Chapter One #2
“Here. I’ll order something.” He nodded toward the entrance, where she had seen a phone mounted to the wall inside the hotel. “Wine?”
“White, please.”
He stepped away to make the call.
She hurried to pull on her robe only to immediately overheat, flustered and blushing. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and looked around, wishing she’d brought the crocheted cover-up she normally threw over her bikini.
Not that she was underdressed. He returned and held out a hand, filling her vision with way too much tanned skin and that itsy-bitsy scrap that covered his not so itsy-bitsy bulge.
“Rocco.” He met her gaze in a way that reminded her of a train crashing out of a tunnel.
She swallowed, so hot inside her skin. Her belly was filled with glowing embers. It took such an effort to bring her hand up, she must have looked reluctant to do so.
“Mira.” Her voice had to be dragged up from beneath the waves of shyness and overwhelm that accosted her.
He pumped once, making her heart feel like a squeezed balloon. Then he sprawled into the lounger beside her, one hand hooking up behind his head to grasp the top edge, one knee crooked in negligent ease.
“How long are you in London?” He turned his head toward her.
How could such a handsome man be interested in her? She wasn’t repulsive or anything, but she was very average, with a too-wide mouth, mousy brown hair and plain brown eyes. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair was a bird’s nest in a clip.
“I came for the spa.” Typically, she would leave her answer there and hate herself later for sounding standoffish. “I’ve been living in London while going to school. I just finished. This is my reward,” she volunteered with an awkward laugh, waving at her cucumber water.
“Congratulations.” He sounded sincere, then turned his attention across the pool, mouth twisting. “I dropped out long before uni and never went back.”
He looked to be in his late twenties and must be doing well enough if he was staying here.
“What, um…” Small talk shouldn’t feel this big. “What brings you to London?”
“Business.” His tone was dismissive, but he turned his head again so he his dark brown eyes were pulling at hers. “What will you do now that you’re finished school?”
“Go home to Berlin and work for my father’s company.” Here again she would normally keep her mouth shut, fearful of sounding like a braggart, but she continued. “It’s an engineering firm.” With contracts around the globe. “Vorstoben International? Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”
“I have.” His jaw flexed as he seemed to ponder something, then he asked, “You took a business degree?”
“With a focus on accounting. I considered HR, but I’m not a people person.” Why had she said that? It made her sound like a sociopath. “I just mean I prefer numbers. They’re straightforward. Dealing with people is complicated.”
“Amen,” he snorted.
“Right? The intro-to-HR class gave examples of an employee stealing from a company because they were being evicted, then another about someone who was wrongfully dismissed, but was a terrible worker so you had to keep them on. I don’t want to be tasked with judgment calls on situations that are so murky. ”
“Sometimes, there is no right answer. No right choice.” His expression was inscrutable, proving her point about people being difficult to read.
But his agreement bolstered her. She had feared she was babbling. Now, she smiled, pleased. Her heart hitched as their gazes tangled. Her pulse began to hammer in her throat.
A server arrived with a wine bucket and a pair of unbreakable glasses, defusing the subtle tension while the wine was tasted and poured.
When they were alone, Rocco held out his glass. “To complicated people.”
“And thorny situations?”
“Did you say ‘thorny’? Or…” His mouth twitched.
She couldn’t help her gurgle of amusement.
Was this what bantering felt like? She touched her glass to his and sipped. For once, all the knotted threads, inescapable labyrinths and tangled forests inside her weren’t tripping her up.
“Am I guessing correctly that you’re Italian?” she asked.
“I am. My office is in Rome, but I was born in Salerno.”
“My mother loved the Amalfi Coast!” She reacted from a place of pure, nostalgic joy, turning on her lounger to curl her knees and lean on her shoulder and hip, so she could face him. “She had a villa in Praiano.”
“Oh? Have you been?”
“Not lately.” She wrinkled her nose in disappointment.
“She took me with her a few times when I was young, but she usually went while I was away at school. It came to me after she passed. My father arranged for it to be rented so I haven’t seen it in years.
” She tapped her chin as she realized the choice to rent it or use it was hers now. “I should look into that.”
“You should.” Every glance from him had an impact on her, making her feel as though he knew her far better than she knew herself.
“Do you, um…” She was trying very hard to act like a normal person. “Do you still have family there?”
“No.” He averted his attention to the far side of the pool. “I lost my parents when I was a baby. My aunt raised me until I was nine. She’s gone now.”
“I’m sorry. That’s so young to be…” She stopped herself from saying alone. Was he? Perhaps he had an ex-wife and kids. Or a current wife. She watched him closely. “To be without family.”
“It’s my observation that family is also very complicated.” His mouth twitched wryly. “One of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for situations.”
“It can be,” she murmured, thinking of the undercurrents she’d always sensed within her parents’ marriage, and the undiscussed hostility she received from her father.
Her mother had been her everything, always cushioning her against her father’s disregard. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just very busy. Without her mother as a buffering presence, Mira’s relationship with him had deteriorated to now being distant and perplexing.
“I always wished for brothers and sisters,” she admitted wistfully.
It’s just not possible, my love, her mother had said until Mira quit asking.
Rocco was looking at her again, seeming more than interested. His unwavering attention practically demanded she continue speaking.
“I played with a little girl one summer. My mother’s neighbor in Praiano, actually.
” She was delighted to recall that detail.
“There were six children in their family. I was so envious. They squabbled constantly, which was overwhelming for an only child to be around, but her eldest sister fixed my hair. Her brother stopped me from running onto the road. I felt so protected when I was with them. I wanted to be enfolded into all of that.” She wove her fingers together, grinning at her younger self.
At how idyllic she thought a big family must be.
Rocco didn’t smile. His cheek ticked.
“Oh, gawd,” she realized with horror. “I sound like I’m looking for a man to marry me and give me six babies, don’t I?” She straightened in her lounger, mortified. “This is why I never talk to people. The most ridiculous things come out of my mouth.”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.” His tone turned light. “I’m usually a few dates in before having this conversation, but I like a woman who is clear about her expectations.” He hid his laughter behind the rim of his glass.
She didn’t mind. She was in on the joke and chuckled at herself, then asked, “Is this a date? Because, as you can tell, I don’t waste my time with men who want to stop at five. Cowards.”
She was proud of herself for trying to flirt and glanced to find him watching her with a strange expression. Amusement lingered around his eyes, but there was something grave there, too.
“That was a joke,” she said quickly.
“I know.”
The shape of his mouth was mesmerizing. His lips were full but not wide. The peaks in his upper lip were set closely, seeming ready for a kiss. His five-o’clock shadow was coming in, accentuating the shape of his jaw, and his dark eyebrows were straight, serious lines above his watchful eyes.
“I’m many things, but not a coward. Let’s make this a real date.” He drained his wine and stood, holding out a hand. “Have dinner with me.”
“Now?” She had brought a pair of wide-legged trousers with a cute halter top and jacket to the hotel with her, thinking to treat herself to dinner. Still, she hesitated out of shyness. Out of incredulity that he was attracted to her.
“I missed lunch. I’m starving,” he added.
She was befuddled as she swung her feet off the lounger, looking for the sandals she’d left beside it. She kicked into them and accepted the hand he continued to hold out to her, feeling way too close to him as she stood. She reached down to pick up her robe.
He took it and held it behind her, so she was inside his extended arms, gaze confronted with his naked chest as she threaded her arms into the sleeves.
She blushed and blindly searched for the belt while he dropped his hands to his sides.
When she looked up at him, she found him studying her. Staring at her mouth hard enough to make her lips sting.
I don’t know how to do this, she wanted to confess, but her gaze snagged on the shape of his mouth.
“I’m dying to kiss you.” His gaze slowly came back to hers. “Will you let me?”
Her heart was thudding so hard, she barely heard him. Her response had to be dredged from the very depths of her suffocating chest. Warmth was blossoming in her, though, filling her with curiosity and longing.
“Yes.”
His hand arrived at the side of her neck.
His head dipped and his lips brushed hers.
It was a barely there contact that sent a zing through her whole body, like a static shock.
It left a tickling sensation she would have licked away, but his lips came back, settling more firmly against hers.
Angling. Seeking and sealing into a hot, hungry ravishing.