Chapter 18 #2
“I don’t mind coming by,” he said. “You saved me from getting further harassed by my family. Maybe you can invent tenant issues more often—it was really helpful.”
“Consider it repayment for last night. Thank you, by the way,” she said, looking down.
“No need to thank me,” he said, leaning against the counter.
“So, what were they harassing you about?”
“Same as ever. My sister offered me a job in London. We can add that to this,” he said, pulling out his phone to show her a text from Jason with a photo of the promised BMW and an emoji with its head blowing off.
“You’re also car shopping?” She laughed.
“Nope. That’s an old colleague trying to get me to come back to New York. There’s a big position open at his bank and he’s trying to win me with perks. This is one of them.” He waved the phone, then put it down on the counter.
“That’s exciting. It must feel good to know that you’re so highly regarded. Though I can’t imagine it’s making it easier for you to figure out your future.”
“No. It is not.”
“I guess you have some big decisions to make,” she said, leaning next to him. “Do you want to talk about your options? I’m great at making pro and con lists.”
“On what topic?” he asked, turning toward her with his hip still against the counter.
It seemed like every minute they’d spent together lately was filled with decisions, heavy thoughts, and debating.
He was sick of talking, sick of thinking, sick of hearing what everyone wanted for him.
Right now, there was no debate. There was only one thing he wanted, and she was standing in his house.
“Any topic you want,” she said, facing him. She crossed one long leg in front of the other. “It works for everything. Your career, where you want to live, where you want to eat dinner, whether or not you should do something that could be dangerous—”
“Dangerous. What is a pro for doing something dangerous?”
“Usually it’s that it feels good.” She looked up at him. Her lips were berry pink with a slight shine. He wondered if they would taste like candy.
“And a con?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Doing dangerous things can also be irrational,” she said, leaning so that her hip was against his.
“Everything I do is rational,” he said, his voice low. He worked his knee in between her legs, pulled his glasses off, and leaned forward until his mouth grazed her neck. “So, irrational behavior sounds like another pro to me.”
“Sure, we can add that to the list,” she sighed as he kissed just under her ear, down her neck. He ran his hand up under the back of her head and pulled lightly at the hair. Her breath caught. “Maybe you can do whatever you want for once.”
“Whatever I want?” he asked, letting his hand drift down to the edge of her blouse. He grazed his fingers up and under the soft fabric, feeling the gooseflesh spread across her skin.
“That’s what I would do,” she whispered, leaning into his leg so that the heat of her rested on his thigh.
His hand came to the waistband of her shorts.
He tucked his fingers under the band and brought his forehead to hers.
Her lips parted; he could feel her want him to kiss her.
But he held her there, sliding his fingers down over the outside of her underwear.
She gasped, but he held tight, stroking slowly.
She squirmed again; he knew she wanted relief as her legs clamped hard on his thigh.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, letting his lips graze over hers, the slow circles over the fabric, unrelenting.
“I want…” She trailed off. She reached down, running her fingers next to his. She gently pulled back her underwear, then guided his fingers to press into her and moaned.
The knock at the door was loud. It was firm. And by the voice, it was Luca.
“Signora Giordano?”
Lora’s eyes flew open; Andrea’s hand retracted.
“The residency check! You’re here! Should you not be here?” she asked Andrea, in complete panic. She looked down at herself. “I have to change!”
“Tell him ‘Arrivo,’” whispered Andrea, settling his glasses back on his face. “But don’t panic. I can be here. It’s better if I am because I can translate. Go up and change.”
“Arrivo,” she called to the door. “Arrivo, Luca!”
She raced upstairs, and he looked around, trying to spot any evidence of the fact that he had been one minute away from hauling her up onto the counter.
There was nothing but an uncomfortable, though diminishing, bulge in his pants.
He shook out his T-shirt, hoping it would fall a little easier over his pants, and stayed behind the kitchen island.
Lora ran back downstairs in a sundress and glanced over at Andrea.
She pointed up at her head and grimaced, a sign that he should probably try to contain whatever disarray his hair had fallen into, as Lora opened the door.
“Buongiorno, signora. Io sono Luca Zingaretti, capo della polizia di Baia Santa. Vengo oggi per—”
“Ciao, Luca,” said Andrea. “Non devi essere formale. I’m telling him that he doesn’t need to be formal. We know who he is and why he is here.”
“Vabbè, Sindaco,” he said, nodding at Andrea while his hands rested above his thick leather gun belt.
“Come in,” said Lora, waving him inside the house.
“Permesso,” he said, his etiquette intact.
Luca took a few steps in and squinted around the room.
He wandered through the kitchen, swiveling his head back and forth, then wandered through the empty living room displaying only Carola’s sconces, eventually circling back to where Lora stood next to the island.
“Chi vive qui?” asked Luca.
“Who lives here? Lei,” said Andrea, pointing at Lora.
“Da sola?”
“Luca, non è il tuo dovere chiedere questo. Don’t answer that, he’s not allowed to ask you if you live alone.”
“Should I be worried here?” she asked.
“No,” Andrea said, shaking his head.
Why was Luca walking around like he was auditioning for the secret service? He turned around again a couple of times, not unlike a dog looking for a place to settle, then nodded and turned toward the door.
“OK, scriverò il rapporto per confermare la residenza. Ha troppo pochi mobili sinceramente però…” He trailed off, raising his hands in dissent, and walked out.
“What was that?” asked Lora, pointing at the door.
“That was a confirmation of your residency, though the chief of police says you have too few pieces of furniture for his taste.”
“Interesting. I’ll be sure to take his advice under consideration. I almost had a heart attack.”
“It was certainly not what I was expecting in that moment,” he said.
“Me either,” she said, laughing, moving back toward him. She touched his arm, and he pulled her over between himself and the counter.
“I am glad for the interruption, though,” he said, leaning toward her. He pulled his glasses off and pressed his lips to hers again.
“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning away.
“I mean I am not prepared for this.”
“Do you not feel comfortable? I’m sorry I thought—”
“No, no, no. What I mean is, I am not prepared technically. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to have any kind of safe-sex equipment around, and I need to go deal with that.”
“Oh. Yes. That,” she said, kissing him again. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t suppose you have a pack of those in the trunk of the Panda with the flares.”
“No, but if we suddenly need a pair of swim fins or a traffic cone, we’re all set.”
“Well, that’s a new one for me,” she giggled, raising a brow.
“My options are to go to the pharmacy, where the woman behind the counter cured my first ear infection, or try to not be seen loitering near the solitary vending machine in town that only sells condoms and cigarettes.”
“What on earth will you do?”
“I don’t know yet, but I didn’t get this far without being resourceful. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, kissing her one last time. “I’ll be back.”