He squeezed her hand in return. “That wasn’t exactly how you wanted the reunion to go, I’m sure.”
She nodded. “No. But it did. And actually, my dad seemed genuinely offended for me.”
Ren didn’t know quite what to say—how to make that pain go away. Just like he didn’t know how to let his past go. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had decade after decade to sort out all of his feelings about his mother’s selfishness and cruelty, and his father’s rejection. But it still hurt, all of it, like a wound that just wouldn’t ever quite heal. Just when it all seemed to be scabbed over, something would rub it raw again.
Maggie was one of those things, he suddenly realized. She made him realize how not over his past he was.
He looked at her for a moment, suddenly hit by an overwhelming, almost breathtaking feeling of longing. But this time not a sexual longing—although that was there too. This longing was to be something other than who he was. Someone worthy of Maggie. Someone who could offer her more than a holiday fling.
Maggie looked up from pushing around the remainder of her steamed vegetables, catching his expression, before he could guard it or look away.
“What is it?” she asked, giving him a quizzical frown.
He told himself to stop looking at her like a forlorn puppy, but he couldn’t stop drinking in her features. Big eyes that shifted from gray to green depending on her moods. Small bow lips. That wavy, disheveled hair that looked almost like a style from the twenties, like something Fay Wray would have worn.
Just tell her you’re fine. Crack a joke. Something.
“Look who the cat dragged in,” Emile called—acting as the distraction that Ren couldn’t seem to create himself.
Ren tore his gaze from Maggie to look at his old friend. Behind Emile was Vittorio, and although he’d just been talking about him, Ren didn’t find his brother’s arrival strange. Vittorio had a weird way of appearing whenever Ren thought about him. He supposed it was a bond they had because of being vampires. Of course, it only seemed to work in Ren’s direction. Vittorio came to him. Ren never seemed to be able to sense when Vittorio thought about him. Maybe Vittorio didn’t.
Ren rose, greeting his brother with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Just checking in with you,” Vittorio said in his usual vague way.
“Were your ears burning?” Ren asked, gesturing to a chair at the table.
Vittorio smiled. Even his smiles were hard to read. “No. Should they have been?”
“I was just talking about you. To Maggie here.” He nodded to Maggie.
Interest sparked in Vittorio’s dark eyes and, for a moment, something like jealousy flashed inside Ren. But he quickly quashed the feeling. Vittorio wouldn’t be interested in his woman. That wasn’t Vittorio’s style. Not that Ren had ever seen his brother be overly interested in women. In fact, when he’d played with the Impalers, he’d been the most sought-after member of the band by the ladies—because he was aloof.
Ren had no idea why Vittorio never showed interest in any of them, but he always felt it was because he was pining for someone.
“Maggie, this is my brother Vittorio.”
M aggie reached forward to shake Ren’s brother’s hand. “Hello,” she said, immediately liking him.
There was a sweetness to his face—an almost angelic quality. A broken quality, too.
That was the only real similarity to Ren. They both had a haunted quality in their eyes. But otherwise, Vittorio looked much different. His sun-streaked hair touched his shoulders, where Ren’s was darker and longer. And while Ren had hazel eyes, a rich amber color specked with jade green, Vittorio had dark, dark eyes, a brown so deep it was nearly black.
“Hello, Maggie,” he said, and she was surprised such a deep voice could come from such an angelic, boyish face. He held her fingers for a moment, looking at her speculatively, as if trying to decide what was going on between her and his brother.
Then he smiled. The curve of his lips made him look even sweeter and more heartbreakingly lovely. She could see hints of Ren in that smile.
“Maggie is here on vacation,” Ren said, and Maggie got the feeling that was supposed to clarify their relationship.
Vittorio nodded as if it had. Somehow that didn’t make Maggie feel particularly good. She wondered if Ren had actually set up these week-long affairs before. She’d believed their arrangement was unusual for Ren; now she wondered how she got that idea.
As Ren smiled at her, she noted that Vittorio gave him an appraising look, a look that said he found this situation interesting. That made Maggie feel better.
“Maggie,” Erika said, appearing at the table, flushed and laughing. “Come out and learn this dance that Vince is teaching…” Her words trailed off as she spotted Vittorio seated beside Ren.
Her wide, giddy smile faded.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize someone else joined you.”
“This is my brother, Vittorio,” Ren said. “Vittorio, this is Maggie’s friend, Erika.”
Vittorio rose, regarding Erika for a long moment before extending his hand. Erika, who Maggie always considered the most touchy-feely of her friends, paused a moment before accepting it.
And then their touch was so brief, it might as well have not happened.
“What dance are you learning?” Maggie asked when the silence at the table lingered.
“Umm.” Erika blinked, then frowned at her, trying to recall. “It’s called the Lindy Hop.”
“I’ll go try it,” Maggie said, even though she noted that Erika didn’t seem nearly as excited about the dance as she had when she approached the table. But she did gather her wits enough to ask Ren and Vittorio, “Want to join us?”
Ren gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not much of a dancer. But I’ll be happy to watch you.”
“Chicken,” Maggie teased.
“Yep,” Ren agreed readily.
“How about you, Vittorio?” Maggie asked, although she knew the answer.
He shook his head. “I’ll keep Ren company.”
Maggie smiled. She also noticed that Vittorio seemed to be avoiding looking at Erika. Oddly, Erika seemed to be doing the same thing.
“Okay.” Maggie stood and followed Erika back toward Jo and the waiting men.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asked Erika as soon as they were out of hearing range of the table.
Erika’s fair complexion had paled to a near white. “I think that’s my fair-haired, dark-eyed prince.”
“So what was that reaction to Erika?” Ren asked, shocked at the strange interaction between his brother and Maggie’s friend. He’d never seen Vittorio react with any particular interest to anyone.
Well, with the exception of Maggie, and that reaction was in relation to him.
Vittorio shrugged, his usual poker face back in place.
He crossed his arms over his chest and then offered Ren a smug smirk.
“The more interesting question is who’s this Maggie?”
It was Ren’s turn to lean back in his chair and position his arms over his chest.
“Just a woman I met at the bar. The usual tourist.”
Vittorio raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear on his face. “You are so full of shit.”
Ren frowned. “Why?”
“I can tell you are crazy about her. I saw it on your face as soon as I walked up to the table.”
Ren shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I like her, sure, but it’s just the usual thing. A bit of fun.”
“Okay.” Vittorio clearly didn’t believe him.
Ren found his brother’s disbelief annoying. He certainly wasn’t helping Ren keep this all in perspective.
“Where is Maggie from?” Vittorio asked, at least taking the topic to a safer place.
“Washington, D.C.”
“I have to admit that Maggie looks exactly like what you need.”
Ren wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to give Vittorio more to read into this relationship—or whatever it was that he had with Maggie.
“She’s a lovely woman.” Ren tried to keep his tone objective, cool.
Vittorio nodded. His gaze moved back to the women on the dance floor as they attempted to follow the moves one of the men was demonstrating.
“And her friend?”
The question was asked offhandedly, but Ren smiled, realizing his brother was feigning casual conversation.
“What about her?”
“Where is she from?”
“I’m not sure. D.C., I would guess.”
Vittorio nodded. Then he waved to the waitress. “I’ll take a beer.” He glanced at Ren.
“And I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks.” Ren suddenly felt like he needed a little more liquor to calm him. Vittorio’s observations felt a little too accurate. A little too good. And it was always dangerous for him to want something. No good had ever come of it.
When the drinks arrived, Vittorio raised his glass. “To you and Maggie. It’s about time you found a woman who can care for you the way you deserve.”
Ren raised his glass, but didn’t allow Vittorio’s words to fill him with…hope. Yeah, that was the emotion that was not filling his chest right at this moment. Not at all.
After all, he had to keep this in perspective.
Maggie walked beside Ren down the sidewalk, realizing now that he’d been silent for most of the remainder of the evening. When they’d been around his brother and her friends and the loud jazz, she hadn’t really noticed. But since they’d left Vittorio at the restaurant and dropped her friends at the hotel, he’d said very little.
She wasn’t bothered by companionable silence, but this quiet didn’t seem like that. And with each step, she was growing more nervous—although she couldn’t read anything in his expression that told her she should be.
“I really liked Vittorio.”
Ren blinked at her as if remembering that she was still beside him. “Oh. Yeah, he is a good guy.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Something was wrong, and she had the feeling it was something wrong between the two of them. Not something that he and his brother had discussed.
Something she wasn’t sure how to fix, since she didn’t even know when or how it went wrong.
They reached Ren’s place, and he unlocked the front doors and stepped aside to let her in the courtyard as he always did. Now, though, she felt he was reluctent to even have her there.
She could have sworn earlier that he was looking at her with longing, but now he seemed so distant she thought she must have imagined it.
He followed, walking slightly behind her. Trying to find a way to tell her to go? She paused near the fountain, watching the water bubbling and splashing, the liquid churning like the worry churning in her chest.
“Are you coming?” Ren stood on the steps to his place, waiting for her.
She pulled in a deep breath, trying to decide if she should say anything. He was inviting her in.
Maybe she was reading too much into the silence. After all, this was an affair. Did you try to understand what was troubling your lover when it was going to be over in five days anyway?
But she liked Ren. She considered him a friend. He’d been more of a boyfriend to her in five days than Peter had been in five years. She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but she did like him.
So very much.
“Are you all right? Because I get the feeling something is bothering you.”
Ren didn’t respond for a moment. Then he came down off the steps, walking straight for her.
He didn’t say a word as he pulled her against him, kissing her as if he’d die if he didn’t. She responded, even though she still wanted to understand what was going on in his head. She responded with all her heart, her fingers tangling in his hair.
As he seemed to like to do, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath ragged, his body tense. “Can we really keep this just a fling?”
The question seemed rhetorical, asked of himself more than her. But she answered.
“What else could it be?” Even as she said it, she found herself wondering. Could they have a long-distance relationship? Could she move here? Would he come to her?
She immediately dismissed the ideas. Why even go there? He must be feeling like he should offer her more. She knew she gave off the good-girl vibe. Not to mention she had pretty much admitted that Peter had been her one and only. Maybe that’s what had him shaken. Maybe that tugged at his conscience.
In fact she was willing to bet that was it.
“I know this is an affair. A little blip in time—just meant to be fun.”
He stared at her for a minute. Then his lips were back on hers, devouring her as if he was starving. He walked her backwards until her back bumped into the courtyard wall, cool brick, earth-scented vine curling over it.
Ren’s hands moved over her almost frantically as he wadded up her skirt, bunching the material in one hand as his other hand slid underneath, finding her panties.
She would have thought this kind of frantic, forceful attack would have scared her. Instead, she found his desperation incredibly exciting.
His hand left her to unfasten his jeans. She felt his hard length against her bare thigh as he pressed her harder against the wall, kissing her, licking her, nipping her lips. Maggie gasped as his hand pushed aside her panties and he began to stroke her. His touch was firm, excited, and felt so, so good. Desire tunneled through her, filling her, leaving no portion of her unaroused or unaware. Her whole body was his, reacting only for him.
Vaguely, as his mouth teased and tasted hers, she became aware of his materializing a condom.
He shifted against her, his weight pinning her to the wall, his desire for her as palpable as his arms around her.
With one push of his hips, he was buried deep inside her. Her body squirmed and writhed against him, instinctively trying to find the best position to accept him as fully as possible.
“Maggie,” he murmured against her mouth. “Maggie, darling.”
She kissed his face, raining kisses on his cheeks, his jaw, his lips.
He lifted his head, and in the dim light, she could still see that haunted look of his. Suddenly his frantic movement calmed.
His eyes held hers as he rocked slowly in and out of her. One arm moved to hold her waist, balancing her, angling her. The other hand came up to caress her cheek and her hair.