A Weekend of Misbehaving (10 page)

“Are you crazy? We’re supposed to return these costumes,” she managed to say, part aroused, part baffled.

He gave a bark of laughter. “I’ll pay them anything. Anything to get you naked and in my arms quicker.”

His confession sent a ripple of excitement through her. Ripples? They were freaking tsunamis. He turned her around, and she pushed down the corset. Oh, what a relief to be able to breathe again. The look of hunger in his eyes hinted she’d be out of breath again soon.

Her breasts bounced free, her taut nipples confirming her desire for him. He peeked at her chest for a moment, and pure male arousal flickered through his eyes. His response provoked an incendiary effect on her. She flung herself to him, knowing that the reasons they were together didn’t matter. Yes, they faked an engagement. Yes, he would move to New York City, and she would go back to her life—which would turn a tad gray without him and Cara. But she would worry about that heartache later.

He pushed her to the bed, and she propped herself up with her elbows. Losing even a moment of his stripping wasn’t an option. Without trying to make a show of it, Lorenzo kicked off his shoes, shed his shirt, and pulled down his pants, tossing them to the side, followed by his underwear.

“You undress in supersonic speed,” she observed. “I barely had time to enjoy the show.”

He frowned, then covered her on the bed. “Trust me, there’s still a lot more for you to enjoy.”

She fisted his cock. “No kidding.”

He threw his head back, eyes shut. She savored the smile spreading across her face. The man was sucking in his breath. Feminine power seared through her, and she ran her fingers along his length in a torturous pace.

He disengaged from her enough so he was still on the bed, towering over her, but their limbs didn’t touch. His scrutinizing slid from her face, down her breasts, and to her sex. She shifted on the bed, restless, wondering why he could take his time to assess her, and she hadn’t had that privilege with him.

“
Stupenda
,” he said in Italian, his voice dropping an octave.

She pushed him away with her hand. “Hey. Did you just call me stupid?”

He chuckled. “No. Stupendous.”

Wow. She had been called cute. Pretty. Sexy, even. But stupendous? Never. “Say it again.”

He grabbed her hands and raised them over her head, pinning her against the softness of the mattress. She arched toward him, a shot of shameless arousal spilling in her stomach. Her sex clenched, and she knew her clit was ready to play. “
Stupenda
.” This time, the word rolled off his tongue, and he nipped her shoulder.

How could she not believe him? It was like he was making up in bed for all the times he had been such an impersonal, aloof, careless asshole. There was nothing distant or impersonal about the way he spread her legs apart, his fingers teasing her thighs, making invisible patterns. Each time, he got closer to where she ached for him. Oh, goodness.

He plundered her mouth, and she met his urgency with moxie of her own—kissing him back, stroking his tongue with hers, linking her arms around his neck. At last, he put a finger inside her.

“God.” He growled against her lips.

His finger explored her slick folds, rubbing them, driving her insane with want. She arched into him, and he added another finger while flicking her hypersensitive clit with his thumb. The way he was working her pierced nub, each time matching it with a hot demanding kiss to her lips, was mind blowing.

She gave in to her body’s demands in spasms that multiplied and gained speed and force like the angry tides in the tempestuous sea. Moans fled from her mouth. He drove into her so hard, it probably would have hurt had she not been amazingly wet. Ready for him. Aroused beyond belief.

With every powerful thrust, she scratched her nails on his shoulder and threw her head against the pillow. Pleasure rocketed inside her, with the pressure of his glistening body over hers. The sound of their heavy breathing blended with that of the solid wood bed frame slamming against the wall.

He called her name, and she allowed herself to melt into that fuzzy sensation threatening to take her to a land of no return.

“A
re we close?” he asked.

“Almost there.”

For the past twenty minutes, she summoned him to keep a tie over his closed eyes, and he had to rely on her directions to walk. They had barely rested after lovemaking when she had jumped from the bed and told him to put on some clothes. Whatever she had to show him was in no way better than going for a second round. Perhaps because she caught him disarmed, he had agreed and slipped on a pair of beige linen trousers and a polo shirt. Was she pushing him too hard? Nah.

The buzz from the party, still going but definitely quieter than before, shifted into a faraway sound.

“Careful. We’ll go down a flight of stairs.” She nudged his elbow.

“Enough. I need to know—”

She shushed him. The nerve. When was the last time anyone shushed him?

The sound of wood screeching under his feet hinted these were the stairs leading to the beach. Taking a deep breath, he recognized the scent of the ocean. By the time his shoes sank into the sand, there was no denying it. They were at the beach.

However, she continued and led him so far away that he no longer heard any party noise. “Are you going to finally tell me why you brought me here?”

“Take the tie off.”

With a quick movement, he removed it, and blinked at the sight. She stood in front of him, completely naked. His body seared, his cock swelling in his pants. The dress she wore before pooled at her feet.

A nervous smile ruffled her lips, and she twisted her hands together. Was she nervous? That was nothing like the Alice he knew. The Alice he…liked.

Public displays of affection weren’t his thing, let alone having sex in public. But that principle went out the window as he pulled down his pants and boxers.

“We aren’t having sex.” She waved him off.

“Why did you bring me here then?”

She chuckled. “We’re skinny-dipping.”

He shook his head. “Seriously?”

“This is a private beach. All Viola’s guests are at the party. I wanna show you what the fuss is all about.”

Hmmm
. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the sand next to his pants and boxers. Slipping from his shoes, he walked to her. It didn’t take long to pull her to him. Her bare flesh against his, the sweet notes of her perfume swirling into his nostrils…that was perfection. Why did he have to wait to consummate the attraction that was already consuming him? With that in mind, he plundered her mouth and found agreement in her tongue circling against his. Her full breasts hardened against him, and most of his blood pounded hot in his growing length.

He snaked his hand down her back, pulling her closer. She moaned in response.

When he rubbed his palms on her buttocks, unable to suppress a groan of his own, she plastered her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “What?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Not now. Come on.” She opened her eyes, which shined like melted gold.

“Fine,” he said under his breath, and although some cold water would be welcome, when he dipped his feet into the ocean, a nice warmth surrounded him.

“Nice, huh?” she asked.

“I guess. What I had in mind was far nicer.”

She splashed him. “Now, now. Don’t be a joy killer.”

That’s how she saw him, wasn’t it? A stuffed-up bastard. Lorenzo retaliated and splashed her back. She was able to dodge getting her face wet, but the giggle escaping from her lips made it worth it. How long had it been since he found pleasure in such small things?

“Doesn’t your mom live in Italy?” She yanked him from his reverie.

“She’s in England most of the time these days. Found someone,” he said, remembering his mother had visited him in Austin a couple times since Alice had started working for him.

“Good for her. Have you met him?”

“Once. He’s nice,” he said, remembering the gray-haired gentleman he met during a business trip. He bit back a smile. “I’m glad she’s happy.”

She played with the water, making small circles of waves around her. “You never mention your father.”

“No.”

“Well, what’s the story?”

Sighing, he stared at Viola’s mansion for a moment. If he shared that piece of his life with Alice, how bad could it be? It’s not like she would connect the dots.

“My father wasn’t the marrying kind. Or the fathering kind. He wasn’t mean or abusive, just had the nature of an eighteen-year-old college kid. Carefree and wild.”

“Wasn’t he around much?”

“My mom decided to leave him. I can’t blame her. Because of her strict upbringing, she put up with a lot, but after a while she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Did you see him afterward?”

“He came to visit me when he remembered. After she left him, he went to live in a different town for more work opportunities,” he said, unwilling to list all the kinds of menial jobs his father accepted and got fired from with the same easiness.

“Is there any part of him you miss?”

“He was fun to be around. When he was sober,” he said, and allowed happy memories to flash through his mind. His father picking him up and hugging him tight. Sometimes Bernardo held him so tightly it was like he didn’t want to let go of his son. A smile sneaked onto his lips before he realized it.

Alice submerged in the water, all the way down to her shoulders. “Maybe he had his reasons why he wasn’t there for you. That’s what I have to remind myself about my sister. She’s not a present mom sometimes; there’s only so much she can give.”

He cocked his head to the side. Wouldn’t it be easy to just assume his father was a functioning alcoholic? Maybe. Still. He could have fought for his family, for his kids. Lorenzo had wrestled his own desires and stayed married to Kristin, for Cara’s sake. “How is your niece in all of this? Brenda, right?”

Alice lifted her shoulders. “She’s a tough little girl. Loves my mom. Maybe even more than my sister. But my mom gets overwhelmed, too. She works too many shifts to keep up with the bills.”

“You have a lot of responsibilities. It’s not fair. You should be thinking about you a bit more. Be a girl about town.”

She splashed him. “You mean a girl about New York City?”

“Can’t blame me for trying.”

“It’s okay. I get to bitch about it once in a while, but I can’t complain much. I have a good life,” she said.

He tipped up her chin. “You’re a good woman, Alice.”

An adorable shade of red spread across her cheeks. Really, she was blushing now? Not when she took off her clothes, or had him skinny-dip? He licked his lips, the anticipation to kiss her expanding in his chest.

She arched against him, and he tensed. “A good woman who knows how to be bad.”

“Bad Alice is the best one,” he said, before dipping down to kiss her senseless.

Chapter Eight

Rachel missed Brenda’s recital last night. She’s been acting strange again. Love, Mom.

Alice kept her attention on her cell phone, half hoping that was a joke. Doubtful. She knew what it meant—her sister was possibly at the brink of another bipolar episode, either because she had stopped taking the meds or she was feeling more overwhelmed than usual.

Hope you’re having fun. Love, Mom.

Yeah, Mom. I’m super giddy after this message.

She typed the reply, but before she could read it out loud, she deleted the letters, one by one. Guilt poked her. Here she was, entering the large enclosure where dozens of birds tweeted, enjoying a nice luxurious vacation while her mother was shucking away back home. Ugh.

I’m okay. We should be back tomorrow night. Keep me posted if something happens.

Alice jammed the phone in her pocket. Tonight the big party would take place—when Viola would announce who she would be partnering up with, including who would get the paintings. The party theme was the color red, and men and women were expected to wear it. Lorenzo had promised to take her shopping for a super slinky dress, one she probably would never wear again after tonight. Her heart missed a beat. A lot of things wouldn’t take place after tonight. Kissing him. Making love to him—hard and fast, or long and languorously.

Yup. Reality would come knocking. Whether she wanted it to or not, one thing was for sure: she couldn’t go with him to New York. She was starting to care for him more than was smart, and the man just wasn’t the same wavelength.

The fact that Lorenzo was hotter, richer, and waaaay better in bed than any guy she’d ever dated didn’t help. With an accent that melted her underwear on the freaking spot. The G spot.

“Everything okay?” Viola asked, reminding her she was not alone.

Alice smiled. The birds flew from the small trees to the feeders hanging from the netted ceiling. Dozens of them, all different colors and sizes.

“I’ve always loved birds. My ex-husband didn’t enjoy them as pets. After the divorce, I created this sanctuary for them.”

Alice nodded, biting the inner part of her cheek. She and Cara had found Nibbles at a bird rescue place, to which captivity was a last resort.

“Why didn’t he like them?”

“Carlo always said birds should be free. I’m sure he thought the same of himself, as he started to sleep with my granddaughter’s nanny during a family vacation in Greece,” Viola said. Were there tears brimming her eyes?

To hell with formality.
Alice took Viola’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

A smile crept onto Viola’s lips, but before it broadened, she disengaged her hand from Alice’s and gave it a small tap. “I mean, look around you. They are sheltered; they have premium food, fruit, plenty of space. They’re not suffering.”

“Aren’t they?” she asked gently, pretty sure they weren’t talking about birds anymore.

Viola wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and blinked a couple times.

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I? An old woman with too much time on her hands. I dragged people from across the world to come to my place. You think it’s just because of my assets? I like to tell myself it is. That I’m okay being alone.” Her voice trailed off.

A deep wrinkle formed on Viola’s forehead, and she tilted her head to the side as if the memory had just slapped her.

“Do you miss him?” Alice asked.

Viola’s eyes searched for hers. “Every single moment. Carlo was a man full of life, and he could tell me the sweetest things out of the blue.”

“You talk like he’s long gone.”

Viola rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I don’t believe the man I loved fully existed. Which is why he was so perfect. I met him when I was too young to know better. He was dashingly handsome, and all the girls wanted him.”

Alice leaned against a bench. The tweeting from the birds fell in the background as Viola continued with a strained voice. “He loved to party. I did, too, but not as much as he. I thought he would change once he settled down. He would be happy with just one person. Me.”

A lump lodged in Alice’s throat. It was like she had entered the wrong room at the movie theater, but she could no longer leave. She lifted her hand to her neck, willing the uneasiness away. A tiny sparrow bathed in a huge birdbath that put her tub back home to shame. “People don’t change, do they?” she said. God. She should know.

Viola shook her head. “Not unless it comes from within. Men, especially… I tried to pigeonhole him for thirty years. He would never fit in a hole that small.”

You can’t have everything
. “Weren’t you ever happy together?”

“Not enough for him. That is my favorite bird.” Viola pointed at the blue throat nibbling a pellet from the feeder. “That one is self-sufficient. He’s learned to eat all by himself, and he doesn’t want to interact with the others as much.”

A weight sat on Alice’s chest. She walked to the bird and stretched out her hand, holding some food, and soon several birds crowded her hands, their tiny feet scratching her skin.

“That bird is a survivor,” Viola said. “The butler found him in the front yard a couple weeks ago with a broken wing. We wanted to nurse him back to health, but nature is a wonderful mystery. He did it all on his own.”

“Maybe he’ll start gathering with the others soon enough.”

Viola narrowed her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should find a boy toy of your own.”

“Wake up to someone half my age?” She chuckled and waved her off. “Don’t think so, dear. Not my style.”

“How about a gentleman your age, someone nice to wake up to? It can be fun,” Alice said, more to herself than to Viola. Hadn’t it been wonderful to wake up with her limbs deliciously tangled in Lorenzo’s? A tremor went through her as if her body caught up with the memory faster than her brain.

“You’re biased, a woman in love.” Viola patted her hand and shrugged her shoulders. In love? No. She was in lust, yes. Recklessly, dangerously in lust. Falling for Lorenzo—really falling—would be one of the worst decisions she could make. A mistake she couldn’t afford.

Viola was right. People, let alone guys, didn’t change overnight. Not for anyone. Joshua had said from the get-go he wasn’t after anything serious. Because she had watched one too many Drew Barrymore rom-coms, she thought she could make him change. Then she latched on to him like a newborn to a breast.

She shuddered. Thankfully with Lorenzo things would be very, very different.

“W
ow,” she said as they entered Via Camerelle, Capri’s most upscale strip mall.

A wave of satisfaction washed through Lorenzo. Ever since that plane ride, when she had gorged over the services of first class, he had taken a personal interest in her reaction to the luxury lifestyle. She wasn’t tainted like Kristin, who had been raised in wealth and often belittled products and services she believed weren’t up to her standards. Alice loved new experiences, and she also wasn’t a shrinking violet who was intimidated by such a different world.

She enjoyed it, and often left him wondering what else she would enjoy. A weekend getaway in Prague? A special chocolate pudding laced with real gold leaves from that French restaurant he enjoyed? A shopping spree on Madison Avenue with his black American Express? Maybe that one he could include as a bonus if she moved to New York City with him. Of course, all the other current fringe benefits would be off the table. He couldn’t play house with her with Cara right there. Things would get messy, and his daughter deserved better. Damn. Alice deserved better, too.

He opened the door to the Dolce & Gabbana shop and gestured for her to enter. “Do you want to give this one a go?”

“Well, why not?” She winked.

A coiffed brunette greeted them, her smile expanding when she assessed him. She probably recognized his thousand-dollar outfit of casual Bermuda shorts and a linen polo shirt. Even informality cost money, he mused. Money he was happy to spend.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

“We’re looking for a red dress,” he said in Italian.

The sales clerk’s eyes fell on Alice, and she drew back. A rehearsed smile dented her cheeks. “Of course,” she said in English. “I’m Bianca. Nice to meet you.”

“Alice.” She shook her hand.

“Would you like to browse some ties, sir?” Bianca gestured to the men’s section across the room. Lorenzo was used to larger stores, but since this was an island, even the high-end brands had to compromise. Not on the luxury, though.

Another salesperson acknowledged him, but he hoped a wave was enough to keep the skinny guy from coming over and chatting. Without fuss, he picked up a few ties, one of them a burgundy red. The color was a tad bold for his taste but would come in handy for the party. He had considered ignoring the color request altogether, but he couldn’t risk pissing Viola off just before she announced who she would be supporting.

Me. She will be supporting me
. If he didn’t nail the deal, then all of this would have been for nothing—the trip, the fake engagement. Alice. His stomach clenched. He searched for her, his body spinning around as if he was a freaking dog and responding to scent.

Porca miseria.
He needed this attraction to her as much as he needed a third ball. His gaze landed on her talking to Bianca who held a dress. Strange. Didn’t she want to try it on?

“How’s it going?”

A shade of pink spread across Alice’s cheeks. She shuffled from one foot to another, and he immediately frowned. “I…they don’t have my size. It’s okay.” Alice waved it off. “No big deal.”

“Can you call another store and have it delivered?” he asked Bianca.

Bianca lifted her shoulders. “I apologize, but ten is the largest size we carry.”

Alice let out a sigh. “I get it. I’m a real woman and not a stick figure.”

“I don’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.” It was Bianca’s turn to blush.

Alice lifted her hand to her lips, probably realizing what she’d just said. “I was rude, actually. Sorry. You’ve been really nice. I understand. It’s the industry. Honestly, if I were back home and had the fabric handy, I could make adjustments and whip something up in a jiffy. By the way, I would love to come up with a high-end brand to cater to curvilicious women and…” Alice continued to speak as Bianca nodded.

She was rambling. The way she did when she was nervous. Shit. He should have realized before bringing her here that for some stupid reason designer labels had size restrictions. They didn’t cater to women who had voluptuous curves that should come with a warning sign.

He rubbed his temple. What to do? The last thing he wanted was for her to think she was out of place. His Alice was gorgeous, with a body capable of giving him an instant, scorching response. And she should look every bit the part on one of the most important nights of his life. A night when he would finish locking up a door to his past—and hide a secret that could threaten to take away everything. She had helped him achieve that, and she deserved to dress accordingly.

“We’ll take it,” he said, and both women faced him at the same time. “Do you have any other size?”

“We may have a two available.”

“Great. We’ll take that one, too. And the ties I picked.”

“All right, then.” Bianca disappeared with the dress on her hand, no doubt questioning his decision, but she didn’t let it show.

Alice slapped her hand at her waist. “Is that some sort of fashion math? Size ten plus two equals twelve? It’s not how it works, Lorenzo.”

“I’m buying the second one so you can make adjustments on the first one.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe you can. Write down any tools you think you may need to—as you said—whip up the dress.” She had talent, didn’t she? Maybe this challenge would bring out the stylist in her and would get her noticed at the party. If that’s what she loved to do, why not give it a shot?

A smile that he didn’t deserve in a million years brightened her gorgeous face. “You’re buying a three thousand dollar dress so I can shred it and use the fabric for the other, equally expensive one?”

“Exactly. You’ll do a great job, and you’ll be the sexiest woman out there tonight.”

She erased the distance between them and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. This is amazing.”

He was about to crack a joke about her thanking him later, but she squared her shoulders and stepped back. A gleam flickered in her eyes. God, she was beautiful. His fingers itched with a need to touch her, to hover over her neck. Did they really have to go to lunch after this?

She drew back. “Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, I know. Maybe you’re thinking I get to pick matching shoes and a handbag, too? You know, only the best for the best.”

A chuckle floated up his throat. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“D
elicious.” She slipped out her tongue and caught a bit of the Carbonara sauce that dripped from the calamari. They sat across from each other in an outdoor bistro, and every time she shifted in her seat, her legs rubbed on his. Accidentally? At this point, he didn’t care. He just wished the damn linen napkin was longer and the table larger than the round bistro type.

“So are you,
tesoro
.”

She put her plate to the side and dabbed her lips on the napkin. “I’m sure you say that to all the women.”

“Nope.”

She brought a glass of red wine to her mouth. “Well, thanks. You are pretty edible yourself.”

“Watch it, Alice. When we get back, I might just slam you against the wall and whisk you away to Orgasmland.”

“You say it like it’s a punishment.”

“Don’t you need time for your dress alteration?”

“I’m a great multitasker.”

“How come a great multitasker like you isn’t married?” he asked, and a second later froze. Why the hell did he care? He didn’t believe in marriage. But she acted like she did. Somehow it mattered to her, and an inexplicable part of him was interested in what interested her. Asking about it didn’t imply anything.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “I don’t know. Last guy I dated, I thought he had white-picket potential. But turns out I was wrong.”