by Tamara Lush
“Rossi has a nephew?” Jill asked.
“Yeah, remember? He was the one I thought helped the victim at the plane crash. I think he’s just visiting here from Italy.” Sky shrugged, not wanting to appear too eager to find out more.
Jill tapped her ballet flat on the dingy newsroom linoleum. She was tall and wiry, with a dark bob flecked with grey strands. Her style was elegant and consistent: flowy black pants, a black tank top and a silver statement necklace. She looked more like a New York gallery owner than a hard-edged newspaper editor. Sky figured that Jill was in her mid-fifties and had been in newspapers forever. She had won a big prize for a wire service on a story about a corrupt southern governor, then had taken the job as editor of The Post a year before Skylar arrived. The Post was unusual for a community paper; because so many island retirees subscribed and so many businesses advertised, it enjoyed a larger staff than other publications its size. It won awards and was known in the industry as a training ground for good writers.
“Hmm. Okay. What are you doing today? You just sitting around the office? You’re not gonna find a story here.”
Sky blinked nervously. “I know. I’m leaving. Headed over to the police station to look at arrest reports and get some documents about that military surplus project. I also found out about a big vandalism case at the high school. The cops arrested some kids for smashing computers and spray-painting the gym.”
Jill made a satisfied sound. As she walked off, she pointed at Emily, who was strolling into the newsroom. “Skylar, talk to Emily about that story. Maybe those kids involved in the vandalism are athletes and we can turn it into a bigger article.”
“Hey, girl.” Emily came over and gave Sky a hug. Em was her best friend in the newsroom. They were both from New England. Em was three years older, and her accent made Sky homesick.
Em shoved aside a stack of newspapers and pointed to a copy of The Post. “Great story on Rossi. He’s hot for an older dude. If I wasn’t dating Jimmy, I’d ask you to introduce me.”
They both dissolved into laughter. Emily was tall and strawberry blonde, with a heart-shaped face and a tomboy’s body. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but she was sexy because she could make anyone laugh. She had dated guys of all ages, nationalities and persuasions, and she made no apologies for sleeping around. She thought Skylar should do the same. Jimmy was her latest conquest, but they seemed to be getting more serious now that they’d been together six months. Sky thought his big, boisterous personality matched Emily’s Irish-Boston feistiness.
“God,” Skylar said, “I haven’t seen you in what seems like forever. How was your vacation on Cape Cod? How’s your handsome cop boyfriend? Did he miss you? He helped me a lot on that plane crash. Took me behind the police tape so I could get close-up video of the plane with my phone.”
“Vacation was good. I missed Jimmy, though.” Emily leaned in to whisper, “We were reunited last night. And it ‘felt soooo good.’” Emily crooned the words to the old song then leaned in to add, “Do you know what he did with the handcuff—?”
Matt interrupted by emerging from the photo department. Sky rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.
“Sky, did you tell Em about Rossi’s nephew?”
“What?” Emily turned and pleaded for more information. “He has a nephew, Matt? Tell me, tell me, tell me.”
Skylar let out a dramatic sigh. “Yes, he has a nephew. Luca.”
Matt pinched Skylar’s arm and teased, “Yes, Luca. Tall, dark and handsome Luca. He looks like one of those European soccer players. Excuse me, futbol players. And I think he’s sweet on Skylar.”
Emily’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “You did not tell me this, Skylar Shaw. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Rossi has a nephew from Italy. He makes great espresso. That’s all I know.”
Emily and Matt stood over her, nodding and smiling and clearly not believing they’d gotten all the gritty details.
She burst out laughing. “Okay, he’s really hot,” she said. “Like, insanely hot. With an accent.”
And his kisses are wicked and erotic and addictive. Not that I’m going to tell you that. Yet.
Matt’s cell rang and he wandered away, muttering something about how American guys never got any respect. When he did, Skylar leaned toward Emily and spoke in a stage whisper.
“Get this. I’m going out with Luca tonight.”
Em grinned. “Sweet! Finally, you’re going on a date. Where’s he taking you? He must be loaded if his uncle’s any indication.”
Skylar shuffled some papers, trying to straighten her slovenly desk. Should she tell Em about the hot kiss in his pool? About the kiss after the interview? She wasn’t positive she’d let this date go where Luca obviously wanted, and Emily would push hard for information.
“He invited me for dinner.”
“Ooh. Romantic. Very serious for a first date. How’s his English? Or will you be mostly using body language?”
No, she would definitely keep the kiss private. For now.
She smiled at her friend. “His English is perfect.”
“And do you feel safe being alone with him? I know you’re wary after Douchey McDoucherson from Boston.”
Skylar frowned. She hadn’t told Emily all that much about James, only that they’d had a bad breakup. And that he’d been rough with her once. Still, she was glad her friend was looking out for her.
“Yeah, I feel safe with Luca, but it’s weird. I looked into his background and did a full Google search and didn’t find anything. In fact, I checked him out twice. Once, right after I met him, and then again when I found out his last name and that he’s Rossi’s nephew.”
And not finding anything about him online bugs me even more because I know he has something to hide.
“Nothing? No Facebook? No Twitter? No arrests?”
Skylar shook her head.
“Bankruptcies? Back child support orders? Photos of him posing with baby tigers?”
Skylar laughed. “Nope.”
“Hmm. Let’s see. You said he was from Italy, right?”
“Yeah. Naples. He’s a grad student.”
“Then you need to do a search in Italian. Make sure your language filters are set the right way and you’ll only get Italian results. I’ll bet you were searching only in English.”
Skylar shook her head, annoyed at herself. “That’s a good idea. Hopefully I’ll have time after I go to the police station and before dinner. Thanks, Em. I should have thought of that.”
Her friend squeezed her arm. “Sky? Text me when you leave tonight and when you get home, okay? I’ll be at Jimmy’s, so if you need us we’re around. Or, text me to let me know you’re having a hot time and are staying over at his house. I definitely want to hear all about those details. I’ve never been with an Italian man. Yet.”
Skylar nodded and huffed out a little laugh, but anxiety gripped her stomach. Luca definitely planned to end their evening in bed, but she had other ideas. It was still too soon.
CHAPTER TEN
Skylar paused at Luca’s door. Looking down, she ran her hands over her hips and down her thighs, smoothing her long, light pink cotton dress. It had spaghetti straps, hugged her curves and didn’t make her feel fat.
Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell. A half-minute later, Luca pulled open the door. He wore khaki cargo shorts and a white linen button-down that set off his olive skin. No shoes. He looked younger, probably because his shave was so precise and his skin looked so perfectly soft. She imagined pressing her nose and lips to it.
His green-gray eyes glittered as he smiled down at her. “Skylar. I’m glad you’re here.”
He reached for her hand, pulling her into his body and enveloping her into a hug after he shut the door. She closed her eyes as she inhaled his lime-spice scent. He touched his palm lightly to her cheek and planted a brief kiss on her lips. It was such a small gesture, but the feel of his mouth lingered on hers, tingling.
�
��Come.” He drew away and led her by the hand into the kitchen, then out a door to the pool deck where they had shared their first kiss. He ushered her to a glass table under a navy blue umbrella where a candle flickered inside a hurricane lamp.
“Do you think it’s too hot to eat outside?” he asked.
She shook her head, feeling unusually shy. “No. It’ll be nice to see the sunset. Let’s stay outdoors.”
“Excellent. Why don’t you sit and I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” He pulled a chair away from the table and motioned for her to sit. “Here.”
She sank into the navy blue cushion and, as she slung her purse over the chair back, watched him walk off. Luca seemed nervous tonight also, maybe as nervous as she felt.
She hadn’t paid much attention to it the night of the plane crash, but she looked around the deck and found it decorated in white rattan furniture with blue accents. The soft strains of chill, downtempo music floated from a speaker resting on a small table, and she became mesmerized by the rhythm and by the shimmer of the pool’s blue water. Her index finger went to her lips and she touched them quickly, as if to confirm the heat on them was from Luca’s mouth.
He returned with the wine and two glasses then uncorked the bottle. The cork made a small pop when he pulled, and he poured with an expert, fluid motion. His hands were strong, with long fingers. Skylar shivered when she imagined them entwined with her hair. Holding her wrists above her head, her body pressed into a bed with his weight.
“Cento anni,” he said, and they clinked glasses.
She took several small sips of the bubbly liquid. “Oh, it’s not wine. Champagne?”
“It’s prosecco. Like champagne, only Italian.”
“It’s delicious.”
“When it’s paired with peach nectar it’s called a Bellini.”
Would she ever stop swooning at the sound of his accent?
“I’ve never had a Bellini. It sounds yummy.”
“They’re perfect for breakfast. That’s on the menu tomorrow morning.”
So, he was indeed already planning a sleepover. An eternal optimist, apparently. She maintained her small smile as he grinned wider.
“I wanted to tell you again that I liked your articles. You’re really busy. You did a good job on the story about my uncle. He seemed like a tough guy to interview.”
“Why do you say that?” She tilted her head, her skin tingling at his praise.
“He’s very…I don’t know, commanding. Authoritative. But you showed a lot of confidence when you interviewed him. I was impressed.”
Was she confident? People had told her that before. She guessed she projected confidence because of years of yoga classes and meditation at her mother’s studio. Inside, she wasn’t so sure.
“Thanks. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a reporter. I love to write. And I’m nosy. But you know that.”
He laughed. “What’s the weirdest story you’ve written here so far?”
“Hmm. That’s tough. You mean, other than the orchid lady? And the one about your uncle, who talked about everything from dog food to smoking lawsuits to his torts class in law school?”
Luca grinned and rolled his eyes. “Federico’s a trip.”
“I’d have to say the weirdest story was about an alligator and a python getting into a death match at the Palmira Preserve on the north end of the island. Have you been there? It’s an interesting place. It’s a swamp. It’s wild. A lot of Florida used to be like that before developers drained and filled and paved everything.”
“Wait, what? An alligator? And a python? Got into a fight? No way.”
She spun to rummage through her purse, extracting her phone. “Yep. I have photos. The fish and wildlife officer emailed them to me. This happened about a month ago.”
When she leaned over to show him the photos, he wrapped his hand around hers that held the phone and tilted the screen toward him. His hand was so much bigger than hers.
“See? The python was thirteen feet long and the gator was six. Nobody won.”
“That’s not funny. But it is.” Luca chuckled, and she guessed this wasn’t typical date conversation for him. He leaned back and sipped his prosecco. “You said you grew up in New England. Why did you want to leave your family and come all the way down here?”
She gave him a look. “And you say that I ask a lot of questions. Sheesh.”
He winked.
“My mom died when I was seventeen.”
His mouth dropped open, and he reached down to squeeze her knee. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she smiled. “It’s okay.”
He squeezed her knee harder.
“How did she die, Skylar? She must have been young.”
Skylar was surprised by the tenderness in his voice as she launched into her stock answer, trying to sound breezy yet appropriately sad. The truth was, she was still devastated and rarely allowed anyone to know.
“She was young. Only thirty-eight. She died of melanoma.”
“Wow. That’s really awful. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My mom was amazing. She raised me to be strong. So I’m strong.” Skylar took a deep breath and mustered a grin. She always did that when she thought people pitied her because of her unlucky life. Smile and fight on. “And I don’t mind answering questions, unlike some people.”
It was her turn to wink at him.
“Okay, Skylar Shaw—your name is very sexy, do you know that?—I’ll ask you all the questions I want.”
Skylar said nothing, but God, was Luca adorable.
“How about your dad?”
“I never knew him. He left my mom when she was pregnant with me.”
Luca nodded silently and looked into his glass.
Skylar swallowed, annoyed at herself. God, she was a downer. She wasn’t going to get into the whole story about how her parents met at a music festival, fell in love, blah blah blah. How her dad ran out on her mom shortly after she was born. No. This wasn’t first date material at all. But if it no longer bothered her, it wasn’t worth talking about. She believed in forgetting about the past and moving on whenever she could, because if she didn’t, the panic and sadness would catch up to her.
“Brothers or sisters?” Luca asked.
Skylar shook her head.
“So, no brothers and sisters, no mother and father. How can you afford to live on such a wealthy island on a reporter’s salary? Are you an heiress?”
She looked at him, not sure if she was surprised or amused. “Wow. You really are asking a lot of questions. You should be a reporter.”
He grinned and licked the side of his mouth.
She shrugged. “Because of my grandmother’s condo, which I think I told you. I’m living rent-free, which is pretty awesome. I love it here. I used to come here as a little girl on winter break, so Palmira already feels like home to me.” She sipped her prosecco, trying to stay casual. “You know, Luca, I feel like I’m being interviewed. I’m usually the one who asks the questions. I think you know my life story now. And what about you? I don’t know anything about you.”
He leaned over and brushed a quick kiss on her lips. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
* * *
“Mia cara, siediti sulla sdraio per favore. That phrase in Italian means, ‘my dear, please sit on the chaise.’”
Skylar was a little tipsy from the prosecco and the bottle of white wine they had shared over dinner. The pasta, little tube shapes bathed in simple red tomato sauce, had been out-of-this-world tasty. And the flow of Luca’s Italian made her full with desire. He had peppered their dinner conversation with words and phrases.
As they talked, her words tumbled out of her mouth and her voice notched up a half-octave. She laughed a lot, and everything he said seemed fascinating. When he launched into a long explanation of how he made the pasta sauce, she nodded, rapt, then realized she had never before been so interested in the topic of tomatoes.
“Am I that obvious?” He grinned.
“Yeah. You are. I think you’re trying to seduce me with food and your language.”
That made him laugh, hard.
He didn’t, however, seem eager to talk about his family or his work. She did find out some details about him, things that were interesting and curious and so very sexy: He loved old Superman comic books, he disliked peanut butter, he’d run the Boston Marathon when he was in boarding school.
Skylar quickly texted Emily, telling her everything was going well, then moved over to the wide chaise lounge as Luca picked up their plates to bring them inside. She kicked off her wedge sandals.
Luca paused at the foot of the chaise as she wriggled around, trying to get comfortable. “I saw that you post a lot on Twitter, and not just about news stories.”
“Stalking me on social media again?” she teased.
“Maybe.”
“The paper wants me to tweet stories and news tidbits. We’re told to ‘build our brand’ as journalists.”
He nodded. “Right. ‘Your brand.’ Um, I don’t do social media at all, and I’d like to ask you not to post anything about me. Okay?”
Weird, she thought as he laughed and walked away. What was that supposed to mean?
She finished her wine, enjoying her buzz, mulling many questions. Luca was so private, but he seemed interested in her life, which was a welcome change from James. Never had a guy been so curious about her. She wondered about Luca’s motives, but that thought instantly made her sad. Maybe this was how relationships were supposed to be. With James, he was always the star, sucking up all the attention, never caring about the details of her life.
Luca returned with a bowl of strawberries in his hand and sat next to her on the chaise. It was dark now, and he had lit several candles in different hurricane lamps around the deck. She studied his face, captivated. His dark brows, his strong nose, the distinct angle of his jaw under his ear—everything about Luca was so masculine.