by Lucy Monroe
Martina turned to Hope and rolled her lovely brown eyes so like her brother’s. “Men. Don’t you go changing your swimsuit to make him happy.”
“How could I? It was a gift and it would undoubtedly offend your brother for me to reject it in favor of my old swimsuit.”
“Do not bet on it,” Luciano growled.
Hope laughed. Would a man who did not want her be so affected by her conservative suit? She hoped the answer was no, but she was definitely leaving the suit on. If she could tempt him, at least a little, maybe he would reveal some of his feelings regarding her.
That optimistic belief seemed in vain as Luciano treated her to yet another dose of the courteous, non-touching companion of the past few days at the DeBrecos’ pool party.
Feeling desperate to provoke some kind of response, she took off her swimsuit cover and dug in her bag for a bottle of high-factor sunscreen. She turned to Luciano. Wearing only black swim shorts, every rippling muscle in his body was on display and it was all she could do not to drool.
Or trip him and beat him to the ground.
She extended the lotion to him. “Would you do my back? I think what I applied earlier is wearing off and I don’t want to burn.”
Luciano took the bottle, a strange expression on his face. “You cannot reach your own back, cara?”
It wasn’t her back she found impossible to reach. It was him! She tried for a nonchalant shrug. “It’s easier if you do it.”
She turned and presented her back to him, pulling her curly hair from the nape of her neck.
Then two things happened.
Martina dropped gracefully on the lounger beside Hope. “Isn’t this great?”
And Marco waved from the other side of the pool, catching Luciano’s attention.
He dropped the sunscreen in Martina’s lap with more speed than finesse. “Put some of this on Hope’s back, sorella picolla, while I go see what it is that Marco wants.”
Hope watched him go with despair. It wasn’t working.
Martina looked at Hope. “Didn’t you slather yourself in this stuff before we left the house?”
Hope frowned. “Yes.”
“Then why does my brother want me to put more on you? Not only are you limber enough to reach your own back, but you bought the lotion that lasts for hours, even in the water.”
Hope hated admitting that she’d tried one of the oldest tricks in the book and it had failed, so she shrugged and reached for the bottle. “Let me put that away.”
Martina was looking quizzically at her, then her expression cleared. “I get it. You—”
“Never mind, just hand me the bottle,” she said shortly, interrupting Martina before she could put voice to Hope’s idiocy.
Martina handed her the lotion, her expression curious. “You know. I noticed that Luciano never touches you.”
“I am aware of that.” Hope sighed and shoved the plastic bottle back in her bag. Short of making a blatant request, she wasn’t going to change that state of affairs either. Even then, she had her doubts.
“That’s weird for a guy who wants to marry you.”
Hope didn’t need the reminder. “I know.” She glowered at Luciano where he stood talking to Marco.
“What’s she doing here?” Martina sounded outraged.
Hope turned her head to look where the younger girl’s gaze was directed and felt her heart skip not one, but two beats. This was just what she needed. Zia Merone. She and Luciano had been photographed together several times for the society columns and scandal rags the year before. Rumors of a relationship between the two of them had been rife. Which was a lot more understandable than his name being linked with Hope’s. Zia was beautiful and blond, even if it came from a bottle. Taller than Hope by at least six inches, she had a body that was centerfold material.
A little too blousy for a Vogue cover, but just what a passionate Sicilian male like Luciano would find attractive.
Hope chewed on her lower lip, tasting blood and her own jealousy. A most unenviable emotion. “I guess Marco invited her.”
“You’re right of course, but you’d think she would have enough tact not to come.” Martina turned to face her, dark brown eyes snapping with indignation. “Everyone knows you’re Luciano’s new girlfriend.”
“Do they? Maybe she’s out of the loop.” Hope was watching Zia’s progress toward their host and Luciano with a sinking feeling in her heart.
Marco greeted Zia with a kiss on each cheek. Luciano started to do the same, but the model turned her head and caught his lips. The kiss didn’t last long and Luciano pulled back with a laugh and said something Hope could not hear from her position on the other side of the pool. The greeting was a throwaway gesture, nothing all that intimate for an Italian male, but after being treated like the untouchable woman for days, it was way too much for Hope.
She jumped up. “I’m going into the house. The sun’s too bright right now.”
Martina followed her. “Don’t worry about it, Hope,” she said as she rushed after her. “It was just a little kiss. Believe me, if Luciano had wanted her, he would have kept on kissing her.” Apparently realizing that that was not the most tactful thing to say, Martina shut up.
Hope ignored her and increased her pace to warp speed. He didn’t kiss her at all.
One of Martina’s friends grabbed the younger girl and dragged her off. Much to Hope’s relief. She liked Luciano’s little sister, but she was afraid she was about to cry and she didn’t want an audience. She was searching for a bathroom when a male voice halted her. He was speaking Italian. She didn’t quite catch the rapidly delivered words and turned.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” she said in English, hoping he spoke it as well. Then, just in case, she told him in Italian that she didn’t speak the language very well.
He smiled. “Ah, you are the American girlfriend.”
“Excuse me?” He made it sound like she was an alien being.
“Luciano has brought you home to meet his Mamma.”
The man speaking was about her age and beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. Curly brown hair fell in boyish appeal over his forehead, but his body was anything but boyishly proportioned. Perfectly bronzed, he had sculpted muscles and the classic beauty of a Greek statue. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Luciano, but he was still taller than Hope and he was smiling at her.
Hope managed a small smile in return. “Martina said everyone knew, but I thought she was exaggerating.”
The man shrugged. “Gossip like that spreads fast. I am Giuseppe, Marco’s cousin, and you are Hope, Luciano’s American girlfriend.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. The kiss lingered just one second longer than strict courtesy allowed. Letting her hand lower, but not releasing it, he looked her over from head to foot in a manner that made her blush. “Bellisima!” And he kissed his fingertips in a gesture of obvious approval.
Most beautiful. At least someone thought she was more than a stick of furniture. She smiled again, blushing more intensely with shyness and pleasure. “Thank you.”
“Ah this shy little smile, this blush, it is most charming. Combined with your loveliness, it is easy to see what has my friend so enthralled.”
“Is he your friend?” she asked, not remembering any mention of a Giuseppe DeBreco. But then she hardly could have met all of Luciano’s friends in a few short days.
Giuseppe’s lips curved in the smile of an angel. “Of course.”
Nevertheless, she tugged at her hand. He let go with a comical look of regret and she found herself grinning at him.
“You are inside the house for a reason?” he asked. “Perhaps you wish to protect such beautiful pale skin from the harsh rays of our Sicilian sun?”
“Something like that.” She wasn’t about to admit to a perfect stranger that the sight of Luciano with his old girlfriend had sent her running.
“Then come, I will get you a drink and keep you company in the sala. Y
ou are a guest of my family. You must be entertained.”
No longer feeling on the verge of tears, she more than willingly followed the attractive man who wanted her company, not that of some other woman. Her conscience tried to tell her that Luciano had been with Marco when Zia had approached him, but she dismissed it. She was in no mood to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Once in the sala, Giuseppe went to the minibar against one wall. “I will get you a drink now.”
She was expecting something innocuous like lemonade, but he opened a bottle of champagne from the small fridge behind the minibar.
“We’ll toast my friend’s capture by the beautiful American.”
“He’s not exactly caught.” But she took the glass of champagne he offered and sipped obediently.
Giuseppe mocked her words with his eyes. “You were measured for a wedding gown.”
She choked on her champagne. When she could breathe normally, she said, “You’re right. Gossip does spread fast.”
He shrugged.
“Just for the record,” she said, feeling more militant by the mouthful of champagne, “Luciano and I are not engaged.”
“Ah, so there is still hope for me,” Giuseppe said with exaggerated delight, making her giggle. “Do you wish to listen to music, perhaps watch some television?”
“Maybe some music, but you don’t have to stay here and entertain me. I’m very adept at keeping my own company.”
He looked scandalized by the very thought. “I am a gentleman. I would never leave a lady to her own devices in the home of my family.”
He really was an outrageous flirt. “I don’t suppose you play gin rummy?” She had a sudden hankering for the game she played at lunch every day with her friend and co-worker, Edward.
“I am better at poker than gin rummy,” Giuseppe said with a wink.
“You know what it is?” she asked in surprise, not responding to his remark about poker.
“Yes. I have an American friend with a passion for the game. I will locate a deck of cards to amuse you if you like.”
She took another sip of champagne. “I’d like that. If you play gin rummy with me, I’ll play poker with you,” she promised.
“So, we will both indulge our vices.”
That sounded good to her. She wasn’t indulging any vices with Luciano.
Giuseppe was back within a minute, a deck of cards in his hand. While he amused her with stories of Luciano’s friends, they played a game of gin rummy. They had only played a couple of hands when it became apparent she would win. On her second glass of champagne, she was feeling warm and benevolent when she went out for the last time.
So, although she would much rather have played another game of rummy, when Giuseppe’s frown told her he did not like to lose, she offered to play poker. “I’m terrible and you’re sure to win,” she said consolingly.
He laughed out loud. “You know the Sicilian male, he does not like to lose, eh?”
“This is very true. He particularly does not like to lose his woman only to find her entertaining herself with another man.” The freezing tones of Luciano’s voice came from the doorway to the sala.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GIUSEPPE looked up, his expression indolent. “Ah, it is the inattentive boyfriend. A man must accept the risks when he leaves his companion to her own devices, my friend.”
Hope said nothing because she agreed. Furthermore, tipsy on champagne, she was in no mood to appease Luciano’s stupid male ego when he’d been grinding hers into the dust. Memories of roses and other gifts rose to taunt her conscience and she quickly dispelled them. She didn’t want to think about how kind and attentive he’d been when she could still remember the sight of his lips locking with Zia’s.
Brief or not, it had been a kiss.
“You have nothing to say?” he demanded of her.
“I was just about to play a game of poker with Giuseppe, but I don’t have any money.” She indicated her swimsuit-clad body and lack of a bag with a negligent wave of her hand. “Can I borrow some?”
Luciano’s expression went flint hard. “No.”
She sighed and turned to Giuseppe. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to bet in kind, would you?”
“In kind?” he asked, looking at her as if she was a strangely fascinating creature.
“You know, let me bet something other than money?”
Giuseppe’s eyes widened as a strangled sound reached her from the doorway.
She ignored it. “It can’t be my clothes though. I’m too shy to play strip poker and besides you’d have the advantage.” In actual fact, she was thinking more along the lines of an IOU, but why be boring and say so?
Giuseppe looked at her glass of champagne, which was almost empty and back at her. “You don’t drink much, do you?”
“What? No. I don’t. Has that got something to do with playing poker? I’m sure I’m not too tipsy to read the cards, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
His gaze slid sideways to a glowering Luciano and back to her. “Not precisely, no.”
“You are not playing poker.”
She didn’t bother to acknowledge Luciano. She smiled at Giuseppe. “So, what can I bet?”
“Luciano does not want you to play.” He spoke slowly, as if she might not have gotten the message the first time around when Luciano had said it in such a bossy tone.
“I’m an American woman, you know. We’re not that great at being told what to do. For that matter, I’m not sure many modern women are.”
“Even the shy ones, I see.” His brown eyes twinkled with a level of amusement unwarranted by the situation.
“Giuseppe,” Luciano interrupted in a voice that could have razed steel, “I believe Marco would like your help entertaining his guests.”
“I am sorry, Hope. I must go.” The younger man stood, his angelic smile marked with overtones of real humor. “Duty calls. Perhaps we will get our game of poker another time.”
She sighed. “All right. I promise to let you win.”
He inclined his head toward her. “I will look forward to it.” Then he left.
She picked up the deck of cards, shuffled them, and then laid out the pattern for a game of solitaire. She’d been deprived of her gin rummy partner, but that didn’t mean she had to return to poolside to watch Zia fawning over Luciano.
She’d moved three times when she felt his brooding presence right behind her. “Why were you in here playing cards with Giuseppe?”
She didn’t bother to turn to face him, but shrugged. “I wanted to.”
“I do not like finding you alone with other men.” He sounded like a guy trying really hard to hold on to his patience.
“Really?” Well, she didn’t like him letting other women kiss him, so they were even. “I’ll remember that.”
“And not do it again?” His voice was dangerously soft, but the champagne had affected more than her willingness to let Giuseppe win at cards.
“I didn’t say that. I enjoyed playing gin rummy with Giuseppe. He’s a very nice man. He’s really good looking too,” she said with more candor than wisdom, “and not so tall that he’s overwhelming to a shrimp like me.”
Really, she should go for a guy like that instead of the ultra-masculine Luciano. Why weren’t hearts more logical?
A sharply indrawn breath behind her told her that he had not liked the provoking answer. “You prefer his company to mine?” His voice was quiet and yet she just knew he was majorly furious at the idea.
An honest answer would be too good for his ego. “I don’t know,” she surprised herself by saying. Apparently she wasn’t done being provoking. Maybe she should drink champagne more often. She studied her cards. “I only got to play one game of gin rummy with him before you came in and chased him off.”
Masculine rage radiated from Luciano in palpable waves that burned against her back. “Yet, you think you might, given the opportunity?”
She moved a red five onto a black
six. “He touched me. You don’t. Maybe.” Liar. She wanted only Luciano.
“He touched you?” The deadly softness of his voice warned her that she had phrased that very badly.
She spun in her chair to face him and regretted the action at once. First and foremost because it made her dizzy, but secondly because his expression was frightening. He looked like he wanted to kill someone and she thought that person might be Giuseppe. She didn’t want to cause any problems between the two men, especially when the younger one had been so nice to her.
She glared at Luciano. “Not like that. I’m not like your other girlfriend, Zia. I don’t go kissing men in public places.”
Luciano ignored the reference to Zia. “How did he touch you, tesoro? Tell me.” His voice was deadly soft.
“He kissed my hand and he called me beautiful. If you want the truth, it made me feel nice.” A lot nicer than having Luciano dump the suntan lotion in his sister’s lap and leave with the speed of an Olympic athlete when Marco signaled for him. “Now go back to your Playboy Bunny and let me finish my game of solitaire in peace.”
Had she really said that? She sounded like a truculent child, or a jealous woman. Which she was, she admitted.
“I have no interest in other women and I do not wish to leave you alone.”
She rolled her eyes. Right. “Why not?” He had a very strange way of showing his supposed singular interest in her. “You left me alone by the pool.”
“I left you with my sister.” He sounded and looked driven. “Marco wanted to discuss something with me.”
“So, go back and talk some more business with him. I don’t care.” She should be used to it by now. She’d been ignored for her grandfather’s business interests all her life, but if Luciano thought she was going to marry a man who did the same thing to her, then he was a fool.
But it isn’t his business interests that have you so on edge, her inner voice reminded her.
“Clearly you do care.” He had that superior-male-dealing-with-a-recalcitrant-female expression on his face. “You are upset.”