She raised her head far enough to kiss him on the lips.
‘I’ll only be upset for as long as it takes you to get them,’ she told him. ‘Once you’re back again, I’ll have no reason to be upset.’
And she wouldn’t, she told herself as she sat up and turned on the bedside light so she could untangle the sheet and pull it over her body to hide her nakedness.
Making love with Luca had been a revelation of just how wonderful an experience it should be, and she had every intention of enjoying it again. As often as possible over the next three weeks.
She was going to have fun and if, at the end, losing Luca meant the ice-pack would once again form around her heart, then too bad.
He returned, set the glasses on the bedside table and filled them, then sat beside her on the edge of the bed. He pressed one glass into her hands, drew the sheet down so he could see her breasts, and raised his glass to hers.
‘To love between us,’ he said, sipping the cold liquid then bending, his tongue still cold, to lick at first one nipple then the other.
‘I’ll choke to death if you do that while I’m drinking!’ Rachel told him, taking a big gulp of her drink and telling herself they couldn’t possibly make love again just yet.
Luca raised his head and smiled.
‘I love the way you joke while we make love,’ he said. ‘That word you used— “crikey”—it said so much I should have echoed it.’
He sipped his drink again and this time fed her lips with the taste of champagne from his tongue, but his hands were on her breasts, and her heart was pounding.
In a couple of effortless minutes Luca had readied her for love again, and her body called to him to take it and make his magic within it once more.
‘It should not be possible,’ he said, taking her hand in his and guiding it to the irrefutable evidence of his readiness. ‘You have potent powers, my beautiful Rachel. Too potent for resistance.’
But this time it was she who took the glass from his hand, and she who led the way along the path to their ultimate satisfaction, teasing him until he groaned with needing her, positioning herself so she took charge and brought them both to shuddering climaxes together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RACHEL woke to find sunlight flooding the big bedroom. Beside her, Luca still slept, his bronzed back turned towards her. Memories of the night they’d spent together brought heat to all parts of her body, while concern over what might happen next stirred uneasily in her stomach.
Shower! She’d find a shower. There were sure to be two in an apartment this size, so she wouldn’t have to use Luca’s en suite and wake him with the noise she was sure to make. Once clean she’d be able to think what to do next.
Would serviced apartments this luxurious come complete with bathrobes? Putting on the clothes she’d worn to work the previous day had no appeal at all. How could she have been so totally disorganised?
Muttering to herself, she left the room, tiptoeing quietly away down a short hall to a second bedroom which, to her delight, not only had an en suite but the requisite towelling robe.
She showered, washing her hair in shampoo far more expensive than the brand she normally used and lavishing the body creams she found in the bathroom all over her skin.
‘You smell like spring.’
Luca was in the kitchen and it was obvious that while she had revelled in the luxuries of his second bathroom he’d woken and made use of the first, for his hair was still damp and his cheeks shone with a freshly shaven look.
He was beautiful—not a good word for a man, but Rachel could find no other, especially not when her heart was racing and her lungs felt as if they’d never breathe properly again!
He was also wearing a matching bathrobe, which gave Rachel the impression she might not need clothes after all. This thought did nothing to calm her rioting pulse.
‘I’ve ordered breakfast to be delivered for us. The least I could do as I cheated you of dinner, but I can make coffee if you’d like it while you wait. Or juice? I have orange only, but can order whatever you would like.’
He sounded strangely formal, and the skittering sensation in Rachel’s heart changed to one of dread.
That was it? He was going to give her breakfast then say goodbye?
Panic attacked her and lest he guess her feelings—there’d been times she’d been sure he could read her mind—she walked away, over to the windows of the living room, pretending to take in the view of the ocean while in truth her eyes saw nothing. Or maybe her eyes saw but her brain didn’t register the view, too intent on trying to work out what to do next.
Then Luca was behind her, his hands on her shoulders—strong, warm and steadying.
‘You’re feeling sad? Uncomfortable perhaps? Please, don’t be embarrassed with me, Rachel, for we are friends, are we not? And what we shared—that was wonderful.’
His touch fired her senses but his words, which should have comforted, cooled her heating blood because, try as she might to make something more of them, they sounded like goodbye.
‘I won’t have breakfast. I’ll put some clothes on and go home.’ She could hear her voice breaking, and tried for levity. ‘I’ve bread for toast and plenty of peanut butter and jelly.’
‘You want to go?’
Luca sounded so astounded Rachel turned to look at him.
‘Don’t you want me to? Weren’t you saying goodbye just then?’
‘Saying goodbye? To the most incredible woman with whom I’ve ever made love? I don’t want to ever say goodbye! I want to keep you by me always—preferably in my bed. We are so well matched, Rachel, why would I say goodbye?’
Rachel’s misbehaving heart, which had picked up its dancing beat again when Luca had said he didn’t want to ever say goodbye and had then slipped back into morose mode when he’d talked of keeping her in bed, now settled to near normal, while her head began to work again.
There was no easy answer to his question, for how did you explain gut feelings? But ignoring that, what else was going on?
An affair—that’s what was going on.
Luca had left her to answer the door. Now he let in first a young man pushing a trolley laden with food, then a middle-aged woman pushing a rack on which hung a number of long, black plastic bags, no doubt covering Lucas’s shirts and suits—back from the laundry.
The two new arrivals were thanked, and no doubt tipped, though Rachel had turned back to the window. Then she heard the door shut, and Luca called her name.
He was unloading silver dishes from the trolley to the table, having pushed the rack of clothes to one side.
‘We’ll eat then you can see if some of the clothes from the shop downstairs fit you. I think we should spend some of our day exploring the city and I know you wouldn’t want to be wearing your yesterday’s clothes.’
I could have ducked home in them and changed, Rachel thought, but didn’t say because curiosity about what was in the plastic bags was vying with an uncomfortable feeling that she was in danger of becoming a kept woman. Breakfast was one thing—but dressing her? That was taking on a whole different dimension!
But how to tell him?
Bluntly!
‘I’m not happy with the clothes thing,’ she said, coming cautiously towards the table.
Luca looked puzzled.
‘I’m not trying to buy you, Rachel, merely being practical. If you don’t wish to, you don’t need to even look at the clothes. They’re from a shop in the foyer and can all be returned.’
He spoke stiffly and she knew she’d offended him, but she’d felt…not offended exactly but definitely uneasy, so she wasn’t going to apologise.
She reached the table, saw the food spread out on it and, in spite of lingering discomfort, had to laugh.
‘Well, you’ve certainly covered all the bases,’ she said, still chuckling as she saw not only crisp bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and pancakes, but toast, muffins, pastries and even small jars of peanut butter and je
lly. ‘Can you return what we don’t eat as well?’
Luca looked at the woman who smiled at him across the table. With her hair still damp from the shower, and the bathrobe revealing the slight swell of one breast, she was so enticing it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. Yet she didn’t seem to know it. She was edgy, and ill at ease, and he didn’t know how to make things right between them again.
At least the breakfast had made her laugh.
He walked around the table and held a chair for her while she sat down, the perfume of her body so potent he could feel his own body responding.
‘We must eat,’ he said, sliding one hand into the opening of her robe and cupping one full, heavy breast. ‘Or we won’t have the energy for more love-making.’
He was practically croaking, so great was his confusion and desire, but when she tipped her head up towards him and he saw her smile, he knew it would be all right.
For now!
For the future, he had no idea, for she was so different, this woman, to any other he had known. He dropped a kiss on her drying hair and murmured her name, then walked away before he could give in to the urge to scoop her into his arms and take her straight back to bed.
‘You’ll help yourself to what you like?’ he said, sitting down across from her.
‘Anything?’ she teased, and he knew from the glint in her eyes that she, too, was aroused.
‘Food!’ he reminded her. ‘Any of the food!’
‘And later?’
‘There will be time for other choices.’
He breathed more easily now, certain they were over whatever had caused her uneasiness earlier. But he must tread carefully because, more and more, he was realising that this woman was important to him.
‘This is wonderful,’ she announced, helping herself to pancakes and syrup and bacon and coffee, and eating with a gusto that made Luca smile. ‘I hadn’t realised how ravenous I was.’
She finished what was on her plate then she smiled at Luca.
‘Will you think me a terrible pig if I have a pastry with my second cup of coffee?’
‘I will think you honest, and delightful, as I usually do,’ he said, but when he saw colour sweep into her cheeks he wondered if he’d gone too far and hurried to cover his mistake.
‘I know you don’t like compliments, but I can’t help what I feel.’
Her eyes met his, then her gaze moved across his face, studying it as he often found her doing.
‘I could get used to the compliments,’ she said, her voice softened, he thought, by emotion. Then she smiled a cheeky smile that made his heart race, and added, ‘As long as they don’t get too over the top.’
‘Ah, over the top—you warned me of that the first day we met.’ He smiled back at her. ‘I hope I’m learning.’
She nodded, and bit into her pastry, watching him all the time. Luca thought it the most erotic action he’d ever seen.
‘If you don’t behave, we shall have to leave exploring Sydney for another day, and do some more exploring of each other instead,’ he warned, and she laughed, a natural, whole-hearted sound that made him feel less uncertain about the situation.
As it turned out, they did both, spending the morning back in bed then, after Rachel slipped home to change, getting a cab to a part of the city called The Rocks, where old warehouses had been turned into shops and galleries. They found a restaurant that looked out over the beautiful harbour and ate while ferries carried their passengers back and forth across the water and sleek yachts cruised beneath the famous bridge.
They returned, first to Rachel’s flat where, in a burst of practicality mixed with a welter of embarrassment, she shoved her toiletries and clothes for work the next day into a backpack, then left a note for Kurt.
‘I’m not too good at this affair stuff,’ she explained to Luca, as, her colour still high, they walked back down the stairs.
‘Will it be over the top if I say it shouldn’t please me but it does?’
He stopped her on the second landing and placed his hand on her shoulders, then kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘To me it means I must be a bit special to you.’
So special, Rachel’s heart murmured, though her lips were still. All day her love for Luca, revealed so unexpectedly the previous evening, had grown until she knew it had become a huge force in her life.
Common sense, when she could summon it, predicted hurt at the end of the ‘affair’, and cautioned her to hold back, but that was impossible. She was already committed and for now it was enough to enjoy the bliss of being with Luca, and the excitement and satisfaction his body could offer hers.
Back in his apartment, the rack of clothes mocked her from beside the door, and though curiosity prompted her to take a peek—to see what he’d ordered be sent up—she ignored it, refusing to let them worry her as they had earlier in the day.
‘We’ll go to the Spanish restaurant,’ Luca announced. ‘It’s a favourite with you so there will be no more putting it off.’
But first they had to shower and change, which took a while—the showering part far longer than the dressing, for they showered together and discovered how erotic it could be.
‘We won’t be showering together in the morning,’ Rachel warned Luca as he towelled her body dry. ‘If we did, we’d never get to work.’
‘We could wake earlier,’ he suggested, nibbling at the skin on her shoulder and sending new ripples of desire through her body.
‘Enough!’ she said, moving away from him. ‘We’ll never get to the Spanish place at this rate.’
But they did, and the proprietors greeted Rachel with their usual delight. She introduced Luca and the wife clucked over him, embarrassing Rachel by praising her to Luca.
‘She’s as bad as my mother,’ Rachel said, when the woman had bustled off to bring them drinks and menus.
‘Your mother would like you to be married?’ Luca asked.
‘My mother wants grandchildren,’ Rachel explained. ‘So badly it’s a wonder she hasn’t adopted some married couple purely so she could be a granny to their kids.’
‘But she must understand your reluctance, given what happened in the past. Is the sole responsibility for grandchildren on your shoulders? You have no siblings?’
‘Two,’ Rachel told him, holding up two fingers. ‘Two brothers, both adventurers who are far too busy tasting all life has to offer to tie themselves to wives and children.’
‘Do you feel being married and having children must necessarily be a tie?’
Their drinks arrived, giving Rachel time to study the man who’d asked the question.
And to think about the question!
Had it just been idle conversation, or was he asking something more?
Get real! she told herself. As if a man like Luca would be thinking marriage after one admittedly wonderful night in bed.
As if a man like Luca would be thinking of marriage with someone like her at all…
She answered the question anyway.
‘No, I don’t, though I must admit I haven’t given the subject much thought. Back when I was married and pregnant I knew I’d have to keep on working because we’d have needed two incomes to start saving for a house. There were good child-care facilities at the hospital so it wouldn’t have been a major problem.’
She paused, sipped her drink, then raised her shoulders and spread her arms in an I-don’t-know gesture.
‘Since then…’
Luca took her hand and held it on the table.
‘You’ve not wished to think about it. But it was what? Four years ago, I think you said. You’ve not a met a man since who made you think about it?’
Until now! Rachel thought, but she answered no, because she hadn’t thought about it.
And wouldn’t now.
‘But you would like children with a man you loved, or would being pregnant worry you? Would you worry about the same defect occurring?’
Crikey, he was persistent!
‘I don’t know, Luca, because I haven’t thought about that either.’
She spoke too bluntly, but images of dark-eyed babies with silky black hair had suddenly popped into her head and filled her heart with longing. She reached out and touched his hand.
‘That’s not entirely true,’ she admitted. ‘Since Bobbie’s operation—my involvement with him—and, to be honest, since my involvement with you, Luca, I have started to think about it—but that’s all I’ve done. I haven’t come to any conclusion, I guess because the thought of loss persists long after the pain diminishes.’
She paused then raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
‘But I owe you thanks, Luca, for at least making me think about it and, to that extent, releasing me from the past so I could become more than an onlooker on life,’ she said softly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the emotional cracks in her voice.
Maybe he had, for he squeezed her fingers then changed the subject, talking about an opal shop they’d visited at The Rocks—and where she’d refused to allow him to buy her an expensive piece of jewellery.
‘I couldn’t believe the colour in the stones,’ he said. ‘I’ll go back there to buy gifts for my mother and my sisters—they, too, will love the colours.’
A pause, then he added, ‘You’ll come with me and help me choose?’
‘Only if you don’t insist on buying me a gift as well,’ Rachel warned him, pleased to find the atmosphere between them had relaxed again.
Though perhaps Luca had been relaxed all the time and it had only been her who’d grown tense with the conversation about marriage and children.
Their meal arrived, the Spanish woman having decided what they’d eat.
‘She always does that,’ Rachel explained. ‘I know she gives the guests a menu, but whether they have the other dishes on it I don’t know, because she seems to take one look at me and decide what it is I need to eat.’
‘It’s delicious, and I’m glad she decided, for I’d have been far less adventurous,’ Luca said, spooning the soup-like stew into his mouth.
Rachel watched him, thinking of the magic that mouth had wrought on her body, feeling desire rise like a tide within her.
The Italian Surgeon Page 10