The Trip (A Fast Break Romance)

by Staley, Deborah Grace

  "That's true, but I still can't believe you're not upset."

  "I am far from upset. I am, in fact, extremely flattered that I have inspired you to write such a wonderful literary work."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I am flattered," he repeated.

  "And I am flattered that you consider this a 'literary' work. That's not a word generally used in conjunction with the romance genre."

  "It is a work of great depth and emotion. You are quite talented."

  "Thank you."

  Wow, is this guy for real?

  "I hope you will not think me forward, but I would like to continue our conversation. It has become late, and you have had a long day. Perhaps you would like to change into something more comfortable?"

  "That sounds like heaven."

  "If you have no objections, I would like to suggest that we go to your room. I know I would prefer sitting in a comfortable chair rather than this unforgiving booth."

  Okay. He seemed pretty sincere, but I asked myself, Is this some slick way to get me into a compromising situation? I mean, it's apparent that for some reason not known to mortal man, this guy finds me attractive. And then I thought, what woman in her right man wouldn't want to be in a compromising position with Carlo Macinni.

  "I know what you're thinking, and I would like to assure you that this is not a way for me to insinuate myself into your room so that I may stage a seduction."

  That fantasy died a premature death. And then he continued.

  "Although I am sorely tempted, I would simply like us, at this point, to get to know one another in a more relaxed atmosphere."

  I couldn't argue with that . . . or didn't want to argue with that. "All right," I said.

  "Excellent. Will fifteen minutes be adequate time for you to change?"

  I agreed and gave him my room number. Back in my suite, I put on an old pair of jeans and soft sweater. I slipped the pins out of my hair and brushed it until my scalp tingled. I considered taking the make-up off, but decided switching from a chic suit to

  well-worn denim was drastic enough. Carlo would probably take one look and run.

  He appeared at my door right on time, minus his jacket and tie, with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I thought again how totally weird this all seemed. Was this really me in a suite at The Plaza with someone like Carlo? I had the urge to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. But then, I wasn't all that sure I wanted it to end just yet. I hate it when I'm having a really good dream and wake up before it's over. I definitely wanted to see where this one was going.

  Carlo poured the wine while I snuggled into a corner of the sofa with my feet tucked under me.

  "You're very quiet," he said. "What are you thinking?"

  "That this is a dream, and I'm going to wake up before I get to the resolution."

  "I assure you, this is no dream."

  "I'm not so sure." He handed me a glass and stretched a long, muscled arm behind my shoulders. Pulling me closer, he touched his glass to mine.

  "To beginnings."

  We clinked our glasses and drank. Carlo set his glass on a low table in front of the sofa, then leaned over and slowly licked the moisture from my lips.

  "Umm, the wine is much headier this way. I am already intoxicated."

  He lifted a thick strand of my hair and tested its texture. "You have beautiful hair. The color reminds me of the Tuscan hillsides in autumn. You should never wear it up. It is too glorious to hide."

  Red. Her hair was unmanageably thick, curly, and red, but she couldn't have written a more exotic or romantic description.

  He brushed a hand across my cheek, and as he began nibbling on my neck said, "You have a lovely accent. Where are you from?"

  "Mississippi."

  "Tell me about Mississippi. I have never been there."

  "You haven't missed a thing. Trust me," I said in a strained voice. His lips were pure magic.

  "You are from a small town?"

  "Minuscule." Lordy, how did he expect a woman to answer so many insignificant questions while he systematically numbed her brain?

  "Have you always written?" he continued.

  "No. Only for a couple of years. I worked in a bank after I finished college." I tilted my head to the side to give him better access.

  "And what did you do there?"

  "I was a teller."

  "You have quite a diverse background," he murmured.

  "You mean boring."

  He looked intently into my eyes. "I find nothing about you boring."

  He caressed my back in long, languorous sweeping motions. I felt myself arch like a contented cat.

  "Do you come from a large family?"

  "I have a younger sister."

  "And you've never married? No children with your beautiful green eyes?"

  "No. No children, but I was married."

  "Was?"

  "He died in an automobile accident two years ago."

  Still looking into my eyes and said, "I am so sorry. You must have been devastated after such a tragedy."

  I battled with whether I should tell him the truth for some moments before he took my hand.

  "I understand if you do not wish to discuss this. It must be painful for you. I am sorry if thinking of your late husband has caused you sadness."

  "No, it isn't that. I'm just afraid the truth would cause you to view me unfavorably."

  "I could never think poorly of you."

  "Don't be so sure."

  "Why not tell me, and I shall then decide what a terrible person you are. Did you beat him mercilessly?"

  I laughed and then thought, what harm could come from telling this stranger my secrets. This was a dream, right? No one would know in the morning.

  "I didn't grieve much for Johnny after he died. Not in the way I should have. You see, Johnny and I had known each other for since we were teenagers. He made me feel safe. Everyone expected us to marry because, where I come from, that's what girls do. I had no plans of moving away. I'd been to college in Jackson and nothing or no one there had interested me. I figured if I had to get married, I might as well go the safe route . . . with someone I at least knew well and liked.

  "So, after I got my degree, we married. I wasn't in love with him, but I think he'd always loved me. The thing I can't forgive myself for is, he never knew. I really miss him. I mean, I did care for him. I mourn the loss of our friendship, but I've never truly mourned the loss of our marriage."

  I laughed nervously and drained my wine glass in one swallow. I coughed, then admitted, "I've never told anyone that before."

  Carlo took my glass and set it next to his. "I am so glad you shared this with me. I am deeply sorry."

  "Don't be. I'm not worthy of sympathy. Johnny deserved better than what I gave him."

  "But you gave him what he wanted most. You gave yourself to him."

  "You're wrong. What he wanted most was my love. That was the one thing I couldn't give him that."

  "I believe the true tragedy is that you have never experienced love. That you have never known the passion about which you so adeptly write. I sense there has been very little romance in your life."

  "Those things are themes for books. I don't really believe they exist. And if you quote me, I'll deny it. A little thing like that would definitely ruin my budding career."

  "On the contrary, I would like the opportunity to convince you these things do exist." He took me into his arms then, his lips only a breath away. "I think our first lesson should be passion."

  Webster defined passion using such words as 'intense' and 'driving'. An emotion that is deeply stirring and ungovernable. I experienced all this and more when Carlo's lips touched mine. In my wildest imaginings, I never thought a simple kiss could be so compelling. But nothing about this kiss was simple. A potent desire swept through me with the force of a tidal wave. In that moment, I wanted to sink into the vortex and never emerge.

  At length, he said, "I have a confession to
make as well, Donna."

  "Confession?" I mumbled, confused.

  "Yes, you have been so forthright with me, I must be nothing less than completely honest with you. You see, I arranged our meeting this morning."

  "But I bumped into you."

  "Let us say that I strategically placed myself in your path."

  Though stunned, I managed to ask, "Why?"

  "It is a very long story, so I will try to be brief. My secretary is a fan of yours. One day, while she was at lunch, I needed something from her desk. I saw your book there, so I picked it up, read the back cover, and thumbed through. I was intrigued by the synopsis, but I must admit that your photograph intrigued me more. I felt as if you looked through the camera lens and into my eyes . . . into my soul."

  She'd felt the same thing when she'd looked at his picture in that magazine.

  "I purchased your book that night, and after having read it, I felt as if I knew you personally. As if we connected on some spiritual level.

  "It was a simple matter to contact your publisher and learn that you were coming to New York to begin a publicity tour. Finding out where you were staying was a bit more difficult, but I managed.

  "Have I upset you?"

  "Upset? No. Amazed? Yes."

  "There is no doubt in my mind our meeting was predestined. Now I can see I must convince you of this."

  He, again, pulled me close, and for the second time that evening, I experienced being kissed senseless. But despite the sensual onslaught, one thing was very clear. Nothing in my life had ever felt as right as Carlo's embrace.

  "Ah, cara, you tempt me beyond reason. But I have given my word, and if I am to keep it, I must leave at once."

  "Leave?" Comprehension came slowly, but when I felt the absence of his arms and he stood before me, it came with a vengeance. A cold gust of wind entered my soul, leaving me aching with emptiness and longing.

  "Donna, do not look at me so."

  "I'm sorry." He must think me terribly unsophisticated compared to the other women in his life.

  He pulled me to my feet, then held my hand as he walked slowly to the door. He turned to face me, and with a finger beneath my chin he murmured, "I would like to spend the day with you tomorrow. Does your schedule permit it?"

  "I have an interview on a morning television show with a signing scheduled afterward. I'm supposed to spend the rest of the day making myself presentable for an awards ceremony tomorrow night."

  "What time are you to arrive for the interview?"

  "Seven-thirty."

  "Excellent. I will pick you up at seven, and after your signing I will take you to my cottage in the country. Bring what you need to prepare for your ceremony. I would be honored to accompany you to accept your award."

  His smile charmed me.

  "Perhaps I presume too much."

  "You do. I haven't won yet."

  "You have no date?"

  "No, just my agent, Joan."

  "If you will allow me, it would be my great honor to escort you."

  "I'd like that very much."

  "Good. We shall continue your lessons in passion tomorrow when we are not under such constraints of time," he promised.

  And with a brief, very unsatisfying kiss, he was gone.

  ~*~

  The next morning, Carlo picked me up and took me to the studio for an interview with a very handsome anchor on a national morning news program. When we arrived, I thought I would have to be sedated just to calm down enough to get out of the car.

  Carlo sat with me in the limousine for some time, talking with me, telling me what to expect. If it hadn't been for the soothing effect he had and his total confidence in me, I wouldn't have been able to do it. His mere presence gave me the extra boost of confidence I needed to make it through the ordeal.

  Strange that a man who put all my senses on full alert could possibly have a calming effect. I'd never thought of myself as lacking confidence. I'd been raised to believe I could do anything I set my mind to. But all this? It was just so far out of my realm of experience. Nothing like my life in Podunk, Mississippi. I was glad to have Carlo with me, and at the same time, I was a wreck.

  Any normal person would feel insecure next to such perfection. The man was flawless. The women in the studio had a fit. I thought I would have to do CPR on the make-up girl. The female anchor of the show positively fawned over him. Meanwhile, the guy interviewing me spent a considerable amount of time trying to wrangle an interview from Carlo. I would have felt insignificant if Carlo hadn't made me feel ten feet tall. Like there was no one more special to him than me. He kept steering the topic of conversation back to me and my successes as an author. In fact, he refused to discuss himself at all. I thought it was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for me.

  After I made my appearance at the bookstore, we went directly to the airport where we boarded Carlo's private plane and flew to upstate New York. His 'cottage in the country' turned out to be a twenty-room, turn of the century manor on forty acres in the Catskills.

  We spent the day doing absolutely nothing other than enjoying our surroundings and one another. We went horseback riding, picnicked by a waterfall, and talked. After spending so much time talking the night before and that day, I thought we had surely exhausted all avenues of conversation. But the more we learned about each other, the more we seemed to have to say.

  We were loath to return to the city, but duty called. Back at his 'cottage', Carlo had thoughtfully arranged for someone to do my hair and make-up. After I'd finished dressing in a fitted dark green strapless formal with a matching velvet jacket, I went downstairs and found him staring into a cozy fire in the drawing room. He was fabulous in a dark tuxedo. Well, more fabulous than usual.

  "I'm ready."

  He turned and looked at me. The intensity of his gaze unnerved me, but I somehow managed to look into his dark eyes without melting into the Aubusson. I even managed to walk across the room to stand next to him.

  "Cara, you are stunning."

  "I could say the same about you."

  "I shall fade to insignificance at your side."

  I was about to comment on the chances of that happening when he took my hand and brought it to his lips. As usual, all logical thought processes shut down when he touched me. He pulled me closer and, with a hand at the curve of my back, pressed me fully to his long, hard body.

  His warm lips sliding up the side of my neck were my undoing. His words, a whisper in my ear, acted as an aphrodisiac. He trailed a hand the length of my hair before saying, "You wore your hair down."

  In the cloud that was my mind, I heard myself moan his name.

  "Did you do this for me."

  "Yes."

  He looked into my eyes . . . all the way to my heart. "Thank you," he said.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into the hand cupping my face.

  "Did you enjoy yourself today?" he asked.

  "Yes, very much."

  "Do you still believe romance, passion, and love do not exist? That these are only themes for works of fiction?"

  "No." I was surprised at how easy it was to admit, but after the last two days, I could neither deny the feelings I had developed for Carlo, nor the impact he had already made on my life.

  "Are you saying you could come to care for me, cara?"

  "Would it disappoint you if I said 'yes'?"

  "I should be devastated if you didn't say 'yes'."

  "Oh, Carlo," I sighed. I wanted to say the words, but it seemed too soon for such a declaration, and after Jimmy, I refused to use the word 'love' carelessly."

  "And do you also think that perhaps someday, you might grow to love me?"

  I smiled and stroked his face. "Perhaps."

  "Excellent. A marriage should be founded on love, don't you agree?"

  "Marriage?" I said incredulously.

  "Yes."

  "You want me to . . ."

  "To be my wife?" He nodded. "With all that is within me, I want y
ou to be a part of my life, now and always."

  This was incredible! This was nuts.

  "I don't know what to say."

  "Say you will marry me."

  "Carlo, this is going a little fast for me. I mean, we only met yesterday. Two days is hardly a basis for making a life-altering decision. We barely know one another."

  "We know all that is necessary. We know we love one another. The rest, we shall learn in time."

  "But, what if we're not compatible? I know very little about your life other than what I've learned from a couple of magazine articles. You'd be asking me to leave my home and move halfway across the world. Adapt to a new culture." She shook her head. "I'm not yet accustomed to having a man in my life again. Asking me to add all the rest is just too much."

  "Donna, do not upset yourself so. You will learn all that you need to know before we marry. I would like you to return to Italy with me. We will spend time together. I will introduce you to my family. Then, we shall come back here, to my home in New York, where I spend a great portion of the year."

  "I have a publicity tour scheduled. I can't just leave. I'm supposed to be in Boston tomorrow."

  "Postpone your tour two weeks. If you have not agreed to the marriage at the time of our return, I shall go back to Italy, and you may complete your tour."

  "I need to think about this."

  "Of course. But please, decide quickly. I have delayed my departure too long as it is. I rearranged a very hectic schedule so I could be in New York when you arrived. I had my personal assistant reschedule my meetings. My executives are handling the most pressing matters, but I cannot stay indefinitely. It is harvest. I can spend the next couple of days doing what I can from my offices in Boston, but I must leave for Italy no later than the first of the week."

  "That's only two days!"

  "I am sorry I cannot give you longer to consider my proposal. This is a very difficult time for me. In two weeks, I promise things will be less hectic."

  "Why don't I just come in two weeks?"