by Jules Wake
‘I meant everything I said that night.’ He hoped she could hear the fierce affirmation in his voice.
Lisa frowned.
‘But the next day, your nan came to see me.’
The knife at her elbow pinged off the table, landing on the floor with a metallic clatter. ‘Nan?’ Her voice echoed with disbelief and suspicion.
He wanted to rein back the words, pulling hard on them, halt the horse now but it was too late. ‘She didn’t want me to mess you about. Said I should leave you alone.’
Lisa stared at him, leaving him to fill the empty space between them, her forehead furrowed with … disbelief, distrust, confusion. He couldn’t read it.
‘I … I …’
‘You didn’t call me because my nan told you not to.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t decide whether to be furious with you, insulted or amazed.’
‘Which would be better?’ asked Will, eyeing her nervously.
‘None.’ She stood up, pushing her chair back.
She was going to walk away.
And he wasn’t going to let it happen for a second time.
He stood up and took her in his arms. ‘She wanted the best for you. She didn’t think I was the best.’
‘And neither of you thought that I might have an opinion of my own?’ The air crackled around Lisa.
‘She was ill.’ He’d wanted to keep it from her. Not worry her. ‘She almost passed out on me. I thought she was having some sort of attack. She said she didn’t want to leave you on your own. Wanted you to find someone more reliable than me. It worried her. Worried me too, what if I couldn’t be reliable enough for you?’
Lisa quivered in his arms.
‘I had no idea she was so ill.’ He recalled the sense of panic when she’d collapsed on him.
Lisa let out a half-sob.
‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He smoothed her hair from her face, where it had fallen.
‘No, it’s not.’ Lisa’s face had crumpled and tears glistened on her eyelashes. ‘She is such a …’ she winced, ‘an old … bat.’ With a scowl, she gave her eyes a furious wipe.
‘Did she do this?’
Stumbling she grabbed his arm and looked up at him, breathless and gasping.
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Hmm,’ Lisa shook her head, her mouth crimping in a stern line. ‘You’ve been had, my friend. I promise you, if Nan were seriously ill, she would never let it show.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve lived with her all my life. I know her. That is classic Nan: I need a seat in the theatre, on the bus, I need a discount, I need a refund.’
‘I need you to leave my granddaughter alone?’
Lisa stopped, her brows drawing together. ‘Except, that doesn’t really make sense, does it? I’ve no idea why she would have interfered like that. And she never said a word to me about it.’
It didn’t make sense. Lisa stared up at Will’s face. Sincerity shone from his face. A touch of guilt danced. She didn’t mean to dismiss his motives. Nan had played him, but she had no idea why.
All these months, she’d thought he’d reverted to being playboy Will and, in fact, he’d been trying to do the right thing. Touched, her heart blossomed in her chest and for some stupid reason, tears began to pool again. She leaned forward to kiss him, hoping that no tell-tale drips would give her away. All that time, she’d been thinking dastardly thoughts about him and he’d done the chivalrous thing and listened to her grandmother.
The kiss, at first a brief touch of lips, her trying to ease the way, became more, a gentle apology for the misunderstanding, sweet and tender. When they pulled away, he pulled her hand up to his and touched each knuckle with a soft kiss. A telling moment of silent communion.
‘Come on.’ Lisa took his hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Hand in hand, they strolled back to the car, each lost in thought but maintaining the connection between them with squeezes of each other’s fingers. Lisa thought words might have spoiled the starlit walk along the cool, narrow straights and it seemed Will agreed.
Will flicked the fob to open the car, but came to her side and put both arms on the doorframe, pinning her against the door.
‘I made promises that night. That I would call. I didn’t keep them. This time I will.’
Her heart pounded as he bent to kiss her. Deliberate. Sure. Determined.
Firm lips teased hers with absolute intent. His hands sliding down the metal to her shoulders to hold her.
When he pulled back, he growled, ‘You bugged the life out of me and I couldn’t say anything. The number of times I wanted to kiss you, just to shut you up.’
‘That doesn’t sound terribly complimentary.’
‘It wasn’t supposed to be. You’ve been like a burr up my backside …’
‘And not very romantic at all.’
‘I don’t feel romantic around you. I feel desperate. Urgent.’ He gritted his teeth; she could see his jaw flex. ‘Crazy.’
And he kissed her again, the flood of emotion bursting as the forceful, heartfelt touch of his lips overwhelmed her. His hold tightened, pulling her into him, as if he could never get enough of her, as if he wanted to pull her inside him.
Chapter 24
‘Aargh,’ Lisa put down her phone on her lap. ‘This is hopeless.’
The lights of Rome, a distant cluster of lights as dense as the Milky Way, grew brighter, a thankful homing beacon as the roads finally flattened out and they joined the heavy traffic on the outskirts of the city.
She’d tried three times to phone Vittorio back and each time her phone cut out before he could pick up.
‘Oh hell. This bloody phone.’ Lisa shook it as if that might somehow help the woeful battery life. ‘I’m going to run out of charge.’
‘Here use my phone.’
Lisa quickly tapped in the number but this time, although it rang, Vittorio didn’t pick up and then the signal died again, the phone cutting out mid-ring.
‘Damn. Still no signal.’ A tiny part of her was relieved. What on earth was she going to say?
‘Why don’t you text him?’
‘That’s a good idea. Except … what do I say?’
‘Why don’t you suggest meeting him tomorrow? Tell him where we’re staying and ask him to suggest a meeting place and suitable time?’
Will made it sound easy and, as usual, managed to cut through the rubbish and come up with a practical plan.
Texting her father proved a lot more successful and by the time the car finally pulled up outside the apartment, she’d arranged to meet him the following day at a restaurant near the Colosseum.
‘Job done. I’m assuming you don’t want me tagging along. I’ve got an appointment at 3.30.’
‘No, I think I ought to go on my own the first time I meet him.’ Her nerves hummed. ‘It would be easy to be a complete chicken and get you to come too, but I feel it’s something I should do on my own.’
‘Yeah,’ Will winked at her. ‘It’s a bit soon to be meeting the parents.’
‘You don’t mean that. I’ve got you sussed, Will Ryan. If I wanted you to come, I think you would.’
Will tried to deny it but Lisa could tell that if she needed his support, he would be there for her. It was such an intrinsic part of who he was. Always there looking out for the people who mattered, no matter how much they irked him the rest of the time.
He looked uncomfortable at her piercing look. ‘Yes, Mr I’m-no-hero. You would.’
When they finally pulled up outside the apartment, although it was gone eleven the sultry heat of the city enveloped them as they stepped out of the car. Quite how she’d managed to stay awake on the last leg of the journey, she wasn’t sure. It had been hard work forcing herself not to drop off, but it seemed rude to sleep when Will had done all the driving.
As the heat hit her and the relief at finally getting out of the car, she yawned, hardly able to put one foot in front of the other.
�
�Come on sleepyhead.’ Will looped an arm around her shoulder.
The apartment, with its tiled floors and dark entrance, immediately felt cooler.
He kissed her gently on the forehead as they walked through the door of the apartment, switching on the lights and turning towards the kitchen, where his laptop sat on the table.
With a sigh, he pulled her to him, kissing her mouth with a soft brush of his lips. ‘Bugger, I need to log on and catch up with a few emails to do with the pub. Marcus has been texting me all evening. There’s a problem with a supplier.’ He rolled his neck. ‘Could bloody do without it, but that’s the downside of being self-employed; you never switch off.’ He blinked wearily.
She put her arms around him, massaging his shoulders gently in sympathy. ‘Do what you need to. Don’t worry, I understand.’ And she did. He should be so proud of what he’d achieved and the hard work he’d put in.
‘I know what I’d rather do.’ He looked at his watch. ‘But I need to email Marcus. Why don’t you go to bed?
Lisa swallowed, wondering what the etiquette here was?
He stroked a finger down her cheek, the tender gesture making her wilt into him.
All her bones seemed too heavy and even turning her head to kiss his fingers seemed an effort.
‘Go on.’ The corners of his mouth turned down as duty battled with desire. ‘I’ll join you in a while … if that’s okay.’
Will dealt with the emails as quickly as he could but he needed to retrieve a few documents from his Dropbox account and by the time he’d found the right ones and sent them over to Marcus, nearly forty minutes had elapsed. The stressful drive down the mountain had taken it out of him. He hadn’t dared let on to Lisa how freaked out he’d been at some of those hairpin bends. She’d been relying on him to get them home safely.
And he was the last person anyone should rely on. Shit, he rubbed at the back of his neck. What if he let her down again? His shoulders ached. All that tension, no doubt, from concentrating so hard on nursing the car down those roads. Nothing to do with that nagging worry about the new restaurant. What if it wasn’t a success? His dad’s comments he could cope with but what about Lisa? She admired him now, but what if the restaurant went tits-up? With a weary yawn and a stretch, he switched off the lights and followed the glow of the bedside light in Lisa’s room as he made his way down the corridor.
His heart lurched at the picture she made, fast asleep, her hair spread out on the pillow, lying on her side with one arm tucked under her head. Could he look after her properly?
The light on his side of the bed had been left on, like a beacon guiding him home, and he was pleased to see she’d remembered to plug her phone in to charge. The familiar white cable snaked across her bedside table.
Quietly and quickly he stripped off to his boxers, tossing his clothes on the wooden chest at the bottom of the bed and slipped under the covers, carefully easing himself in to avoid waking her. She didn’t even stir as he adjusted his weight to lie next to her, his head propped on his elbow as his gaze roved over her face. Her eyelids fluttered, the darker lashes flickering against her creamy skin, but her breathing remained slow and steady. Out for the count. He smiled and resisted the urge to trace her lips with his fingers, surprised at the sudden fierce dart of tenderness the sight of her beside him sparked. Reluctantly he turned to switch out the light and slid down the bed, feeling the warmth of her slim body inches from his. He reached out a tentative hand and touched her arm, a barely-there touch, to let her know he was here or maybe it was to reassure himself she was there. All he could do was his best and hope it would be enough.
Chapter 25
Her neck ached. It would have been much easier to lie on the floor, except there was barely room to stand upright and then you were wedged in.
The fabled colours and artistry of Michelangelo’s work on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was worth the hour of shuffling along corridors filled with incredible artefact after incredible artefact.
According to her trusty guide book, there were nine miles of art to see in the Vatican Museum and it would take at least four hours to try and see everything. She didn’t think her brain could cope with that. What she’d seen to date had been, to use a cliché, mind-blowing, but there was a seed of a headache right in the centre of her forehead.
On the wall opposite, the size and scale of the Last Judgement made Lisa feel small and very insignificant. The details of the robes, the shadowed folds, the lines of flesh and muscle of all those figures and the brilliance of the colours dazzled her. It was difficult to believe it had been painted 500 years ago. Even if she didn’t know that much about art, she could appreciate the huge fresco.
It was almost worth getting up early this morning, leaving the sizzle of awareness between her and Will on hold. It seemed hard to believe that just a few hours ago she’d woken immediately aware of him next to her. She smiled to herself as she pictured him before he woke, hugging to herself the private moment when she drank in the sight of him lying next to her. The handsome face relaxed for once. She’d been tempted to trace the musculature of his chest and the blonde hair that dusted the golden skin. At some point in the night he’d pushed the covers down, giving an irresistible view of his long, lean figure, and one leg hooked over them, as if trying to escape the close heat.
Even now as she browsed the memory, her lungs tightened, exactly as they’d done as she’d taken complete advantage and conducted a thorough, leisurely inventory of his body, lust making slow curls in her stomach. All that lifting and carrying in the pub must have honed his physique. She could see the muscles in his abs, a trail of hair arrowing down, which set tiny firecrackers off in her system. She hadn’t dared move an inch, not wanting to wake him, even though her hand twitched with a craving to smooth her fingers over his skin, skim over his nipples and down, down that taut, carved stomach.
Just the sight of his body turned her inside out, stirring desire and longing.
She almost laughed out loud. That would surprise the people around her in the crowded room buzzing with tourists. None of them had any idea that she’d tensed, clamping her legs together, mirroring what she’d done this morning when the heat pooling between them had become too intense to ignore. But despite the sexual thrum racing through her, she’d also become acutely aware that she wanted more. She wanted to savour him. Take their time.
It would have been easy to dive in, have what she didn’t doubt would be wild, unthinking sex, but he’d done that too many times before. Her chest tightened. Could she really trust that she’d be enough for him? Once they returned to normal life, would he change his mind?
‘You’re thinking far too hard,’ he’d said with a lazy drawl, startling her, when he’d finally woken. ‘It’s giving me a headache.’
‘Will!’
His slow, sleepy smile had done funny things to her heart, almost as if it had turned sideways and upside down.
‘Not expecting anyone else, were you?’
‘Well in lieu of Tom Hiddleston, I guess you’ll do.’
‘Who?’ He’d lunged towards her, pulling her down on top of him, giving her an enthusiastic kiss, which quickly turned into something else altogether. Beneath her his body felt all male and thoroughly intoxicating. Through his cotton boxers she could feel the hard outline of him, primed and ready for action.
For a while she’d revelled in the kiss, before pulling back. With each move he’d asked the question, do we carry this on?
She remembered her mouth trying to shape the words, but even though she couldn’t think of the right ones to say, it clearly gave her away. He’d loosened his hold, studying her face.
Even with the hum of foreign accents, layered on the air, surrounding her in the busy chapel she could recall the tone of his voice as he’d said, ‘Morning.’ The way it gentled, as if he understood every thought torturing her mind.
Heat suffused her face as she remembered her husky reply of ‘Morning.’
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��d stroked her arm, saying, ‘You know there’s no rush. We’ve plenty of time.’
A rush of gratitude filled her. Lovely Will. He hadn’t seemed disappointed or as if he expected anything. At the time, it had made her heart swell with something she couldn’t define, although there was still that tiny shadow of uncertainty. She’d spent so long protecting herself, was she doing the right thing, giving him her heart?
With unspoken accord they’d got up, breakfasted, showered and gathered their things together in plenty of time to beat most the crowds at the Vatican Museum.
A Japanese tourist, full of fervent apology, bumped into her, bringing her back to the present and the room full of people.
Will caught her eye and winked. His hand crept up to massage the crick in her neck and she rolled her head back to take full of advantage of the fingers working the tight muscles there.
‘It’s …’ she breathed, trying to concentrate on the painting on the ceiling.
‘It certainly is. I’m running out of superlatives.’
‘I’m running out of steam,’ said Lisa. ‘Bit of a culture overload.’
Turning her attention to the huge wall painting in front of her, she tried to pick out familiar elements.
‘Apparently, there was a fig-leaf campaign after Michelangelo died, where lots of the figures were covered up.’
‘I’ve missed Tour Guide Barbie.’
She swatted at him with her guide book, which she’d hardly looked at since they’d entered the chapel. There was barely room in the crowd to turn the pages.
‘They didn’t do a very good job,’ observed Will, scanning the figures opposite them.
‘This is interesting. A few decades later, a chap who was nicknamed Il Briggatone, Italian for breeches-maker, was employed to paint over a lot of the nudity.’
‘Like I said, he missed quite a few.’