The Love Lottery

by Linda Andrews

  "Back a day and you've already fallen into the rut of rescuing me."

  Alessa opened her mouth, snapped it closed. She glanced from one to the other before shaking her head.

  "I have to leave now, or I'll be late for class." After kissing Lia's cheek, she turned and fled down a side street.

  Lia listened to her steps fade but kept her focus on the man in front of her. Her palms itched with the need to slap some sense into him, but her fingers itched to grab his jacket lapels, jerk him against her and kiss him into seeing her as a woman. The emotional tug-of-war left her paralyzed.

  Dante's black eyes glittered and a muscle flexed in his jaw. His cheeks flushed before they resumed their normal color.

  "I've been back twenty-five minutes." He snapped off each word. "My sister told me the meeting was tomorrow."

  Sucking air through her teeth, she stepped backward. Sophia was in this, too? How could her best friend do this to her? She knew how Lia felt.

  "I don't need you to rescue me." She planted her fists on her hips. "I've grown up during the last six years and can take care of myself."

  His gaze dropped to her breasts, before they returned to her face.

  "Is that why you broke your promise to never enter the lottery?"

  Oh, gods! Her arms dropped limply to her sides. He remembered the promise.

  The tower—her refuge from the heckling about her outsider heritage. And Dante—he'd been preparing to leave for culinary school in faraway Rome. She'd been thirteen, and so in love with him that she'd vowed to wait for his return. Pain squeezed her chest.

  He hadn't laughed at her childishness. Instead, he'd promised to be there if she ever needed him.

  But he hadn't shown up at the first Consiglio Comunale meeting or the ten between then and now. For the last six years, she’d dealt with this on her own.

  Pain fractured her composure.

  "I'm not the only one who broke a promise." Trapping the sob against her lips, she turned on her heel and ran.

  ***

  Dante took two steps after her before stopping. Their reunion had not gone as planned. Not one little bit. Holding her in his arms had been all too brief. As for the kiss on her cheek, he wanted to taste her lips, drink from her soul.

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he pivoted about and headed for his family’s bakery.

  Had she really thought he'd deserted her? For the last six years, he’d spent every spare moment outside culinary school looking for any hint of her family. He'd only returned when he'd heard of the consiglio comunale's decision to evict her from Amores. He'd hoped to persuade her to marry him and use the engagement period to woo her.

  To make her stop seeing him as a brother.

  For a moment there he'd thought…

  He shook his head. That had just been wishful thinking on his part.

  Stooping he picked up an empty Cupid's Elixir bottle along the curb and chucked it into the trash bin. His sister said Lia had classes until noon. He checked his Gucci watch. That gave her three hours to cool down and him time to plan.

  If he couldn't convince her to see him as a man—a suitor—and withdraw her name from the lottery then he'd add his name to the list of bachelors. But how was he to draw her name?

  The shady street gave way to the sunny palazzo. Cupid and Psyche smiled at him from the windows of the council building. Who better than the gods? And he knew just the offering to curry their favor.

  ***

  Entering the palazzo, Dante tossed the warm loaf of bread from hand to hand. White doves waddled across the pink cobblestones. Between the green flames of the cypress trees on his left, tourists crowded around patio tables and dined on ropes of pasta. Gray stone storefronts lined the square on the right, selling trinkets, jewelry and offerings for Cupid's Temple. Bracketed by towering pine trees, the temple’s bright white columns glowed in the afternoon sunshine.

  Mounting the worn steps, Dante smiled at the little girl blowing red heart-shaped bubbles from a pink wand. He paused in the portico as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Roses, jasmine and carnations scented the air, no doubt from the heaps of flowers hiding the waist-high altar.

  A little boy picked through the offerings. Holes poked through places in his gray toga, and the green trim was worn off the hem. Sharp collarbones showed through the dirt on his tan skin. His dark eyes fixed on the bread in Dante's hands, and he licked his lips.

  For a moment, Dante's fingers sank into the offering. Hunger? Here in Amores? Had things changed so much since he'd been gone? He loosened his grip on the round loaf. The bread had been made to win Cupid and Psyche's help in wooing Lia, but…

  The little boy wiped the drool glistening at the corners of his mouth.

  "Here." Dante held out the loaf.

  The child remained frozen for a moment then, in the blink of an eye, leapt forward, snatched the bread and dashed for the columns. His bare feet slapped the marble as he slipped outside.

  "I don't think Cupid will count that as an offering." Lia's chuckle echoed around the rectangular portico. "If you'd wanted a twofer, you should have touched it to the altar first."

  Dante inhaled deeply. His heart refused to settle in a normal tempo. It never did when she was around. Or when he thought of her.

  Biding time, he strolled around the altar. He stopped in front of the oak doors to the temple's interior. In the dim light, he could picture waking up in bed next to her, making love to her just as dawn broke the horizon.

  He adjusted the folds of his toga, hiding his body's reaction. What had she said? Ahh, now he remembered.

  "I'll get another loaf." It wouldn’t be as perfect, but he hoped the gods appreciated the thought. "The boy looked like he could use it more."

  He turned. His muscles lost cohesion at the sight of her, and he stumbled against the doorjamb. How was it possible that she was lovelier than when he'd seen her just hours ago?

  "I just hope he eats it slow enough to enjoy it."

  Her gown swayed with her hips as she joined him next to the altar. The thin green fabric molded her pert breasts before being gathered by a gold belt at her trim waist. She'd tamed her brown locks into corkscrew curls falling from an amber-and-gold wreath. Onyx bangles slid over her slim wrists as she wedged her terracotta bowl within the mound of flowers.

  Leaning forward, Dante inhaled the heat from her skin and the tang of cream sauce. A pebble nestled in the ribbons of pasta, and black dotted the background. Somehow, he didn't think that was fresh-ground pepper.

  "What recipe adds dirt to pasta?"

  "Don't be silly." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Signora Canis dropped her husband's lunch while taking it to him, so we swapped."

  "With that offering, Psyche might help old man Sienestra draw your name tomorrow." He cupped her elbow before she could jab him again.

  "Like you, I was hoping it was the thought that counted." She grinned, reached into her bodice and pulled out a slip of paper. "Besides, I have a written request as well."

  What was she asking the gods for? If it was love, couldn't she see she had his? He felt it practically seep out his pores every time she came near.

  Instead of snatching the note from her fingers, he steered her into the cella. Bad mistake. A statue of Cupid fondled his wife's alabaster breast, while Psyche's fingers had disappeared under her husband's fig leaf. A half-eaten round of bread and an empty pasta dish sat at their bare feet. That bread looked like his offering. Could the boy have been the god in disguise?

  Color bloomed in Lia's cheeks when she spied the couple. She quickly turned her head and focused on the fire blazing in the center of the square room.

  "Those two are going to give the tourists ideas about Italians."

  They were certainly giving him ideas. Although he might be up for it, he seriously doubted Lia would appreciate being ravished. He tugged his own request out of his belt. He stared at the words painstakingly written in Latin.

  Give me the means to make Lia ha
ppy for the rest of our lives. Was it too much to ask?

  Psyche slipped out of her spouse's arms and sashayed across the marble floor. After adjusting his fig leaf, Cupid sidled closer to Lia. She unfolded her note and held it up for the god to see before tossing it onto the fire.

  Damn. Maybe if he'd gotten closer, he could have read it, too. He flashed his own wish to Psyche before feeding it to the flames.

  "Want to tell me what you asked for?"

  Cupid rolled his eyes, shook his head and shadowed Lia's movements.

  "It won't come true if I do." Shaking out her skirt, she stopped in front of Dante.

  Don't look down. Don't…

  His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts. Beautiful, lush breasts. His palms itched with the need to touch them. Gods! He cleared his throat. "So, where are you off to now?"

  "Well, I— Oh!" She jumped and bumped into him.

  Dante caught her around the waist, steadying her. The heat of her skin pulsed through her thin dress, arrowing straight to his loins. A heartbeat later, her nipples pebbled against his chest. He swallowed a groan. If he could feel that, she undoubtedly felt his erection. He studied her face. Dilated pupils swallowed her hazel eyes.

  "Are you alright?"

  Her hands slipped up his torso and eased around his neck before her fingers teased the short hair curling at his nape.

  "Cupid just pinched my bottom."

  "He is Italian." Too bad the mischievous god couldn't have poked her with a gold-tipped arrow. Then she'd fall in love with the first thing she saw—him.

  Dante's gaze dropped to her mouth—the bow-shaped top lip, the full bottom one. Would she taste like pasta or ambrosia? He held his breath.

  Only one way to find out.

  He lowered his head, nudged her nose, urging her to tilt her head just a bit. As she complied, her lids fluttered closed, and her fingers held the base of his skull. A soft kiss first. Then he'd deepen it, and when he was done, she'd be his forever.

  He dipped his head. Light as a butterfly he swept across her mouth, felt the soft give, the heady elixir of Chianti. He shifted for another taste and—

  "Kissing must be the Italians’ favorite pastime!" The nasal voice cut like a chainsaw through soft cheese.

  ***

  Gods in heavens! Lia shoved out of his arms, stumbled backward. The heat of the fire flared along her right. Dante had kissed her! A real kiss. Could her wish have been granted so easily?

  Ignoring the quartet of tourists pushing into the temple, she fingered her lips and turned toward the statue of Cupid. He leaned close to his wife and whispered in her ear. Psyche's hands covered her mouth, and her eyes were crinkled.

  "Look at the frescos." Another woman hissed while gawking at a picture of the two gods cavorting in bed.

  "Come on." Dante hooked his arm through Lia’s and dragged her out of the temple and across the palazzo.

  Doves swirled around them before settling back on the warm cobblestones. Tourists snapped their picture. Lia smiled for them. Maybe she could ask them to send one to her, a remembrance of her and Dante's first kiss. Did she look kissed? His lips had barely touched hers, yet she could taste the bread he'd eaten.

  "Where are we going?"

  He steered her into a narrow street. Rivulets of water ran down the shadowed passage. The scent of tomato sauce drifted out of the open windows in the stories above. Blue pots dripped verdant herbs from window sills. He released her arm to rest his palm flat against her back.

  "Christabel's Tower."

  The tower. Their tower. The one where he'd said goodbye to her six years ago. The one she visited almost daily, looking for a sign that he'd returned.

  "Why?"

  His black eyes flashed in the dim light, but his fingers tightened, gathering her dress and pulling her against his side as a couple of men walked down the street. The fair haired one raked her with his gaze. His lips quirked under his trim mustache.

  "Enjoy her while you can, Trancredo. Tomorrow morning will be here soon."

  Gods, no! They were going to draw for her? Lia tried to hide behind Dante, but he kept her firmly attached to his side. He didn't say anything, but his muscles had all the give of stone. Lia swallowed hard. If the gods had known he was in town, why had they urged her to enter the Love Lottery? Her thoughts chased around inside her skull as they reached Christabel's tower.

  The square stone structure jutted five stories into the blue sky. Narrow arched windows and bands of dark stone marked each level. Dante heaved open the eight-foot door. The hinges remained silent as they crept inside. Globe lights competed with the scent of beeswax to fill the eight-by-ten-foot space.

  His fingers brushed her hip before he laced them through hers and led the way up the stairs. A soft breeze swirled down the steps, carrying the sound of bird song.

  Her lungs sawed for oxygen by the time they reached the top, and her hands shook. Her reaction had nothing to do with the climb and everything to do with the man at her side. She licked her dry lips. Would he kiss her again? A deep one? She buried her trembling hands in her skirt.

  Releasing her, Dante crossed to the open window. The wood floor gave under his weight, but the pair of starlings roosting on the windowsill didn't move.

  "I've missed this place."

  It was heaven now that he was here.

  "There's no place like it." He turned and propped his hip against the wall. His black eyes trapped her.

  Say something. Anything. Don't give him any reason to see you as the awkward girl anymore.

  "The towers are commonplace throughout Italy." Oh, gods, not that. That was a school lesson! "It's where the nobles used to hide when faced with invaders."

  "I haven't been out of school so long I've forgotten my history lessons." He smiled at her then shoved away from the wall and stalked closer. "The view has gotten more beautiful."

  Her heart battered her breastbone. He didn't seem to be talking about the vineyards and olive groves running down the mountain. Could he really see her, the woman, or was this her wish at work?

  "Your sister, Sophia, said you studied in Rome, Paris, and Napa Valley." Fairytale places she could never visit. "Surely, they had just as grand a view from their windows."

  He stopped in front of her, close enough that her dress brushed the top of his sandals. Raising his hand, he cupped her jaw then ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

  "They didn't have you."

  He kissed her forehead, her eyes then nudged her nose with his. His warm breath washed over her, and she fell into his essence. Her eyes closed, and her palms rested against his chest. His heart thudded under her hand, and her heart echoed its beat.

  An eternity later, his lips settled over hers—soft at first. Then they firmed, taking control. He urged her to open, and his tongue swept in, bringing with it the bitterness of his cappuccino and the sweetness of bread.

  Her knees buckled, and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his bare shoulders. His body heat branded her palms, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to be closer, craved it with everything in her. A moan crawled out of her throat. She pressed herself fully against him—thigh to thigh, chest to breast. Her fingers had just found the knot of his toga when he pulled back.

  What? Her eyes flew open. He was stopping. Now? She’d felt his erection against her belly—he wasn't immune to her.

  "Why?"

  He stepped back, away from her, snuffing the fire flaming between them. Running his fingers through his hair, he shook his head.

  "You have to withdraw your name from the Love Lottery."

  Instead of reaching for him, Lia clasped her hands. She wanted him to confess his love for her, not talk about the lottery.

  "I don't understand."

  "Lia, I wasn't just learning the latest culinary techniques while I was on the outside." He opened his hand to her.

  A chill snaked down her spine despite the sultry breeze blowing through the window.

  "I was looking for y
our family. Your blood! I wanted to do that for you, to show you that you belonged somewhere. Had relations that mattered."

  She recoiled and bit her lip to keep from releasing her pain in a long scream. Somewhere, but not here. Not with him. Not in Amores.

  "Oh, gods!"

  "I'm sorry, but I—"

  "You're just like the rest of them." She held one hand up to ward him off, the other wrapped around her stomach to stop from shattering into pieces. How could she have misread the signs, misread him? Think for one moment he understood that family were those around you, not genetic shackles. "Poor orfana. She doesn't belong. She has no blood kin." The childhood taunts returned to swamp her. "Sure, she's good enough to kiss or have an affair with but never good enough to bring home to Mama."

  "No! Lia, I—"

  She refused to hear any more. Turning, she flew down the stairs. If he didn't want her, what was the point in staying? She might as well live on the outside. Behind her, sandals pounded on the steps. Swiping at the tears, she sprinted across the landing. A carpet of blue butterflies greeted her arrival before surging over her head toward Dante.

  She heard his muffled curses but didn't stop.

  There was nothing left for her here.

  She'd been a fool to think there ever was.

  ***

  Dante joined the circle of bachelors waiting in the palazzo leading to Cupid's temple. Twenty men, including Signore Sienestra. All wearing their best togas. He'd already heard three of them rhapsodizing about drawing Lia's name. He clenched his fists.

  He'd really messed up in the tower. Instead of mentioning the stupid lottery, he should have confessed his love, asked her to marry him, to be his family. As for his quest to find her family…

  He had hoped to give her peace of mind from the bullies. How could she have thought he’d ever considered her an outsider? That blood relations mattered to him? She belonged here, with him.

  Gods give me another chance!

  The crowd stirred behind him, but he kept his attention on the portico. Dawn blushed across the clouds. The ceremony would start soon.