“Go ahead.”
The server dropped off their salads and then Marco said, “Why are you doing this if it scares you? Why do you not keep on riding the broncs?”
Natalie stared at her salad, willing herself not to let a tear escape. Trying to force her voice not to break, she whispered, “My father died because of me. The least I can do is be what he always wanted me to be.”
“I will not pry about your father, but I doubt you were the reason he died.”
“I was.” Tears blinded her and she did her best to blink them back, but a few escaped, rolling down her cheeks. Would it ever hurt less? Would she ever forgive herself for acting so selfishly the day he died? For that matter, would she ever forgive her father for leaving her? His death was a huge blow, and the fact he’d left her nearly penniless made her hate him a little, which hurt far more.
Marco leaned across the booth and tipped her chin up. “Caro, Natalie, do not be sad.” When her lower lip trembled he ran the pad of his thumb over it and it trembled for an entirely different reason. She heard a swift intake of breath and looked up at Marco. His eyes were even darker than they had been and she jerked away from his touch. With obvious reluctance he sat back again. “Okay, so if you are going to do this, you will need equipment and training. Can you use any of the equipment you used for this bronc riding thing you did?”
“I’ve got chaps and boots, but no vest, bull rope or mouth guard, since none of those things are required or commonly used in bronc riding. And I don’t have a lot of money to buy stuff, so I was hoping I could borrow it for the tryout and only spend if I actually make the tour.”
Marco considered that. “You could borrow the vest, but obviously not the mouth guard, and I don’t know any bull riders who would let someone else use their rope. Bull riders are very, ah, what is the word?”
“Superstitious?”
“Yes!” He snapped his fingers and Natalie had to smile. In spite of her trepidation about coming to dinner with Marco and the little crying jag, she was having a good time.
“I know you guys use rosin to get a good grip. Would you show me how you put it on?”
“Will you be at the next event?”
“As long as my car makes it there.”
Marco frowned. “You are driving an old car?”
“It’s all I have.” Stabbing a couple of pieces of lettuce with her fork, she mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right. But if you’re in trouble or you need a ride I want you to come to me. I travel with my brother Paolo but I would be happy to offer you my assistance.”
She didn’t answer, choosing instead to chew her salad far longer than necessary. Why was he working so hard to make her obligated to him?
They finished their salads and the server brought over their dinners. Marco had ordered a large steak and Natalie had to concentrate on her own meal to keep from drooling all over the table. She loved steak, but hadn’t had one in months because she’d been trying to save what little money she had. Once she’d found out how bad her financial situation was now she’d stopped buying meat altogether unless it was a great deal. Even this simple chicken piccata was the fanciest meal she’d had in a long time.
“Now tell me about where you come from,” she prompted when the silence started to become awkward.
“Ah, Italia,” Marco replied, a wistful smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Have you ever been there?”
Natalie let out an indelicate snort. “Not hardly. I’d never traveled farther away from home than about eight hours for a rodeo before now.”
“You would love it, I think. I lived east of Roma in San Vito Chietino in the Abruzzo region. It is on the water of the Adriatic Sea and is very green and beautiful.”
“It sounds really nice.”
“My family has been there for generations. It is not a big city like Roma and I have familia everywhere I look.” Small frown lines formed at the edges of his lips and around his eyes. “I couldn’t get away from them or from my family’s business until I made the choice to come here.”
“What does your family do?”
“Olive oil,” Marco responded, his tone flat.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “You’re those D’Allesandros?”
“Yes.”
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the family business, even though he’d brought it up, so she cleared her throat. “Tell me more about Abruzzo.” She butchered the pronunciation and Marco laughed. “Don’t just sit there and laugh—help me pronounce it.”
“It is like three words, ah-BRUT-zo.”
“Ah-BRUT-zo,” Natalie echoed. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Tell me about it.” Natalie found herself fascinated with Marco and his story. He seemed so exotic compared to the homegrown cowboys she’d grown up with.
“What city there is was built on a hill that rises from the water. Most of it is cobblestone streets, very narrow. You cannot even get a car into some areas.” Natalie felt her eyes widen, but Marco just smiled and continued. “Because it is so small, everyone knows you. The people are very friendly. They shout across the street at each other, out of windows…”
“Wow, that sounds—”
“Crazy?”
Natalie laughed. “A little.”
They finished their meal and Marco paid the check. As Marco was hailing a cab it occurred to her that not only had she not picked his brain nearly enough about bull riding, for some strange reason she also didn’t want him to see the shithole she was staying in.
It was over a mile from the arena and she’d walked to save on gas costs, but seriously considered telling him her car was at the arena so he’d drop her off there. Then she thought about it more and knew he’d insist on taking her right to her car and waiting until she’d gotten in and the car had started before he would leave. She didn’t have to know him well to be sure of that.
Resigned, she told the cab driver which motel she was staying at. When they arrived, Marco made a noise. “This is where you’re staying?”
“I told you, I don’t have a lot of money.”
“I know, cara, but this…”
“It’s fine,” she got out through clenched teeth. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Thank you for dinner. I’ll try to come find you at the next event if you’re still willing to show me how you prepare your rope.”
“Of course. Give me your cell number and I’ll call you to tell you where to meet me.”
“I-I don’t have a cell phone. I’m trying to travel as cheaply as possible and it was an extravagance.”
Marco turned fully to her inside the confines of the cab, which was feeling smaller and smaller every second she stayed in it. “You are a single woman traveling alone and you don’t have a cell phone?”
Natalie bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten rid of her phone, but she’d been desperate to cut expenses.
Marco abruptly exited the car and she scrambled out after him. “What are you doing?”
He leaned down and had a brief conversation with the cab driver, who nodded, and then he pivoted and faced her. “I’m going inside your room to check things out.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. Now I want to see for myself. I am not leaving until I am sure you’re safe.”
“Fine.” She marched over to her room and worked the ancient key into the lock. It wouldn’t open, though, and Marco put his hands over hers. He surrounded her and she wanted in the worst way to lean back against him, to let him take care of her. It had been so long since anyone had been there to help. Her daddy had been her whole world and when he had died that world had fallen as if it were a house of cards.
“Let me try, cara.”
“Okay.” Her voice came out as a squeak and she cursed her own weakness. “What does cara mean?”
Marco’s hands were still over hers, working the lock. His hot breath fanned over her ear, and he answered, “I believe the English word is
dear. Many Italian men call women cara—especially a beautiful woman such as you.”
What did you say when someone spouted a line like that? Natalie had no idea, so she kept her mouth shut and prayed the damn door would open, as she and Marco were touching neck to knee with him tucked in close behind her. When he shifted his weight and cleared his throat, she felt definite evidence of his arousal and something unbidden woke inside her. Natalie hadn’t even been on a date in months and despite how she should be concentrating on making it in the world on her own, she craved human contact. If that was wrapped up in a charming, totally hot bull rider with an accent to curl your toes, it sounded even better.
Finally, something clicked inside the lock and Natalie rushed inside to break the spell Marco had cast over her. He stepped into the room and his gaze swept the area, his eyebrows drawing down and a frown pulling at his face. Natalie’s eyes closed in mortification as she took in the stained carpet and yellowed walls, along with the huge mess she’d left this morning in her haste to get to the arena on time.
Marco walked through the room to the tiny bathroom on the opposite wall from the door. “I don’t like this.”
“It’s all I can afford.”
“I cannot leave you here in this room with this old car you spoke about. My Nonna, God rest her soul, taught me to never leave a woman in distress.”
“I’m not in distress.”
“This is not safe, cara.” He stood a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.
Natalie threw up her hands. “Then I guess we have a problem, since I think it’s fine.” She knew what the room looked like, what it smelled like. But she needed to get used to staying in places such as this until she could get back on her feet again and it was frustrating to deal with someone who didn’t understand that.
“I’ll be right back,” Marco said, and left the room.
“Where the hell is he going?” she said to no one. Huffing out an impatient breath, she went to wash her hands with the ice-cold, slightly brown-tinged water coming from the bathroom tap and then set about picking up the discarded clothes and other items from earlier. At least she wasn’t feeling hungry or nauseated from her dinner for once.
Daddy, why did you do this to me?
Fighting tears and an alarming amount of rage, she shoved her clothes into her suitcase. It wasn’t one of those newer ones that rolled but it did the job. Marco returned and said, “Oh, good, you are packing.”
“What do you mean, ‘oh, good’?”
“You’re coming with me.”
“I’m what?” She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, tapping her toe.
She could almost see Marco digging his heels in. Why had she agreed to dinner? This amount of grief wasn’t worth a decent meal.
“I am not leaving you in this, this place. You will sleep in my hotel room tonight.”
If she had been a cartoon character the steam would’ve blown the top of her head off. “Are you freaking kidding? I mean, I know you want to get laid, but this is not the way to go about it.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed and he advanced a step. Natalie took an involuntary one back and then cursed herself for not standing her ground. “You think that I would use a woman’s situation to get into bed with her?”
“I really don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do.”
“This is true, but I would never do that. I am many things, but I am not a rapist. I would never force myself on a woman.” He retreated, leaning back on the door. As they continued to glower at each other he crossed his arms over his chest again and she wanted to scream. Natalie wondered idly if men had any idea how hot most of them looked when they did that. Maybe someone taught them that move in high school health class or something.
She brought her mind out of the gutter quickly when he continued. “I will sleep in the other bed, by the way. I have two beds in my hotel room. Does that make you feel better? And I promise to behave as a gentleman. Mia madre would expect nothing less, and if I do something to offend you I’ll give you her phone number. Now, if you are assured I will not attack you, will you come with me?”
Natalie glanced around the room. She didn’t know Marco, but for some reason she believed him when he said he wasn’t a rapist. With his looks and foreign air of exoticness he no doubt had his pick of women, so why would he bother? And if he was willing to let her call his mother… With a shrug, she answered, “All right, I’ll come with you. But I need a few minutes to get my stuff together and check out.”
Too bad there was little to no possibility of getting the money she’d paid for the room back. She could really use it. Scurrying around the room, she got the rest of her stuff together. Marco came over to take her suitcase. “I will wait in the cab for you.”
She held up a hand. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“I, um, I have my car here. I’ll follow you.”
Marco nodded. Giving her a quick sweep from head to toe, he stepped out of the room. She dropped onto the edge of the bed, wondering if she would regret agreeing to go with him. A woman only had so much willpower.
Chapter Two
Marco took Natalie’s bag to the cab with him and slid inside. Natalie followed without a word and he found himself studying her. Why was he feeling so possessive and protective of this woman whom he’d only met a few hours ago? This went beyond how he would normally act around a woman.
Natalie closed the car door behind her and walked the short distance to the office. He watched as she handed over her key and then nodded, her head dipping as if she couldn’t hold it up. Vowing to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with Natalie, he waited as she exited the office and headed for a car he wouldn’t let one of his servants drive.
He had to physically restrain himself from going over there and demanding she leave the piece of junk in the lot. She had agreed to leave the disgusting room and if he went outside and began to yell about her car she would probably turn around and go right back into the room just to spite him. No, better to fight one battle at a time.
She got into her car and he signaled to the cab driver he was ready to leave. “Hey,” he called to the front, “just make sure she stays behind us. I don’t like that thing she’s driving.”
“You got it, pal.” The driver saluted him in the mirror and Marco figured the man was good for it since he’d already given him a hefty tip, and of course the meter had been running the entire time he’d been inside Natalie’s motel room. That was fine. Money changed everything—Marco knew that better than most anyone else.
He swiveled in his seat and tried to surreptitiously watch out the back window to make sure Natalie was still following them. They arrived at his high-end hotel and he got out, peeling a bunch of twenties off the roll in his pocket. Natalie’s eyes widened when he turned around and her gaze landed on the stack of cash. Marco didn’t like traveling without cash. His papi had taught him to always have money at your disposal, and Marco was grateful he’d had it tonight.
Marco placed a hand on the small of Natalie’s back and she stiffened. Apparently there would be no more casual contact and he found himself mourning the loss of it. Earlier he’d genuinely enjoyed holding her hand, and it had seemed as if she’d gotten used to it too. With a sigh he pressed the button for the elevator and then heard a noise beside him.
“Does that mean what I think it does?”
“What?”
She indicated the button. “PH. Does that stand for penthouse?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’ve never been in a penthouse before. Or any hotel nearly as nice as this…” Her voice drifted off and for about the millionth time tonight he found himself curious about her circumstances.
The elevator doors opened and he gently pushed her in ahead of him. When they opened again on the top floor and she stepped out she came to a dead stop and he nearly plowed into the back of her.
“Wow.”
Marco took in the marble furnishin
gs and thick carpet with a shrug. “It’s just stuff.” Using his electronic key card, he opened the door to his suite and held it for her. “After you.”
Natalie walked inside. “How many rooms are there? This place is huge.”
“Counting the bathroom, only three.”
“Oh, only three.” Glancing into said bathroom, she said, “And the bathroom is bigger than my entire motel room was.”
“If you would like to take a bath there’s a Jacuzzi tub.”
Natalie groaned and his cock hardened to the point of pain. He’d promised he wouldn’t force her, but a little slow seduction was allowed, surely?
“A bath sounds absolutely awesome. I used to love taking them in the huge claw-footed tub we had at home.”
Her eyes took on a faraway look and he mused that he probably never looked like that when he was thinking of his own home back in Italy, which was actually his parents’ estate, since it was common that men lived with their families until they married and he hadn’t been willing to start a war with his madre over him moving out. It had turned out to be one of the main reasons he’d decided to come to the States, though. His padre’s constant nagging of him, and to a much lesser extent, Paolo, about learning the business had driven him to the other end of the Earth. His brother didn’t have the strength of will and sheer stubbornness of Marco, and had followed less than a year later when he couldn’t stand the fighting anymore.
With a sigh he took her bag into the bedroom and she followed. Grabbing a luggage stand, he then hefted her bag onto it. “Would you like a drink? I have a fully stocked bar.”
“Just water is fine.” She was tugging at her sleeves and he frowned.
“I will not hurt you, cara.”
“I-I know,” she stammered and then blushed.
“Come out to the living room and we will have a drink before bed.”
After a moment’s hesitation she returned to the living room and sat down on the edge of the couch. “This is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in, by far. I’ve only seen places like this in magazines or a movie.”
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