Educating Gina. Debbi Rawlins
the suitcases.”
“Oh, right.” He flexed his shoulder, trying to loosen the mounting tension traveling to the back of his neck. “Maybe we should just leave them in the living room for now.”
“But I want to unpack.” She stepped closer, peering into his face. “Are you not well?”
“I’m fine.” He headed down the hall, not sure which bedroom to go to. He’d been to Antonio’s at least a dozen times, but had never made it past the living room and kitchen.
It ended up a simple choice. Besides the master bedroom, there was only one guest room. The third bedroom contained only a desk, computer and love seat.
He set down the suitcase between the white-oak armoire and four-poster queen-size bed. When he turned to leave, he ran into Gina. She stumbled backward and he caught her upper arms.
Her eyes widened. “Scusi.”
He stood, paralyzed by the sultry beauty of her eyes, how thick inky-black lashes highlighted the golden flecks. The firm muscle he found under his touch surprised him. He didn’t know what he expected, maybe more fleshy softness. But to be this toned and sculpted, she clearly worked out.
Man, she was in better shape than he was.
At the depressing thought he dropped his hands. He didn’t move back, though, and neither did she. They just stood looking at each other for a long heart-stopping moment.
“Uh, I’d better go get your other bag from the doorman,” he said finally, stepping back and then taking a wide swing around her.
“You will be right back?”
“Of course.” He made it to the door. “But if you want to start unpacking or take a nap or whatever, go ahead. I’ll leave the bag outside the door.”
“You will not leave me here alone?” Her eyes had gotten wide again and a little frightened.
Mike sobered. He was supposed to be taking care of her, not running away because he couldn’t keep his libido under wraps. “I’ll be either in the living room or in your uncle’s office making some phone calls and checking my e-mail.”
“Good.” She smiled. “I would like to unpack, but do not need a nap. Perhaps we could go to Central Park?”
Mike checked his watch. No way was he getting in rush hour traffic all the way to Manhattan. “We’ll save that for another day when we can get an earlier start.”
“I understand,” she said, but her lips pursed in a pout. And then he realized she wasn’t pouting at all. The look was natural because of the fullness of her lips. A sexy look that women paid thousands to surgically duplicate.
He rubbed his clammy palms together. “Okay, I’m going to go now. Take your time.”
Mike got the hell out of the apartment before he said or did something really stupid. The elevator was slow to get to the tenth floor and that suited him just fine. Only a fool would be anxious to get back too quickly.
Gina was going to be more trouble than he anticipated. But not if he got a grip of himself. Oh, shit, he wanted to be gripped, all right. That was the problem. But she was a kid, and he should be ashamed.
Okay, so she was only five years younger than he was. But if age were measured in experience, she’d be a baby. Robert’s description of her wasn’t the only clue. Gina looked sexy—that was a quirk of nature—but she was still inexperienced and naive. A guy could tell that sort of thing.
Experienced or not, she was off-limits.
He gave the elevator down button another impatient jab and then wished he could recall the asinine gesture. No sense in hurrying back to temptation. Not that he’d act on any of his impulses. Unless he wanted to get his ass fired.
The elevator doors opened and as soon as he got in, the car shot down to the first floor as if it were a friggin’ express. The doorman was talking to someone, so Mike perused the building’s notice board. There was an ad for a dog-walking service and beside it, was a flyer for massage therapy. In the top corner was a picture of the busty blond masseuse. And she made house calls.
Mike groaned. He wasn’t that desperate. Was he?
GINA BEGAN UNPACKING the clothes her mother had insisted she bring. Those things she shoved in the closet, unconcerned about the wrinkles. She would only need them when she dined with Uncle Antonio or visited with him in the apartment. The rest of the time she would wear the clothes she had made herself or had bought with the allowance her mother had sent her while she was at school.
Carefully she unrolled the cropped T-shirts, Capri leggings and miniskirts she’d hidden beneath her assorted underwear. One dress in particular she shook out and then laid across the bed. It had wrinkled during the trip, but the material was stretchy, and once it was on her body, it would be so tight she would not have to worry about ironing it.
She kicked off her shoes and knelt on the floor to root through her second suitcase. Two pairs of strappy sandals had been hidden among her toiletries. She fished them out, along with the red nail polish for her toes.
Not even a sliver of guilt dampened her excitement. She was tired of wearing ugly dresses and having to act like an old woman. None of the other girls at boarding school or the all-girl university she had attended had parents as strict as hers.
And for what? She had been a good girl, studying hard, getting good grades, staying away from the boys who hung around outside the school’s stone wall. She had not gotten into trouble like some of the other girls, or at least nothing that her parents knew about. The two times Gina had made the sisters angry by staying out past curfew, she had been able to talk them into not writing her parents a report.
She pulled off the dreadful black dress, wadded it into a ball and threw it on the closet floor. She would not need it until her flight home. Just the thought of having to return to Tuscany to plan her wedding depressed her. She quickly chose an outfit that would lift her mood, and then sat on the floor and shook the bottle of red polish.
The scandalous color made her heart race so fast that her hands shook. She had to keep stopping to wipe the excess polish off the brush so that she did not make a mess of her toes. While letting the first coat dry, she leaned back, her arms outstretched for support, her legs straight out in front of her so she could admire her work. She wiggled her toes and was pleased when the light reflected off the shiny gloss.
She hoped Mike was not growing impatient. The thought of him made her smile. He was tall and handsome and she liked the way he smelled, too. Fresh and clean, like pine trees washed by the rain.
She wished the girls back at school could see him. They would all be jealous. Especially Maria Scalia, the nasty witch, who had nicknamed Gina Virgin Mary, as if Maria knew all about sex. How Gina would love to see her mouth drop at the sight of Mike and his beautiful green eyes.
She slumped back against the bed and pictured herself casually mentioning to her graduating class how Mike would be her personal escort for an entire month. Of course she would refer to him as Michael. That name suited him better.
The fantasy made her smile as she applied the second coat of polish. She wondered what Mike would say when she told him she wanted to lose her virginity.
With him.
THREE-THIRTY AND STILL no sign of her. Mike began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Not that he’d knock on her door to find out. The longer she stayed in her room, the better for him. He lifted the phone to return another call he’d picked up from his voice mail.
In the short time since he’d gone to lunch and arrived at Antonio’s apartment, four messages had been left for him. What the hell would happen when he was out of the office for most of the month? This was going to be a disaster.
Robert wouldn’t be leaving for vacation for three more days. He’d have to step in and entertain his cousin. Melanie or Melody or whoever his newest love interest was would just have