales to where he felt humiliated as a man.

  If only Lindsay had invited him into her bed. He hoped she would, and it looked like she was even considering it last night, but in the end, she went to sleep alone.

  He knows it’s his own fault. He screwed up. He doesn’t know why he left her alone in that hotel room in Berlin. All he knows is when he thought of waking her, of taking that next step between them, something stopped him.

  Old habits die hard.

  What’s crazy is he wanted to. He wanted to spend more time with her. Despite his guilt, that night they had together was incredible. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and not just because it helped him come off the adrenaline. The more he gets to know Lindsay, t
he deeper he’s drawn in.

  Initially, she reminded him of Olivia, but he sees now how wrong he was. It’s clear the two of them are nothing alike. Thank God.

  “This is weird,” Lindsay says the next morning.

  They’re sitting across from each other at one of the hotel’s restaurants, eating a late breakfast before they get married.

  “What is?” Giovanni speaks around a mouthful of food. He’s scarfing down a plate of pancakes and sausage. Nervous energy has always made him hungry, his body burning calories at an astronomical rate.

  “All of it. Our marriage will only be temporary, so why are we both so tense?”

  He swallows. “Tense? I’m not tense.”

  “Give me a break. You’re sweating even though this place has the air cranked so high it’s like the North Pole.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m great. Better than ever.”

  She laughs, her expression incredulous. “Really?”

  “Solid as a rock.”

  “Wow.” She leans closer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually scared before.”

  “Scared?” He picks up his napkin and mops his face with it. In truth, he is sweating like crazy. For a moment, he considers whether he might have contracted something before he left Africa. Malaria? Ebola? Christ, I hope not. He knows that’s absurd though. He wasn’t anywhere near Ebola, and he took every precaution possible against malaria. He goes back to attacking his food. “I’m not scared. You’re delusional.”

  She gives him a knowing smile as she picks up her coffee mug. “All I can say is please don’t ever play poker.”

  He polishes off the last of his pancakes and even considers ordering another plate of food, but decides to have more coffee instead. It’s a treat he only seldom gets to partake of, as he requires his hands to be as steady as possible when he’s working.

  He flags down the waitress and holds up his mug.

  “Coffee is the last thing you need,” Lindsay tells him.

  “I don’t know what you’re going on about. I’m totally calm.”

  She nods. “It’s actually kind of entertaining seeing you so freaked out. I’m guessing it’s a rare event.”