by Jayne Castel
Faye did not know the back-streets of Venice, and within a couple of blocks she realised she was hopelessly lost. Yet, she ran on, hoping he would get the message and leave her be.
He did not.
“Faye wait – please!” he shouted, his voice fainter now as she pulled away from him.
Faye rounded a corner, and made the mistake of glancing back over her shoulder as she did so. Her foot caught on a raised cobble and she fell head-long across the narrow street. Unfortunately, this cobbled stretch ran alongside one of the many canals that criss-crossed Venice. Faye caught a glimpse of water, glistening in the street lights, before her. A moment later, she fell into it.
“Faye!” Max heard her scream, followed by a splash, and rounded the corner to see the woman he had chased four blocks, break the surface of the canal. She spluttered and flailed around, her eyes wide in shock. At first glimpse, it appeared as if she did not know how to swim.
Without thinking, Max dove in to save her.
The cold lagoon water took his breath away after the evening’s warmth. Resurfacing, Max swam across to where Faye was treading water and attempting to paddle her way to the moss-covered steps that led back up to the street. He placed an arm under one of her armpits and towed her towards the steps. Still struggling to regain her breath, she let him help her without a word of protest.
Together, they emerged dripping from the canal and climbed the steps. Faye was trembling from shock, her green dress plastered tantalisingly against her body. They squelched up the worn stone steps, careful not to slip on the moss that carpeted them. Once they reached the street above, Faye grasped her sodden hand bag to her breast and turned to face him.
Max saw the anger smouldering in her hazel eyes. Still, it came as a shock when she lashed out, and slapped him hard across the face.
Faye slapped him so hard that her palm stung afterwards. Then, she lowered her arm and clenched her fist. Ignoring her burning hand, she glared at Max Paolini, ready to follow up with a punch if he took just one more step towards her.
“Bastard,” she snarled. “Wasn’t insulting me enough? You thought you’d try and kill me as well?”
He stared back at her, shocked that she had actually struck him. He did not put a hand up to the cheek, where she had hit him, although Faye knew if her palm was anything to go by, it would be on fire.
“I deserved that,” he admitted quietly; the rage and arrogance she had seen in him that afternoon gone. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to catch up with you so that I could apologise. Why did you run?”
“I ran because I didn’t want to speak to you – wasn’t it obvious?” Faye replied, aware that her dress now stuck to her body like wet paper. She had seen his gaze slide over her when they reached the top of the steps – it was another reason why she had slapped him.
How dare he!
Max raised placating hands before him. His handsome face was flushed from running, his eyes dark pools in the dim light. “You’re right, I was rude to you today. There’s no excuse for it. I should have been pleased you wanted to interview me; I should have cooperated – instead I acted as if it was an imposition. I’m sorry.”
Faye continued to glare at him. His apology seemed sincere enough. Yet, it was such a marked difference from the man she had clashed with earlier that she had trouble accepting it. When she did not reply, Max continued.
“I’m not used to speaking about my personal life. In fact, I’ve buried myself in my work to avoid having to face certain things. You asked me about my brother. The truth is, we fell out after I discovered he had been pursuing my girlfriend. They ran off together and are now married with two children. Even now, years later, speaking about them hits a raw nerve.”
Faye’s anger abated. Listening to his explanation, she suddenly felt embarrassed about her insistence during the interview. She should have seen that her questions were upsetting him, and shown a bit of sensitivity.
“Then maybe I should also apologise,” she said quietly. “I’ve been a journalist for a while, and too often it becomes just about the story. I sometimes forget there’s a human being behind it. I’m sorry.”
Her apology hung in the air between them. Faye was aware then, that Max’s clothes – jeans and a t-shirt – also clung to him like a second skin, outlining his broad shoulders and athletic frame. Faye’s cheeks grew hot and her breathing caught in her chest. He was standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, and the spicy trace of his aftershave that had not been rinsed off by his dip in the canal.
“I can swim you know,” she raised an eyebrow at him, in an effort to dissolve the tension of a different kind that was building between them.
“Really?” he raised an eyebrow back at her. “It looked like you were drowning to me?”
“I hope we don’t catch some horrible disease from the water.”
Max chuckled at that, taking a step closer so that Faye had to raise her face slightly to meet his gaze. “Venice’s canals are a lot cleaner than they used to be,” he replied with a smile. “I think we’ll both be fine. Do you think I’d have jumped in after you if I thought I’d pick up cholera?”
“So it wasn’t a gallant act after all?” Faye bristled, her face heating further. “There was me thinking…”
She never finished her sentence, for his mouth came down, hard, upon hers, silencing the rest of her protest.
Faye should have pushed him away, and slapped him again for his presumption, but a rush of heat between them shoved all rational thought from her mind. Her stomach leapt, as if she were on a swing.
She kissed him back, her mouth opening under his. Her hands roamed over his sodden t-shirt, exploring the contours of his chest. Max’s hands ran up and down the length of her back; his hands tangling in her wet hair. He pulled her hard against him, and the remnants of Faye’s self-control snapped. She wound herself around him and pressed her body against his. Max groaned low in his throat and kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue.
When they broke apart, Faye’s heart was thumping against her ribs. They were both breathless.
Max gave a soft, shaky laugh and stepped back from her. Then, he reached out and gently took hold of her hands.
“I’d better keep my distance,” he gasped. “If I kiss you again, I won’t be able to stop.”
Faye stared back at him, momentarily rendered speechless by the passion that had exploded between them. Her body felt boneless and weak. She only just prevented herself from throwing herself into his arms.
What’s wrong with me? I hate him, don’t I?
“We… I … should go back to my hotel,” she stuttered. “It’s not a good idea to stand around in wet clothes.”
Max nodded, his face suddenly turning serious.
“Listen Faye – this has been the most surprising day of my life. I don’t want it to end. Let me show you that I really am sorry. Let’s redo that interview – and this time you can ask me anything you want.”
“Really?” Faye’s mouth curved into a tentative smile. “When?”
“How about this evening? I’ll escort you back to your hotel and then I’ll go home and get changed. How about if I come back to collect you in an hour? There’s a bar not for from the Arsenale where we can go for a drink. Bring your Dictaphone and your notebook and we’ll redo the interview from scratch.”
Faye searched his face, and saw only honesty and boyish hope in his eyes. She guessed it had been a long time since he had made himself vulnerable with a woman. It was her undoing; she could not have refused him if she had tried.
“That sounds like a good idea Max. Let’s do that. My hotel’s near St. Mark’s Square. I’m completely lost though. Is it far from here?”
Max looped her arm through his and steered her back the way they had come.
“It’s about five minutes’ walk,” he replied with a smile, “not far at all.”
They walked in silence for a moment before Max glanced he
r way, his gaze hopeful. “If you’d like we can visit some of the Biennale exhibitions tomorrow. There’s some incredible artwork on display in churches and galleries throughout Venice. I’d like to be your personal guide.”
“I’d like that,” Faye replied, before giving him a teasing smile. “But won’t I distract you from your art?”
Max laughed, recognising the excuse he had thrown at her earlier that day. “I can’t believe I said that. What a conceited idiot.”
“You certainly did say it, vehemently,” Faye grinned. She liked that he allowed her to tease him.
“Sometimes,” Max said leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips, “a man needs to let himself be distracted.”
The End
About the Author
Jayne Castel writes both contemporary romance set in Italy and historical romance set in Anglo-Saxon Britannia. She was born in Lincolnshire, England, grew up in New Zealand, and spent many years living in Italy (Rome and Umbria).
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Jayne Castel’s contemporary romance
Italian Romance
Two romance novellas set in Rome and Naples that will sweep you away.
Available on Amazon Kindle for US$1.99
http://www.amazon.com/Italian-Romance-ebook/dp/B008AP7F1E/ref=sr_1_3_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378470762&sr=1-3
Jayne Castel’s historical romance
Dark Under the Cover of Night
A king's daughter, the son of his sworn enemy - and a reckoning...
Available on Amazon Kindle for US$2.99.
http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Under-Cover-Night-ebook/dp/B0093W11AY/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378470762&sr=1-1
Nightfall till Daybreak
A slave, a soldier and a king at war with his conscience...
Available on Amazon Kindle for US$3.99.
http://www.amazon.com/Nightfall-Daybreak-Kingdom-Angles-ebook/dp/B00D7YKRPO/ref=la_B009Y9C7SG_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1370557504&sr=1-3
