“When he comes over here just pretend he’s a professor coming over here to teach you Italian,” she directed. “Scratch that. Don’t talk about college the whole time. You’ll sound like the brainiac that you are.”
Vaguely listening to her sister’s tactics on how to talk to a guy, she took notice of his shirt collar lying crooked over his jacket exposing the scruff on his jaw. Lowering her aim, she studied his trim fit frame. True to his heritage, the man oozed fundamental appreciation of fashion and style, all the way down to his bare ankles and formal footwear. His ruffled appearance gave the impression of a casual demeanor but his monk strap shoes with burnished patina and gunmetal hardware suggested a precise aura of sophistication.
His tailored suit molded perfectly to his lean body. She lingered at the rise near his hips before continuing button by button up his shirtfront to the sun kissed skin at his throat. His black mask played contrast to his full white smile.
“Sweet. Jesus.” A small gasp slipped from her parted lips. “He’s staring at me.”
CHAPTER TWO
Arrested by his amiable gaze, Tracy couldn’t move. A slow burn crept over her skin causing her to shiver as she hid behind the camera lens. She turned to face her sister, lowering the camera and setting it on the rock wall.
“He’s coming over here,” JC swooned.
Everything around her seemed to stand still. The sound of her breath filtered out background music, voices, and laughter, leaving her with only the sound of approaching footsteps. Nerves cinched around her throat making it impossible to swallow.
“Liquid courage.” JC simmered raising her glass.
Tracy instinctively accepted the chilled glass from her sister’s hand, grasping onto it for moral support.
“Just be yourself,” JC snickered clinking her glass against Tracy’s. “Actually, don’t be yourself! You’re wearing a mask, no one knows us. Let’s have some fun! Cheers sista.”
Tracy took a deep breath, nodded and threw back the licorice drink. The silky liquid slid down her throat, turning into fiery lava as it hit her chest, squeezing her lungs into a tight knot and knocking the breath out of her chest.
She felt the slight pressure of fingertips touch her shoulder. Tracy drew in a breath and began to cough, shaking violently, nearly choking. Her hand covered her mouth attempting to conceal the sound and embarrassment, but it was no use.
Every time she sputtered and hacked, JC’s eyes grew wider from behind her mask, cringing with a look of you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
The warm hand remained on her shoulder in a consoling manner. She tried to breathe in but it only brought on another spasm. Her entire body shook and contracted with each cough. A layer of damp perspiration and just mortification covered her from head to toe.
“Customarily, you mix it with water.” Came a soft deep voice, layered deeply in a thick Italian accent.
“Grazie, but you’re a little late,” she croaked. “I think I just drank oven cleaner.” Tracy pulled in a slow easy breath through her nose, not yet daring to look at him, fearing she’d erupt again.
“Ciao,” JC interceded. A mischievous gleam twinkled in her eye as she winked at Tracy. “This is my sister Maggie and I’m May.”
Tracy’s eyes popped wide, holding back another attack. Every set of goldfish they had growing up were named Maggie and May in honor of one of their dad’s favorite rock star.
Tracy’s father, Richard, passed away when she was in college. A year and a half after his death, their mother Tess met and fell in love with one of Hollywood’s most celebrated actors, Tom Clemmins. They were married within six months. Her famous stepdad was known around the world and stalked by paparazzi and obsessed fans. The year that followed their wedding, gave new meaning to the word crazy. Tracy likened her life to the Bugatti Super Sport race car, zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds. The paparazzi followed them relentlessly, becoming dangerous and ruthless at times. It got so bad, Tom hired security during the year that followed the wedding. Occasionally, JC took the liberty of introducing herself under a false name to protect her anonymity.
“Ciao. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Giovanni.” The weight of his hand left her shoulder, greeting JC with an expected kiss to both cheeks.
He turned his attention to Tracy, gently running his hand down the back of her arm and cupping her elbow. JC rose to her toes peeking over his shoulder. She pulled her eyes cross and sucked in her cheeks, blowing Tracy a fish kiss.
“Ciao,” she said in a whisper. Leaning in, she turned her face slightly offering her cheek as a greeting. Her pulse throbbed frantically near her collarbone, waiting to feel his lips.
He didn’t move.
Their stare connected, sending a tickling sensation down her spine. Tracy’s gaze drifted over his recklessly handsome good looks, hidden behind an intricate black mask. His light grey eyes swallowed her whole, the thick rim of ebony surrounding the cloudy irises like the calm in the eye of a storm.
Subconsciously, Tracy raised her fingers, touching them to her mask. His stare never blinking or shifting from her face. Turning away, she wondered if he knew her true identity.
A tremor rippled through her, feeling his soft lips press against the hallow of her cheek just below the mask. His scent, warm and spicy, surrounded her as he moved to the other cheek.
“Ciao.” His eyes lowered to the flesh on her arm standing at attention on full display. “I was going to point out the beauty of your striking blue eyes, but your exquisiteness…how do you say …takes my thoughts away.”
Tracy’s brow arched and a smile radiated across her face, holding back a laugh.
“That’s a new one.” JC snickered from over his shoulder in a mocking tone. “Speechless, Giovanni. That’s the word you’re looking for.”
“Si`. Speechless.” There was no change in his expression, just an intent stare full of unapologetic charm.
“Good luck with that.” JC’s face verged on a new shade of red. “I’ll be at the bar.”
Neither spoke momentarily. Giovanni’s eyes held, lingering over her face as if she were a fine piece of art hanging in a museum. Another surge of heat raced through each limb and every nerve ending in between. Sharp features accentuated his square jaw, the trimmed beard only adding to his unpolished sexiness.
“Ouzo is the spirit of Greece, but you should drink it carefully and slowly.” Reaching around her, he retrieved two glasses of red wine from the ledge of the wall. “Greek men compare it to the seduction of a woman.”
Tracy raised her brow in question.
“Ouzo, like the love of a woman, sneaks up on you.”
Oh, he is good.
“But you are not Greek. You’re Italian? Yes?”
“Si`.” He extended a glass, holding it between them. “Italian men believe women are like a fine wine. They should be savored, and consumed ever so slowly, enjoying each precious sip.”
A full grin blossomed over her face, chuckling at his candor. She gave him a small nod, accepting the wine. He stood inches from her, filling each inhale with a delicious subtle scent. She’d always considered most Italian men and the bite of their cologne to be a bit intrusive, but his woodsy aroma held hints of tasteful sophistication. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“You might enjoy this. It’s a bit smoother.”
“Grazie.” Tracy never acquired a love for the taste for wine, and preferred a sweet wine over the bold reds.
“You are a friend of Sophia’s?”
Tracy mind and face went blank.
“Umm—“ she hesitated. “—yes. Si`”
He cast a glance toward the bride and groom, mingling their way through a line of guests in the distance. “How do you know her?”
He was simply breaking the ice by making conversation, but his voice exuded curiosity, instantly melting her into a puddle of water. Evading the question, she turned toward the sea and picked up her camera. Tracy hated lying and was absolutely the worst at it.
>
Anxiety sat heavy on her chest, sensing his stare. “I’ve been coming here the last few summers,” she mumbled a half lie from behind the lens.
“So, you speak Greek?” He said it more of a statement of doubt than a question.
Tracy couldn’t stop the smile from breaking over her flushed face. “Doesn’t everyone?” she simmered refusing to look at him.
A rustle of laughter rolled from his chest. He cleared his throat. “That’s a very nice apparecchio fotografico…camera.”
“Si`, camera.” Daring to peek at him, she smiled nervously. “Thanks.”
He nodded asking to inspect her new Nikon D7000. Tracy relinquished her pride and joy hoping to detract the conversation from more questions. She sipped the wine, masking her aversion to the taste with a smile.
“You speak very good English.”
“Ahh…like you…I speak several languages.” His eyes flickered warily behind the dark disguise.
Giovanni proceeded to say something in Greek.
A ping of caution erupted in her gut. Unable to speak the language, she remained silent. I never should’ve listened to JC! Their stare met and held. Tracy fought the urge to squirm as a hot wave of embarrassment washed over her for sneaking into the wedding.
“I’ve always wanted to travel to the United States,” he paused. His tone held an air of authority yet she found it maddeningly sexy. “This is perfect for taking pictures of vacanzo. Yes?”
Shit.
“Si`. It’s a great camera for vacation. For every occasion.” Guilt began flowing from her mouth like the never-ending surf crashing onto the beach below. “The photo quality is first rate. Its exposure and metering are consistent.”
His lip twitched at the corner taking a drink of his wine. He seemed amused by her nervous babble.
Standing so close she took note of the close-shaven texture of skin at his throat as he swallowed the wine. “And the color…the color is faithful in every photo. The video is solid, but not stand out.”
The heat of his breath rustled near her temple as he whispered in her ear, “You don’t know Sofia. Do you?”
Caught in deception, a rush of prickling sensations crawled down her spine. She felt more like an incompetent criminal than a wedding crasher. Instinct set in and she considered simply walking away, but subconsciously moved a bit closer, breathing in his intoxicating appeal.
Tracy pressed her lips tight, inhaling deep through her nose. She made a tsk sound and blew out a huff of irritation. “Please don’t say—“
A man grasped Giovanni by the nape of his neck, giving him a firm shake. Tracy turned, standing face to face with the bride and groom. Any air remaining in her lungs deflated, causing her to shrink in her own skin.
Blood rhythm pulsed in her ears, drowning out their warm, genuine greeting in Greek. As the conversation carried on around her, she didn’t need an interpreter to translate. The masked newlyweds were obviously Giovanni’s good friends and were thrilled to see him.
Tracy’s feet remained paralyzed in place. Her eyes darted through the guests searching for her sister and the nearest exit. Feeling the warmth of Giovanni’s hand on the back of her arm, Tracy looked up at him with an imploring smile verging on desperation.
Giovanni studied her thoughtfully.
Using a tone of endearment, he introduced her as Maggie to the bride and groom. They flourished her with foreign words of delight and kisses to both cheeks. Giovanni continued the casual exchange, pointing JC out to the couple, giving her a quick wave.
JC’s startled expression mimicked a cartoon caricature mindlessly waving back, watching the scene unfold from the safety of the dance floor.
Clutching her glass, Tracy took a lengthy draw of the wine. Giovanni looked down at her with unflinching directness. His long tapered fingers coasted down the back of her arm and laced through hers.
Leaning closer, he whispered in her hairline, “I told them you’re my date for this evening. They are very—“ he shot her a heart stopping smile searching for the correct American term. “—impressed.”
Glancing down at their entwined fingers, her brows tugged into an indignant frown. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as if she’d just finished a marathon.
The newlyweds excused themselves, moving on to the next group of guests awaiting their warm reception.
“Date?” She snipped, attempting to snatch her fingers from his grip. “Am I supposed to say thank you?”
Giovanni refused to relinquish her hand. “Si`.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise at his arrogance. “You just assume that I’m going to—“ Her lip curled in disgust. “—just be your…date?”
“I would hate to see you have to leave.” His mocking smile verged on obnoxious. “Should I reintroduce you to my friends?”
“You wouldn’t.” She gasped at his deplorable suggestion. Giovanni’s gaze never wavered, capturing her curiosity with an impish gleam. “That is not very nice.”
“Si`, it’s very nice. The least you could do is have a drink with me.”
Acting like a skittish virgin being lured to the mouth of a volcano as an offering, she snarled under her breath. “This is complete bullshit.”
“No, bullshit. Simply great music, the perfect wine, a beautiful sunset—“ Easing his fingers beneath her palm, he lifted the back of her hand to his lips. “—an amazing woman.”
The heat of his grip and the impact of his smile seeped deep into her blood sending her into an instant thaw. She’d never been infatuated by a man, especially by the suave flirtations of an Italian man. Even JC knew better than to fall for their rich sultry accents. But his grey eyes and bold charisma lured her in, trampling her good judgment.
However, her pride refused to submit so easily. “Are you asking me to be your date tonight?”
“Yes.” His tone resolute as if it were a given.
“Because if you think I’m just—“
“Maggie—“ He dragged out the double consonants in a slow smooth voice. “I would be honored if you’d be my date for the evening.”
Separated by mere inches, her skin turned remarkably warm and heat gathered beneath her dress. “Will there be food on this date? Because I’m starving.”
“Yes, but dinner will have to wait un minuto.”
Before she had time to think of a reason to decline, the word, “yes” slipped from her lips.
“Perfect!” He grinned, holding up his finger. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Don’t go anywhere.” He called over his shoulder making his way through the maze of guests.
Tracy couldn’t take her eyes off Giovanni’s tall lean figure as he trotted across the terrace. Watching him skillfully sneak behind the bar to retrieve a bottle of wine, she wondered how old he was.
“Hey! Hello?” JC snapped her fingers in front of Tracy’s face bringing her back to reality.
“Hmm?”
“What did they say to you?” JC inquired, scanning the terrace as if she waited to be escorted out. “What’s going on? Are we outted?”
“He told them… Giovanni said…everything is covered,” she stammered.
“What did he tell them?”
Tracy took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “I’m on a date.”
“A date?”
“Yeah. He saved the day introducing me as his date.” She attempted to grumble and seem annoyed, but to her own surprise she sounded delighted. “So now apparently I’m expected to play the part.”
“You’re on a real date?”
Tracy peeked over JC’s shoulder eyeing Giovanni making his way through the crowd. “How old do you think he is?”
“What? I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that all of a sudden you’re on a date? You haven’t been on a date in a year. Is he really a professor?” JC taunted. “English major? Art curator?”
“Shut up.” Tracy scoffed indignantly.
“Way to take one for the team
!”
“Seriously, how old?”
JC turned, making a quick estimation as Giovanni approached. “Late twenties? Hard to tell with the mask.”
“May, the bartenders name is Dimitri and he’ll get you whatever you’d like.” Giovanni stated, handing the bottle off to Tracy. He reached for her camera, slipping the strap around his neck. “Lets go before we miss it.”
“Thanks,” JC said.
“Go? Where are we going?”
He leaned over the railing and pointed toward the tip of a rocky point virtually hidden around the cliff side. JC took one step backward slyly inspecting Giovanni’s ass, flipping Tracy two thumbs up.
“You want photos? Si`?”
“Yes, but you don’t understand.” Tracy shook her head adamantly. “I want photos from right here. I’ve dreamed of this for a long time, Giovanni. I don’t want—“
“Perfection, yes?” Giovanni gathered the tips of his fingers and thumb, pressing them lightly to his lips with a kiss and joyfully tossed them into the air. An amused smile crossed his face, reassurance held steady in his eyes. He tugged on her hand, but her feet remained planted.
JC rolled her eyes shaking her head in near disgust. “Loosen up the grip on the reins of your control horse! Live a little, Maggie. Go for it!”
Go for it. Those words rolled off her sister’s tongue as if it was as easy as counting to three, but for Tracy it was like calculating pi, nearly impossible. Her moral compass was set on autopilot and always pointed toward a thought out, well-considered decision. Doing something impulsive or spontaneous went beyond her limitations; she lived by schedules and lists, not the seat of her pants.
“Do you know what is going to happen soon?” Giovanni’s gaze perused the guests.
JC smothered a laugh. “The police are going to come and escort us back to our hotel?”
“You’re going to get kicked out.” A devilish grin burned in his eyes watching the color drain from Tracy’s face. “Of this spot,” he added. “Everyone is gathering for sunset pictures.”
The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) Page 2
