by Robena Grant
A shudder ran through him. “Wait. Wait.”
He rustled around his pocket until he withdrew a condom, opened the foil package and sheathed himself. Then he cupped her buttocks with both hands lifting her toward him as he nestled himself at her entrance. In seconds he filled her, moved with her. Those chocolate eyes were steady on hers, shining in the dark, lips hot on hers again, melting away every thought of what was right and proper, and what was indecent or against the law.
Dia gave herself up to the pleasure of the moment knowing it would be quick because of the sheer necessity of where they were. She didn’t care much if she came or not. She gripped his shoulders and moved with his thrusts, taking him in, all of him, and wanting more.
“Oh. Oh. Oh, Carlo. I—”
“That’s it, bellisima. That’s it. Let go.” His voice came to her from the depths of his passion.
And she did, and so did he. She felt wild and crazy, and all she could see were stars. Stars flickering, winking, and she had to close her eyes tight against the vision. When she opened them, she tried to restore her sanity and her breathing. They clung to each other for a few moments before quickly rearranging their clothing.
She had no idea where her underwear ended up, but she hoped when she opened the door the light would reveal all. Dia smoothed her hair and caught it up into a neater ponytail. She had never done anything like this before. My goodness, what if they’d been caught? What if her reputation had been destroyed? Would she have been able to get another teaching position?
“I believe these are yours.” Carlo dangled her thong on one finger. “I’d thought about keeping them…something to remind me of you while you’re away.”
She laughed and tucked them into his shorts pocket. Somehow he made her feel gorgeous, sexy, and playful. Something she’d never been before.
Carlo flashed a grin as he reversed the car out of the docks. Then he turned on the headlights. She believed he wanted her for all the right reasons, not just the physical ones, but she also knew only time would tell. Nothing had seemed important to them tonight, except being together one more time. She looked at him with wonder.
What is it about him that makes me throw all caution to the wind?
****
When they pulled into Dia’s driveway, Carlo noticed the glimmer of light from Mrs. Romani’s bedroom window. “Mama’s still up.”
“Of course.” Dia laughed.
He pulled her to his chest and kissed her. He wanted her all over again. Two weeks would feel like a lifetime. A thump on the roof of the car startled him and he looked out expecting to see Mama or Frank. The entire neighborhood was dark and quiet.
“Cat.” Dia laughed. “He always gets on the roof when the car’s warm. He prefers the hood but won’t get down there until we leave. Which, you know…I should do soon.”
“I know, but wait one moment. I’m going to miss you.” He dug into his pocket, produced a small black velvet box and handed it to her. “A bon voyage gift.”
“Carlo. You shouldn’t have,” she whispered.
He saw the shine of unshed tears in her eyes. She was so easy to please. “Open it. I’d like you to wear it, and to think of me.”
“I’ll think of you anyway.” Without opening the box she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Carlo fought for control. They couldn’t do it again, not here in front of Rosetta’s house. He clumsily took the box back, opened it, and slipped the silver bracelet onto her wrist, his fingers shaking as he closed the clasp. Hanging from the large link chain was a small silver and diamond heart that had a lock and key. He hoped she liked it. Was it presumptuous of him?
“It’s gorgeous.” Dia lifted her wrist to examine it under the street lamp. She fingered the heart. Then let it fall. “I’ll wear it always.”
She kissed him again, and she looked like she might cry. His heart ached. He knew, for the first time in his life, what it was like to say goodbye to a woman he loved. And yet, he’d never told her, never said those words. It wasn’t right to say them now. Not in this moment. When she came back he would. But to say them now would seem manipulative. It would put undue pressure on her, and he didn’t want her going away with any feeling of regret or longing.
They got out of the Honda, and he looked over at his car. It had little cat paw marks all over it. He smiled. He liked Cat. He kissed Dia softly. “Let’s get you inside the house. You need your sleep.”
“Don’t walk me up. Wait until I’m safely inside.” She kissed him again. “I’ll see you in two weeks.” She started up the path and turned back, gazing wistfully. “I wish you were coming with me.”
“Me too.” He blew her a kiss. “We have a date in two weeks.”
She raised her hand, then disappeared inside the house. The front door closed. He could almost hear the emptiness. Could almost touch it. Part of him wanted to run after her and hold her one more time. Instead, he drove home deep in thought. This trip was important to Dia. He wanted her to go to Europe, explore, have fun, and ultimately find out what she wanted in life. He prayed it was him.
****
The next morning Dia scurried around to put everything at the front door.
She did a mental check list: luggage, hoodie, shoulder purse, cash, ticket, hotel information, passport, credit cards, cell phone, makeup, extra underwear, eye drops, Kindle, adapters and cords to recharge everything. Laptop. Must not forget the laptop. She needed it to record the history notes for her students. Besides, there was no way she could go two whole weeks without seeing Carlo’s face. Her body warmed and pulsed. Not that. Not now.
She ran upstairs and peeked around Mama’s door.
“Have a good time,” Mama whispered.
Frank snorted, and turned onto his side.
Dia grinned. “I’ll call you when I get to the hotel,” she whispered back. “I love you, Mama.”
“Tell Carlo to come for dinner. I look after him.”
Dia rolled her eyes. “Sure, Ma.”
“He was nice last night?” Mama asked. “You have fun?”
“Absolutely.”
“You will miss him?”
Darn. Too many questions so early in the morning. “Yes. Of course.” Dia felt for the comfort of the bracelet where the charm dangled against her wrist. Oh, why the hell not? She walked to the bed. “He gave me this.” She held out her hand.
Mama widened her eyes, and ran her fingers over the bracelet. “So pretty. Is special.”
“Very special.” A beam of light shone on the house as the limousine turned into their driveway. “The car is here. I’ve got to go.” She dropped a kiss on Mama’s brow. “Luv ya.’”
“I love you too, baby. You have a good time.”
“What? What?” Frank tried to sit up.
Mama placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down onto the pillow.
“Go to sleep,” she said.
Dia held back a chuckle and bolted down the stairs. The driver was already on the porch when she opened the door. He tipped his black cap. “Morning,” he said softly.
“Yeah. More like night.”
He laughed. “This all there is?”
“Yep.” She always travelled light. She settled into the car and watched her city flash by. San Diego…the city of coastal fog. She’d miss it.
Her heart did a little skip. She wanted and needed this vacation, but she wished it could have included Carlo. She felt like she was on the precipice of something big. There would be a monumental change in her on her return home. She knew it. She felt it. She embraced it.
Chapter Fourteen
The following day, somewhere around mid-morning, the plane made its approach into Leonardo da Vinci, Fiumicino Airport, southwest of the ancient city of Roma.
Dia felt like she had the worst hangover ever. She’d finally gotten to sleep three hours ago. When the chief steward announced their impending descent, she’d gone to the bathroom, patted her face with water, cleaned her teeth, and bru
shed her hair. Not that anyone would guess. She peered into a small compact and thought about putting on makeup. A lip gloss would suffice. She craned her neck to glance over the top of the two passengers on her right. They’d leaned forward, clutching hands, whispering, their heads pressed close and blocking the window; honeymooners most likely.
Watching honeymooners made her think of Carlo. A powerful desire surged through her. Flushed and guilty, she stared into the compact and hastily smeared on the lip gloss. How strange that the word “honeymoon” hadn’t caused her to dwell on her failed wedding.
She couldn’t see much of the city, but excitement began to build and her tiredness eased. Once at the hotel, she’d crash for a while. Not too long.
She’d send emails to Carlo, Mama, and Susan, saying she’d arrived safely. She had Thursday and Friday in the city and would leave early Saturday morning. After arranging for a car for the journey up to Firenze, and making a few appointments to see some of the sites in Rome, she’d take a passegiatta. She said it again in a soft whisper, liking the way the word tripped off her tongue. It was tradition in Italy to take an evening walk.
Tonight, she’d sleep like a baby.
****
Dia strolled along via Condotti, taking in the bustling crowds of tourists and the interested Italians looking to score a pretty lady for an evening’s entertainment. They were such flirts, these young men, but that made her feel good.
She’d never been to Italy in July. It was busy. And warm. Last time she and Mama came at the beginning of June. What a difference a month made. Fortunately she’d known to pack light clothes. She veered off the main road and took a small cobblestone side street to what looked like an interesting shopping area. Condotti was full of designer boutiques like Prada, Gucci, Bulgari—not her style. Not exactly in her budget either, but she knew of other shops. And she wanted to browse tomorrow at some of the trendy younger-set shops, like Patrizia Pepe.
Warm air brushed over her bare arms even though the sun had almost set. It was still humid. Her hair must be a mass of curls by now. She glanced into a shop window. Not too bad.
A pair of red sling-backs with a jaunty little black leather bow on the heel strap tried to get her attention. She could swear they waved at her, and she took a second look. If they were still there tomorrow, she’d try them on. Carlo would love them.
A slim dark-haired young man sidled up alongside of her. “Con permisso!” he said boldly, as he cut in front of her.
She knew that trick. He slowed, looked back at her just as she knew he would.
“Hello,” he said, with a quirk of an eyebrow and a charming smile.
“Hi.” She knew not to say anything else, and continued on her stroll. He kept pace, his steps jaunty. He smiled up into her face with dark searching eyes that reminded her of Carlo. He was way too close, but so were others—everyone bumped into each other as they wended their way through the mass of people. She doubted he was more than twenty. Surely he’d figured her for a tourist even though she had what might be considered Roman features: a good-sized nose, curly dark hair, and ample boobs.
“You like the vino?” He gestured toward a restaurant.
Dia glanced at him, surprised. “Are you asking me to go for a drink?”
“Si.” He flashed another wide smile, exposing neat white teeth. “American, no?”
She wouldn’t insult him. “Yes. But I’m in a hurry. La piazza.” She waved to a nearby square. “My husband is waiting.”
Dia removed her hand from the pocket of her sundress and flashed her fingers, revealing a wide gold band. She kept her purse tight to her body, wearing the strap across her chest, and carried nothing in her pockets. She knew how it was in these cramped, busy quarters. He didn’t look like a purse-snatcher, but one never knew. And how many times had that ring come in handy? She’d used it in public places in San Diego, and always packed it when she travelled.
“Scusi!” He tilted his head in apology, his steps slowing.
So he wasn’t into picking pockets, just into picking up women. She heard rapid Italian jesting and much laughter. Three young men had been following them. They looked clean and well-dressed, and she had the feeling they were university students out for fun. From what she understood of their language, it had been a dare, something to laugh about over beer and pizza.
She turned toward him, noticing the dark stain of embarrassment creeping up his neck. She smiled. “Grazie. I’m flattered. And your English is excellent.”
His friends became quiet. They stopped talking, lolling against a railing that surrounded a statue. The young man smiled. “Molte grazie,” he said softly, and then joined his friends. They disappeared down another narrow side street, obviously looking for their next conquest, or prank. She’d almost expected the young man to blow her a kiss as he departed.
She shook her head, grinned, and then doubled back. The restaurant had looked interesting. As she approached, guitar music and lilting ballads floated out the front doors. It mingled with wonderful aromas carried by the slight breeze.
A glass of vino wouldn’t be at all bad.
****
“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Carlo said. “See all of Rome yet?”
His voice held a teasing element, but still maintained all the sexy, honeyed timbres she’d come to know so well. She’d muted the television before dialing his cell phone, and now could see John Wayne playing the cowboy hero in some old movie. It would be great to hear that in Italian. She looked away, refocusing on her own hero.
“Just about.” Dia stifled a yawn. The petite penne pasta, combined with a rich creamy sauce, and amazing shrimp had about done her in. Well, the bread had helped too, and the wine. But at least she hadn’t stuffed herself with pizza. Tomorrow she’d do that.
“Am I keeping you up?”
“No. No. Don’t go.” She widened her eyes, and sat up higher against the pillows. “I really don’t want to fall asleep. It’s only nine. I’m trying to stay awake until ten. Keep talking.”
“See, that’s the thing. You’re the one having the adventure.” Carlo laughed. “I’ve got nothing, unless you’re interested in what I had for breakfast.”
She laughed. “Let me guess…cold cereal.”
“And coffee. I made coffee. But listen, I’m waiting on your news. How was the flight? How is Rome? What did you do today?”
She filled him in, leaving out the young men near the piazza. “I miss you already.”
“I miss you.”
“We could have had such fun here. Together.” She cleared her throat, suddenly homesick, yearning for him, and overwhelmed by that idea. “I wish you were here.”
“We’ll be together soon,” he said softly. “What’s on for tomorrow?”
“I’m taking one of those open top buses. You know the hop-on, hop-off. I have a forty-eight-hour pass.”
“You know Rome so well, why do that?”
“I love listening to the audio. I like to do the complete two-hour trip because it gets me mentally back into everything about the ancient city. You know me. It’s all about history.”
“Yeah. I get a bit overwhelmed with all those dates to remember.”
“Well, after the bus trip, I start my walking tour. I get a lot of the history through art. I’ll hit the Galleria Borghese after lunch. Have to see the Berninis and Carvaggios, especially Bernini’s Apollo and Dafne.” She laughed. “I haven’t seen that in years. Can you believe they only give two-hour appointments?”
“It’d be enough for me. I like art galleries, but I prefer being out on the streets mixing with the crowds. And you know, speaking of crowds of Italians, your accent has improved.”
“Thanks. I listened to my Berlitz on the plane. It’s amazing how it’s coming back to me. I’m going to visit all of the favorites, Piazza Navona, Piazza di Spagna―”
“And Fontana di Trevi.” His voice was low; he went quiet for a while.
She wondered if he was thinking about how
many coins she’d toss into the fountain. Some said throw in one coin on leaving, over your left shoulder—that meant you’d soon return to the city. Others claimed you should toss three coins over your right shoulder. Dia had a sneaking suspicion the rumor had been started by city workers who came every morning to skim the money. Supposedly, one coin meant you’d meet the Roman of your dreams. A second coin meant you’d fall in love. The third one meant you’d marry him. She’d already checked off numbers one, and two, and the third one scared the crap out of her.
“You still there?”
“Absolutely,” Dia said. “I’ll go to Trevi tomorrow evening. I like it better at night. It’s less crowded when all the locals get on the bus and go home.”
“I don’t like you wandering around alone at night,” Carlo said.
Dia hesitated for a moment. “Well, there is a young English woman here at the hotel. She’s also travelling alone. She mentioned that if I wanted company for dinner, or a tour, she’d be happy to join me.”
“That’s good.”
She heard the relief in his voice. It was nice that he cared, but she was young, healthy, and independent. Maybe if she got up early enough she could grab a pastry and a coffee and go before the crowds. Her eyelids got heavy, and she had to shake herself awake.
“I think I’d better go to sleep,” she said, and clicked off the television.
“Can you stay awake for ten more minutes?” Carlo asked.
“Sure. Why?”
“I’m having something delivered.”
“Oh. You shouldn’t have.”
“Hang up now, bellisima. I have to call the front desk for the immediate delivery. We’ll talk more soon. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He’d dropped his voice. The word bellisima came out a little hoarse, a ton velvety, and her heart did a leap in her chest. The word held the memory of his kiss, of his lovemaking. One minute he’d been there laughing and talking, and now there was silence. She missed him. She put on her wrap and slippers, wondering what Carlo had sent. A rap came on the door. When she opened it, Carlo stood there, smiling.