Between the Italian's Sheets. Natalie Anderson
flame together, his fist encompassing hers. He liked the feel of her in his hand. He’d like to feel more of her in his hand.
‘You should have a lover to sit with at the opera.’ If it were him he’d slide his arm around her and pull her in snug against his chest.
‘So should you.’ Her gaze was direct.
‘True. Unfortunately I have other guests to entertain.’ Helplessly he shrugged. ‘But in a parallel universe I’d be here with you.’
‘A total stranger?’ Coy mockery flavoured her tone and her glance.
‘We wouldn’t be strangers for long.’
The green in her eyes deepened again and her mouth parted with the faintest of gasps. Yes, he did mean exactly that—they would be close and physical and fulfilled. And, yes, it was crazy. Since when did he sit holding the hand of a strange woman and fantasise about holding her in his arms? Since when did he think he could ever be fulfilled? Not like that—not by connecting with another person. People—relationships—were beyond him. It was only from work that he sought satisfaction now.
Her colour steadily rose but still she held his gaze. ‘What a shame there’s no such thing as parallel universes.’
‘Yes.’ This fantasy was the strongest temptation—and he searched for a way to sustain it, just for a moment more. ‘But there’s always tomorrow.’
She smiled at that. ‘Tomorrow.’
The burst of applause was deafening. He blinked and the bubble was burst. A quick glance down showed the conductor at the podium, his baton raised. He’d better get back to his seat—he did have guests to entertain. Damn. But he sent her a smile as he let go of her hand and stood. ‘Ciao, bella.’
CHAPTER TWO
EMILY spent the next moment of eternity trying to remember how to breathe. Then she shook her head and laughed weakly—puffing away the lingering intensity with a self-prescribed dose of sarcasm. What a flirt. He’d transformed her heat of anger into the heat of attraction, totally overcoming her annoyance and leaving her practically panting.
She watched as he descended the steps and re-entered the exclusive zone. He didn’t look back. He’d already forgotten her. He must do it all the time—gaze at an unsuspecting female with his deep brown, dangerous eyes; lay a single finger on her person—of course she’d say yes in a heartbeat. No wonder he wore that mantle of lazy arrogance. He was the kind of guy for whom everything came easy—especially women.
But the surprising fact was, Emily would quite happily have been one of his women.
Irresistible.
As the opening chords of the overture began Kate flung into the cavernous space beside her.
‘Great, you got some water,’ she said, picking the bottle up from beside Emily and half draining it. ‘Just in time for the show.’
Emily pressed her finger on her needy lips—retracing the path his had taken. As far as she was concerned, the main event was already over.
But the Arena di Verona did not disappoint. Over two hours later as the applause thundered and cries of encore and bravo rang out, pleasure and relief rippled through Emily. It had been so worth it. The warmth, the atmosphere, the music, the spectacle—everything had been as wonderful as she could have wished. Well, almost everything. Somehow that fleeting encounter with a gorgeous stranger had made her miss something she hadn’t had time to want until now—touch, pleasure, a sense of her own desirability. It had been a long time coming. She’d been too busy to date, and the one attempt at a boyfriend really hadn’t been worth it. But suddenly, with one touch from him, that closed door to the sensual part of herself had been swung wide open. And now she was left wondering, wanting to walk through it.
She and Kate moved among the mass of bubbling, happy people, finding their way out of the amphitheatre and into the piazza where the crowd spilled and milled. Emily didn’t want the night to end. She lingered, still feeling the vibrations from the sound of orchestra and voice, but most of all still feeling the touch of a finger on her lips…wanting more.
‘Did you think the soprano was a bit off in that last duet?’
Emily knew Kate was about to dissect the performance note by note, but honestly she hadn’t been listening too close in that one. She’d hadn’t been able to stop her gaze from travelling down to a certain spot in the rich seats where a dark head was slightly elevated above the others. The music had become the soundtrack to the kind of fantasy that she didn’t usually have time to indulge in.
‘Umm, which bit?’ Warmth pervaded her entire body and she smiled, reliving the secret pleasure of that chance meeting. Then she glanced at her sister, saw her mouth open and the deep breath. Her smile disappeared altogether as Kate launched full tilt into the final refrain of the biggest ‘hit’ of the night.
‘Kate!’ Emily whispered—mentally screaming. How embarrassing. But her sister just threw her a naughty glance and kept on going. As people turned to look a moat of space appeared around them and Emily longed for a lifeboat to take her back into the crowd. She scanned it, discomfort prickling as more and more turned their way. Then she saw the group of well-dressed men. He stood in the centre, half a head taller. Striking, and staring right in their direction. There was a woman there too. Of course there was. Standing right beside him—beautiful and elegant, obviously an Italian fashionista and obviously interested in him. A lover to sit with at the opera?
A stupidly strong sense of loss washed through her. They’d only shared a few words on the steps, but it had felt as if a myriad of possibilities had been unveiled. But she wasn’t anything like the woman he was with, so there was no ‘possibility’after all, and her disappointment was bitter.
The second Kate paused for breath Emily grasped her arm, propelling her forwards. ‘Are you done?’
‘No.’ Kate threw a smile in the direction of anyone still looking their way and fell into step. ‘I’ve had a great idea.’
Emily didn’t want to listen. Emily just wanted to get away. But, unlike him, Emily had to look back. She turned her head over her shoulder for one final glimpse. He was staring right at her, smile curling upwards, and as she met his gaze he winked. She didn’t smile, but she kept looking, needing to capture his image in her mind for one final moment before turning away.
They rounded the corner into one of the busy side streets and Kate lurched to a halt. ‘I am not just having bread for the next two days. We’re in Italy. I want pasta, I want pizza. I want a restaurant.’
‘Kate.’ Emily was close to exasperation point. Why couldn’t she understand that they just didn’t have the funds for that?
‘I’m going to get us some more money.’
‘How?’
‘Busking.’
‘Kate.’ Emily’s heart sank. She knew what her sister was like—the attention she’d got would only have whetted her appetite.
‘Come on, Em, you saw the crowd that gathered just then. Three songs and we’ll have enough for the most fabulous meal tomorrow—one of those long, lazy lunches at one of those tables outside, with millions of courses and lots of wine.’
Admittedly Emily’s mouth was watering at the idea but she tried to ignore it. ‘You’re probably supposed to have permits to perform.’
Kate yawned big and fake. ‘Rules, Em?’
‘One of us has to be responsible.’ And she always had been—as a matter of necessity. She’d had sole responsibility for the two of them for years. Mother, father, sister, friend, breadwinner, cook, cleaner, chauffeur—all rolled into one.
‘It’s a shame there’s no piano for you to accompany me. Unless you want to do that duet?’
‘Not on your life.’ Kate could have the limelight.