“I just wish you’d told me. I would have made sure you’d eaten something.”
She’s touched by his concern, though she has her own and it’s much larger. It has to do with the way she’s reacting to him. Every time she looks at Giovanni, there’s a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, like butterflies.
She can’t remember the last time she’s been around a guy who actually gave her butterflies. Probably one of her ex-husbands, though as she recalls, it was more lust with them than butterflies.
This is weird.
She’s used to being in control. When it comes to men, she always has the upper hand, but with dread, she realizes she doesn’t have it anymore with him.
At least it’s only one day together. Thank God.
She eats a few more almonds, already starting to feel better. Maybe this whole thing really is just low blood sugar. She holds her bag out. “Would you like some?”
He looks up from the guidebook and takes a few.
Lindsay licks her lips. “You know, I never thanked you for the way you ripped into Werner the other night.”
His expression goes stern as he chews an almond. “There’s no need to thank me. That guy is a scumbag. You shouldn’t let anyone speak to you like that.”
“It’s not like I was letting him.” She takes some more almonds from the bag, but doesn’t eat them right away. “The only reason I tolerate him is because of Dagmar, and just so we’re clear, I never let men talk to me like that.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She turns to him and can’t help but grin. “Thank you for setting him straight though. It was fun watching the rat squirm. He even apologized to me again last night, not that I believed him.”
Giovanni nods but then goes quiet, studying her. “Listen, I owe you an apology for something too.”
She’s ready to make a joke about how he owes her a dozen apologies, but doesn’t when she sees his grave expression.
“I never should have said what I did to you in the cab the other night—about your face being improved. That was uncalled for.”
Lindsay looks down into her bag of almonds, rubbing her thumb along the crinkled edge of the paper. “You’re right, it was.”
“I don’t even know what possessed me to say something so ridiculous.” He lets out his breath. “You might not have noticed this about me yet, but sometimes I come across as an arrogant prick.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugs. “I figured it was just a speech impediment.”
He gives her a wry smile. “No, I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. I actually am an arrogant prick.”
“Must be all that Viking blood coursing through your veins, giving you delusions of grandeur.”
He grins for real before his gaze turns thoughtful. “The truth is I think you’re beautiful, Lindsay. I thought so the first time I met you, and I still do.”
She tries to breathe. It’s not like she’s never heard this compliment before. She’s heard it a lot. It’s the way he’s saying it, though. It reminds her of when they were together that night—the sincerity in his voice. Like he’s seeing more than just her surface.
Now who’s having delusions?
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I appreciate that.”
His gaze is reflective, taking her in, but then something changes. “Wait a minute, did you say you saw Werner last night?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
He shakes his head. “So, you went back to that casino even after I warned you not to?”
Lindsay’s mouth opens. “No, I didn’t. I agreed to stay away for a few days, and I’ve kept my word.”
“Then how did you see him?”
“Because Dagmar brought him by my studio last night to try and get me to go out with them, but I didn’t.”
He studies her.
“You think I’m lying?”
“You better not be.”
She sits up straighter. “Listen. You don’t own me, so stop acting like you do.”
“You agreed not go to back there for at least a few days. Though if you ask me, I think you should avoid it altogether.”
“I didn’t go back! But I can’t not ever go back. I need the money I earn there.”
“What you need to do is stop being a card shark.”
“I see,” she mutters. “So you’re back in arrogant prick mode again.”
“Taking advantage of people is no way to make money.”
Lindsay rises from the park bench and throws the rest of the almonds in the trash. “Fuck you, okay? You don’t know what you’re talking about. I play a straight game. Plus, I already told you I’m an artist. Playing cards only supplements my income.”
“Come on, you and I both know there’s something wrong when you have to lie to your family about your activities.”
“You don’t know shit about me or my family, so let’s not pretend you do.” Her eyes rake over him “But I know plenty about you and yours, and let me tell you, we didn’t all have nannies growing up.”
“What?” Giovanni looks at her in amazement. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Because you’ve never had to worry about money a single day in your life.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She’s sure he’s seen terrible poverty, though she doubts he’s experienced any on a personal level. Finally, he speaks. “You’re selling yourself short. That’s all I’m saying.”
“God, you are such an ass. Next thing you’ll be telling me is I should go find a nice rich man and let him take care of me.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”
“I live my life on my terms and in my own way, got it? I don’t need or want your judgment.”
“Christ.” He rubs his forehead like he’s trying to ease the strain on his face. “This isn’t going the way I intended at all. Every time I’m around you I can’t think straight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” He unfolds himself from the bench. “Let’s go. We’ll get some real food into you and then maybe have a normal conversation for once.”
Lindsay takes Giovanni to the food court at the KaDeWe, Berlin’s famous department store. Dagmar brought her here right after they met, and for Lindsay, it was love at first sight. A food universe unto itself, and one of the places she’ll miss most when she leaves Berlin.
The KaDeWe has everything.
It’s a trek to get there, and they have to change trains a few times, but he follows her lead and doesn’t complain. They don’t talk much and he spends most of the time texting, and then receives a call once they’re out walking on the sidewalk. He motions with his hand that he needs privacy and goes over to stand under a store awning while Lindsay window shops. She tries to ignore him, though a few words drift her way. It’s mostly medical talk, along with the names of some places she’s unfamiliar with.
“So, when do you go back to Africa?” she asks after he’s done with his call. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you said.”
He glances around as they arrive at the giant department store. “I’m not going back.”
“You’re not?
“No. I’m changing direction entirely.”
They enter the front doors and Lindsay leads them to the elevators where a small group of people is already waiting. Someone’s floral perfume hangs in the air.
“So, you’re changing jobs?” she asks as they board the elevator. She checks to make sure the sixth-floor button for the food court is pushed.
“I won’t be working overseas anymore. I’ve accepted a position in the States.”
A prickle of unease runs through her. “Where?”
Giovanni doesn’t respond right away, and before he even speaks, she has a premonition she isn’t going to like it.
“Seattle Children’s Hospital.”
Her mouth opens in shock. “You’re moving to Seattle?”
“Yes, it looks that way.”
>
“And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“I only just found out. That’s what the phone call was about. I spoke to them yesterday when they made the offer, but I hadn’t accepted yet.” The elevator stops moving as they arrive on the sixth floor. When they exit, Giovanni looks around. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. This is impressive.”
“Why would you want to move to Seattle? Wouldn’t LA be a better choice?”
He doesn’t reply, still taking in the enormity of the food court. “What’s this place called again? I think it might be listed in the guidebook.”
“The KaDeWe. And yes, I’m sure it’s in your guidebook.”
He stops checking out the food court and starts staring at her again. “We need to get some real food into you. Something with both protein and carbs would be best.”
“When are you moving to Seattle, exactly?”
“We’ll talk about it after you eat.” He pauses and his eyes settle on hers for a moment. “There’s something else I need to speak with you about.”
Lindsay’s spidey senses tingle. “What do you mean?” It occurs to her this isn’t the first time he’s mentioned wanting to speak to her about something.
He ignores her question though and points at one of the nearby deli stations. “There’s a place that serves sandwiches over there. I also see a fish place next to it. What are you in the mood for?”
They wander around looking at food while he continues to ignore every question about Seattle. She realizes she’s not going to get an answer out of him until they’ve had dinner.
In the end, she orders one of her favorite dishes—creamed chanterelle mushrooms over thick slices of toast, while Giovanni gets some kind of German dish with sauerkraut.
“What do you think?” she asks after they sit down and start eating. She usually has to wait for a table with a window seat, but they managed to snag one right away. “Isn’t this place great? I love it here.”
“It’s all right,” he agrees, though he seems distracted. When his phone buzzes, he starts texting again.
Lindsay tries to stay calm. She needs to decide how she’s going to handle Giovanni living in Seattle. Her ‘have a great life’ speech is obviously meaningless now, since she’ll be forced to see him.
It won’t be so bad. It’s not like I’ll have to see him very often. Maybe the occasional holiday at Natalie and Anthony’s.
She hopes that’s all.
When they’re done eating, they push their plates aside and he centers his glass of beer in front of himself. He isn’t texting anymore, but is on his phone speaking Italian.
She pulls a chocolate strawberry out of the box she bought for dessert. After licking some of the dark chocolate off the tip, she finally bites into it. Yum. It’s tart and sweet, with just the right amount of bitterness from the chocolate.
He’s watching her as he talks, sipping his beer occasionally.
There are a few guys seated at nearby tables and she senses their eyes on her, but she ignores them. Mostly she eats her strawberry and admires the view outside, listening to the melodious sound of Giovanni conversing in Italian.
Eventually, he wraps up the conversation and puts his phone down on top of his guidebook.
“Norwegian is kind of sexy,” she tells him as she sucks on a strawberry. “You should teach me some words.”
“What would you like to learn?”
“Something naughty, of course.”
He considers this but doesn’t offer any lessons. He’s still staring at her and seems very interested in her chocolate strawberry.
“Do you want one?” She moves the box closer. “They’re delicious.”
“No, but I’m enjoying watching you eat them.”
Lindsay’s pulse quickens and she gives him a seductive smile. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me, Olaf.”
“I know.” He sighs with frustration and glances away.
When his eyes come back, they stay on hers. His are dark, just like the other night.
The food court is big and noisy with people all around them, but somehow that fades into the background. All she can see is Giovanni. His potent gaze pulling her in, wanting things from her.
She lets out a shaky breath and finally turns, studying the view again, the familiar streets of Berlin lit up.
“Look at me, Lindsay.” He leans forward, placing his muscular forearms on the table. “I need to ask you something important.”
She goes on high alert at his tone. Her spidey senses aren’t just tingling anymore—they’re buzzing like a chainsaw.
Giovanni shifts uncomfortably in his chair before he clears his throat.
“What is it?” she asks.
He licks his lips. It’s like he’s trying to smile, but can’t quite manage it. Sweat breaks out on his brow. His skin looks pale, almost green beneath his tan.
Her eyes roam over him. “Are you okay?”
He takes a deep breath. “I need to know if you’ll marry me.”
Giovanni finally lets his breath out. His stomach’s still queasy. For a moment, he felt so ill he thought he might need to lie down.
What’s wrong with me? There’s no reason it should be so difficult this time. None whatsoever.
But as he takes in Lindsay’s appalled expression, it hits him like a punch in the gut.
She reminds him of Olivia.
Not completely—only a little, actually—but enough that it’s all coming back. The humiliation when he’d asked her to marry him. The shame, still fresh after all these years. She’d laughed at him for being the young idiot he was back then. In love with the wrong woman.
So in love it nearly wrecked his life.
At least Lindsay isn’t laughing. Instead, her expression has changed to what appears to be fascination. Her rich brown eyes are studying him as if he were a peculiar sculpture she needed to analyze.
“Was it the kiss?” she asks, leaning toward him, still holding the half-eaten strawberry. “Is that what pushed you over the edge?”
“What are you talking about?”
“My God, I never should have kissed you!”
“Kissed me?”
“Yes, I kissed you the other night. Don’t pretend you don’t remember!”
“Of course, I remember.”
Giovanni remembers all too well. That kiss nearly broke him in half, his self-control hanging on by the thinnest thread.
He’d gone back to his hotel after kissing her and sat in the bar for a long time. He didn’t want to be alone. Not with his thoughts or the high-octane blood flowing through his veins. He slowly sipped a glass of scotch, trying to dull his senses with something artificial. When a blonde took the chair beside him, he seriously considered taking her back to his room. She was attractive and eager, kept touching him, putting out every signal imaginable. Her voice grated like metal though, and she had too many sharp edges for his taste. Worst of all, he suspected she was married.
If she’d been brunette, he doubted any of that would have mattered.
Instead, he went back to his room alone, took a long hot shower, and jerked off. He thought about Lindsay in front of the taxi, how he wished she’d invited him upstairs, wished he were with her right then. Her edges weren’t sharp at all, but smooth, and beneath them he knew she was soft . . . oh so soft. She’d moan and cry and wrap her lithe body around him in ecstasy, and finally, he’d lose himself.
After the shower, he lay exhausted beneath the cool hotel sheets, the scotch and orgasm wearing him down. The little paper fox was still on his nightstand, its blank face watchful, easing him in a strange way.
“That kiss is not why I asked you to marry me,” he tells Lindsay, though she appears skeptical.
“Are you sure? What else could it be?” She’s still holding the half-eaten strawberry, pointing it at him like a weapon. “Is there something strange in the water here?”
“What the hell are you going on about?” It figures she wouldn’t react like a
normal woman. It’s clear nothing about her was ever normal. With annoyance, he realizes she hasn’t even addressed his proposal yet. “I just told you I needed you to marry me. Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“If you weren’t so humorless, I’d think you were joking. But you’re not, are you?”
“Humorless?” Giovanni scowls.
“Is it the air? Something in the Berlin air causing this to happen?” Her eyes roam wildly upward.
“What do you mean? I’m not humorless.”
She puts the strawberry down on a napkin. He studies her hands—even her fingers appeal to him. Surprisingly, they’re not the well-manicured ones you’d expect on a woman like her, but are unadorned and a little rough.
He thinks about those clay masks she creates, her hands molding them into shape. Without trying, he imagines them on his body, the way they’d mold him too. Stroking him. He looks away from her as he tries to stop blood from rushing to parts of him he’d prefer it didn’t.
He’s already noticed all the men in the food court checking her out. It’s been the same everywhere all day. She captures the attention of every male within spitting distance. He handles it like an Italian, glaring at each and every one of them. Luckily, it deters them all. Lindsay is beautiful, but it’s more than that. She has a kind of sexual magnetism that’s difficult to ignore.
Catnip for men. Except she’s worse than catnip. After spending the day with her, he’s more affected than ever. It’s no wonder she’s used to men fighting over her, all of them hoping for a taste.
His scowl deepens.
“All right.” She sighs, sweeping a handful of brown curls over her shoulder. “What is this all about? You’ve fallen madly in love with me?”
“No.”
“No?” Most women wouldn’t like that, but she seems pleased. “Really? Thank God!”
This only annoys him further. Everything about her is unpredictable.
“I need you to marry me as a favor.”
Her eyes narrow with suspicion. “What kind of favor is that?”
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 8