Lost in Italy

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “How about we eat up top?” he called down to her. “It’s a nice night.”

  “Sure. This’ll be done in about ten more minutes.”

  Trent used the time to set up the table, then made a few trips below for a small linen table cloth, dishes, wine, water, and two long, tapered candles. Once everything was ready, he stood back to survey the scene. The wine glasses sparkled in the flickering candlelight and the seat Halli would occupy faced the lake where lights were starting to wink on across the water.

  Perfect. Ambiance…lighting…he snapped his fingers. Music.

  He met Halli at the short set of stairs. Flattening against the side to allow her room to pass with two covered serving dishes, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Once the smooth, seductive tenor of Luciano Pavarotti flowed from the Scappare’s speakers, Trent returned to find Halli staring at the romantic setting, a dish still in each hand. He took one on his way past, set it on the table, and started to turn back for the second.

  She was already beside him, setting the dish on the linen covered table. “What is all this?”

  Suspicion underscored the casual question. Trent knew exactly what it looked like, and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit—to himself—the thought of seducing her made his pulse beat faster. But he could honestly say his intention here was nothing so selfish. He wanted and expected nothing more than to give her an evening to take home to Wisconsin.

  “A truce,” he declared. “A few hours to put everything aside and not worry about tomorrow.”

  For a moment, she stood there, staring at the table, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she shook her head with dismay. “Ben can’t put anything aside. How can I just forget what he’s going through? Or Rachel? In fact, I should call her.”

  Trent caught her arm when she would’ve gone back down below. “I’m not saying you forget, Halli, you just let it rest. Give your mind a break and clear your head so we can come up with a strong plan of attack for tomorrow. There’s nothing better you can do for Ben right now, and Simone promised to call if there were any problems with your sister. Let her rest, too.”

  She didn’t look completely convinced, but at least when she pulled free from his light hold, it was more of an afterthought, not a jerk. Her gaze swept over the picture-perfect scene and he glimpsed longing in her expression.

  “You really think this will help?”

  “It’s worth a try. Besides, a trip to Italy wouldn’t be complete without an authentic Italian dinner. While I apologize that you had to make your own, I figured the least I could do is provide the rest.” He gestured to the small bench seat facing the water. “After you.”

  One last, slight hesitation and she sat with a quiet, “Thank you.”

  Trent uncorked the bottle of Chianti and scooped up both glasses.

  “Oh, no.” She held up a hand and he stopped pouring with her glass only a quarter full. “You think better on a full stomach, I think better without alcohol. You saw what happened last night,” she protested when he set the glass in front of her, half-full.

  “You were stressed, jet-lagged, and exhausted, of course it knocked you out.”

  “Sure, o-kay. That was it,” she said with a wry grin.

  He poured himself three quarters of a glass. Before sitting down, he reached back to pull the gun from his waistband and laid it on the table within reach. Much as he hated the reminder, he wanted protection ready and available.

  Halli stared at the weapon as he sat. Without a word, she transferred her attention from the gun and removed the covers from the dishes to serve. Trent found he couldn’t look away from her face. Candlelight softened the pink tint across her cheekbones and picked up the reddish highlights in her hair. Their knees brushed under the cramped table, sending instant warmth through him.

  Latent desire flared in his veins like a match to gasoline. He shifted, and then immediately wanted to press his leg back against hers. He second-guessed his noble gesture of a friendly romantic dinner. This was going to be torture without the sensual promise of his definition of dessert afterward.

  But it was a torture he’d endure again and again if it would put a smile back on her face. Whenever she smiled, truly smiled, those blue eyes sparkled and her whole face lit up with an inner beauty that took his breath away. His chest tightened, and without warning, his heart thudded hard. Suddenly, it felt like he’d just tossed her into his convertible and stepped on the gas all over again.

  She glanced up, caught him staring, and gave a questioning lift of her brow and a self-conscious smile. He quickly took a gulp of wine before leaning forward for an appreciative sniff of his full plate of steaming pasta.

  “Smells great.”

  Her shy smile came a little easier, and his heart beat faster. He picked up his fork and twirled pasta onto the tines. Time to stop acting like a virgin teenager; he hadn’t played that part in years. Maybe he should channel Shain.

  Shain West appreciated and enjoyed the women in his scripted life, but he never actually fell for them. Trent straightened, shoved that last thought as far away as possible, and concentrated on his plate.

  His first forkful brought forth an involuntary moan of approval. “Tastes even better.”

  “It’s just spaghetti.”

  Savory flavors of basil, tomato and just the right amount of garlic lingered on his tongue. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s really good.”

  “Thank you.”

  Heightened color in her cheeks told him she was pleased with the compliment.

  Pavarotti’s Italian opera combined with the seemingly distant sounds of the town behind them, and the serenity of the lake in front of them. The night closed in, wrapping them in a sultry blanket of intimacy lit by candlelight, the quarter moon, and the stars in the clear sky above. Unattainable romance from the night before suddenly seemed attainable, and Trent fought not to take advantage of the unbearably sensuous situation he’d unintentionally created.

  “Tell me about your last movie,” Halli prompted after a minute or two.

  Safe subject. Thank God. Between bites, Trent gave her the DVD back cover blurb. Her revealing comment in the car after Rachel had been shot echoed in his memory—the scene with Shain West and the sheriff discussing Emma’s rescue had never appeared in any trailer. As the star and a producer on the film, he’d have known.

  Lifting his wine glass, he watched her carefully as he said, “Hopefully they don’t give away the entire plot in the trailer like High Lonesome did.”

  Her hand stilled, and then her guilty gaze met his. “Okay, fine, I watch your movies.”

  “Why lie about it?”

  “Your ego’s big enough, what do you care if I like you—r movies?”

  His heart did a little flip at her slip up, but he covered with a mock-scowl. “Is there a compliment somewhere under that insult?”

  She only laughed softly and took a sip of her own wine.

  More than halfway through the meal, she’d finished most of the glass she’d earlier protested and had visibly mellowed. Either she’d taken his advice to heart, or the alcohol completely lowered her guard. His first inclination was to refill her glass, and she didn’t object.

  While topping off his own, Trent’s hypocrisy slammed home with a jolt. Noble intentions? Unintentional seduction? The woman enticed him like crazy, and he’d plied her with wine, music and candles in the most romantic country in the world. Who the hell was he kidding? One crook of her finger and he’d be all over her.

  In his head, Shain laughed his ass off at him and told him to go for it.

  Trent set the bottle down and sat back, his appetite for food or drink gone, his mood equally demolished. She’d been right to call him a jerk all along.

  Halli pushed her plate aside as if she were also done. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  His fingers curled around the stem of his glass as she lifted hers. Her blue gaze found his in the candlelight and the warmth in her eyes
told him he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

  “First of all, thank you. For all you’ve done so far, and…this.” Her hand made an all-encompassing sweep of the table, boat and lake, though her voice wavered, as if she were uncertain. He felt worse than ever and hoped that was it, but she suddenly sat forward. Soft light shimmered in her hair, framing her earnest expression.

  “I really am sorry about earlier…at Simone’s. I want to trust you, Trent. I do trust you, it’s just… so much has happened, so fast, and without any warning…it…takes me a little time to regroup each time, you know? Does that make sense?”

  Unfortunately, it did. And unfortunately, understanding how she ticked did him no good. He needed to hold tight to his resentment over her mistrust, not sympathize with her emotions. Resentment would help him keep his distance much more effectively than sympathy.

  “You were right about the quiet dinner clearing my mind. Maybe a little too much.”

  A soft laugh and her embarrassed smile socked him in the gut.

  “I feel like a complete idiot for doubting your intentions when you were only trying to be nice.”

  Yep. Jerk with a capitol J. His grip tightened on the glass. “You were going to make a toast?”

  She blinked at his clipped question and straightened before lifting her glass a little higher. “To success tomorrow. And bringing Ben home.”

  Damn. He didn’t need the reminder that she was depending on him. Sean had depended on him, too. Not in anything specific, but still, he hadn’t been there when his brother needed him most.

  He saluted Halli with his glass and then downed his wine and stood. The gun he shoved against the small of his back and then yanked his shirt over it. Her blue eyes widened in confusion, piling on the guilt.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” He stacked their dinner plates together, tossed on the silverware, and grabbed his glass.

  “Yes I did. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”

  “You didn’t.” He’d ruined it by being a self-serving ass. “I’ll clean up since you cooked.”

  “But there’s still dessert.”

  Trent left that statement completely alone and went below to wash dishes. If he was lucky, she’d remain up top until he talked some sense into himself.

  Luck was not his friend. Halli’s appearance made him squeeze the soap bottle too hard and bubbles mounded under the running water in the small sink. Tiny iridescent spheres floated into the air when he plunged his hands in to begin washing. She brushed past to scoop up a towel and take the first dish he rinsed.

  A brief slip and slide of her fingers against his soapy hand sent a spark of electricity up his arm. He barely contained a reactive jerk. Between her close proximity in the cramped space and the tantalizing citrus-vanilla scent of the warm sponge cake, his frustration mounted. The dishes ended up cleaner than they’d ever been.

  More than once he heard her inhale like she was about to say something, but each time he tensed and waited, she let the breath back out and remained silent.

  He released the plug in the sink and turned for a towel in time to see her stretch to put one of the wine glasses back in the built-in rack. She could barely reach, even with one hand braced on the counter and raised on her tiptoes. Normally, a cabin cruiser wouldn’t require even a five foot three person to reach further than arms length, but he’d special ordered the boat for his height.

  The subtle sway of the boat threw her off balance. Trent jumped forward. He caught her with one arm around her waist and the other steadied the glass before it toppled to the floor.

  Being classified an international super star didn’t make him any less of a man. She smelled like dessert and the soft curves against his body overwhelmed his already stimulated senses. Once he secured the wine glasses in the wooden rack, his arms closed around her, his will-power drained like the dishwater.

  Chapter 20

  Halli’s breath caught in her chest with the warmth of Trent’s embrace. She started to turn around, but his voice sounded harsh in her ear. “Don’t.”

  The strength of his hold said he wanted her right where she was. The tone of his voice said the opposite. Ever since her stupid toast, he’d been acting strange.

  “We were going to talk about our plan for tomorrow anyway, so why did what I said make you so mad?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You sound mad.” She was starting to get a little annoyed herself. The wine may have relaxed her, but it also boosted her bravado. “Look, I’m sorry that I—”

  “Stop apologizing!” He spun her around and braced an arm on either side of her.

  “It wasn’t a real apology…” She trailed off at the fierce look in his eyes as he leaned close.

  “What did you think I’d planned when you saw the table?”

  A telltale flush heated her face, fueled hotter by the press of his hips and thighs holding her in place. Not that she wanted to go anywhere. And, since she’d been willing to drink the wine to loosen her inhibitions, and her face surely already gave her away, she might as well be honest.

  “I thought you were looking to get lucky.” His jaw tightened, and she took a figurative step back. “Stupid, considering we both know you don’t date women like me. I’m not your type.”

  “Right on all three counts, sweetheart.”

  The blunt confirmation and distancing endearment put an ache in her chest. As if she expected him to deny ulterior motives, despite where they stood right now.

  Yes, darn it, she had. Or she’d hoped, anyway. Because during dinner she’d fallen under the spell of his thoughtful gesture and the romantic atmosphere. With the slightest encouragement and her growing feelings of respect and trust, she’d have said yes to anything he asked.

  Faced with the truth, she felt like an idiot who’d been set up. Why the heck couldn’t he have kept up the farce for both their sake? Stupid actor.

  “You said dinner was a truce.”

  “See how good I am? I even fooled myself.”

  His crooked smile sent her heart skipping, but didn’t make her feel any better. The wine prompted her to ask, “So…would you have looked to score with just anyone or me specifically?”

  His expression became serious. “Just anyone isn’t standing in front of me. You are.”

  She laughed. At her own stupidity, because she wanted to believe him. “Yeah, you are good.”

  “I’m not just saying that, Halli.”

  “I might buy it if I were a good five inches taller and model gorgeous.”

  “At first glance, it’s easy to mistake you as plain, especially in those God-awful clothes you were wearing when we met.”

  “They were travel clothes,” she defended.

  “Hideous.”

  She shrugged. Refused to give in to vain disappointment from his less than flattering description. She knew she wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but didn’t mean she wanted to hear him say it. Apparently, all he really did need was his looks to get women into bed with him.

  Case in point, she still wanted him. How pathetic.

  He brushed her hair back off one cheek with his knuckles. “It’s the second look that gets a guy. And the third. And the fourth.” He lifted a lock of hair, rubbed it between his fingers. “Highlights in your hair. The sparkle in those beautiful baby blues. A set of kissable lips that transform your entire face with just one smile.”

  Her stomach quivered in response to his low, gravelly voice and the way his gaze travelled over her face like a caress. Hurt and disappointment disappeared as if they’d never been. Hazel eyes locked with hers and for the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.

  His head lowered toward hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss, only to have a picture of him in 1880’s western wear and a worn brown Stetson appear like her eyelids were a movie screen. Her eyes flew open as she gave an outraged gasp and shoved him back a st
ep.

  “When did Shain show up?”

  He grinned. “You really do watch my movies.”

  “I already admitted I did, so why are you feeding me a line now?”

  “I was just playing around, and that line was practically written for you.”

  She glared at him, arms crossed over her chest. Couldn’t believe he’d stoop that low, and worse, that she’d almost fallen for his act.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you’d take it so personal. You want my own version?”

  “Can you manage?”

  His grin widened as he gripped her shoulders. A smart woman would twist away, but she couldn’t make herself move. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat as if he were about to make an important speech.

  “Ready?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed.

  Halli found herself pulled into an unexpected kiss. His lips were firm, yet undemanding. Beneath her hands wedged between them, his heart pounded a rapid rhythm that rivaled hers. He couldn’t act that, could he?

  It suddenly hit her how exhausting it was to be so defensive all the time. Dinner had given her a glimpse of peace in the storm. She liked him. He was kissing her. What the hell was her problem?

  Impulsive decision made, she relaxed and parted her lips. He groaned softly and lifted both hands to frame her heated face. His tongue slid past her teeth, igniting a need deep inside that she’d never felt before his first kiss. After a last lingering moment that shifted emotions inside her chest, he pulled back to gaze down at her.

  “Definitely not ready for that,” she breathed.

  “Halli Sanders, you are a pain in the ass, you drive me completely crazy…and I’ve wanted you from the moment you smashed your head into my chin in my garage.”

  Mind still reeling from the kiss, she frowned. “Violence turns you on?”

  “No,” he said on a laugh. “That’s when I figured out what you were hiding under your travel clothes.”