by MARTIN, KC
At this point she gave him a very quizzical look.
“…Then I think, yes, there is a very good chance to build something bigger.”
He didn’t want to come right out and say he’d follow her back to San Francisco in a heartbeat. He knew there were more things to consider, but one thing he was not willing to consider was waiting another three months to see Laine again.
He sealed that thought with a deep, promising kiss. But even with Laine’s arms around him and the mild May temperature, Colin now started shivering.
“Let’s go inside,” she murmured.
Laine
Signora Natalia was still awake when they got back to the hotel. She bustled out of the sitting room, her cheeks rosy, her hair a little mussed. Giammo shuffled out behind her. He had lipstick smeared across one cheek. He smiled and clasped his hands to his chest when he saw Colin and Laine. “Amore vero. Just like she said.”
The Signora shook her head when she saw Colin’s clothes. “I’ll get everything dry cleaned, I promise,” he said sheepishly.
“It doesn’t matter,” said the Signoria. “It’s my small sacrifice for love.”
“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”
The Signora eyed him. “Because that is the way of life and love. To love and to live you must be willing to offer something valuable or meaningful and let it be transformed into something new.”
Colin looked down at his rumpled dress clothes. “I don’t see how this applies.”
The Signora raised an eyebrow. “What was happening before you got wet? And what happened after? Were things different?”
Colin looked at Laine. They shared a smile. “Quite,” he said.
“There you go,” said the Signora, clapping her hands together.
Under his breath, Colin muttered, “Crazy Italians.”
To cover his muttering, Laine said,
“I think we’re ready for one room now.”
Signora Natalia beamed. “Meraviglioso! Which will it be?”
“The room with the view?” said Laine questioning Colin.
He shrugged. “Either is fine with me.”
“Wait, do you have a room with a bathtub and a view?” said Laine to the Signora.
“No, I’m sorry. Nothing with both.”
Laine frowned. How to choose? Then she grinned. Why choose?
“Then we’ll keep both.”
Colin turned to her, confusion in his beautiful green eyes.
“Let’s enjoy my view and your bathtub,” said Laine. “We’ll go back and forth. The best of both worlds.”
“If you like,” he said.
Laine nodded. At the back of her mind she knew they really did have two worlds to contend with now. Her world in San Francisco and his world in London. She wasn’t sure how they would work all that out, but they would have to face it eventually. For now, Florence was their shared world, at least for a few more days.
“So I won’t change anything?” said the Signora.
“Nope,” said Laine, turning to Colin. “Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath, Mr. Ellington.”
The Signora lifted an eyebrow, smiled, and went back to the sitting room with a grinning Giammo. Together they whistled an opera tune, in harmony.
Laine led the way over to the elevator, which was humming with its descent toward the lobby.
“The way I figure it,” said Laine leaning conspiratorially toward Colin’s damp shoulder. “Is that with two rooms, we have two beds, which means we’ll need to use them twice as much, don’t you agree?”
Colin’s lips quirked up into an amused smile. “I’m liking your train of thought, Miss Dixon.” He kissed her forehead. She slid her fingers up the back of his head, where they tangled in his hair, and then she pulled his face toward hers until their lips met.
After a deep, hungry kiss, Laine leaned back and said, “After your bath, I think we should start right away, don’t you?”
Colin answered with another kiss, this one hotter, hungrier.
The elevator doors opened. The German couple emerged and had to step around them. Laine thought she heard them chuckling. And somewhere in the background, the Signora chirped, “I’ll pour your sherry, Herr and Frau Lehman.”
Colin and Laine, still kissing, stumbled their way into the elevator. They had most of their clothes off by the time they reached the first bed.
Chapter 22
Laine
The next morning, Laine woke up before Colin. She watched him sleep for several minutes. She could imagine doing this for weeks, for years, maybe even a lifetime…
She bit her lip. She had to be careful not to get ahead of herself. After all, they hardly knew each other. Then she smiled to herself. She decided she was not going to let that stop her from loving Colin. They may still have a lot to learn about each other, but there was one thing she knew without question: she loved him.
Laine tiptoed down to the lobby in search of the Signora. Even though it was very early, she was whistling behind the front desk. She smiled when she saw Laine’s robe and tousled hair.
“Ah, I see the flush of love in your cheeks.” Signora Natalia grinned. “What can I do for you, Bambina?”
“Would it be possible to take two cappuccino’s up to the room?”
She winked. “Of course. Wait in the sitting room.” She bustled off to the back.
The sitting room was mostly empty except for one man sitting in one of the wing-backed chairs. She recognized his profile.
“Lorenzo? What are you doing here?”
“Miss Dixon.” He stood up and smiled. “I was prepared to wait all day if I had to, but here you are bright and early.”
Laine touched her messy hair. She was terribly underdressed — she was barely dressed.
“You could have called or emailed.”
“I wanted to apologize in person.”
“Apologize?”
He motioned for her to sit down in the chair across from him. She sat on the edge of the chair and held her hands in her lap.
“The Italian government plans to seize all of the most important pieces for the Italian museums. I’m so sorry, Miss Dixon, but the Botticelli, once restored, will be among those confiscated. Such a disappointment.”
“For me, yes, but what about your ancestors?” She lifted an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “With any luck the ghost of my grandfather will curse the government, but what can I do?”
She had to smile. Lorenzo’s Italian passion was spent wildly in love and sibling rivalry but dampened considerably in the face of bureaucracy.
“The government doesn’t just take them for nothing, do they?”
“Our family will be given a stipend for each piece they acquire, but it’s a paltry sum compared to market value. Of course, the family name will in the museums and we will be honored with a plaque and other tokens over the years. Antonio is livid, of course, and he’s not speaking to me, though he’s spending an awful lot of time with my wife…” He stroked his jaw, not quite as clean-shaven as it had been last night. Had he even slept?
“I suppose this way your grandfather’s collection will be displayed in museums in Italy for everyone to see, right?”
Lorenzo frowned. “Not necessarily. You see, we have so many pieces in this country now, there isn’t room to display them all, so much of it is in storage. If you had taken the Botticelli back to San Francisco, it probably would have been the center of a collection, no?”
Laine nodded. That was true. She had been really looking forward to designing that collection, and securing the Botticelli acquisition would have taken her career in a new direction. She let go of that idea for now. She had other things to be happy about. She glanced toward the lobby, hoping the Signora wouldn’t take too much longer. She didn’t want Colin to wake up while she was gone.
“Can you ever forgive me for dragging you all this way and sending you home empty handed?”
Laine’s hands
might go home empty but her heart was full to bursting.
Lorenzo looked into her eyes. “And can you forgive me for … my feelings? You really are so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself. Any man would have done the same in my position.”
She raised an eyebrow. She doubted that.
“I was very flattered, Lorenzo.” She didn’t mention that for a few fleeting minutes she’d also been tempted. “But you’re a married man, with a beautiful wife, and I don’t belong in Italy…”
“And you love someone else,” said Lorenzo, sighing. “I could see it in your eyes last night on the dock. That British man who knows my brother, the one who dove in to save the painting.”
Laine nodded. He was upstairs in bed. She wanted to go back to him.
“Did I mess things up for you?”
“It’s all fine now.”
“I want to make it up to you.”
“You don’t need to do anything.”
“When do you return to America?”
“In a few days.”
“I’m leaving you my car and driver. He’s at your disposal for the rest of your stay in Florence.”
“You don’t need—
“— In addition, you will have private access to any museums of your choice—“
“— Lorenzo, you don’t—“
He held up a long-fingered and manicured hand. “— Per favore, Laine. Let me do this. I will book you dinner reservations as well. The best restaurant in town. Have you been to Giammo’s?”
Laine smiled. “I’d love to go back.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, Lorenzo. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
He stood up and adjusted the buttons on his suit jacket. Laine stood as well.
“After the authorities have gone through the estate, if there is anything left of artistic value I will send something to you in San Francisco. It may not be worthy to be the center of a collection, but it will be a token for my grandfather and his memories.” He took Laine’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “As well as mine.”
The Signora called from the lobby. “Cappuccinos are ready.”
Lorenzo took one last look at Laine and then left.
As the Signora watched him go, she whispered. “I think you made the right choice.”
She handed Laine the tray. “Oh, and these were just delivered for you.”
From behind the desk, Signora Natalia lifted up Laine’s reconstructed and brightly polished red shoes.
“I’ve always wanted a pair of red shoes,” said the Signora longingly.
Laine thought about the places, inner and outer, that those shoes had taken her. She smiled at the Signora. “If they fit you, you can have them. My gift to you.”
Signora Natalia beamed. She started kicking off the shoes she was wearing. Laine wondered if Colin would miss them, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t mind her decision.
Laine carried the cappuccinos upstairs.
Colin
Colin stirred in the bed. A dream he’d been having was beginning to fade. He and Laine were walking along a path together hand in hand. They’d come to the edge of the cliff. Beyond the cliff was the sea. Laine turned to him and smiled. She gripped his hand tighter and then looked back to the sea. Colin sensed they were both about to jump, but it wasn’t to their deaths. Somehow, they were going to jump and then they were going to fly.
Colin didn’t want to wake up just yet. He wanted to feel what it was like to fly. But he was waking up, beginning to be aware that he was in a hotel in Florence, that Laine had spent the night. But had she stayed this time? He didn’t want to wake up unless Laine was there. He kept his eyes shut tight until he heard a noise. A door opening and closing. Then he smelled the sweet aroma of Italian coffee.
He kept his eyes closed until he felt the bed shift. A warm naked body curled up against his back. Every part of him responded. Slowly he rolled over. Then he opened his eyes. He gazed into Laine’s smiling face.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
“Better than good. Best morning of my life,” he said, and then he kissed her.
“I thought you might like to wake up to a nice, hot coffee,” she murmured as she adjusted herself under him, opening her arms, her legs, and not making any move to get the coffee.
He didn’t care about the coffee. That’s one thing that never ran out in Italy.
“All I want is to wake up next to you.” He kissed each of her temples.
She drew his hips to hers. “For the next three days, you can.”
His lips kissed their way from her ear to her throat. “And after that?”
There were no words after that. Their bodies merged and spoke in kisses, moans, and thrusts. Plans were made in the arch of a back and hands tangled in long hair. It wasn’t their words that made plans but their hearts, and Colin and Laine knew that their hearts would be able to bridge their continental divide, just as they both knew now that some dreams could become reality.
THE END
KC MARTIN
www.kcmartinauthor.com
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About the Author
I write about discovering the true power hidden in pleasure and living with an open heart.
Stories have the power to change hearts and lives. Love, eroticism, and sensuality provide the greatest inspiration for the heart. When we claim our pleasure, we activate our power and embolden our hearts to create lasting change in our lives and the world.
Some of the simple pleasures I enjoy:
French macarons, Kir Royale (a glass of champagne with 1/2 oz of Cassis, a black currant liqueur from France), hot baths by candle light, walking in the forest, working in the garden, visiting museums, giving and receiving massages, laughing with friends, cooking, painting, and most of all: writing.
KC
KC MARTIN
www.kcmartinauthor.com
