The Italian Next Door...

by Anna Cleary

  Dancing, held in his dark molten gaze with his hard,

  angular pelvis so intimately pressed against hers was so suggestive, so erotic, she felt giddy.

  Giddy and aroused.

  The song ended just in time and Valentino released her. The band members bowed to the enthusiastic crowd and lowered their instruments. Breathless from the exercise, her blood whipped into a fever, she joined in the applause, avoiding Valentino’s eyes, and walked back to the table with him, only too conscious of his body beside hers, the occasional electric graze of his arm on her highly sensitive skin. A few people, locals she guessed, called out to him with friendly good humour, and she saw a guy nudge his neighbour, checking her out.

  It was surreal. Her first day here and already she was in the company of a man, allowing herself to be carried along by events threatening to escalate out of control.

  It was time—and it pained her to acknowledge it—to call a halt. It was all too easy to be enchanted on a lovely evening when stars were shining. Sure, she’d contemplated the possibility of embracing the moment if it should arise again, but before she took another step she needed to reflect. Here she went, plunging headfirst over the Iguazu Falls of life again. Things were moving too fast.

  She reached for her wrap.

  He shot her a searching glance. ‘You don’t care to stay? I think there’ll be fireworks soon.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity, but…it’s been a long day. A long two days. I’m really quite—exhausted. You stay and enjoy the fireworks, though. I’ll probably see you another time. Thanks for the wine, and everything. Honestly, it was…great.’

  ‘No, no. I’ll walk you back.’ He didn’t smile, but there was a light smouldering in his eyes that made her insides tremble. Those erotic moments in the dance hummed silently between them, whispered along her nerve endings.

  Whichever way she jumped, the night seemed filled with risk.

  She glanced across at the steps. Higher up they looked shadowy, and higher still pitch dark, even with the street lanterns and all the noise and laughter at this level. Was that a flash she saw up there? What was it? Moonlight glancing off a blade?

  Oh, why did she have to think of that?

  ‘It’s probably not necessary for you to come,’ she prevaricated. ‘I’m not in the least bit nervous. But all right, if you insist. That would be very—friendly.’

  He lifted his shoulders. ‘I’m a friendly guy.’ He gestured towards the steps. ‘Andiamo.’

  Conversation was rather stilted on the climb up. The truth was she felt uncertain about what might happen when they reached the apartment. The situation was fraught with possibilities.

  With the evening so warm and balmy, the scent of the sea and a man half a step behind her who’d kissed her only a few hours earlier, her senses felt wired. When she opened the wrought—iron gate and walked across the courtyard with him, then up the steps to the bougainvillea—covered balcony, she was wondering what she should say. Whether to allow something to happen, or nothing?

  Oh, heavens, it was the old dilemma.

  She had to admit that right then, with moonlight in Valentino’s dark eyes and his pitch black hair, and the intimacy engendered by the dance winding around them like a silver ribbon, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so attracted to a man. Touching him would have been so easy. Kissing him.

  If she hadn’t already made such a thing happening between them an impossibility.

  When they reached her door and she produced her key, she stuttered a bit. ‘Well, w-well, Valentino… It’s—it’s been…’

  He looked grave, though his eyes still had that light in them. ‘I’ll say buona notte to you, then, Pia.’

  She stared at him. Buona notte? Just like that? No brush of her cheek, no touching of lips, of hands? Not that she was disappointed. She was of course heaving a mental sigh of relief, but at the same time she felt strangely loath to let him end things so abruptly. What was he thinking, stirring her up by dancing her into a state, then leaving her high and dry?

  It seemed so wrong. Once he walked down those steps she’d be alone. For all she knew Lauren’s apartment was crawling with serial killers, burglars at least. It wasn’t all that unlikely. Thieves preyed on visitors in tourist destinations, and she was a woman on her own. Just remembering them was enough to send fear shinning down her spine.

  She eyed Valentino’s tall powerful frame, the satisfying hardness of his muscles. There were times when a big strong man could be comforting to have along. If he could just walk inside with her…

  ‘Buona notte,’ she said. ‘Oh, look, just a moment. Sorry, but this lock is a little stiff and I have this stupid twinge in my fingers. Would you mind…?’

  He glanced keenly at her, then with a shrug accepted the key, unlocking the door and giving it a push. She’d left all the lamps ablaze, so she could see beyond the entrance to the sitting room. As far as she could ascertain, everything was just as she had left it.

  But what murderer in his right mind would wait for her in the sitting room?

  Valentino moved away from the door and turned for the steps down to the courtyard. ‘Okay now?’

  ‘Yes, fine, thank you. Thank you so much,’ she said, standing on the threshold. She hardly dared to push her luck another time, but when the going got rough truly jumpy people acquired the necessary nerve. ‘Oh, no, wait. Just one more thing before you go. I’m having a little trouble lighting the gas ring on the stove. Would you mind terribly going into the kitchen for me and putting on the kettle?’

  A gleam shot into his eyes. ‘The kettle?’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed, backing against the open front door to allow him room to pass. ‘If—you wouldn’t mind.’

  He hesitated a second, scanning her face with a speculative gaze, his thick black lashes at a quizzical half mast, then he stepped over her threshold and walked in, his body not quite brushing her as he passed. He paused in the sitting room, glancing about with interest, and moved over to look at the photos in Lauren’s display. ‘Is this your cousin?’

  When she nodded, he studied the eye level ones more closely for a moment, frowning. ‘Does she ever work?’

  ‘Course she does. Those were probably just times she was on vacation. Or weekends. Parties aren’t against the law here, are they?’

  He looked sharply at her. ‘Who said anything about the law?’ She blinked, and he opened his hands in a friendly gesture, grinning, then tilted his head towards the kitchen. ‘This way?’

  ‘Yes. Through there.’

  She waited by the front door, but there were no cries or scuffles or sounds of serial killers being wrestled to the floor. She did hear the tap being turned on and off, a kettlish chinking, then Valentino came back.

  ‘The kettle is on,’ he said gravely. ‘Will that be all?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, that’s wonderful. Oh, no, look, there is just—one other small thing.’

  ‘Sì?’ His eyes were glittering and alert, and a faint amusement curled one corner of his sensuous mouth. ‘How else can I be of assistance?’

  She took a deep bracing breath, then said it as fast as she coherently could. ‘Would you—if this isn’t the most frightful inconvenience—would you mind going into the bedroom and seeing if I left my slippers under the bed? My feet are hurting after all that dancing and I have a terrible crick in my back.’ Wincing, she clutched the small of her back.

  He laughed, then swung around and headed for the passage that led to the bedroom. From the rear, the black jeans encased his slim, athletic buttocks to snug perfection. To the artistic eye the sight was distinctly engaging.

  While he was in there he called out, ‘Is there anything you would like me to get from the bathroom? Should I check the laundry for soap?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she mumbled. As if anyone could hide in that tiny little bathroom. Even the shower had glass walls.

  He returned, the sensual light in his eyes again. ‘There were no slippers I could find. And
nothing under the bed except a little dust. But there was a very pretty nightdress on the bed.’

  Why did her neck always have to burn like a beacon? ‘I must have left the slippers somewhere else. I hope you don’t think…’

  ‘I think…’ He moved closer to her. Very close. So close she could feel the heat from his big, lean body. Strangely, she wasn’t even tempted to panic. She didn’t back away, instead she had a wild longing to butterfly kiss his long lashes, just to experience them to the full. As a beginning.

  ‘I think maybe you are feeling alone in a strange country.’ His accent had thickened. ‘And this reminds me of something I need to consult with you about.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ she breathed, allowing her sultry gaze to drift to his masculine mouth. ‘What would that be?’

  ‘If I were to hold you, very gently, like this…’ He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. His voice was caressing, and so were the lean, hard hands. Before long they were sliding up and down her arms with a hypnotic motion, sending tingles through her skin. ‘Would that feel—inappropriate?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I think it would feel…absolutely…’ She was breathing so hard it was impossible to maintain coherence. As his gorgeous lips moved dangerously closer to hers her heart was cavorting on the edge of a vertical cliff. ‘Just—just so absolutely…’

  The lights went out. Or maybe it was that he kissed her.

  Whatever came first, he kissed her.

  Perhaps she should have complained. He wasn’t obeying her embargo, and what about her fatigue? But sometimes on a starry night a failed kiss deserved a second chance, just for the sake of cosmic completion. So this time their tongues collided sexily, and in the dark she wasn’t nearly as reserved as she had been the first time. Her senses recognised the taste and scent of him and opened to him like desert flowers to the rain.

  And when his hot hands squeezed her breasts and he bent his mouth to each tender nipple and sucked her through the blue satin, desire rekindled in her blood and flared to a roar, and she panted, rasping in his arms like a desperate creature.

  He pushed her up against the open door, devouring her face, her throat, the swells of her breasts with his lips, and all that kept her from fainting from the thrilling, mind-blowing pleasure was the delicious, wicked ache between her legs and a primitive anticipation.

  His bold hands made urgent explorations of her curves. For once she adored the exciting dark. It gave her licence to encourage him and hope he might be spurred on to greater acts of boldness. He was well aroused, it was clear, and almost unconsciously her greedy hands trailed up and down the flattering bulge in his jeans.

  A shudder rocked through him. He grabbed her hands and held them still, then took the most fantastic retaliation.

  In a shocking, ruthless move he slid his hand right up her dress and stroked her most sensitive, intimate place through the flimsy cotton of her pants.

  Oh, God in heaven.

  He continued the exquisite caress, and waves of pleasure radiated throughout the crucial region. It was sheer bliss, it was rapture, and some dim, cautious part of her in her grandmother’s voice was moaning that she shouldn’t be allowing it, which was a surefire sign it was right. And as if the heavens were suddenly involved, the sky was all at once split with explosions of bright iridescent colour, but she was too enthralled to notice much of that. She clung to him, locked in the kiss, a prisoner of forbidden ecstasy.

  At last the lights flickered on and the spell was broken. Valentino released her, then fell back, his powerful chest still rising and falling. His dark eyes were aflame.

  ‘You are…squisito,’ he said hoarsely, his voice thick and intense. He took her arms in his hands and drew her back towards him. But an ear-piercing shriek that might have been going on for some time finally penetrated the misty haze of her pleasure, and her addled brain synapses somehow made the connection.

  Gasping, she tore herself away from him. ‘Oh, that’s the kettle. Sorry.’

  She hurried to the kitchen, as fast as it was possible on

  jellied limbs, and turned off the flame, killing the hideous noise. During all the excitement, the water had nearly boiled away. She turned away from the stove and ran her hand through

  her hair, smoothed down her dress with trembly hands.

  Now what? Her dilemma had reached the next stage, to tell the truth. A hotly aroused man was out there in her sitting room with strong expectations. Expectations she’d done nothing to quell. But…

  On the one hand she’d only just met him, and where could it go from here? On the other, he was gorgeous, she was free, twenty-six and in charge of her life, and she had nothing to lose except her heart.

  Surely it was time to rise to the occasion, act like a woman and take the next chance?

  In the sitting room, meanwhile, Valentino’s veins drummed with a delicious certainty. Dangerous the temptation might be, but as irresistible as the rotation of the planets. Giving his jaw a rub to check it was still smooth, he paused by the mass of pictures on the display wall.

  A shot of Capri caught his eye. He looked closer, then cast an idle glance over the rest. Pia’s cousin appeared to have a wide circle of friends. People grinning from beaches, bars and restaurants, dancing, picnicking, hiking. Lauren and friends, lazing beside an exotic pool at some mountainside villa, waving from a yacht, linking arms with the same smiling elegant couple.

  That couple.

  The raw spot in his gut took a savage jab. He leaned closer for a better look.

  Surely that was Giancarlo Fiorello and his wife. Here they were again, a different occasion with different people. And here again. Scanning more of the pictures, he thought he recognised the settings. Frequently, in fact over and over again, it was the house. The house he suspected and loathed. The Villa Fiorello. The indoor pool, the outdoor pool, the balconies, the vines. The loggia, the roof.

  The big muscle inside his chest felt squeezed in a vice. The scene of Ariana’s betrayal. Her first betrayal, that was. Or at least, the first he knew about.

  What was Lauren Renfern’s involvement with those people?

  Resistance to the jumble of ideas clamouring in his brain was uppermost at first. The cousin’s friendships didn’t affect anything here. Not Pia, not this occasion, not the promise of passion. But against his pleasure, against his sweet anticipation, a chill reality solidified in his mind.

  Lauren Renfern…Pia Renfern. How close were the cousins? How alike?

  His desire was doused as effectively as if he’d plunged into an arctic sea. Reaching, he unpinned a clear shot of Lauren and slipped it into his pocket.

  Pia floated back to the sitting room on a cloud of adrenaline. Though she’d only been absent a minute or so, the instant she swanned in she sensed the atmospheric shift. Instead of seething with barely contained lust, Valentino was scanning the wall of photographs.

  He turned sharply when she approached, a sharp crease between his brows. ‘Ah,’ he said. His eyes were glinting, but not with the flame they’d held a few moments earlier. ‘How well does your cousin know these people?’

  ‘Who? What people?’ She peered closer at the photos and saw several of Lauren with a couple.

  He indicated. ‘Here. Giancarlo and Lola Fiorello.’

  She lifted her brows in recognition of the name. ‘Oh, so that’s them. Lauren’s quite friendly with Lola, I think. She often goes over to Capri to visit them. I think Lauren said—’ She broke off. Valentino was studying her narrowly. Far from gazing upon her like a silver-tongued Neapolitan desirous of ravishing her into a state of delirium, his eyes were hooded. Distant.

  She felt a pang of misgiving. ‘Is something wrong?’

  His black lashes lowered. ‘Not at all. But I’m—afraid I have to leave you.’ He made a move for the door, then half turned. ‘Are you feeling safe now?’

  ‘Safe? Of course I feel safe. I feel perfectly safe.’

  He made a slight twitch of his lip at her assertion
s. ‘Bene.’

  As if safety were the issue now. She was in a romantic state. And psyched up to face the moment of truth, her blood pumping in a fever of nervous anticipation and hope. But to her astonishment, after a hesitant instant in which he moved towards her and she half thought he was about to take her in his arms, he restricted himself to lifting his hand in a curt farewell gesture, then strode swiftly to the door.

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said, and was gone.

  Gone.

  * * *

  Valentino walked soundlessly across the tiles and up the stairs. He paused for a moment at his grandfather’s door and listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

  In his study, the scanner groaned when he switched it on, the lights flashing before settling to green. It took him no time to send Lauren Renfern’s photo to his night staff in Lyon with a priority request attached. It would be daylight in the Antipodes, a good time to scan the Australian national databases.

  Birth and death records, police and military files, passport, education, health, bank and credit histories were only a start. Interpol’s connections could unearth almost every transaction an individual had ever participated in. And that was even before mining the bounty of information left by their Internet social footprint. If Lauren Renfern was involved in anything illegal with the Fiorellos, if she’d only just thought about it, his team would find it. And if Pia Renfern had come here to join them, he would…

  What?

  Prevent her, or catch her?

  He felt a nasty twinge in his bones. Did he really need to check up on her? What if the cousin was a cleanskin? Couldn’t he just enjoy the rapport he’d established with Pia and let it unfold?

  A little romance, some physical pleasure. Days in the sun. Nights… A mild degree of intimacy, laughter. He hated the thought of checking on a woman’s background. A potential lover. Wouldn’t it feel like a betrayal?