Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “From Rainey. Rainey’s known for years who had it. He persuaded the guy to let Sorensen make a forgery for a share of the sale. Rainey brought both paintings to McCallister’s, letting you do the authentication before making the switch. It was a good plan. If by any chance, a previous owner came forward to claim the painting, all they’d get was a forgery. Hutch is still trying to track down where the original is now.”

  “And who tipped off Philip Taurel that he’d bought the fake?”

  “It was anonymous, so we’ll probably never know, but it’s likely Sorensen bragged about his work to someone.”

  “I still can’t believe Walter Rainey would set me up like that. I thought he liked me.” She snorted in disgust. “If it were John Allen, I could understand it.”

  “Yeah, well it’s over now. Would you like to walk some more or find a coffee or soda or something? It’s getting chilly, and you don’t have a coat.”

  She stood, testing her shoes for comfort. “Walk, if that’s okay.”

  He got to his feet and slipped his jacket off and put it around her shoulders. They wandered through to the garden’s curved, wrought-iron pergola and leaned against the railing to look across the expanse of green, punctuated with summer color. She snuggled her face into the lapel of his jacket, savoring the familiar scent.

  Suddenly, it was all clear to her. The past few weeks had been hell, but would she change a thing if it meant not having Mack in her life? Not for a minute. This incredibly sexy but vulnerable man was part of her life now.

  “When do you go back?”

  “Tonight.”

  She froze. “For how long?”

  When he turned her face up to make sure she met his eyes, her pulse sped in fear.

  “At least a year, maybe longer.”

  “Oh, God, no.”

  “Gemma, I can’t make promises ... not in my world.” He stepped forward and took her hands. “But I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

  He was telling her not to wait. “Is there any way I can contact you?” she asked hopelessly, barely able to force the words past her stiff lips.

  “There’s no contact allowed. It puts lives at risk.”

  “What can I do, Mack?”

  He drew her to him as she closed her eyes, trying to trap the tears that spilled out over her cheeks down to her chin.

  “Let me take a kiss, just like the one in the auction room.”

  By the time they’d drawn apart, it was drizzling again, mixing the raindrops with her tears.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  One month later

  “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Mack rubbed the back of his neck, trying hard to look interested in yet another ceiling fresco. “Exactly what are we looking at, Dr. Gilmore?”

  “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, Mr. Buchanan,” she sighed, letting the sound out slowly as if to emphasize her point. “This is the Museo Angelo fresco. The angels are exquisite, don’t you think?”

  “Uh-huh.” He wasn’t looking at the fresco. He was looking at Gemma, standing in a narrow shaft of sunlight streaming through an opening in the dome high above their heads. In her white dress, with her pale face framed by her long dark hair and staring upward, she looked like an angel herself.

  “Started in 1642, finished in 1656.”

  “Did the guy get bored?”

  “Philistine,” she said with another sigh, her gaze still fixed to the ceiling.

  “Yeah, and you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  He laughed. Yeah, he was sure. This was their first full day out of bed since their arrival in Venice. They’d still be in the sack if he hadn’t felt guilty about her missing out on her frescos and statues and all the other art stuff she’d talked about on their flight two days ago.

  This morning, he’d actually dragged the blankets off her and ordered her to get ready for a day’s sightseeing. A damned Herculean effort on his part, considering she was naked and kissing her way around his chest at the time.

  She was still studying the angels, so Mack slipped his arms around her from behind, drawing her close.

  “Where are the nudes?” he asked, nuzzling his mouth into the top of her head.

  A woman’s laugh tittered from somewhere behind them, and Gemma giggled. “You know she heard you. Everyone’s looking.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, still nuzzling her hair. “What about we give them something to really look at?”

  She turned inside his arms and smiled up at him, her glossy black hair shimmering in the soft sunlight. “You’re hopeless. What would your boss say if he could see you now?”

  “He’d say I was a lucky man.”

  “You still haven’t told me how you wangled your way out of it.”

  Oh, she was about to get serious about that again. “That’s classified. What’s that thing over there?”

  “Don’t try and change the subject. How did you do it?”

  He bent low, making her squirm when he blew warm air into her ear. “I said there was an incredibly talented, beautiful, persistent woman just begging for me to come home.”

  In fact, that’s exactly what he’d said. Within twenty-four hours of reporting for duty, he’d made the decision to put in for more leave. But, under the unit’s limited civilian contact rules, he hadn’t been able to tell Gemma a thing about it. Besides, the odds of a ‘yes’ to his request were slim. The mission had been planned for over a year, and men with his particular set of skills were in short supply. But miraculously, it was granted, but only after an agonizing two-week wait for the decision. A whole six weeks to spend with her. And now, this morning ...

  “I still don’t believe you,” she said into his thoughts. “You’re not listening, are you?” She unwrapped herself from his arms to step back and study him. With her head cocked to one side and her hands on her hips, she looked like a very sweet, exasperated angel.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Mack Buchanan.”

  Mack grinned, totally loving this whole flirting thing with her. “I can think of something.” He went to snare her to him again, but she dodged his reach. “You’ve got a one-track mind.” She pulled her guidebook from her bag and started flipping through the pages, pretending to be serious, but the corners of her mouth had curved high. “So what would you like to see now?”

  There was only one answer to that question.

  “Our hotel room.”

  “We can’t. Not yet,” she protested. He might have believed her if that betraying hitch in her voice hadn’t told him she was seriously giving his suggestion some thought.

  “Damn. Well, the next place better have nudes.”

  Mack took her hand and led her out of the Museo and down the steep steps to the piazza. Venice on a warm day. Tourists and sightseers crowded the square, chattering with excitement, posing for photos. In the past, he would have laughed at the thought of being part of this. He never could understand the whole tourism thing. But now he knew why people came to Venice.

  Yeah, he’d gone soft. Hell, he wasn’t the romantic type—at least not in the way women seemed to think of that kind of thing. But Venice on a summer’s day, with Gemma beside him and the canals glittering under the late afternoon sun, had made him about as romantic as a man could get.

  “You want a gelato?” she asked. She was looking at him with a small frown between her brows. “What are you thinking about?”

  “You. I’ll get the ice creams.”

  “In that case, stay where you are and think about me some more,” she ordered with a laugh and disappeared into the gelateria beside the museum, emerging a minute later with two large strawberry ice creams.

  They sat at a small outside table, licking their treats and watching the constant flow of sightseers strolling through the piazza beside the Grand Canal. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so comfortable with someone or, for that matter, having so much fun. For the first time in years
, he was utterly content. Enjoying Gemma’s art chatter even though, most of the time, he barely knew what she talking about. Eating ice cream from a cone. Hell, he hadn’t done that in years. It was fun. Gemma was fun. At first he’d imagined her to be one of those serious, arty types, but in the past weeks, he’d discovered how wrong he was. She made him laugh. Really laugh—that was something else he hadn’t done in a long time. Then there was her incredible capacity for giving and taking pleasure.

  “Omigosh! They’ve found the Bonvalet.”

  Mack blinked from his thoughts to see Gemma waving her phone at him.

  “Wake up! John Allen says they found the Bonvalet in Atlanta.”

  “So the old boy came through.” Recovering the painting and the money had always been a long shot. Their only hope had been to offer Rainey a generous plea bargain. Apparently, it had worked.

  “He was due to retire next year,” she said and he caught the sadness. “I know I shouldn’t feel sorry for him after what he did to McCallister’s. And me. But he was a nice man. Will he go to prison?”

  Mack tossed his gelato cone in the trash and wiped his hands with a paper napkin. “Four years, max. He’ll probably be out in two with good behavior. Watch it, you’re about to drip on your dress.”

  “Oh hell.” She licked her way up a trail of melted strawberry running down the cone.

  Mack waited patiently until she’d finished her ice cream. He was a man on a mission, and he needed to get started. He got to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “On your feet, woman. Time to walk.”

  He sat back down, defeated, when she started thumbing through her phone again. She frowned. “McCallister’s wants an answer by the end of the week.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mack didn’t press her. He knew she was still hurting over McCallister’s’ accusation. They’d hurt her badly, just like he had. He’d still not completely banished his guilt over not believing her. Perhaps he never would, but at least he’d learned to handle it now.

  “Maybe I should accept the Enright offer.” She began to chew at the corner of her mouth. One of her cute mannerisms that he now knew so well. “What do you think?”

  “Have you thought of freelancing?” Not that he knew a thing about the art authentication business, but it seemed a reasonable option. “You are the best, apparently,” he teased.

  She pulled a face at him. “Actually, I could start my own business.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about ....” Mack stopped when a tourist group passed close to their table. Two elderly women straggling behind slowed when they spotted Mack. If the looks he was getting were anything to go by, that had to be the titterer and her friend from the Museo. He grinned at them, and they smiled back. He had the feeling he’d just made their day. Darned if he knew why.

  Her head went to one side, her eyebrows up. “That sounds serious.”

  He stood and grabbed her hand, determined to get this done before he got interrupted again. “Let’s walk.”

  He led her through the piazza and into one of the narrow winding streets that followed the Grand Canal. She was laughing at him, urging him to tell her where they were going, but he kept telling her to be patient. Trouble was, there was nowhere secluded enough for his purposes.

  He was on the verge of giving up and taking her back to the hotel, when a small, secluded cobblestoned courtyard overlooking the canal opened up in front of his eyes. Perfect and, thank God, deserted.

  Leading Gemma to the railing, he stopped and stood to collect his thoughts, aware that she was staring at him with a puzzled expression.

  “What is it?” she asked, her voice now really serious. “Has something happened?”

  He scratched his jaw, mentally rehearsing what he had to say.

  “I’ve spoken to the agency about quitting for good.” He paused when her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Anyway,” he went on, “this morning, I got the approval.”

  “Oh.”

  Not much of a response, but he knew she was thinking hard about what that meant for him. For them. He’d already done his thinking. For weeks, he’d thought of nothing else but leaving the unit for good.

  “So, here I am. Technically unemployed.”

  She tilted her chin up, searching his gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” With her in his arms, he’d never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

  “I love you, Gemma.” His heart started to thump. He hadn’t expected to feel so awkward. But then, this was a first for him. “I know it’s been hell for you. I know you probably need time—”

  “I love you, too.”

  Mack blinked. “Really?” Hearing her say the words was beyond any emotion he’d ever felt before, full of tenderness and sheer relief.

  “Yes really,” she confirmed, pressing her hand to his chest and smiling up at him. “I love you, Mack.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, then put a hand to his forehead. “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

  Rising on her toes, she slipped her hands around his neck. “True. Now hurry up and kiss me.”

  When he finally let her up for air, she dropped back on her heels and tucked her face into his shirt. “I wish we didn’t have to go home,” she murmured.

  “Would you come with me to Maine? I’ll arrange for Tom and his family to be there so you can meet them.” The sound of his chuckle brought her head up. “Man, will Tom be surprised. Big brother has finally fallen.”

  “I’d love to meet them.” She smiled, looping her hands around his waist and snuggling into him again.

  “It was a favorite place for Tom and me ... and my father.

  He leaned down to her ear, his voice teasing. “So did your mother enjoy her latest cruise?”

  She snorted before leaning back and rolling her eyes. “I guess. You know she’ll blame you.”

  “What the hell have I done?”

  “You’re not Kyle. But don’t feel bad. If I stubbed my toe, my mother would say it was because I didn’t marry Kyle.”

  “I’ll win her over,” Mack answered with a grin. “After all, I saved her from having that jackass for a son-in-law.”

  Gemma shoved him back, laughing. “Don’t talk about the jackass like that. He’s a good man. No, really he is,” she insisted, when Mack grimaced. “Besides, my mother only approves of filthy rich men.”

  “So, would moderately wealthy do?”

  Mack laughed himself when she straightened, her mouth dropping open again. “What, you?”

  “Don’t look so surprised, my love.” He shrugged. “All inherited from my mom’s side. Her family never did get over her marrying an army major. Tom enjoys his wealth, but it’s not really my thing.”

  “Well, don’t tell my mother that. She’d think you were mad. But seriously, what will you do now?”

  “Some consultancy work for the agency, probably training. The thing is,” he said, fitting her hips to his, “I’m a man in love—useless as an operative now.”

  “No more Perses.”

  “Not true,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m thinking of destroying our hotel bed, with you in it.”

  “But we haven’t seen the Palazzo Campagna yet,” she protested. “Surely, you wouldn’t want to miss seeing that?”

  “Are there any nudes?” he asked, earning him yet another one of her sighs.

  “Not one. It’s all landscapes.”

  “Then, Dr. Gilmore,” he said quietly, his brows waggling wickedly and sending her into giggles, “it’s the hotel for you.”

  “I guess the Palazzo will still be there tomorrow.”

  Mack leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Yeah. And I’ll get you there, even if it goddamn kills me.”

  “Okay, let’s go home.”

  Mack smiled to himself as she hooked her arm through his and led him back into the street. It wouldn’t matter where they went. He was already hom
e.

  About the Author

  Susann Oriel lives in the Bay of Plenty, New Zealand. A love of books led her to become a librarian, later moving to the broader area of information management and technology—interesting, challenging, and fast-paced work in a rapidly changing environment. Then Susann discovered her inner romance writer. Now she’s hooked on writing, and with the Bay’s laid-back lifestyle and fabulous beaches on her doorstep, she has the perfect setting to create her stories.

  Between the Sheets

  Liv Rancourt

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2014 by Amy Dunn Caldwell.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-8484-2

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8484-8

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-8485-0

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8485-5

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123RF/Raya Hristova

  This story is dedicated to my three favorite music teachers, Mrs. Arizzi, Miss Sunde, and Mrs. Berry. I’ll forever be grateful for the ways you’ve influenced my life.

  I’d like to thank my fabulous beta readers Amanda, Ruth, Rhay, and Debbie. You guys keep all my ducks in a row, for sure. I’d also like to thank Tara, Jess, and Julie at Crimson. As always, you guys are fantastic to work with! And finally, I’d like to thank my oh-so-patient husband and kids, who put up with my absentee status while I got this baby finished.