Roman Reunion (Destination: Desire)

by Crystal Jordan

  Another direct hit. He had been kicking his own ass a lot. He deserved the beating, but he didn’t necessarily deserve to be miserable. Then again, wasn’t that what he’d been lately? Utterly miserable. He wanted to be happy. He wanted Karen to be happy too. “Thanks, sis. I needed to hear that.”

  “She may not be able to forgive you, but don’t make that mean you can’t forgive yourself.”

  He winced. “That’s harder.”

  “I know, but it’s also important,” Laurel insisted. “You guys grew apart and you need to grow back together. If you can’t, that doesn’t mean you should stop growing as a person. For years, you’ve been clipping yourself down like one of the perfectly manicured topiaries in Mom and Dad’s garden. Go a little wild.”

  His mind flashed to everything he and Karen had done to each other since they came to Italy. “I’m working on it.”

  “Good.”

  He grinned. “You’re pretty smart for a baby sister, you know.”

  “Yep, I know.”

  The smugness oozing out of those words just couldn’t go unanswered. He quipped, “Must be from all those rough years as a starving artist.”

  Which she’d never experienced. Even while struggling to establish herself, she’d had a trust fund to keep her afloat.

  She laughed. “Shut up!”

  Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he prepared to get up and get ready for the day. “Thanks for calling. Enjoy the parental break in my house. There’s no food in the fridge though.”

  “I’ll pick up some groceries.” Her sigh was long-suffering, as if she couldn’t believe he wasn’t prepared to feed her at any moment, whether he was on a different continent or not. “Good luck with Karen. Tell her I said hi. Have fun on your first vacation in over a decade. Enjoy Gio and Valentina’s wedding.”

  “I will.” Especially if Karen was there.

  “Oh, and I dyed the tips of my hair purple.”

  Of course. Laurel was rarely without some portion of her dark locks being an electrifying shade. “Any new piercings or tattoos?”

  “Still just the nose, navel and tragus. You know I don’t do tats.”

  Mostly because she was a gigantic wimp about pain. A piercing was quick, a tattoo meant she’d have to sit there and take it. Possibly for multiple hours over several sessions. Not going to happen. Tate had had to hold her hand while she cried every time she’d needed booster shots as a child. He didn’t tease her about it though. They all had their fears. “Whatever makes you happy, kid.”

  She chuckled. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” He moved to hang up and then stopped. “Will you still be there when I get back? How long are you in town?”

  He could picture her face scrunched up as she tried to remember actual details about anything other than art. “Um…your return flight is on Wednesday?”

  “Yes.” He blinked. “Do I want to know how you know that?”

  “I have your assistant’s number.” She blew a raspberry through the phone. “And, yes, I should still be here. I’ll want to hear all about it. Unless there’s sexy parts. Those you can filter down to PG level. You are my brother, after all.”

  “Yes, because I’m still traumatized by having to explain to you what condoms were.” God knew their parents weren’t having the sex talk with them. Tate had learned the gory details in health class—he’d just had the misfortune of being the oldest. “No thirteen-year-old boy should have to do such a thing for his eleven-year-old sister.”

  “I’m sure you can hug it out with your therapist,” she drawled.

  He laughed outright at that. Talking to Laurel always lightened his heart a little. Even when he wanted to strangle her. “See you next week.”

  “Later!” The line clicked as she cut the call.

  Laurel had given him a lot to think about, but his goal was unchanged. He still wanted Karen—in his life and in his bed. He wanted her forgiveness, and no matter what his sister said, he wasn’t entirely sure he could forgive himself for making such a shambles of his marriage without Karen’s absolution.

  But even if she didn’t take him back, he was never going to work for his father again. The very thought made his stomach clench. No. Hell no. He was so done with that. Though if Laurel was right, his new practice was off to a good start. He’d be severely limiting his client list, but he wouldn’t mind starting that list with those who’d been happy with his work before.

  That was a concern for when he landed in the States. He was not checking email, and his clients didn’t have his personal number, so he’d get messages from his assistant when he returned. Former assistant. Though with any luck, she was one of the people who wanted to follow him to his new firm. Good assistants were worth their weight in gold.

  For now, he needed to get this reconciliation on track. Shower, dress and see what Karen was up to. He hoped she was open to having company.

  Time for some touristing.

  Karen hummed as she got ready for the day. She felt relaxed and mellow—telltale signs of really good sex—and she refused to experience even an ounce of guilt over it. There was no crime in getting laid, especially by someone who knew exactly what he was doing. And Tate did. That didn’t make it anything other than really good sex. She ignored the niggle of conscience in the back of her mind, the tiny part of her that recognized her own lie. No. No guilt, no worrying, no repercussions, no emotional involvement. Just a straight-up shagfest.

  After slathering on some sunblock, she stepped into a pair of sandals she could walk in for miles with no problem, and slung a small crossbody bag over her shoulder. All set.

  She opened her door and fell back with a gasp. Tate leaned casually against the opposite wall, arms folded, ankles crossed. His eyes crinkled with amusement at her reaction, but he said nothing.

  She frowned. “You’re making a habit of scaring me, Patton. It’s annoying.”

  His eyebrows winged upward. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “How’s Laurel?” She strove for a calm voice and a neutral topic, stomping down on the little flutter in her heart. She did not flutter for Tate Patton. Not anymore.

  Dipping a shoulder, he shrugged. “She was staying with the parents while doing some prep work for her art show. She called to let me know she gave up dealing with them and is house-sitting for me. To make sure all the unsavory elements in chichi Palo Alto don’t decide to break in.”

  “Good of her.” She grinned at his sister’s characteristic audacity.

  “She thought so.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “She said to say hello. And she dyed her hair purple.”

  “Ha.” After moving into the hallway, Karen let her door swing shut behind her. “I still remember your mom spazzing about Laurel’s blue-streaked hair the first time I met your family.”

  “Part of the fun of coloring it, I’m sure. Also no doubt the reason for her recent dye job, since she was visiting the parental units.”

  “True.” Karen smirked. “I have to admit, I always loved the way your mother’s eyes bulged with outrage every time Laurel went a different shade.”

  “Me too.” He winked in return. “So, where are you headed?”

  She hesitated. Should she tell him? Invite him along? This was the problem with having sex with an ex when she was going to be in forced proximity with him for several days. There was no sexing it up and then walking away. Nope. Here he was. And just looking at him was sending tendrils of warmth unfurling inside her. He was gorgeous—all broad shoulders, lean muscles and a ready smile just for her. Resisting the appeal of that smile was beyond her. She should do the hit it and quit it and ignore him. She should. But she wasn’t going to.

  She was going to be kicking herself as an idiot the whole flight home.

  Still, once she was home, she had no reason to see him again. The divorce would be handled by their lawyers. She had no idea if they’d have to spend a day in court to finalize it, but that was hardly the place to spark up old roman
ce. Nope, once she escaped Rome, she could forget about any pitter-pattering her heart and hormones might be doing. She’d have a new job and a new life to focus on. Of course, all that changed if she was pregnant, but she wasn’t going to borrow trouble by thinking about that now.

  She fluffed her short waves. “Since we have all day, I was thinking I would do some sightseeing.”

  “Let me guess.” He stroked his fingers down his jaw as if thinking deeply. “We’ve already done the Capitoline, so I’m going to say the Vatican Museum and the Palazzo Altemps.”

  What did it say about her that he could anticipate her so easily? “Eventually all of those, yes, but I was planning to start a little closer to home.”

  He snapped his fingers. “The Santa Maria basilica, right here in the Trastevere.”

  “Give the man a cookie.” She took off down the hall and he easily kept stride.

  “Cookies, yum.” He slapped a palm over his growling stomach. “Could I entice you into stopping at a bakery on the way? My treat.”

  “Sure.” The elevator opened and an older couple stepped out. They nodded as they passed. Since the car was already there, Karen stepped in. The small space felt microscopic when Tate’s big body occupied half of it. She twisted her lips. “You know, you don’t have to spend the day with me if you don’t want to. Maybe you want to see other things. Or just hang out with Gio.”

  His gaze darkened and his mouth tightened, but he said lightly, “Nope. I like those museums and churches. I’d like to revisit them too.”

  “Well, I won’t try to stop you, then.” She kept her gaze glued to the floor numbers as they crawled by at a snail’s pace. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated because of what we did last night.”

  “I don’t feel obligated,” Tate said, posture stiff and words stiffer. “I just want to check out the sights and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

  After plucking a pair of sunglasses out of her purse, she slid them on. “Okay, then. Let’s hit a bakery.”

  The elevator door opened. He waved his arm. “After you.”

  The heat of him enveloped her as he fell into step behind her, and she was intensely aware of his nearness. She’d had him several times the night before and still wanted another go. Later, she promised herself. She had the whole rest of her trip to indulge in that particular forbidden fruit. Juicy, tempting and so sweet.

  A bite of breakfast and they were off for the day.

  It was magical. They wandered through all their favorite spots, the bridge they liked over the Tiber River, the old café where he’d taken her on their first date, the museum they’d gone to on their second date. Some of the places were exactly the same, but some had changed. She was glad for that reality check. It had been more than a decade since they’d been here. It wasn’t the exact same city, just as they weren’t the exact same people.

  Nothing would ever be the same again.

  As bittersweet as the nostalgia was, she didn’t want to be the college co-ed she’d been back then. That girl had stars in her eyes, blinded by the romance of it all. She wasn’t a cynic now, but she had maturity and experience only time could grant. She liked herself as she was, liked who she was growing into. This year had been one of intense change. Since she’d broken up with Tate at Christmas, the New Year had ushered in a new life. She’d tried for years to content herself with the lonely marriage they’d had, but breaking out of that rut had been good for her. Painful, yes, but independence had its rewards. She had the career she’d always wanted, and moving to a smaller town had brought a position with more responsibility, but a slower pace of life.

  Her existence would never be perfect, but it would always be changing. She just needed to steer that change in the direction she wanted.

  It seemed fitting somehow to say a final goodbye to a relationship that had shaped her so deeply, in the city where it had all started.

  Chapter Seven

  Tate took a swig of beer and watched Giovanni across the large pizza they shared. Gio had decided he needed to escape all the family and wedding chaos, so he’d shown up unannounced at Tate’s door. Luckily, he’d stayed in Karen’s room the night before and had just returned to his own room to shower and change. They’d invited her to join them, but she’d waved them off and gone to help Valentina deal with her family of drama-queens.

  He hated to admit it to himself, but he wasn’t sure if Karen was happy or disappointed to lose a day alone with him. The wedding was tomorrow, and he’d managed to invite himself along on all Karen’s tourist excursions. He’d also ruthlessly steered her toward places they’d visited together, places where they’d gotten to know each other, where they’d fallen in love. If reminding her how good they’d once been together made her start thinking they might be good together again, then all the better.

  He’d also asked for her input on a few things he wanted to do with his law firm. Not much and not often, because there was a delicate balance between wanting her to know her opinion mattered to his future plans, and making her continue to think he was like his father and couldn’t shut off the obsessive workaholic side of himself long enough to enjoy a vacation. Tricky. Very tricky.

  As if he’d read Tate’s mind, Gio asked, “How’s the campaign going?”

  Pretending not to know what his friend was talking about, Tate raised an eyebrow. “The campaign?”

  “To win back your wife, of course.”

  Tate sighed. “I have no idea.”

  “Come on, amico mio.” Gio’s glance was scolding. “I’ve seen the looks, the touching when you thought no one was looking. You’re trying to get her back. Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not lying and I’m not denying that I’m trying to reconcile with Karen.” Tate waved his beer bottle in a dismissive arc. “I’m telling you I have no idea how well it’s going.”

  “Ah. I misunderstood.”

  “Imagine that,” he drawled.

  Giovanni was silent for a few minutes, taking a bite of his pizza and chewing slowly. A frown puckered his brow. “How can you not know?”

  “Americans aren’t as good at reading women’s minds as Italians, apparently.”

  He nodded sagely. “Yes, I’ve noticed it’s one of your countrymen’s many deficiencies.”

  Tate couldn’t help a laugh. “Indeed.”

  The other man narrowed his eyes. “You have slept together again.”

  “I’m not giving you details, but yes. We have.” Often and in very creative positions. There was a sense of discovery and playfulness to their love making that hadn’t been there in years. God, it was amazing. Mind-blowing. And he needed to stop thinking about this or he was going to embarrass himself in public.

  “Speaking of deficiencies…” Tate held his bottle of Nastro Azzurro aloft. “This is the best Italy has to offer for beer? Thank God for German imports, that’s all I can say.”

  “It’s good!” Gio took a deep swig of his beer.

  Tate shot his friend a pitying look. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  Giovanni scoffed. “As if Americans do it better.”

  “We have some great microbreweries, but the big brands? Nasty. As I said, thank God for German imports.” Tate smirked. “At least I can admit it though.”

  “Italians are wine specialists,” Gio replied superciliously. “We leave the peasant drinks to our northern neighbors.”

  “Careful you don’t say that in front of Karen.” Tate stabbed his fork into an errant olive that had escaped his slice of pizza. “One of her best friends is dating a native German. Probably going to marry him too. Karen’s very protective of her friends.”

  “Including my Valentina, yes. We’ve always been glad of your friendship. We would not have each other without the two of you.” Gio’s expression went from sincere to cocky. “Of course, after this trip, you will have to say the same about Valentina and me.”

  “Isn’t it bad luck to say such a thing?” Tate popped the olive into his mouth and chewed. “She h
asn’t agreed to take me back.”

  “Yet.” Gio crossed himself and muttered something toward the heavens before refocusing on Tate. “It will be fine. You love each other. Trust in that.”

  “I’m trying.”

  The bottom line was, Karen had been adamant that this was just an affair. Whether she was softening that stance was less certain. Tate had never been the type to rely on fate or destiny, but this wasn’t a trial and Karen wasn’t a witness he could cross-examine into saying the wrong thing. This was far more important, and thus far more terrifying. He was walking a tightrope over an abyss and at any moment, he could fall.

  And yet, he was having the time of his life. For the first time in recent memory he was enjoying himself. It was bliss. Being away from the family firm, being with Karen—it was right next door to nirvana.

  Now if only he could hold on to this feeling forever.

  “So.” The Italian grinned. “Valentina and I decided not to have separate stag nights. Everyone who wants to come will join us at a discoteca. Fast music, dirty dancing—what could be more perfect before we wed?”

  “If Valentina’s grandmother gets down and dirty, I may never recover,” Tate quipped.

  Gio shuddered. “She is a wise woman and has opted out of this party.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Sì, I could not agree more,” he added fervently. “She wishes to look her best at the wedding, so she wants her beauty rest. Valentina and I will take our older relatives out for dinner tonight, so they don’t feel they miss out on special time with us. Then, dancing for the rest of our guests.”

  “I’ll be there, of course.” And with any luck, he’d be getting down and dirty with Karen on the dance floor. Nothing like some fully-clothed, full-body contact to rev you up for naked fun later. Which was something else he hadn’t made time for since he passed the bar exam.