by Cat Grant
She giggled. “What exactly did you have in mind?"
"It's a surprise.” Pitching his apple core into the trash, he grabbed her hand, leading her out the back door to the waiting Mercedes.
A gravel service road wound around the rear of the villa, down to the sprawling golden-green valley. They drove to the top of the rise and stopped there with the windows rolled down, a fresh breeze tickling their skin, holding the promise of a much cooler afternoon.
"Is this what you wanted to show me?” she asked a touch incredulously. “I mean, it's very beautiful, but we've got a better view up on the terrace."
"Just wait and see.” Shifting into gear, he flashed her a wide, toothy grin. “Buckle up. We're going for a ride!"
His foot went down hard on the gas, flooring it all the way to the vineyard, bouncing along the rough unpaved road, rocks and dust spraying every which way.
"Woohoo!” he whooped, pounding the wheel with the flat of his palm. “Isn't this fun?"
"You're nuts!” Gripping the dashboard with both hands, she screwed her eyes shut. “What the fuck's wrong with you?"
"Aw, c'mon, get in the spirit! You used to love this stuff!"
Fortunately, he had to slow it down to avoid a huge dip in the road, which gave a moment's respite for her stomach to stop ping-ponging all over the place. When he hit the gas this time, she couldn't help exploding in laughter, hollering and howling along with him until tears streamed down her face and she could scarcely suck in a mouthful of air.
"See, it's good to cut loose for a change, huh?” he yelled over the engine's roar, grinning like an idiot.
"You're still nuts!"
"And you love it."
And she did, she really did. They hadn't had fun like this in ages—wild, silly fun like she remembered from college. She'd always found Nick's inner child captivating, even if at the moment he behaved like the demented bastard spawn of Danica Patrick and Dennis the Menace.
The gravel road petered out after a couple of miles, turning off onto the main highway and then, after a few more miles, the town of Grieve. A charming little hamlet, it dated back to medieval times, with old stone buildings and a surrounding wall. They walked hand in hand through the cobblestone streets, exploring and peering in shop windows.
Nick tugged her aside when they reached the end of the main street, pulling her into a quiet corner for a kiss. “Not that I'm complaining,” she whispered, “but what's gotten into you today?"
"We're on vacation. That means we're supposed to have fun, not mope around the house like somebody just died."
"I am having fun, but with Eric—"
"Look, I know you're worried about him. I am too. But he's not here right now, and I'm tired of seeing you sad. So today I've made it my mission to cheer you up."
She grinned. “Well, you're doing a pretty good job so far."
They strolled on for a little while longer, until they stumbled across an open-air market. Their stomachs growling, they bought cheese, fruit, a loaf of fresh-baked crusty bread, a bottle of mineral water and a small blanket before wandering out to a peaceful spot in the middle of an olive grove, where they spread out the blanket for a picnic.
Afterwards, she and Nick lay together under a tree, kissing and caressing. Ally had forgotten how much fun making-out could be simply for its own sake. Eric was the king of cunnilingus, but now she found herself flushed and panting, hovering on the delicious precipice of orgasm from only a few minutes of heavy petting with Nick.
"Um.... “He lifted his head, gazing down at her with a distinctly lust-drunk haze in his eyes. “Think we should take this back to the villa?"
"Why? There's nobody else around, and besides...” She nipped at his earlobe, whispering, “I've always had this fantasy about doing it in the great outdoors."
He laughed. “God, you're shameless."
"And aren't you glad?"
In a few more minutes he had her blouse undone, dipping his head to lick and suck her nipples. His weight on top of her felt solid and reassuring, even if he was pressing her so deeply into the ground she could feel every pebble, twig and clump of dirt. Apparently some fantasies were better off staying that way.
She must have winced, because he stopped, his eyes widening in alarm. “Did I hurt you?"
"No.” She wanted to add “unfortunately,” but considering Nick's carefree mood today, she knew better. But maybe if she coaxed him the right way, she could get him to play a little closer to the edge. Arching her back, she stretched her arms up above her head. “You know what would be really hot?"
"What?"
"Grab my wrists,” she breathed, “and hold me down."
His mouth dropped open. “I-I'll leave bruises."
"I don't care."
"Ally, c'mon, stop fooling around. You know I'm not into that stuff."
Talk about a mood-breaker. Sighing, she sat up, buttoning her blouse. “So much for cutting loose."
"Hey, what's the matter? I thought we were having fun."
She drew her knees up to her chest, closing in on herself like a dying flower. “You know, you and Eric have the same damn problem. You both need to learn how to let yourselves go—and for longer than five minutes at a time."
"What, so you really want me to pin you down and rape you?"
"I wouldn't mind if you tried a little aggression on for size—which doesn't mean I want you to be violent. I want to feel overpowered when you take me. I want to still feel you inside me the morning after we've fucked. You don't have to treat me like some fragile porcelain doll. Believe me, I won't break."
It took him a minute to absorb what she'd said, though from his expression he appeared far from relieved. “Are you trying to tell me that all this time I haven't ... satisfied you?"
"Oh, God, of course not!” She found the notion so absurd, she couldn't help laughing. “Nick, I've never faked anything with you—I never had to. You've always made me very, very happy. But I still think we could benefit by trying something new."
"Okay,” he conceded, “I'll think about it."
They drove back to the villa and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the terrace, enjoying the relative coolness until dinnertime. That night she slept in Nick's bed for the first time since they arrived, and when they made love, it was, to her disappointment, exactly the way they'd always done it—very sweet, very gentle, very vanilla. Afterwards, she lay there listening to Nick's soft snoring while she thought about Eric, trying to convince herself not to worry.
* * * *
Nick wasn't in bed when she woke up, or in the dining room, though numerous gaping holes in Luciana's lovingly arranged bread and fruit platter told her he'd traipsed through earlier. Pouring herself some coffee, she wandered into his office to find him hunched over his laptop, brows knit with intense concentration.
"Hey,” she said, “weren't you planning to take today off?"
"I just popped in to check my email and read the news. There was an earthquake in Greece this morning.” Beckoning her over, he swiveled the laptop so that she could see the screen. “It's pretty horrible."
And that appeared a distinct understatement, according to the live footage on CNN's website. Over a dozen small towns had been demolished, leaving thousands of people stranded, starving and without water. The death toll already hovered at ten thousand, with the grim promise of more to come. Ally's brain ached from trying to comprehend such utter devastation.
Nick shot her a hesitant, even apprehensive, look. “Alan called me about half an hour ago, wondering if I could fly over for a few days to cover the story."
"He doesn't have any other correspondents in the area?"
"Nobody who can get there as quickly as I can. But I told him I'd have to check on logistics and get back to him."
Selfishness pricked at her, but she brushed it aside. She had no business interfering in Nick's work. “Of course you should go. You can't pass up a big story like this."
"You sure? I f
eel bad leaving you here all by yourself."
"Don't worry, I think I can amuse myself for a few days."
He packed quickly, then put on his light summer suit and combed back his unruly curls. He looked so different in his work clothes, every inch the confident, professional reporter, but she knew it was all just a costume. At heart he'd always be plain old Nick, the sweet, dorky farm-boy-turned-quarterback she'd fallen for back in college.
"I'll get back as soon as I can,” he murmured, giving her a kiss.
"Stay as long as you have to. I'll be fine."
He smiled. “Well, I haven't forgotten about Saturday."
Ironically, she had forgotten. And she would've been perfectly happy if he had too. The thought of celebrating her birthday felt distinctly anticlimactic after the last few whirlwind days. “I think I might just stay in bed with the covers yanked over my head."
"Oh, c'mon, you're not that old."
She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, then clasped his proffered hand and walked him down the terrace stairs to the limo. It was another gorgeous day, comfortably warm with a sky carved out of bright blue china. He kissed her again and climbed into the limo, driving off through the front gate.
She spent the rest of the morning on the terrace, strolling back inside later for lunch and her bath. Afterwards, she sacked out on the couch with a paperback mystery she'd brought with her, so absorbed in the story that she didn't hear Luciana the first time the housekeeper called her in to dinner.
It didn't dawn on her until that evening how quiet the place was without Nick and Eric around. She could hear all the little creaks and groans of the house settling and the household staff bustling about in the kitchen downstairs. But when Luciana and her daughters finished up and left for the night, the stark silence became downright eerie.
The evening turned a touch chilly, so she shut the terrace doors and put on some music before stretching out on the couch to finish her book. Within a couple of hours her eyelids began drooping, so she dragged herself off to bed. But the second she crawled under the covers, she found herself wide awake. She wasn't used to sleeping alone anymore. She wanted Nick's arms around her. She ached for Eric's reassuring presence beside her, close enough to touch and make sure he was all right.
As if on cue, the phone rang. Eric's cell number flashed on the caller ID. “Hey,” she piped happily, “I was just thinking about you."
"You have no idea how good it feels to hear that,” he answered, fatigue all too evident in his tone. “I'd intended to call sooner, but it's been pandemonium here."
"Problems with the vote?"
"The bill's been held up in debate ever since I arrived, but I'm hoping it'll get to the floor sometime tomorrow."
"I'll say a prayer for you."
"Say two. We could use the extra credit."
A tiny moment of silence, before she asked, “You're taking your medication, I hope?"
"Of course,” he replied, his voice going soft and warm, the way it did when they were alone together. “And I appreciate your concern more than I can say."
"Well, maybe when you come back you can show me,” she teased.
"I'll be looking forward to that.” With an audible intake of breath, he added, “I should go. I've got a few more hours of work I need to get done before tomorrow."
"Please take it easy,” she pleaded. “No bill is worth killing yourself over."
"I'll keep that in mind,” he murmured before hanging up.
Sinking back on her pillows, she willed herself to relax. She felt a little better now, but only a little. Still, it was good to know that Eric was fine, and that he'd apparently gotten over his anger with her.
She suddenly realized she'd forgotten to tell him about Nick leaving, but perhaps that was just as well. He didn't need anything else to worry about. He'd find out for himself soon enough anyway, the next time he picked up a copy of the Herald.
The next morning brought more of the same—breakfast, sunbathing, lunch and reading on the couch. She'd left her own laptop at home in the hopes of weaning herself off her internet addiction, but later in the day she caved, logging onto the desktop in Eric's office to read her email and check up on the news. On the CNN website she saw that the situation in Greece had taken an even more dire turn, with the new death toll now topping twenty thousand. From the way things looked, it'd be a miracle if Nick made it back by Saturday.
Her finger hovered over a link to Amazon, but she bravely fought the urge, choosing instead to log off and shut down the computer. She had a bad habit of surfing from one shopping site to another when she got bored, and while she doubted that blowing a few hundred dollars on frivolous crap would bother Eric, she needed to become a bit more proactive in the self-entertainment department, especially if she was going to spend the next day and a half by herself.
She decided to give the household staff the next couple of days off; it seemed silly to have three people waiting on her alone. Eric had grown up with servants, but even after several years, Ally still wasn't entirely comfortable around them. She disliked asking other people to do things she could easily do for herself—and after what happened last year, she especially hated the idea of strangers being in a position to overhear her private conversations with Nick and Eric.
On Friday morning she bounced out of bed and headed downstairs to make herself coffee and an omelet, which she ate sitting at Eric's shady spot at the table on the terrace. Peering out over the valley, she wistfully recalled her silly, romantic afternoon with Nick. Hard to believe that was only a couple of days ago.
Aside from her day trips with Eric and Nick, she really hadn't gotten a whole lot of exercise since she'd arrived. And while she found sitting like a lump on the terrace relaxing, if she kept it up for another two weeks while stuffing herself with Luciana's delectable cooking, she'd have to squeeze herself into her new Versace wardrobe with goose grease and a shoehorn.
She'd wanted to explore the vineyard from the day she got here, and now seemed the perfect time. Putting on her Ray-Bans, sneakers and a jaunty sun-hat, she headed out the back door of the kitchen for a nice long walk.
It felt good to get out and stretch her legs again. The sun felt heavenly, warm and liquid without the slightest hint of the brutal edge that came out in full force most afternoons, though after about half an hour she'd worked up a healthy sweat. It was so peaceful down among the grapes, entirely quiet except for a soft breeze ruffling the leaves and birds winging overhead.
"Mrs. Courtland,” came Dalton's voice from behind her, abruptly shattering her sense of calm. He strode toward her with obvious urgency, in slacks and a polo shirt instead of his usual impeccably pressed dark suit, yet somehow still managing to look as crisp and efficient as ever. “I need you to come back to the house."
"What's wrong?” Oh, God—not Eric! She'd had visions of him collapsing on the Senate floor ever since he'd left. Her heart suddenly felt like a hot fist trying to pound its way out of her chest. “Is Eric all right?"
He gave her a strange, squinty-eyed look. “As far as I know, ma'am, the Senator's fine."
"G-God, you scared the sh—I mean, you had me scared there for a minute!” Relief swept her, nearly buckling her knees. “So why do I need to go back to the villa?"
"The Senator left explicit instructions that you were not to leave the premises unescorted."
Her mouth dropped open. “Well, I-I suppose I should've told you I was going out for a walk, but I doubt anything will happen to me out here."
"I'd be glad to accompany you if you'd like to continue."
"Are you serious?” She gestured all around them. “Dalton, there's no one out here but us and the birds. I'm not in the least bit of danger."
But of course he was serious—deadly serious. She'd never seen him crack a smile in all the time he'd worked for them, and from the resolved, pursed-lipped expression on his face right now, she could see that he intended to dog her every fucking step.
"
All right, let's go back to the house,” she snapped, already marching in that direction.
She spent the rest of the day stewing, growing more and more angry, and by the time Eric called that night, she was loaded for bear.
Unfortunately for her, so was he. “Why didn't you tell me the other night that Nick had to leave?” he demanded.
"It slipped my mind,” she retorted testily. “And I don't understand why you're so upset. It's hardly the first time he's been called away on assignment."
"I don't like the idea of you being left there at the villa unprotected."
"Oh, I'm far from unprotected. Your faithful watchdog Dalton's keeping a close eye on me. I can't even go out for a fucking walk in the vineyard by myself."
"Why do you need to do that? You've got everything you need at the house."
"Well, maybe I just want to get some air! Honestly, Eric, I'm starting to feel like a prisoner here."
"You can go out again when Nick comes back. Until then, I want you to stay put."
For a moment she was so flabbergasted she couldn't speak. “Wh-What did you say?"
"Look, I'm only trying to keep you safe."
"Eric, this is absurd. Nothing's going to happen to me!"
He sighed. “I understand your frustration, but for my own peace of mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay close to the villa."
She recognized another one of his passive-aggressive tricks, which somehow managed to irk and chasten her at the same time. “So what time do you fly in tomorrow? I thought I'd ride along in the limo to pick you up—if that meets with your approval,” she added in a distinctly pointed tone.
"That's actually what I called to tell you. It looks like I'll be stuck here at least until Monday. The bill's still in revisions, but the vote's scheduled for Sunday night."
"Oh, so you won't be here for...” With a pang, she realized he hadn't even mentioned her birthday. He'd probably forgotten it in the midst of everything else. “Well, I guess I'll see you Monday."
"Take care,” he said softly.
The next morning she rolled glumly out of bed and trudged downstairs to make herself some coffee. She thought about having some toast too, but found she had no appetite. Now she wished she'd made good on what she told Nick, and stayed in bed with the covers yanked up over her head.
