Romano's Revenge

by Sandra Marton

  "No," both men growled.

  Susannah nodded. "Just checking," she said pleasantly.

  Silence fell over the table. Something was wrong, all right.

  Lucy could almost see the hostility in the air. Matthew looked furious, and Joe-Joe looked even worse. His face was all sharp planes and angles, his mouth a thin, hard line.

  "Well," Susannah said after a minute, "Joe? Has Lucy seen your boat?"

  "No." He said it with finality but that didn't stop Susannah, whose brows lifted.

  "You mean, he hasn't taken you for a grand tour of Lorelei yet, and shown you what a beauty she is?" She grinned. "And if that isn't enough, Matthew gets to retaliate by asking you to board Enchantress so he can tell you the very same thing."

  Nobody spoke. Lucy looked at Matthew. His eyes were shuttered, his mouth tight. She looked at Joe. A muscle twitched, high in his cheek.

  "The Romano brothers surely love their sailboats," Susannah said with artificial good cheer. "Don't you, guys?"

  Still, no one spoke. Lucy looked at Susannah and loved her for trying so hard to overcome whatever had happened in their absence. Susannah looked at her. Say something, her eyes pleaded.

  Lucy cleared her throat. "Well," she said into the silence, "what's the difference between the two? Between Enchantress and-what was it? The Laurel?"

  She gasped as Joe grabbed her hand. "Her name is Lorelei," he snarled. "Lorelei. Is that so difficult to remember?"

  "No," Lucy said in surprise, "not really. I simply-"

  "There's nothing simple about you, babe. Nothing at all."

  His hand clamped around her wrist; she winced as he shot to his feet and all but dragged her up with him. Dimly, she was aware of conversation stopping at the tables around them, of Matthew half rising from his seat, of Susannah stilling him with a touch of her hand.

  "Let go of me," Lucy said. "Joe, dammit-"

  "That's what she's best at," Joe said, glaring at his brother. "You wanted to know who she was, where she comes from, what she does? Well, this is what she does. She argues. She gives me orders."

  "Romano, you-you loud-mouthed brute-"

  "She calls me names and drives me crazy." Joe leaned forward and banged his fist on the table. "That's what she does, damn her, and I'm tired of it!"

  "Listen," Matthew said, "Joe, take it easy. Just calm down, okay? Just-"

  "I'm frigging tired of it," Joe snarled, and strode off.

  It would have been a great exit, but he was still holding Lucy by the wrist. And he was taking huge steps, so that she had to run to keep up with him.

  "Stop it," she hissed as he hurried her through the dining room. She tried not to look at the faces that turned to watch their passage, all those stares and wide eyes. "Romano, for heaven's sake-"

  "Heaven has nothing to do with this," he said as she stumbled after him.

  She was right, though. People were staring, and that only made his temper run hotter.

  "What are you looking at?" he demanded of a man at a table as they rushed past.

  "Why, nothing," the man stammered, "nothing at all."

  But Joe wasn't listening. He wasn't thinking, either; somewhere, deep inside his brain, where a semblance of sanity still remained, he knew that. His thought process had been skewed all to hell, and it was Lucy's fault.

  It was her fault because she was supposed to act like his fiancée, but she hadn't. That was why Matthew had started asking all those damned questions. Because Lucy hadn't kept her end of the deal. She'd blown it. She hadn't sat close to him, hadn't smiled into his eyes, hadn't touched his hand or laughed at his jokes...

  Not that he'd told any jokes, he thought grimly as he shoved open the glass doors that led out onto the dock. Hell, how could a man tell so much as a one-liner when the woman seated beside him wasn't doing her part? Wasn't pretending to belong to him? Wasn't melting against him, the way she had when he'd kissed her at the foot of the stairs tonight. Wasn't sighing his name, touching his face, trembling in his arms?

  Oh, yeah. Matthew had caught on, thanks to Lucy. "What's the deal here, man?" he'd said the minute the women had gone to the powder room.

  "What deal?" Joe had replied, looking his brother straight in the eye.

  "Don't try and con me," Matt had said sharply. "You're no more engaged to that woman than I am. Who is she, and what's going on?"

  So Joe had told him, or he'd tried to. He'd explained about Nonna, and about her matchmaking, and Matthew had listened, and nodded; he'd even laughed when Joe explained the plan, that he'd pretend he was involved with Lucy in order to teach Nonna a lesson.

  Except, then, Matt had said, well, the plan would backfire, that Nonna would come to accept his having a fiancée who couldn't cook and wasn't Italian and what would Joe do then?

  And Joe, who'd spent the evening watching Lucy act as if she didn't want him, felt the swift, sudden kick of anger in his gut and demanded to know what in hell business that was of Matthew's.

  Matt's face had gone white and he'd said, "It's my business because you're my brother. And it looks to me as if this babe has you buffaloed."

  And Joe, who knew he'd brought on those words, who'd thought them a zillion times himself, had gone nuts.

  He didn't remember much, just jumping to his feet, reaching across the table, grabbing Matt by his stupid bow tie, and then a couple of waiters had come scurrying over.

  And, dammit, it was all Lucy's fault.

  Joe spun around, grabbed her by the shoulders. "We had an arrangement," he said.

  "You let go of me, Romano."

  "You were supposed to make my brother think we were engaged."

  "He does think we're engaged, more's the pity."

  "Not anymore, he doesn't."

  "Good. I'm glad you told him the truth." Lucy struggled and twisted, trying to get free. "They're such nice people, your brother and his wife. How could you lie to them that way?"

  "It wasn't a lie, it was an arrangement. And you blew it."

  "Don't be ridiculous! I did everything I was supposed to do."

  "No way."

  "But I'm not doing it, anymore. I want out, Romano. Out! You got that? I want-"

  "What? Moonlight and roses? Sweet smiles and a ring on your finger?" Joe's hands tightened on her shoulders. "Couldn't you pretend, just for one night?"

  "I did pretend! I wanted to tell them the truth, but I didn't. What more do you want?"

  "This," Joe snarled, and he dragged her into his arms and kissed her.

  It was an angry kiss. A spiteful kiss ... and then Lucy made a soft little sound in her throat, and Joe groaned, and everything changed.

  "Lucinda," he whispered.

  "Joe," she said softly.

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, his mouth gentle on hers, and she kissed him back, just as gently, and he groaned again and angled his lips over hers, and the kiss changed, went deeper, deeper, until Joe swung Lucy into his arms.

  She looped her arms around his neck. "Where are we going?"

  "To my boat." He laughed softly, leaned his forehead against hers. "I'll never make it back to the house."

  Lorelei was at a slip only a few feet away. He carried her on board, across a teak deck painted ivory by moonlight, and down into the soft darkness of the cabin.

  Slowly, he let her slide down the length of his body to her feet.

  "Wait," he said softly.

  Lucy waited, standing alone in the blackness, trembling with anticipation. Seconds later, moonlight streamed into the cabin. Joe came back to her and took her in his arms. "I've done the wrong thing," he said, "all night."

  "No. No, it was me. I-I kept thinking how wrong it was, for us to pretend-"

  He slid his hands into her hair, stopped her words with a kiss. "I acted as if you weren't there, when all the time I wanted to take you in my arms, kiss you the way I'd kissed you before."

  She smiled into his eyes. "Did you?"

  'Listen."

 
Lucy listened. Faintly, like a whisper borne on the breeze, music drifted over the water.

  "The band is playing. If we'd stayed in the clubhouse, I'd be asking you to dance just about now." Joe brushed his mouth over hers. "Will you? Dance with me, Lucinda?"

  Her throat constricted. This was dangerous. Oh, so terribly dangerous. Something was happening here, something that wasn't supposed to happen ...

  "Lucy?"

  She blinked her eyes, saw Joe step back through a shimmering blur of tears. He smiled, held out his arms, and she sighed and went into them.

  He gathered her close, cupped her head, brought it to his shoulder. Oh, he felt so good. Smelled so good. She'd thought about it all evening, how beautiful he was, how gorgeously, flagrantly male in his dinner jacket, so white against his tan and his black-as-midnight hair.

  Joe linked his hands at the base of her spine. They were barely moving. Only their bodies swayed in time to the music, in time to the pulsing beat of their blood.

  She'd never danced this way before, never wanted to dance this way before. It wasn't the way six-year-old boys and girls were taught to dance, at the Eden School of Dance and Deportment.

  "Place your left hand on your partner's shoulder, young ladies," Miss Eden would say briskly over the head of whatever unhappy boy she'd singled out that day. "Now place your right palm against his left palm. No entwined fingers, mind. Backs straight, heads high. Maintain the proper distance between you. Now smile politely and one, two, three, one, two, three..."

  Oh, but this way was so much better.

  Joe's breath whispered against her hair. His thighs grazed hers. His chest was hard against the softness of her breasts, and the scent of him rose to her nostrils.

  Lucy's breathing fluttered. She could feel the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against her belly and suddenly she was afraid. Not of Joe. Never of Joe. Not of what would happen next, if she let it.

  She was afraid of what she felt, of the slowly dawning truth in her heart ...

  Joe buried his face in her hair. "You're beautiful," he said softly.

  "It's-it's the dress."

  "It's the woman in it," he said, and pressed his mouth to her throat.

  "No," she said quickly, and she drew back in his arms. "Joe..."

  He kissed her, his mouth crushing hers, and she knew, she knew. Oh God, she knew. She'd fallen in love with Joe Romano.

  She had to be crazy. Nobody fell in love so quickly. It wasn't possible. It wasn't proper... With a little sob, she rose to him, opened her mouth to his, and wound her arms around his neck.

  Moonlight streamed through the windows, touched her as gently as he was touching her with his hands. And yet, for all his gentleness, she could feel the desire to take her surging within him.

  That she had done this to him made her blood drum even faster.

  He undressed her slowly, and she knew it was costing him dearly. She could hear it in the raggedness of his breathing, feel it in the occasional roughness of his hands.

  Her gown fell away from her like the petals from a rose.

  She trembled as he looked at her; she had on high-heeled black sandals, and the black lace teddy and sheer black stockings the saleswoman had insisted were the only possible things to wear under the red silk.

  "Guaranteed to drive men crazy," the woman had said in a conspiratorial whisper. Lucy, angry and sullen and convinced she would forever hate Joe Romano with all her heart, had said, with cold assurance, that this teddy would never drive a man crazy.

  How wrong she'd been.

  One look at Joe and she knew he was at that point, or maybe past it. A rush of hunger for him and fear of things she'd only imagined sizzled through her blood at what she saw in his face.

  He reached up, jerked his tie open, shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor.

  "You are so lovely, sweetheart," he whispered. "So perfect."

  Eyes locked to hers, he swept his hands up her body, molding her hips, her waist. She gasped when he cupped her breasts, moaned when he lifted them free of the lacy cups, brushed his thumbs over the crests until they hardened.

  "Joe," she whispered. She swayed unsteadily. "Joe," she said again, and he kissed her, his mouth hot and open, and moved his thumbs over her flesh again.

  "Undo my shirt," he said roughly.

  She did, though it wasn't easy. Her fingers stumbled over the long line of jet-and-gold studs. One after another, they fell to the carpet like scattered drops of rain.

  "Now touch me."

  Touch him. Oh, yes. Touch him. Touch those hard pectoral muscles. The dark, silky hair that swirled lightly across his skin and arrowed down towards his navel.

  Lucy flattened her hands against Joe's chest. The breath hissed from his lungs; he covered her hands with his and held her palms still. He bent his head and kissed her mouth, slowly, then with a growing hunger, tasting her, opening her, teaching her what he wanted and needed.

  At last, he drew back and knelt before her. Slowly, he slipped off her sandals, slipped the wispy stockings down her legs, taking time to lift each foot in turn to his lips, to kiss her instep, her arch.

  He rose to his feet and stripped away the teddy.

  Naked, Lucy stood before him, trembling, fighting back the sudden desire to shield herself from his eyes. No man had ever seen her like this. Joe would never believe that, she thought suddenly, and a sharp pain pierced her heart. But the pain fled, chased by the feel of his lips on hers, by the stroke of his tongue as it sought the warmth of her mouth.

  "Beautiful," Joe said softly. "My beautiful, beautiful Lucinda."

  He clasped her face in his hands and kissed her again and again. She clasped his wrists, moved closer, moved against him, desperate to feel the thudding beat of his heart.

  Joe bent his head. She gasped as he kissed her throat, the slope of her breast, cried out when his lips closed around the yearning tip.

  "Joe. Oh, Joe..."

  She dug her hands into his shoulders. It was too much. This, the feel of his mouth at her nipple; the stroke of his hand along her hip, down her belly, and then, finally, the touch of it between her thighs ...

  "Too much," she whispered, "Joe, I can't. .. I can't. .. " He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the bed, placed her in the center of it. Through half-closed eyes, she watched as he stripped off the rest of his clothing. He was even more beautiful than she'd believed, all lean, hard muscle and broad shoulders; his arousal powerful and exciting.

  Still, when he came down on the bed beside her, a little rush of fear jolted through her veins.

  "Joe. Joe, I've never ... I don't. .. "

  "Shhh," he murmured, and took her in his arms, kissed her again and again, until her lips were softly swollen as they clung to his.

  "Such a lovely mouth," he said softly, and kissed it. "Such lovely breasts," he said, and kissed them. "Such a lovely belly ... "

  A cry broke from her throat as he nuzzled her thighs apart. "No. " She reached down, dug her fingers into his hair.

  "Joe, you can't. .. "

  Lucy arched like a bow as his mouth found her. The hands that had tried to fend him off seconds ago held him to her; she cried out again as the pleasure of his intimate kiss arrowed through her, racing from his mouth to her breasts, to her very soul.

  Light exploded behind her closed eyelids. Nothing had prepared her for this, nothing. And yet, she wanted more. Needed more.

  Joe rose above her, entered her on one long, slow thrust. "Lucinda," he said, "my sweet."

  Lucy opened her eyes and looked up at him. "My Joe," she whispered, and lifted her arms to welcome him.

  To welcome into her body, her heart and her soul, the man she loved.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JOE awoke slowly to the gentle rocking of Lorelei, the soft patter of rain... And the warm, sweet-smelling woman lying in the curve of his arm.

  It hadn't been a dream. Lucy was here, nestled against him, her golden hair spread over his shoulder. Tog
ether, they'd shared a night he knew he'd never forget.

  How many times had he made love to her? Through the darkest hours, after the moon had slipped from the sky; in the soft grayness before dawn, and again, just as the new day touched the sky with pink and vermilion, he'd awakened her with kisses, drawn her back against him and come to completion deep inside her.

  Just remembering was making him hard as iron. Her soft cries of pleasure, the way she'd clung to him; the catch in her voice when she whispered his name.

  And each time, each incredible time, the same ugly thought had been waiting for him as he spiraled back to earth.

  How many other men had known her like this? How many would know her in years to come?

  Damn all the salesmen in the world to hell.

  Joe shut his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. What was he doing, thinking that way? A woman was entitled to the same sexual freedom as a man. He'd always believed that.

  It was just that this woman led a life he didn't understand. But it was none of his business. None whatsoever.

  None, dammit, he thought, and he rolled away from her, rose from the bed and headed for the shower stall that adjoined the cabin.

  He dried off, put on a pair of shorts and headed topside.

  The rain had eased off. Fine. He'd walk to the fast-food place at the end of the dock, buy a couple of containers of coffee, Then he'd wake Lucy, give her time to dress, drive her home and tell her ...

  Tell her, the deal was off. Of course.

  Joe felt as if somebody had lifted a rock from his chest. They'd slept together. Fine. Great. Sex was where they'd been heading since they'd first laid eyes on each other. That was what all the sniping had been about, just an edgy little mating dance leading to the Big Moment.

  Well, the Big Moment had come and gone. The thing about giving his nonna a scare had come and gone, too. A dumb idea, now that he'd had time to think it through. So, things had worked out just fine. What more could a man ask for? Great sex with a gorgeous babe. A guarantee his grandmother probably wouldn't interfere in his love life without thinking twice about it, at least for a while ...

  "Hi."

  He swung around. Lucy was standing at the top of the ladder. She was wearing a pair of his cut-offs, one of his T-shirts, and her feet were bare. Her hair tumbled in a wild cloud down her back.