''I Do''...Take Two!

by Merline Lovelace

  Slow and delicious didn’t so much as pop into his head as he came out of his chair. All he could think of, all he could focus on, was his near-naked wife. The sheen of damp flesh above and below her towel sent his self-control into a frantic free fall. Her wet hair made him hurt with the need to bury his fists and his face in the tangled, silky mass. He was across the room in two strides. Had her backed against the wall in two more.

  “I don’t know what size sample you had in mind,” he got out in a low growl, “but I suggest we start here.”

  His mouth covered hers, hard and hungry. When he moved to her throat and nipped at the taut cords, his blood was hammering like a pile driver. He inhaled the scent clinging to her wet skin while he feasted on her.

  “Then we’ll work down to here...”

  He tugged the towel free, let it drop in a soggy pile at their feet. Cupping her breast, he teased the nipple with his thumb until it stiffened, then dipped to take the dusky peak in his mouth.

  “Oh, Travis.” Kate’s spine arched. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “It’s been so long.”

  He grunted a fervent agreement and shifted his attention to her other breast. Head back, neck arched, she let him take his fill until her skin flushed and her breath came in short pants. Wedging an elbow against his chest, she pushed him back a few inches. His heart damned near stopped until she gasped out an urgent demand.

  “You need...to get out...of those clothes.”

  He didn’t make it all the way to naked. Her feverish hands shoved down his jeans and shorts, but he barely got one leg free before she wrapped a fist around his already rampant sex. Her fingers were hot, tight, eager. His were every bit as greedy, parting her thighs, exploring her slick folds, matching her stroke for stroke until her brown eyes went wild and stormy.

  “Now, Trav. Now!”

  He didn’t need any further urging. Cupping her bottom, he raised her a few inches, bent a knee and positioned himself. Some last shred of sanity screamed at him to ease in. Slowly. Slowly. Wait for her to open. Take him in. Bring him home.

  Every muscle in his body quivered, every tendon strained. Then she hooked a calf around his thigh and ground her hips down on his. Somehow he managed to hang on long enough to pull out, thrust in. Then he shot her into the stratosphere with him.

  * * *

  Kate wasn’t sure what pierced her haze of sensual delight. Her first guess was the scratchy itch of textured plaster against her butt. Then again, it might have been the bony hips pinning hers to the wall or the hard chest mashing her breasts. One thing about Travis Westbrook, she thought ruefully as the last waves of pleasure dissipated. There wasn’t an ounce of soft or cushiony anywhere on the man.

  He’d dropped his forehead to hers. Another pressure point. She tried to adjust by angling her head and body a few degrees. The wiggle only dug his hips deeper into hers. He was still inside her, she realized belatedly, although how long that condition would last was questionable.

  “Travis.”

  “Unnngh.”

  “I’m going to have permanent marks on my back and butt.”

  His head lifted. “Huh?”

  “My butt. My back. The wall.”

  “Oh.” His hazel eyes went from semidazed to almost clear. “Right.”

  He eased away a few inches, taking her with him, and hefted her higher while somehow managing to kick free of the jeans still tangled around one foot. She swung up her right leg and caught her left to form a tight vise around his waist as he started for the bedroom. She clung to him, breathing in the sharp tang of his skin.

  The scent of him, the feel of him against her, rekindled her sluggish senses. By the time they reached the bed, she’d come alive again. Travis, however, barely got the bolster yanked down and Kate deposited on the sheets before he shed his shirt and shoes and collapsed in a boneless heap beside her. He lay sprawled on his back, long limbed and loose and wearing an expression she could only describe as goofy.

  Kate rolled onto her side and propped up on an elbow. As though it had a will of its own, her hand touched and explored and revived memories she’d tried so hard to suppress. The smooth curve of his shoulders, the barrel of his ribs, the ropy muscles of his thighs were as familiar as the nicks and dents he’d collected during a very active boyhood and vigorous manhood.

  He’d added a new one, she saw with a hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach. As she feathered a fingertip over the still-angry scar on his hip, the old fear grabbed her by the throat. She had to swallow hard before she could ask.

  “How did you get this?”

  He didn’t open his eyes or alter his lazy sprawl. “Lousy intel.”

  “I need more than that.”

  “We flew into a forward airstrip that wasn’t as secure as the locals swore it was. Rebels overran the field, and we had to get out of Dodge in a hurry.” He pried up one eyelid and angled a look at his hip. The chagrin in his voice tipped into disgust. “It was only a flesh wound, not much worse than a mosquito bite, but I bled all over the damned cockpit before we got back in the air.”

  She felt caught in the vise of her worst nightmare. She’d dreamed it so many times, with so many variations, and always in terrifying Technicolor. Perimeter forces under assault and falling back. Armed rebels swarming some unimproved dirt landing strip. Travis and his crew scrambling aboard, engines roaring to full power, props spitting up clouds of dust, bullets pinging off the fuselage.

  She wanted him out of that. So badly she hurt with it. But not unless he wanted it, too. She pushed up higher, her voice suddenly tight and urgent.

  “Be honest with me, Trav. Would you really be happy working with Brian Ellis?”

  He rolled onto a hip. He had both eyes open now. She saw the light from the windows reflected in their dark pupils, and absolute certainty in their hazel depths.

  “Yes, Katydid, I would.”

  “Then do it. Accept the offer. For me. Please.”

  He didn’t blink, didn’t question her abrupt change of mind and didn’t hesitate. “Consider it accepted.”

  With a small sob, she fell forward and buried her face in the warm skin of his neck. Joy flooded her, riding a crest of sheer relief. A distant corner of her mind warned that guilt would return later, but at that moment her heart had no room for anything but happiness.

  “I’ll call Brian tomorrow. And Colonel Hamilton,” he added. “I’d better tell the old man personally before he gets word via the grapevine.”

  “Yeah, you’d better.”

  Kate had got to know the colonel and his wife, socially and otherwise. Carol Hamilton served as mentor and confidante to spouses who faced the challenge of coping with sick kids and lost dogs and the frequent short-notice deployments of their husbands and wives. The vivacious brunette took those responsibilities as seriously as her husband did his.

  Although Colonel Hamilton would probably cut off his right arm before admitting to any favorites, Kate knew he considered Travis one of the best and brightest officers in his command. He would not be happy to hear Major Westbrook had decided to hang up his air force uniform.

  Travis didn’t seem particularly daunted at the prospect. His shoulder muscles bunching under Kate’s cheek, he slid a hand through her hair and tipped her head back.

  “I’ll put in the official request for separation from the air force as soon as I get back to Aviano. But not for you, Kate. For us.”

  When he lowered his head, his kiss smothered the doubt and loneliness and worry she’d lived with for so long. She knew flying was in his blood. Knew he would still strap himself into a cockpit and probably court more than his share of risks as Ellis Aeronautical Systems’ VP for test operations. But he wouldn’t be dodging surface-to-air missiles or taking off in a hail of bullets.

  Or would he?

  She jerk
ed her head back, her eyes wide with dismay. His filled with instant wariness.

  “What?”

  “This big modification you said EAS was working on with Lockheed. Will it require flying into hostile airspace to test it?”

  “Maybe. I can’t talk specifics at this point. I’m not cleared into the program and don’t know anything about it.”

  “Okay. All right.” She chewed the inside of her cheek and fought for calm. “Here’s the deal. I need to know what EAS’s VP for test and evaluation does. Specifically. I want statistics. Probabilities, if you can’t give me hard data. Or at least an estimate of the risk factors involved in testing the kind of aeronautical equipment EAS develops.”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand where she was going but did his best to deflect her aim. “For God’s sake, Kate. I’ll be overseeing a small army of engineers, test pilots, mechanics and technicians. If I log enough hours in the air every month to maintain my FAA certification, it’ll be a miracle.”

  “I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “I want to crunch the numbers. And don’t hand me the usual BS about the data being classified.”

  She expected him to protest that it wasn’t bull. She didn’t expect him to burst out laughing.

  “I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

  “You don’t, huh?”

  Still laughing, he took her with him as he fell back on the sheets. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, chins bumping.

  “How about the fact that we’re naked and in bed together for the first time in more weeks than I want to count and all you want to do is crunch numbers?”

  “Well...” She felt him hardening under her, and her body responded instinctively. Heat boiled low in her belly; her breath turned thick. “That’s not all I want to crunch.”

  “Do tell. Or better yet, show.”

  “I will,” she promised. Hiking a leg over his hips, she rolled upright again. “I most definitely will. But I want those numbers.”

  Travis would have promised her anything at that point. Spreadsheets crammed with EAS test data, diamond ankle bracelets, a cruise to the South Pacific, the yappy toy poodle she’d almost talked herself into some years back. At the time he’d cringed at the possibility one of his crew might spot him walking a white rat with pink bows and toenails on the end of a leash. Now he wouldn’t hesitate to parade the critter up and down the flight line if that was what it took to get Kate back.

  His mind and body soared. He had her in his arms, in his bed, in his life. He’d keep her there, whatever it took. And damned if this wasn’t the perfect start. She looked like a sea siren with her still-damp hair in wild tangles and a seductively wicked smile on her lips as she straddled him. He was determined to take it slow this time. He wanted to watch her skin flush with desire, see her back arch and her head go back as her pleasure mounted.

  Only after she’d climaxed in long, tight spasms did he grip her hips and let himself join her.

  * * *

  By the time she surfaced for the second time, a different but almost as compelling hunger gripped Kate. It made itself heard with an insistent rumble from the vicinity of her stomach.

  “I need pasta,” she moaned. “Lots of pasta!”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  Recovering far faster than Kate, Travis rolled out of bed with the lithe agility that had landed him a basketball scholarship to UMass.

  “We missed our reservation for dinner on the roof, but there’s a great little trattoria only a few minutes’ walk from here. Not fancy, but really good food.”

  “I’m in!”

  While he grabbed a quick shower, she cleaned up, made a valiant effort with her hair before dressing in khaki slacks and a bright red tank. She’d reached for her purse and was about to sling it over her shoulder when she decided to check her iPhone for messages.

  She had a bunch. Scrolling through the long list, she found five from work, one from Cassa di Molino and two from Dawn. The last came with an italicized subject header. CALL ME!

  Alarmed, Kate hit the re-call button. A dozen gory possibilities blazed through her mind while the phone buzzed. She was a bundle of nerves when Dawn finally answered with a breathless “Pronto.”

  “It’s me. I just saw your message. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just the opposite, in fact. You should see this villa! It’s like something out of Lifestyles of the Italian Rich and Famous.”

  Sagging in relief, Kate dropped onto the rumpled covers as Dawn continued. “It’s so over-the-top luxurious, Callie’s nervous as hell. She thinks we’ll be presented with a bill when we leave that we won’t be able to pay and we’ll end up in debtors’ prison.”

  “Debtors’ prison went out in the late 1800s,” Kate countered, but she understood Callie’s worry given the fact that her friend was currently unemployed.

  “How the heck can an Italian Air Force major afford a place like this?” Dawn wanted to know.

  “According to Travis, maggiore is only one of Carlo’s titles. He’s also a prince.”

  “Prince? Like in royalty or rock star?”

  “Royalty.”

  “Holy crap! Just like in the Three Coins in the Fountain movie. Is he as yummy as Louis Jourdan?”

  “I didn’t ask Travis for a physical description.”

  “What’s his full name? I’ll look him up on the internet.”

  Kate searched her mind. “I’m coming up blank on the last name, but I think he’s prince of Lombard and...” She scrunched her forehead. “And someplace else.”

  “Hold on! I have to tell Callie this!”

  Kate waited while Dawn related the news that their absent landlord was a real, live prince. Then Callie took the phone to discuss a far more important issue.

  “How’s it going with you and Travis?”

  “Good.” A pause, a sigh and a sappy smile. “Better than good.”

  “Want to share some details?”

  “I will. Tomorrow, I promise.”

  “You sound happy, Kate.”

  The soft observation brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away but couldn’t deny the joy behind them.

  “I am. And I’ve got so much to tell you and Dawn. But we’re just getting ready to go out and grab something to eat. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “You’d better! Ciao for now.”

  “Ciao.”

  Travis was waiting when she hurried out of the bedroom. Slinging her purse strap over her shoulder, she issued a hurried apology. “Sorry. I had to return an urgent call from Dawn.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She is. Mostly she just wanted to rhapsodize about Carlo’s villa. She was also as surprised as I was to hear you’re hobnobbing with royalty.”

  He answered with a shrug and the highest accolade he could bestow on a comrade in arms. “Prince or not, he’s solid. You ready?”

  * * *

  When they stepped out into night, she discovered that Venice in the moonlight was even more magical than in the bright light of day. The shimmering waters of the Grand Canal reflected a fat, glowing moon and the floodlit facades of its grand palazzi. The tall, narrow dwellings along the smaller side canals lost their slightly decrepit air of peeling plaster and displayed instead necklaces of brightly lit windows.

  With the ease of long habit, Travis slipped an arm around Kate’s waist and kept her close as they wove through tourists and locals out to enjoy a late dinner. Two turns, several twisting streets and three bridges later, they reached a tiny square bordered on three sides by residences, several of which featured business establishments on the ground floor.

  The Trattoria di Pesce was one of these establishments. A string of lightbulbs cast halos over its half dozen outdoor tables. Large plate-glass windows
showed an interior with rows of wooden booths dominated by shelves displaying red, black and green pasta in glass jars of every conceivable size and shape. At the very rear was a cutaway providing a glimpse of a kitchen with long strands of noodles hanging from wooden poles.

  “Trust me,” Travis said as they made for the trattoria. “This place serves the best crab tagliatelle in town.”

  “I’ll take your word for... Oh!” Kate stopped dead. “Listen!”

  Head cocked, she drank in the deep, rich notes of a cello. Spinning on one heel, she followed the dark, sensuous notes to the church that formed the fourth side of the square. Its doors stood open, spilling light and the cello’s deep tones. Moments later, other strings added their voices. A violin, a viola, another violin, then the cello again.

  “I think that’s a Rossini sonata,” she murmured in delight.

  “If you say so.” Eyes narrowed in the dim light, Travis squinted at a poster in a glass case beside the church’s open doors. “If I’m translating this right, it says students from Venice’s classical conservatory are performing here tonight.” He paused, gave the poster another squint and squared his shoulders. “The concert is free to the public. Do you want to slip inside and listen?”

  If Kate wasn’t already falling in love with her husband all over again, the heroic offer would push her over the edge. She and Travis shared so many passions. Walks in the pristine stillness of a fresh snowfall. Butter dripping from their chins while they pigged out on steamed lobster. The noise and mayhem when the Boston Bruins took to the ice. A mutual dedication to their work.

  Classical music, however, was not one of their shared interests. In all their years together, Kate had dragged her reluctant fiancé and then husband to a total of three symphony concerts. After the first, he’d lied like hell in an unsuccessful attempt to convince her he’d enjoyed the experience. After the second, he’d admitted he wasn’t quite there yet. Halfway through the third, his chin dropped to his chest and his snores took on the booming resonance of a tympanic roll. Kate had been forced to elbow him in the ribs throughout the rest of the concert to keep other members of the audience from zinging exasperated looks his way.