“I’m not sure if I need to psychoanalyze his intent when he threw on teeny tiny underwear,” Taylor said. “He’s a guy. I’m impressed he got that far.”
“So he runs in wearing his underwear,” Larkin said. “Then what?”
Taylor shook her head. “You’re making this sound very titillating.”
“That’s because it is,” she said. “Go on. You’ve got me on pins and needles.”
“So then I mean I had to explain why I was shouting things in my sleep.”
“And?”
“And he listened. And we talked.”
“That’s all?”
Taylor frowned. “Well...,” she said and covered her eyes in embarrassment. “Not exactly.”
Larkin clapped her hands with excitement, and Taylor shushed her so as not to wake up Luca. “I told Luca you two would be good together!”
Taylor’s eyes got wide. “Dammit. I knew you were trying to fix us up. I told you not to do that! Well, serves you right, because no such thing will happen. Trust me on that.”
Larkin snapped her fingers. “Darn.”
“Believe me, it is so for the better.”
“Well what’s the deal? He runs in to save you, you talk, but now you’re totally averse to him?”
“The feeling is mutual, I’m sure.”
“Did you punch him or something?”
“Argh,” Taylor said. “Do I really have to get into the details of things? Can’t we just leave it at we’re not going on a date anytime soon? Or ever, for that matter?”
“But why?”
“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll tell you, but you are so sworn to secrecy on this. No talking to him either.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder to a snoring Luca.
“Cross my heart,” Larkin said, tracing her finger in an X across her chest.
“So we talked and talked and talked,” Taylor said. “And it was strange because it felt like we’d known each other for ages. He was very sweet and listened intently as I confessed to these deep, dark fears I’ve never shared with anyone. Which was weird all on its own that I’d discuss them with him.”
Larkin rested her elbows on her raft, her fingers linked, her chin resting on them as she sat in rapt attention.
“And then I don’t know exactly what happened, but it went from talking to action. I guess he felt bad for me, and then he hugged me and, I mean we were both in our underwear, which isn’t exactly conducive to chastity, amiright?”
“You had sex? On a first date? Which wasn’t even a date? Although it was a very chivalrous rescue, so practically skip-to-second-date points for that.”
“We didn’t have sex!”
Larkin’s shoulder sank. “You didn’t? Rats. I was really hoping you did.”
“So much for your judging me for such a thing. I think I just got knocked down a notch for cutting it off!”
“Well, why on earth did you do that anyhow?”
“It all just happened so crazy fast,” Taylor said. “And I don’t even know him. Even though it felt like I did. But it just seemed like that was a bad idea from the get-go. I mean seriously, can you imagine that I said good night to you two and he was so surly and then if we’d have shown up to breakfast with that glow about us? How weird would that have been?”
“Well, you practically did that,” Larkin said. “Only instead, something happened. I mean now that I think about it, you looked fine. It was Sandro who was surly.”
Taylor grimaced and blushed.
Larkin looked at her. “Oooooh,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Now I think I’m getting it. So you, well, you were all good to go, so to speak, but then you stopped it before it went any further. Leaving Sandro to be Master of His Domain. Dot dot dot.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a famous Seinfeld episode,” Larkin said. “It was referring to you know.” She nudged her.
“You know?”
“Let’s just say he had to play his flute solo,” Larkin said. “In keeping with the marching band theme.”
Taylor smacked her again jokingly. “Ewww. Leave my flute out of this thing.”
“It’s not your flute we’re talking about, honey.”
“Let’s leave all flutes out of this then.”
“So am I correct that basically you panicked, things felt out of control, and so you gave him the old heave-ho just as things were going his way?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “That’s it in a nutshell.”
Larkin arched her brow.
“Would you stop inferring sexual references in my words already?” Taylor said. “As it is, I feel bad enough. But still, he got so grumpy today it reaffirmed I’d made the right decision.”
“He seemed fine at lunch.”
“An aberration.”
“Look, Taylor,” Larkin said. “I’m not going to push you into something with the man, but you could do worse. He’s usually a really sweet guy, and he’s available. How rare is that? And well, this place is hardly shabby, so added bonus points.”
“I appreciate your kind concern, Lark,” Taylor said. “But I think this weekend I’ll enjoy some R & R, take advantage of the opportunity to do some fundraising Saturday night, and we’ll call it a weekend. I just have no interest in your typical rich, haughty, Italian man.”
“It’s your weekend to call as you like, but it might be more fun if it had a bit of a climax, if you know what I mean.” She elbowed Taylor in the ribs.
“Hope you’re not planning on a career in comedy anytime soon.”
“That bad, huh?”
Nodding, Taylor said, “Come on. We’re turning into prunes. I’m done angsting over this. Let’s go relax.”
“You know, there must be something about this house that prompts women to drop their drawers for the men around here. After all, this is where Luca and I got into trouble when he and I first met. And look where it got me! Maybe you should rethink your moratorium.”
“Lightning doesn’t strike twice,” Taylor said. “Of that we can be sure.”
Chapter Fifteen
“What the hell bee flew up your culo,” Matteo said to his brother Sandro after he shouted at his third contractor in twenty minutes. “We’ve worked on this thing for how many years and never once do you raise your voice, and now all of a sudden you’re turning into Mr. Badass?”
Sandro scrubbed his hands over his beard. “But he should have known better than to put that on that way,” he said, pointing to a railing that got screwed in backward.
“Duly noted.” He ran his fingers through his wavy, dark hair. “But we’re all tired, we’ve all been under the gun, and there’s a lot to finalize here before we have five hundred guests converge on this place tomorrow night.”
“Tell me about it,” Sandro said. “I’m not even interested in this thing anymore. I just want it to be over.”
Matteo scrunched his brow, then placed his palm across his brother’s forehead. “You okay, bro? You must have some crazy bad fever to be saying things like that. This is your baby. How could you not be totally excited to introduce it to the world tomorrow?”
Sandro shook his head and sighed. “I’m sure I’ll regret admitting this to you ’cause you’ll give me a heap of shit for it, but out of freaking nowhere, I’ve got a woman totally messing with my head.”
“Gia again?” he said, his voice rising in alarm. “If so, we need to get the police out here immediately.”
Sandro shook his head. “No, it’s not Crazy Gia. It’s someone else.”
“Wait a minute.” He held up his finger, pointing it at Sandro. “I thought you swore off women for a while.”
“Believe me, I did.”
“So then what the hell?”
“What the hell is right,” he said as he reached for a table to shift it closer to the window. He leaned his hands on the table, looked out on the horizon, and took in a deep breath. He wasn’t serious that he wanted the gala over. But his head was definit
ely a murky mess, and he hated that. “But you know how it goes. You least expect it, then some annoying woman flies in under the radar and you’re totally screwed. Only in this case, I wish I had been screwed.”
His brother high-fived him, smiling with relief. “Oh, so that’s the problem, man? You tried to get some action and got shut down? And now the chase is on, because what better thrill is there than going after the one who won’t put out?”
“Uh, yeah, when I was a teenager maybe. But I’m too old for that. I’m not led around by my dick anymore.”
Matteo burst out laughing. “That’s a complete crock. If ever I heard one. You’ll be led around by that little thing of yours until you’re ninety.”
Sandro smacked him in the crotch playfully. “Twice as big as that microscopic peanut you’re hiding.”
“So who is this beauty queen who’s got you tied up in knots?”
He winced. “Not actually a beauty queen, but she is gorgeous. And trust me, you don’t even want to know what her job is.”
“I’m sure she’s not a model,” his brother said, his warm brown eyes frowning. “Because that would be impossible.”
Sandro nodded, his lips pursed. “Maybe not completely impossible.”
“Oh no. No. No. No way,” Matteo said. “Really, Sandro? Couldn’t you find an accountant or a dentist or maybe even a street sweeper? Anyone but a damned model? Have you not learned your lesson?”
“It’s not like all models are psychopaths.”
“No, but wasn’t one enough?”
“It doesn’t matter anyhow,” Sandro said. “It was a one-off and won’t happen again.”
“She ditched you then?”
“It wasn’t a matter of ditching exactly,” he said. “More like she got cold feet. At an inopportune time.”
“Okay, that’s good news. At least one of you has some common sense then. So you were cut off inconveniently. But it’s behind you now, and you don’t have to deal with her again. You can just pretend it didn’t happen and focus on your work. You’re a man: use your compartmentalization skills.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is. Don’t call her, don’t show up at the same nightclubs that she goes to for a while, and then she’s gone from your life altogether.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“Except she’s staying here. As a guest in our home. In the room across the hall from my bedroom.”
Matteo squinted at him. “What?”
“She came with Luca and his fiancée. Oh, by the way, did you hear that Luca’s getting married, of all the stupid things?”
“We’ll get back to Luca. I’m still stuck on this woman sleeping across the hall from you.”
“That was my stupid idea,” Sandro said. “I was trying to be a good host.”
“By banging the houseguests? That doesn’t seem like the best way to put some distance between the two of you.”
“Gee, you think?” Sandro shook his head. “I’m going to have to push the wardrobe in front of my door before I go to sleep tonight.”
“Because she’s going to come after you?”
Sandro rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Because I’m going to want to go after her.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Which is bizarre because I’ve got entirely no interest in her. Whatsoever.”
His brother nodded his head. “Keep trying to convince yourself of that. But in the meantime, why don’t you at least move her to another room? We’ve got plenty of spare bedrooms.”
Sandro thought about that for a minute but didn’t answer. “So what do you think about Luca getting married?”
“I guess this means you’re not moving her to another room?”
“That would be weird. And insulting. It would suggest I have no self-control.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe you have no self-control?”
Sandro glared. “I can totally keep it in my pants. This will be a test of willpower. I’m certain I can resist her charms.”
“Great,” Matteo said. “I’ll be waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces when this all goes very wrong.”
“I’ve got it all under control.”
“In that case, stop bitching at the workmen and let’s keep moving,” his brother said, clapping his hands. “We’ve got a lot to do.”
“So does that mean you don’t want to discuss losing Luca to the dark side?”
“That means I think you should take my advice and compartmentalize your life.” Matteo handed him a clipboard. “Why don’t you take over for me going through this punch list, and I’ll make sure the railing gets put back on correctly.”
“Fine.”
“Oh, and Sandro? Here—” His brother pulled his wallet from his back pocket, extracting a condom from it and tossing it to him. “Just in case that epic self-control of yours somehow fails.”
Sandro could only throw Matteo a dirty look as he caught the offending item and stuck it in his back pocket.
Chapter Sixteen
“This is the most adorable little village I think I’ve ever seen,” Taylor said as the four of them took a traditional passeggiata, a uniquely Italian custom where the locals take a leisurely stroll through town at dusk. She and her friends made their way through the centro storico, the historic center of Santo Romeo. There of course would have been no Santo Romeo were it not for the Romeo family, so the town and the family and the vineyard were all inextricably tied. “And to think this is the town of your heritage, well, it’s just hard to conceptualize having such deep roots like this. A town founded by your ancestors hundreds and hundreds of years ago. How cool is that?”
Sandro shrugged. “I guess it’s what I’ve known my whole life, so it is what it is.”
“Trust me, it’s an amazing gift to have such abiding connections to a community. I’d have given my eyeteeth for something like this.”
“Hey, Tay,” Larkin said. “Let’s do some window-shopping.”
The two women separated from the men to stroll arm in arm while admiring shoes and clothes in the stores they walked past. Luca and Sandro took advantage of the women’s distraction to talk shop.
“So you’re sure about this engagement?” Sandro said. “You do realize that it means you’re stuck with the same woman for the rest of your time on Earth?”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Look, Sandro, I know it’s hard for you to understand. You’ve just not met the right woman, and so the idea of binding yourself for life is—”
“Is something like climbing to the top of that bell tower,” he said, pointing to the top of the cathedral down the road, “and then taking a flying leap from its highest point.”
“Way to be a drama queen,” Luca said with a chuckle. “Look, I can’t explain it to you but to tell you that I’m happiest when we’re together and she makes me a better man.”
Sandro ran his fingers through his long hair, then shook his head. “You’re right. It is hard for me to understand. Like in the same way I can’t understand why she’d pick you to begin with.” He elbowed his cousin in the ribs.
“So funny I forgot to laugh.”
“You boys sure are deep in discussion,” Larkin said, looping her arm into Luca’s, leaving Sandro the odd man out of the group. Taylor looked at him walking separately from them and gave half a thought to joining him but then thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was to be embarrassed by his rejecting her attempts at being civil. Far better to pretend he wasn’t there.
“Just explaining to Sandro why I’m so excited to marry my best friend.” He leaned over and kissed her.
“Honestly, do we need to get you two a room?” Taylor said as she jokingly stuck her finger down her throat.
“Yeah, enough with the fondling and making out,” Sandro said. “I’m trying to work up an appetite, not lose it.”
They laughed as they wandered through the town, admiring the charming buildings made of earthen limestone and warm sands
tone facades, their terra-cotta roofs reflecting the honeyed glow of the setting sun. Taylor’s gaze scanned the panorama: from the imposing cathedral that had been the anchor of this town since the Renaissance to the tiny open-air market that was closing up shop for the evening.
They arrived at a tiny restaurant and walked through to the back where they were seated at a table on an outdoor terrace overlooking the valley below just in time for sunset. Ribbons of purple and rose streaked the melon sky as the evening gave way to the night sky.
“It’s so beautiful,” Taylor said, nodding to the colors. “It takes my breath away.”
“Nothing like a Tuscan sunset,” Sandro said. “It is said that it is in Toscano that God perfected his color palette.”
“I can believe it,” Larkin said. “I’ve never been here when the sky hasn’t been absolutely gorgeous.”
“Speaking of gorgeous,” Luca said, “You ladies look beautiful tonight.”
Taylor knew that comment was aimed at his fiancée, but he was kind enough to ensure she wasn’t left feeling outside the group. Not that Taylor was in need of flattery—she spent her life being poked, prodded, and primped by others who fawned over her natural good looks to the point of distraction. Nevertheless, it was always nice to have a handsome man acknowledge it. And clearly Sandro wasn’t going to be that man.
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me,” Taylor said, laughing.
“Luca’s right,” Sandro said, fixing his eyes on Taylor’s. “You look breathtaking tonight.”
Taylor gulped. Breathtaking? Even if she did, how strange for those words to come from the curmudgeon’s mouth. She expected something more along the lines of fire spitting from his tongue. She wondered what his ulterior motive was. Surely he wasn’t saying that just to be kind.
“Thank you, Sandro,” she said. “Even though that sweet talk won’t get you anywhere either.”
His face fell, and she no sooner said the words than she realized he had actually been sincere, and she felt awful for being so cynical. “Oh Sandro,” she said, placing her hand on his wrist. “I was only joking. I didn’t mean for that to be as rude as it must have sounded.”
Red Hot Romeo (The Royal Romeos, #1) Page 7