Luscious (19 page)

He stared at the cell phone in Russo’s hand. “How did you get that? When I got here, my phone couldn’t get a signal.”

“My new secretary picked it up at the mall for me.” He shrugged and set the phone on the bar.

Russo raised his hand for a refill and when the bartender arrived, Sean said, “Make that two.” The coffee was intensifying his urge to grab Russo by the scruff of his neck, stuff him into the Fiat, and deliver him to his wife. Sean had gotten out of a warm bed with a naked Olivia for this? His drink arrived and he took a slow sip.

Russo gazed around the busy bar with interest. “So, where are we going for dinner? Have you had time to scope out the local restaurants?”

“Mr. Russo, I doubt any restaurants are open at this hour. I assumed you were coming to Italy to spend two weeks with your wife, as per her stipulation.”

Russo’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide with mock surprise. “According to your text, Marilyn wants me to take a two week vacation. You didn’t say it had to be with her.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. Of course you have to spend it with her. Otherwise, she’s going to contest the divorce, which could drag the process out for months, maybe even years. With her full agreement, we can claim the marriage is irretrievably damaged and everything will be much simpler for you.”

Russo picked up the bar menu.

Sean snatched it out of his hand. “Villa Farfalla has food. Let’s go.”

“What’s your hurry? According to you, it’s my last night of freedom, after all. I’d like to enjoy it.”

“You’ll have all the freedom you can handle in a couple months.” Russo’s cell phone signaled a text. “Your wife is waiting,” he said again.

Russo stared down at the phone with an unreadable expression. He picked it up. For a moment, Sean thought his hopes had been answered. Then Russo dropped the phone in his pocket and picked up another menu. “Let her wait.”

Olivia woke up with a smile on her face and reached for Sean. Her hand met nothing but a cold pillow. She opened her eyes. The absolute silence in the room told her she was alone. Where had he gone?

There was no note on the bedside table. She looked around the room. The clothes he had shed last night were gone too. So much for her fantasy of sleeping in with him today.

She scrambled out of bed and dressed, not wanting to be there when he got back. She had spent too many mornings exactly like this, wondering if her ex would bother stopping at home before he went in to work. She doubted Sean was with another woman but his absence aroused the same empty feeling in her center. It was better to get up and get busy. Staying in bed would only underline the fact that he had left her alone.

This was a fling, she reminded herself, a vacation. Sean was leaving at the end of the week and unless she went with him, she’d be waking up alone every day. A glance out the curtains told her dawn was approaching, and Alessandro’s black car was making its way up the driveway. Since he was early for work today, maybe they could do something special for the guests’ breakfast. She hurried back to her room for a quick shower.

Just as she emerged from the bathroom, she heard a light knock on her door. She tightened her robe and opened the door an inch.

“Thank God,” Sean said, pushing the door open just as she decided to shut it in his face. He stumbled into the room and sprawled on her bed.

She shut the door and went over to him. “Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Hung over,” he replied. “Is it possible to be hung over from three drinks?”

“Depends. What were they?”

“Whiskey, prosecco, and grappa, I think. I wasn’t paying attention. I was just keeping up with Russo until I decided one of us needed to sober up to drive home.”

Betrayal knocked the breath out of her. “What the hell were you doing with Mrs. Russo?” she gasped, furious.

“Not Mrs. Russo. Her husband. Shhh, my head is killing me.”

He looked like his head was killing him. His face was gray and his eyes were shut tight. His shirt was untucked and he had one fist pressed against his forehead.

Mr. Russo was in Italy now too? She lowered her voice, somewhat mollified. “Why weren’t you in your room when I woke up?” Wincing at the whine in her voice, she quickly asked, “Where did you go?”

“I had to go get Russo. I forgot to tell you. You looked so pretty asleep in my bed. I didn’t want to wake you. Sorry,” he mumbled, and rolled over, scrubbing his face into a pillow.

She grabbed his shoulder and hauled him onto his back. “Hold on a minute. I’m not done with you yet. Sit up.” She went into the bathroom and rifled through the drawer, sure she had seen a first aid kit in there. When she found it, she grabbed a pack of ibuprofen and ran a glass of water from the tap.

She returned to the bedroom. Sean was sitting up, but his head had fallen back against the headboard. He groaned when she touched his shoulder. “Here.” She handed him the glass of water and the pills.

“Now, what’s going on with the Russos?” she asked when he had finished drinking.

He groaned again and collapsed sideways in the bed. “Who knows? Mr. Russo wants a divorce and Mrs. Russo will only play nice after her vacation.” His voice was muffled by the pillow. “I can’t imagine how those two stayed married for almost thirty years. Can you keep an eye on them while I get some sleep?”

“Where’s Mr. Russo?” she asked, covering him up with a blanket.

“I gave him my room.”

Sean caught her hand and tried to draw her into bed with him. “Not a chance, pal. I want coffee.” And some time to think about the fact that she had been way too disappointed when she woke up alone for this to be a simple fling for her. “Sleep it off. I’ll watch the Russos.” She pushed his hand away and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Why did she find it so disturbing that Sean had left her in bed to carouse with a client? She had often run into Sean at Johnny’s bar late at night and on weekends, and it was hypocritical to be upset about him facilitating the breakup of a marriage. He was her divorce lawyer, after all. It was his business to break up marriages. Still, it hurt. She wanted to mean more to him than a week of good memories.

Not
good. So not good.
Apparently she was incapable of having a decent breakdown and having a proper affair. It would be funny if it weren’t so damn tragic. She shoved the kitchen door with more force than necessary and gasped when Mrs. Russo jumped out of the way.

“I was just…I wanted—” Mrs. Russo began.

“I’m sorry!” Olivia exclaimed at the same time. “I know better than to open a door that fast.” She frowned, taking in the other woman’s tear-streaked face.

Mrs. Russo dropped her eyes. She hovered in the doorway, seeming to be uncertain of whether she should stay or flee.

“Can I make you a cappuccino?” Olivia asked. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t function without coffee in the morning. What brings you into the kitchen so early?”

“I wanted coffee too,” Mrs. Russo admitted. “But I can’t work the machine.”

“It’s not as complicated as it looks.” Olivia began assembling the ingredients. The kitchen was empty, so the black car must have been Sean and Mr. Russo returning to the villa. “I hear your husband has arrived.”

Mrs. Russo flinched.

Olivia paused. She set the milk on the counter, unable to ignore Mrs. Russo’s distress any longer. “Listen, I have no idea what is going on with your marriage but is there anything I can do to help?”

Mrs. Russo shook her head. “My husband wants a divorce.”

“And you don’t?”

A sad smile curved the older woman’s lips followed by a melodic sigh. “I want my husband back.”

“Well, he’s here. You must have done something right.”

“Have you ever seen one of those fishing shows on TV? The ones where they catch a huge marlin, and it fights and fights, and by the time it’s on the boat everyone is exhausted and at least one person is bleeding?”

Olivia nodded.

“That’s us. Tony is the fish, but I’m not tired of fighting him yet.”

“So what are you going to do when you catch him? Throw him back, like they do on the fishing shows?”

“I’m not sure. If both of us survive this, I might jump back in the water with him.”

“I never would have thought of that,” Olivia said, taking a deep breath. Was that the answer to her problem too? Did it have to be a fling? The spark of an idea began to glow, but it was too early for heavy planning. She needed caffeine to clear the cobwebs from her head.

Olivia flipped the switch and the nozzle began to steam and hiss. Over its roar, she asked, “Would you like a frittata? I’m in the mood to cook breakfast.”

***

Sean blasted his lingering headache with a hot shower and went down to the kitchen, sure he would find Olivia there. It wasn’t quite lunch time and he hoped to lure her away with another fantasy—a picnic.

Most of the guests were in the game room and the kitchen was quiet. Olivia, Alessandro, Marco, and, strangely, Mrs. Russo were working in the lower kitchen.

“Good morning,” Olivia greeted him with a gleam in her eyes. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.” He glanced at Mrs. Russo. “Has—”

“He’s still hiding.” Mrs. Russo put her hands on her hips. “As well he should be. What was the meaning of sending me a text if he wasn’t planning on coming to the villa? I was up all night waiting for him.”

Sean winced, feeling lucky that he’d managed to get Russo to Villa Farfalla at all. “Sorry about that. He’s—”

“Impossible?” she supplied. “Ornery? A pain in the behind?”

“Still sleeping, I guess,” Sean finished with a bland grin. “I’m sure he’ll be down directly.”

Mrs. Russo snorted and went back to chopping onions. He hoped her red eyes could be attributed to the vegetable and not her husband, but he wouldn’t count on it. “What’s on the schedule?” he asked Olivia. “Any chance we can sneak away for a picnic in the vineyard?” After listening to Russo talk about his wife last night, he wasn’t sure he wanted to witness their reunion.

Olivia frowned, looking around the kitchen. “The guests are going into the village for lunch and a walking tour, but there’s a lot to be done for dinner…”

“Which can all be done after your picnic,” Marco piped up from the stove. “An excellent idea. I’ll pack it myself.”

Olivia looked torn.

“Fantastic.” Sean smiled his thanks at Marco, then turned to Olivia. “Go get changed and meet me on the back patio.” She looked reluctant to leave the kitchen, but she went.

Sean was waiting with a blanket and a basket when she arrived on the patio fifteen minutes later. He’d never seen anyone pull a lunch together as fast as Marco and Alessandro, and he was grateful. He was still annoyed with his client for keeping him out of bed last night. Nothing sounded better than spending the next hour or two stretched out on the soft blanket with her.

They found a little clearing not too far into the woods behind the villa and chose a shady spot on the edge for the blanket. Sean felt the last of his hangover disappear as Olivia smiled at him. He loved seeing her like this, carefree and happy. They lounged in the sun-dappled shade, eating fruit, cheese, and thin sandwiches made on flat bread. Across the clearing, a stream trickled into the deeper part of the forest, providing tranquil background music. She unearthed a packet of cookies with a grin of delight. “Still hungry, are you?” he asked.

“Nope, just feeling indulgent.” She sank down onto the blanket and stretched. He rolled over and looked down at her, noticing that her forehead no longer showed a hint of the lines she had worn in New York. Her mouth was soft, her jaw relaxed. Her clear green eyes held nothing but drowsy pleasure and contentment. “Why so solemn, counselor?” she asked, curving a hand around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

He licked a crumb off her lip. “Just thinking about how much I love being here with you.”

She smiled. “I love it too. I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. I’m not sure I ever have.”

He bent to kiss her. “Italy certainly agrees with you.” Her mouth opened sweetly and hot need replaced the sinking feeling in his stomach. How could he ask her to go back to New York with him, back to all the things that had carved lines in her face and filled her eyes with fear and doubt?

She mumbled something against his lips, and he drew back. “What was that, darling?”

Her sigh puffed against his lips. “I wish I didn’t have to make dinner tonight. I’d love to go into town and do some sightseeing. We could stuff ourselves silly, drink until we’re senseless, and…” She trailed off.

“Make love until we pass out?”

She bit her lip and her cheeks got pink, but she nodded.

“So why can’t we? Why do you have to cook dinner? Isn’t that Alessandro’s job?”

“Technically, yes. But he can’t cook.”

“What?”

“While you were talking to Mrs. Russo after the opera, Alessandro confessed he’s really a waiter—he can’t cook at all.”

“Then why did he take a job as a chef?”

“I didn’t ask. I was scrambling to figure out how to handle the cooking class and wondering whether or not we were going to…”

He pressed a kiss to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he forgot they’d been having a conversation. When he came up for air, he remembered to ask, “So who has been doing the cooking?”

“Marco.”

“So let Marco cook tonight.”

She laughed.

“I’m serious. Let’s go into town—or to Venice. The villa was doing just fine before you got here.” Except he knew that wasn’t true. Mrs. Marconi had actually almost smiled at him when he had introduced her to Marilyn Russo and explained she wanted to book a two-week stay. And hadn’t Gia told him the villa was having money trouble?

He felt like a traitor for not wanting Olivia to become more firmly entrenched in the everyday operations of the villa, especially when it was clear she was so valuable. The cooking class yesterday had been an enormous success. In fact, he’d overheard the guests asking when the next class was scheduled. He also knew the grape harvest was approaching, and that there was a big party planned for the weekend. That meant Olivia would definitely be needed in the kitchen. He should be glad that she had found happiness here, and yet all he wanted to do was spirit her back to New York where he couldn’t lose her again.

Her hand stroked his back. “I would if I could—”

“But you can’t,” he finished for her.

She shook her head and even though his heart ached, he was proud of her.

He looked down at her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and her hair was spread out on the blanket. “At least we still have a few hours.” And the rest of the week. It wouldn’t be enough, but he wasn’t going to waste a minute of their time together.

***

Olivia sat up and yawned. “What time is it?” She hadn’t meant to drift to sleep but her full stomach, the warm sun, and Sean’s fingers stroking her hair had relaxed her to the point of unconsciousness.

“Two thirty,” he said. “I was going to wake you up at three.”

“Time to get moving,” she said, yawning again. “You’ve been keeping me up too late.”

“Complaining?” he asked. “If I remember correctly, you were the one keeping me up last night.”

Their eyes caught, held. She traced his playful smile with a fingertip and laughed. “A technicality.” She rolled off the blanket and got to her feet, stretching the kinks out of her back and watching Sean repack the basket and fold the thin blanket.

“Thank you for the picnic. It was lovely,” she said. It was also another first for her. The more time she spent with Sean, the more she realized how much her marriage had lacked in the romance department. Her ex-husband had never taken her on a picnic. He’d never held her while she slept and stayed awake to make sure she wasn’t late for work. For once, thoughts like that didn’t make her feel bitter. She wasn’t going to waste her energy being angry with Keith anymore. She would just love Sean instead.

A dull roar filled her ears and she missed the words coming out of his mouth. “What did you say?” she asked.