Riccardo bent and set the puppy on the ground. Marco grabbed onto its fur so hard the puppy backed up and cowered against Riccardo’s leg.
“Dolcemente,” her husband instructed, scooping the puppy up in one arm and Marco in the other. “You are a brute, Marco De Campo.”
“Just like his daddy.” Lilly sighed. “Well, most of the time anyway,” she teased, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him. But between the squirming, licking puppy and the delighted Marco it was a pretty fruitless effort.
“Hold that thought,” Riccardo murmured. “I have a surprise for you too, but you’ll get it later.”
Heat rose to her face.
He laughed—a low, sexy rumble that did jittery things to her insides. “That is a given, tesoro. But I also stumbled upon something else I thought you’d like.”
Mortified that her thoughts always seemed to involve her husband and some sort of naked activity, she took the puppy from him and felt her heart melt at the tiny bundle of fur, the big brown eyes and giant paws. “I thought this was happening in the spring?”
He lifted his shoulders. “The breeder had someone cancel at the last minute. I made the mistake of going to see him, and well...”
She smiled as the puppy licked her face with boundless enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t have been able to resist him either.”
“His name’s Dutch. But we can rename him.”
She lifted a brow.
“Dutch chocolate?”
She hated it. “We’ll rename.”
“Thought so. You were about to swim?”
She nodded. “We didn’t expect you for hours.”
Her husband’s gaze rested on her face with that singular intensity he devoted to everything he focused on. “I ducked out early. I missed you.”
A lump formed in her throat. Her life was as close to perfect as a life could be. So perfect, in fact, that some days when it seemed too perfect, as if it could never last, she retreated to the back porch of the house here in Westchester, where they’d move for the summer, and stayed there until her heart stopped racing and the feeling went away. It was where Riccardo inevitably found her. And instinctively he’d always know what to say, because this beautiful, autocratic man who’d suffered plenty of his own heartaches knew her better than anyone.
He’d been there every step of the way.
She ran her fingers down the hard lines of his face. They still had their blow-outs—and, boy, were they blow-outs when they happened. That had never changed. But they were few and far between, and beneficial from the point of view that they both got their feelings out and moved on.
Marco scrunched up his face and shoved a beefy little hand against Riccardo’s chest. “Swim. Cucciolo.”
Lilly laughed. “Maybe no swimming for the puppy today. But we can.”
They splashed in the shallow end of the pool and Riccardo changed, then joined them. Lilly sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water while her husband tossed Marco high. Her son’s delighted yelps filled the air.
Her husband lifted a brow. “Enjoying your part-time life?”
“Oh, yes.” She’d opted to cut back to part-time hours after Marco had been born, sharing her workload with another physiotherapist who also had a family. It allowed her to focus on work and her family, and she was loving every minute of it.
Marco slapped his hand on the water and sprayed water in Riccardo’s face. Her lips curved. He was not only a solid little dark-haired mirror image of his father he was just as much of a daredevil. Fearless. Willing to try everything. Nothing like his mother had been like as a child. And she was glad for that.
Marco Alfonso De Campo. Named after Riccardo’s racing hero and former teammate Marco Agostino, who’d died in a crash just weeks before their Marco had been born. His second name was after Riccardo’s grandfather, who had built the first De Campo vineyard in Tuscany.
She blinked, her eyes stinging with the bittersweet emotion that seemed to define her life now. With the naming of Marco her husband seemed to have moved on, to have made amends with the past. He no longer shut down if racing came up. He acknowledged the subject, then moved on.
She had moved on too. It would never be a perfect relationship, but she was making strides with her parents. They were in love with Marco, and she visited a few times a year to give them a chance to spend time together. And somehow that was enough.
Riccardo caught her eye across the water. “Lisbeth’s met an investment banker. She had stars in her eyes when he dropped her off the other night.”
Oh, no. Of all the men in New York, investment bankers had to be the most arrogant. “Did you do something about it?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “What was I supposed to do? Put the fear of God in him?”
“Yes. You should have.” Her sister had been in remission for six months now. She’d come to live with them in New York after her treatment and was set to start college in the fall. She was so much like her former vibrant self it felt almost as if a miracle had happened, but Lilly was still fiercely protective of her. She was so vulnerable in so many ways.
But then again, she reminded herself, she’d been the same way when she’d moved to New York, and it had done her a world of good to stand on her own two feet in a city as tough as Manhattan.
“On second thought,” she murmured, “maybe this is a good thing. She should have her heart broken a few times. It’ll teach her how to deal with you alpha males.”
His dark eyes glittered. “Maybe so. You’ve figured out how to have this one hopelessly within your power.”
She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. “You think so?”
“Undoubtedly.”
She put the heat in his gaze on hold while they enjoyed the afternoon, took care of the puppy, then fed and put their son to bed. Riccardo read to Marco while she changed. Her soft, cream-colored jersey dress that showed an ample amount of cleavage was meant to put his theory to the test. Her husband’s deep velvet stare as she walked out onto the terrace gave her the answer she was looking for.
Just tamable enough.
He finished mixing their drinks. “New dress?”
“Yes.”
“Come here.”
Her heart went pitter-patter in her chest as she closed the distance between them. “What is that?” she questioned, staring at the murky dark liquid in the glass he handed her.
A satisfied smile touched his lips. “It so happens Lewis, our Bajan bartender friend, has become an international celebrity. The recipe for his house specialty has made it into one of the top food and beverage magazines.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Would I lie to you about something like that? He calls it his ‘love potion’. The ‘ultimate aphrodisiac.’”
An all-over body flush consumed her. A love potion? She could only think of three words. Hottest. Sex. Ever.
Riccardo read her expression. “Exactly,” he drawled. “Drink up.”
She took a sip. “Doesn’t taste any better than I remember.”
“It gets better the more you drink. Remember that?”
She sipped on the potent drink, wincing as the alcohol hit her empty stomach.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the tabloid he’d set on the bar. “I thought we weren’t reading that stuff.”
“You should read Jay Kaiken’s column.”
Ugh. “Really?”
“Yes. Read it.”
She took another sip of her drink, thinking she might need it. Jay Kaiken’s column was an account of the posh benefit she and Riccardo had attended for former supermodel Gillian King’s Manhattan clinic for eating disorders. A friend of Gillian’s, Lilly had instantly seen the value of a place where women could go to be surrounded by those who wer
e going through the same thing they were. And when Gillian had asked her to speak at the event she’d decided it was time for her to tell her story publicly. Even if it only helped one person, that was enough.
“Perhaps the most poignant moment of the evening was Lilly De Campo’s account of her struggle with anorexia,” Kaiken had written. “Courageous and truthful, its honesty no doubt made an impression on everyone in attendance. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.” And, in true Kaiken tongue-in-cheek fashion, he’d added, “PS—can I say how good it is to have the De Campos back together? I always did want to believe in fairytales...”
She looked up at Riccardo, her vision blurring.
“It was very courageous of you,” he said quietly. “But then again you’re the most courageous woman I know, Lilly De Campo.”
She stepped in to kiss him as she’d wanted to this afternoon. Heat swept through her veins, licked at her nerve-endings as he claimed her mouth in a thorough, possessive kiss that seemed to promise a million forevers.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Io ti amo per sempre.”
I will love you forever.
He pulled back, his gaze so dark it was almost black. “Finish that drink,” he muttered roughly. “Dinner can wait.”
She downed the last gulp and gasped when he swung her up in his arms and headed for the stairs. Up he climbed, to the bedroom that overlooked the river, the room where her dream of their family had begun. It occurred to her as Riccardo slid his hands to the back of her dress and unzipped it, letting the silky material slip to the floor, that her dream had finally come true. The puppy sleeping downstairs in a basket in the kitchen had been the final piece.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.
From a divorce party to forever. Who would have known?
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A HINT OF SCANDAL by Tara Pammi.
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CHAPTER ONE
“KIMBERLY, DO YOU take this man, Alexander King, to be your lawfully wedded husband, until death do you part?”
Nooooo.
Olivia Stanton looked around in alarm. Had she said it aloud? Her fingers slipped on the satin ribbon that held the elaborate orchid and white rose bouquet in her hand. Her heart pounded. The calm, bespectacled priest looked back at her patiently. She released the breath she’d been holding and pulled another one in. The scent of the flowers in her hand enveloped her, the sweet smell intensifying her panic.
Seconds ticked by. The silent anticipation of the guests behind was her a tidal wave threatening to pull her under.
Her gaze collided with Alexander King’s: blue, cool and unflappable. His composure in the face of her anxiety grated on her already-taut nerves. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her heart roared in her ears, a thundering beat in contrast to the silence enclosing them.
She couldn’t do this. Yes, they had done it before, Kim and she—pretended to be each other. Usually Kim pretended to be Liv, to save her from getting into trouble with their father, with the school authorities. So she owed it to Kim. Her successful, accomplished twin had saved her ass more times than Liv could count.
But to marry Alexander King in her place... An extreme step even for her.
“I can’t marry him today. I’ll be back soon.”
Her twin’s words rang in her ears. If Kim, who was ever dependable and unwavering, had to leave at the last minute, in a panic, surely it had to be something serious. Wouldn’t Alexander understand if she pulled him aside and explained everything?
“Don’t tell Alex. He’ll be disappointed in me. He despises even a hint of scandal.”
What kind of a man was her twin involved with if she couldn’t confide in him over her doubts on the most important day of their lives?
A hand at her elbow, the touch infinitely gentle, pulled her back into the waking nightmare. She tilted her head. Alexander’s blue gaze trapped hers, shooting questions she wasn’t equipped to answer. Yet his gaze was gentle. He must care for her sister, for she had never spied a trace of tenderness in him before. Because even in the very little time she had spent with her sister’s successful, intensely private fiancé, Olivia had realized that Alexander King hated her guts.
“I don’t want to lose him.”
Kim’s desperate plea pumped blood back into her numb brain. Ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Olivia took a deep breath and uttered the scariest words of her life. “I do.”
His face settling into benevolent lines, the priest relaxed. “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
The bottom dropped out from under her. Alexander’s hands on her bare shoulders sent sparks of raw sensation zinging through her. He pulled her closer as she fought the awareness spreading to every inch of her. The scent of his soap and skin seeped into the air she breathed. The pad of his thumb felt rough against the sensitive skin of her cheek.
He was going to kiss her. Olivia couldn’t move. The truth dawning on her was immobilizing her thought processes. Only one thing flared inside her mind like a gaudy neon sign. She wanted nothing more than to sink into his kiss.
He bent his mouth toward her and her heart pumped harder and faster. His breath mingled with hers and unbearable longing consumed her. It was too much to fight. More than she could resist.
No.
Mere seconds before his mouth touched her lips she turned her head, anchoring her hands on his chest. His mouth landed at the corner of hers, his lips soft and firm at the same time.
Heat blasted through her everywhere, inside and out. From where his mouth touched her. From his all-too-possessive hands on her hips. And an overpowering need that she couldn’t misinterpret. What was the matter with her?
His blue gaze seared hers, curiosity and awareness shooting out at her from its bright depths. His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her to him. The solid wall of his body was a taste of heaven against her curves. Not succumbing to the temptation of his kiss was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
She fought the groan rising through her. This was all she needed. A pithy curse fell from her lips. His head tilted toward her as if he had heard it. Her chest constricted with fear, the corset of the intricate designer dress cutting off her breath.
Alexander King was nothing if not astute and ruthless. How long before he discovered her deception?
* * *
Alexander King studied his wife’s face, alarm bells ringing inside his head. The rapid beat of the pulse at her neck, the restless way she shied away from making eye contact with anyone, the way she had sidled away from his kiss. Something wasn’t right.
As though aware of his continued scrutiny, her brown gaze flew to his and then moved away. Something was different about her.
He had felt it the moment she had come to a halt next to him. Instead of meeting his eyes, even then she had seemed cagey. It wasn’t just that the poised composure and the quiet, unassuming grace that were so much a part of her were mis
sing. There was an edge to her every movement, a defiant tilt to her chin. Even now she fidgeted with the diamond choker at her throat, her teeth clamped on her lower lip. As though the necklace was strangling her.
Then there was the way she looked. Not that he hadn’t expected Kim to look beautiful. Just that he hadn’t expected her to look so...erotic in her wedding dress. What he would have expected to be understated elegance instead looked earthily sexy, right down to the bloodred lipstick—something he had never seen her wear before.
The sight of her white teeth tugging at the luscious curve of her mouth sent a stab of fierce lust coursing through him. He had been attracted to her before, of course. But it had been nothing like the blaze of need sweeping through him, tightening his lower body.
He wanted to bury his mouth in the crook of her neck, where her pulse hammered. The ivory-colored dress cupped her breasts like a lover every time she drew breath, daring him to replace its hold with his hands. A tiny birthmark on the slope of her breast cried out for his touch.
He stole a hand around her waist and pulled her to the side, away from his cheering friends. She instantly stiffened against him like a coiled spring. Tense, unyielding. He bent his head, a smile in place. Something earthy and floral assaulted his nostrils. He closed his eyes and fought for control over his libido. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to breathe in more of her delicious scent.
He frowned, trying to think clearly through the lust clouding him. What was so different today from the past six months? He’d had no problem taking it slow, as she had requested, whereas today he couldn’t wait to get her into bed.
“Is everything okay, Kim?”
Looking somewhere near his shoulder, she smiled. The false brightness of her smile notched up his doubts a little more.
“Yes, thank you, Alexander.” With a subtle movement, she slipped out of the crook of his arm. “I think the stress of the past few weeks has caught up with me.”
The Divorce Party Page 18