Love Capri Style

by Reynolds, Lynn

  At a designated time, Stacey’s assistant stepped up and announced that the Q & A session was at an end and invited everyone to spend the evening dining and dancing.

  Eric and Stacey strolled out of the ballroom and into Franco’s huge dining room.

  “Is she here?” Stacey murmured to Eric.

  Amanda had drifted over to a table of cold hors d’oeuvres with Zeke, who was stuffing his face like a pig about to be roasted.

  Eric gave a surreptitious nod in their direction. “In the white dress with the lemons on it.”

  “How cute,” Stacey said, a trifle dismissive.

  “I thought so when I bought it for her,” Eric retorted.

  Stacey turned on him with a look of alarm. “What are you? An Arab sheikh? You might want to tone down your tactics, Ric, before you frighten the girl away.”

  “She’s already pretty frightened,” Eric conceded. “She thinks I’m toying with her. That’s why I need you to talk to her.”

  Stacey thrust a hand on her hip. “But you’re not toying with this one? That would be a switch for you.”

  Eric fixed her with a scolding stare. “Toying is not what I do.”

  Stacey pursed her lips. “You should ask some of your ex-girlfriends about that.”

  “Thank you. I’d rather not,” Eric snapped. “Will you talk to her for me or not?”

  Stacey continued to eye him with a look of astonishment. “Are you sure you want me to do this? When we’ve kept this under wraps for nearly a year now?”

  “I don’t want her to think—” Eric stopped himself. He didn’t what? Didn’t want her to think she’d be another short-term affair? To tell her otherwise would be deceitful. He’d never lied to a woman. They knew going into a relationship with him that it would be about one thing and one thing only. If Amanda wasn’t prepared for something that shallow, he ought to leave her alone.

  Across the crowded room, he saw her talking to the Australian reporter again. She laughed at some remark and then popped a tiny canapé into her mouth. Her movements exuded an unconscious grace that was a delight to behold. She glanced away from her colleague, right into Eric’s eyes. He met her gaze and smiled warmly in spite of their public location. Hurriedly, Amanda turned her attention back to the other reporter, but her eyes kept flitting in his direction. She flushed and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

  Eric grinned, then turned away first, before they both made spectacles of themselves. He discovered Stacey staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

  “That’s not a good look for you,” he told her.

  He didn’t see why she was ogling him in that way. All he’d done was smile at a pretty girl. Nothing serious.

  EIGHT

  All night, he’d been watching her from a distance. Amanda could hardly move without sensing his eyes on her. The first time, when she’d been speaking with Judy, the Australian reporter, Amanda had glanced up and almost staggered back at the hunger in Eric’s sapphire eyes. Perhaps it had been a mistake to wear one of “his” dresses; seeing her in it could only add to his possessive nature. And then too, she’d walked away from him this afternoon. That probably made a man like Eric absolutely nuts. It had made Amanda nuts, for entirely different reasons. The yearning that had troubled her since that night on the hillside had never subsided, and his surprising confession had broken down most of the barriers she’d built up in her mind.

  Then came her bizarre encounter with the force of nature known as Stacey Dakota. That took care of any remaining reservations.

  Amanda had been listening to a jazz quartet down in Franco Battali’s gardens. Afterward, she drifted back into the house through the French doors that opened into the Grand Ballroom. Zeke remained outside to take some photos of the party guests in the gardens, which was fine with Amanda. It gave her more time to ponder Eric’s story about Stacey. She could always make a conscious choice to believe him and worry about the consequences later. That’s what her heart wanted her to do. She wanted to believe Eric was an honest man who’d been forced into an awkward position by his own loyalty to family.

  When the jazz group took a break, Amanda wove through the crowd, heading towards the staircase and the upstairs bathrooms. Suddenly someone thumped right into her back with a loud grunt and knocked her off balance.

  Amanda stumbled, twisting her ankle in her high-heels. She whimpered and bent down to rub her foot.

  The other person squeezed her shoulder and spoke up. “I’m so sorry!”

  Amanda looked up to see Stacey Dakota hovering over her. She stood up straight and managed a tight, polite smile. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You should get off those shoes and go put your feet up!”

  Amanda got the feeling that everything Stacey said would end in lots of exclamation points, probably with little round smiley faces on the bottom.

  “Maybe later.” Amanda tried to wave the woman away. She should use this as an opportunity to interview Stacey on the spot, but she just wanted to escape from the statuesque singer. Real or not, an image of Stacey in Eric’s arms had burst into Amanda’s brain and wouldn’t go away.

  They were so much better suited to each other. How could he not want Stacey? Another spoiled rich kid like himself, Stacey was someone who hung out with the international jet set. She was a pretty redhead with a model-perfect body—slender and leggy, not all round and bumpy and slightly overweight like Amanda. Stacey was also quite tall, Amanda realized as she straightened and tried to stand on her twisted ankle. She was probably almost as tall as Eric. Zeke had once said they made a striking couple, and now Amanda could see he was right. Why was she even thinking about pursuing Eric? Besides Stacey, there were about two-dozen willowy actresses and pop singers and models at this party. Any one of them would be a more attractive match for Eric.

  “You should get off your feet,” Stacey insisted. She looped her arm through Amanda’s and forcibly dragged her towards the huge foyer and the staircase. “Here, at least let me help you upstairs.”

  Amanda ground to a halt. “I don’t need help.”

  “Yes, you do!” Stacey dragged Amanda forward and pressed her mouth close to Amanda’s ear. “I think he likes you an awful lot.”

  Amanda jerked her head away and stared at her companion. “Who?”

  The blood roared in her ears so loudly she could hardly hear Stacey’s answer.

  “Listen, he’s had a few flings since this whole masquerade started, but he never asked me to talk to one of them for him.”

  “Who do you mean?”

  Stacey looked around them. They’d moved into the foyer, and although it wasn’t crowded, a number of reporters stood in a knot near the front entrance. “I’d rather not say out loud.”

  Amanda nodded that she was okay with that.

  “He’s been a real mope since meeting you,” Stacey declared.

  “So he sent you to what? Talk me into having sex with him?”

  Stacey bobbed her head up and down and giggled. “Basically, yeah.”

  “He seems to have control issues.” Once again, she didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. That was becoming a pattern in her relationship with Eric.

  “Boy, you’ve got him pegged all right.” Stacey laughed. “Does that bother you?”

  “A little,” Amanda admitted.

  “See if you can work on it with him.” Stacey wrapped Amanda’s arm in hers again. “He’s gotten worse since his brother died. It’d be good if someone could make him snap out of that before it becomes a way of life. You might be the person.”

  “I thought he wanted you to talk me into having sex with him, not reforming his bad habits?”

  Stacey waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, well, he thinks that now. But us girls know better, right?”

  Stacey released Amanda’s arm and pointed up the stairs. “I’m going to the little girl’s room. You?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I need to catch up to my photographer. I’ll go
up in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Stacey wiggled her fingers. “I’ll see you later. Or maybe I won’t. Wow, this has been so cool. I feel like I’m your fairy godmother. Or sister. Fairy godsister! How cool is that?!”

  She winked and then scrambled up the huge curving staircase. After she’d gone, Amanda shook herself and massaged her temples. She reeled as if she’d been hit by a high-speed train, one nearly six feet tall and dressed in red satin.

  After her unexpected chat with Stacey, Amanda went on the lookout for a chance to talk to Eric. She couldn’t decide whether to scold him for inviting a friend to interfere in their blossoming affair—or whatever their relationship could be called. But she knew she was sick of over-analyzing the meaning of their attraction to each other. Whatever Eric wanted from her, she was ready and willing to offer it up. Afterward, she could put the memory behind her and move on with her life.

  Over an hour passed before Amanda spotted Eric again. When she did, he was in the company of an Italian opera singer and the dreaded Senator Harkness. That seemed like the wrong time to confront him about enlisting Stacey in his cause. Instead, she went to chat with a couple of fashion designers who’d worked on the wardrobe for Stacey’s new show.

  “Hey, Jackson.” Zeke trudged over to her as she finished speaking with the designers. He was loading a memory card into one of four cameras he’d brought along, and barely looked up as he walked. How he avoided plowing into people was beyond Amanda’s understanding.

  “Zeke?” she said as he stopped beside her.

  “Deadline in three hours.”

  She’d forgotten all about it. Dan wanted pictures from this party to feature in Fame’s next issue. Zeke and Amanda would need to sort through the photos and her notes and get some coherent information together very fast.

  “I was hoping to catch up to Jason Everest.” At least he was no longer in the senator’s company.

  “That would be good,” Zeke agreed. “Maybe let’s go hunt him down and hang out for another hour or so.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Together, they traipsed off in search of more celebrities. Amanda was glad to have a new mission on which to focus, but she still found herself wondering if she’d get a chance to speak with Eric before leaving.

  ***

  Everest kept trying to make a pass at Amanda. Zeke was having a big laugh watching her try to divert the actor back to the subject of movies—or anything that didn’t involve Amanda giving the guy her phone number. Exasperated, she cut the interview short. “I think I have all that I need, Mr. Everest,” she told him.

  “Call me Jason.” He leered at her and winked.

  “Thanks, Mr. Everest. I have a few more interviews to do. We’ll talk another time.”

  Zeke continued to snicker as they walked away.

  “That’s enough out of you.”

  “Kiddo, you gotta figure out how to use what you’ve got. Men are falling all over you, and you don’t even bat an eye.”

  “You don’t fall all over me.”

  “Sugar, I’ve got three ex-wives,” Zeke grunted. “I don’t fall over any woman anymore. But you should be thinking about how you can use this to the magazine’s advantage.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Think of the in-depth interviews you could get with some of these celebs, Jackson. Everest was foaming at the mouth for you. And Greyford looked like he was gonna tear your dress off at that gelato place the other day.”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  Zeke shrugged. “A smart girl like you should know how to use what she’s got. Man, my wives sure did.”

  Amanda tapped her foot impatiently. “Do you have more photographs to take?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m going down to the front gates so I can take some panoramic shots of the villa lit up at night,” he said. “For my own collection. I don’t think Dan’s gonna see any value in artistic shots of an Italian villa.”

  “Go on, then. I’m sick of making small talk with the rich and famous. I’m going to go find a buffet table and add a few more inches to my hips.”

  Zeke chuckled. “Some men like that, Kiddo. Better watch out or Senator Harkness’ll be after you next.”

  “Go away, Zeke. I’ll see you back here in the foyer in an hour.”

  Amanda drifted out to the terrace and strolled around to the back. The side that faced out onto Monte Solaro was much less crowded than the sea side. She spotted a tray of desserts and picked up a small lemon tart. Nibbling at the crusty corners of the pastry, she sat down on a wrought iron bench in a quiet corner. She needed to focus on work, but her mind had been on autopilot ever since her encounter with Stacey. The whole time Amanda had been speaking with Jason Everest, she’d been wondering where Eric was and whether he could see her talking to this renowned heartthrob—and whether that made him at all jealous. How infuriating to want a man this much. She should go catch up to Zeke and return to her room early.

  Amanda stood up and brushed pastry crumbs from her skirt. As she turned to make her way back into the house through a pair of French doors, Eric emerged from them in the company of Senator Harkness. The two men spoke in ponderous voices about the need for a global plan to protect wilderness areas. Weirdly, Amanda found it exciting to hear Eric talking that way. She liked knowing that he wasn’t the man of his public image—an empty-headed pretty boy who could only think about sex and sports and parties. Amanda plopped back down on the bench and made a pretense of refastening the ankle straps on her shoes, eavesdropping while obscuring her face from the pompous senator.

  “Good talking to you, Eric,” Senator Harkness said. “Always happy to help your cause.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’d better go track down my wife.” The senator sighed, his tone one of grudging resignation.

  “Yes, sir,” Eric agreed. “Are your daughters coming to the concert tomorrow night?”

  “They’ve been shrieking with anticipation for days.”

  “Bring them backstage after the show, and I’ll introduce them to Stacey.”

  “Wonderful! They’ll be thrilled. See you then, Eric. Tell your father I asked after him.”

  “I’ll do that, Senator,” Eric replied.

  From her position crouched over her shoes, Amanda heard the senator’s footsteps tapping on the marble terrace as he hurried away.

  “Enjoying a bit of spying, are you?”

  Eric’s polished black tuxedo Oxfords came into view. Amanda straightened slowly, enjoying the chance to appreciate his athletic physique decked out in that perfectly tailored tux.

  “He’s a senator. Might have been worth a good quote or two.”

  She let go of her ankle strap and grinned up at him. The hard angles of his jaw softened as he broke into a tender smile. He raised a crystal tumbler of Scotch to his lips and sipped from it.

  “I can’t stand to watch you from a distance much longer.” His eyes raked up and down her body, leaving Amanda feeling as if he’d stripped her bare right there on the balcony. And she loved it. She wanted him to make her feel this way all the time—beautiful and sexy and desirable.

  “Likewise,” she told him, but her voice sounded hoarse and awkward in her own ears. She wondered if he’d noticed. He didn’t seem put off by it if he had.

  Eric drank from the tumbler again and peered over the rim of the glass, his eyes saying positively obscene things to her. Their message settled deep in her core, where the maddening heat had once again begun to build. She’d never be able to say no to him tonight.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” He placed his glass on the balcony rail and sat down beside her. Without warning, he swept her leg up onto his lap. Amanda glanced all around in chaotic embarrassment. To her surprise, they were the only two left on this part of the terrace.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  “I imagine they’ve all flocked to the Grand Ballroom to hear Stacey sing,” Eric replied, running a hand up and down
Amanda’s calf in a leisurely manner. “Franco persuaded her to sing a few songs with that pianist from the British pop band that’s opening for her tomorrow night. She should start in a few minutes. I advised her to save her voice, but Franco’s opinion appears to carry more weight these days.”

  He furrowed his brow and then shrugged.

  “I was going to be angry at you for unleashing Stacey on me,” Amanda said.

  “You were?”

  “But now I think it was kind of sweet.”

  “Sweet, am I?” Eric’s eyebrow darted up. As he continued to massage her calf, the strokes became deeper and traveled higher. Amanda gripped the sides of the bench, fighting an urge to throw back her head and moan out loud. Eric’s hands slipped under her skirt and lingered on her thigh, making his intentions clear.

  “Eric!” Amanda gasped. “Someone could come.”

  A crooked, conspiratorial smile turned his lips up. “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “Someone could definitely come. Perhaps we should move into the library.”

  He nodded towards the French doors, and then cast an inviting glance back at Amanda.

  Her heart beat so fast, it must be audible to him. This was what she’d decided she wanted, wasn’t it? To give in to the persistent ache, to simply learn what it would be like with him—and then to part forever when they left Capri. Any smart, modern woman would say yes to this fantasy. Dan certainly would.

  ***

  Eric hadn’t done a rash thing in many months, so perhaps he was overdue. Perhaps that was why he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her lips, even though he knew anyone could have stumbled upon them as he did so.

  “We can always talk for a bit,” he teased.

  Amanda leapt to her feet, beautiful in her quick display of temper. “Don’t start that taking it slow nonsense again. If you’re still playing that game, I’m leaving.”

  She turned, the wide skirt swirling around her and revealing her well-formed thighs. She moved towards the door and placed a hand on the knob.