by Day Leclaire
“You want me.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.
“I can’t deny that.” She sank against him and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. The silken strands of her hair brushed against the line of his jaw, and he inhaled the heady fragrance. “But marriage? So soon?”
“Waiting isn’t going to change my feelings for you.”
“But it will give us time to get to know each other better.” She pulled back a few inches. “Be practical, Lazz.” Then she laughed. “What am I saying? Other than myself, you’re the most practical person I’ve ever met.”
Every time she used his brother’s name, he longed to correct her, to demand that she see him, not Lazz. Soon she would. But first he had to get her to Nevada. All the arrangements he’d set into motion tonight hinged on that single point. The note he’d sent asking her to meet him a full hour ahead of the time she’d originally arranged to meet Lazz, the timetable of car and plane, the excuses Nonna would offer his brother regarding Caitlyn’s failure to appear at the party—they all depended on his ability to charm one simple agreement from the woman before him.
“You had practical,” he argued, “and it didn’t make you any happier than it made me. It’s not what I want and it sure as hell isn’t what you want, either.”
“Okay, I admit it,” she confessed with a sigh. “I’d like more than practical.”
“Then, come with me.”
She teetered on the brink of surrender. “What about your grandparents’ anniversary party?” She shook her head. “Let’s not rush this. We can go to Nevada another time. We should be here for their special night.”
“I already told Nonna about my plans in case you agreed, and we have her and Primo’s complete approval. She’ll make our excuses to the rest of the family.” And with luck, keep Lazz running in circles until far too late. “Say yes, Caitlyn,” he coaxed. “You want to be swept away and that’s what I’m offering to do.”
Before she could marshal any further arguments, he kissed her again. There was nothing new or tentative about this one. This kiss was a taking, powerful and physical. A demand. A seduction. A union. Never again would she mistake him for another man. Even if Lazz were to walk out onto the balcony this very moment and gather her into his arms and kiss her, he’d leave her wanting. Leave her with a bone-deep dissatisfaction coupled with an awareness that she belonged to another.
“Trust me, Caitlyn. Take a chance.”
She stared at him in a total daze and he barely managed to suppress a smile. She looked like he felt. If he’d had any doubt at all about his plans for the next twenty-four hours, they’d vanished the minute she’d joined him on the balcony. From the instant they’d touched, a certainty took hold. They belonged together. He’d never been more positive of anything in his life.
“I’d like to go to Forever with you.” She shook her head as though clearing it, and her hair slipped from its elegant knot to swirl about her shoulders. “But not to marry you,” she hastened to add, fumbling with the pins she’d used to anchor the weighty length.
“We’ll see.”
“I’m serious, Lazz. No marriage.”
“So am I, Caitlyn.” He took the pins from her and dropped them into his pocket before stealing another kiss and practically inhaling her soft moan. “I want you for my wife.”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to argue, but escorted her from the balcony and out of the hotel. He’d ordered the car that had brought her to Le Premier to wait for them right outside the door so they’d have it instantly available to convey them to the airport. He’d also arranged for the corporate jet to be standing by for their trip to Nevada.
He didn’t want to risk any delays that might give Caitlyn an opportunity to have second thoughts. Once they were married, he’d deal with the inevitable fallout when she discovered his true identity. But right now, he’d bind her to him with the most sacred commitment of all.
The instant they were airborne, he handed her a flute of a particularly fine sparkling wine from the Franciacorta territory in Italy. The lights in the cabin were dim and the seats wide and plush. They’d lifted the armrest separating them and sat joined at the hip with Caitlyn closest to the window. Outside the aircraft, the moon and the stars peeked in at them. He leaned toward her and kissed the dampness from her lips, all the while struggling to keep his hands to himself until a more appropriate time and place.
“Comfortable?”
“Mmm. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.”
“I think I can improve on that.”
“Not possible.”
Without a word, he slipped an arm under her knees and swiveled her so her spine rested against the wall of the cabin and her feet were cushioned in his lap. He slipped off her high heels and let them drop to the floor. Then he wrapped his hands around the arch of her foot and began to massage her feet. He watched in amusement as she tightened her grip around her champagne flute and closed her eyes on a breathless sigh.
“I think I’d like to revisit your previous offer,” she said.
His laugh rumbled softly. “I assume you’d like to make a counteroffer?”
“Absolutely.” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “If we get married, will this be part of our evening ritual?”
“Anything you want, cara.”
“Why didn’t you explain this particular advantage before now? All these weeks of working together and you never— Oh, that reminds me.”
She switched to business mode with such ease he figured it had to come from long practice. Slipping her feet from his lap, she set aside her champagne and rifled through her purse for her tablet. “And where did I stick my reading glasses?” she muttered. “Oh, damn. I left them on the bed, after all. Listen, I nearly forgot to tell you. The Reed account called about setting up a meeting for Thursday. Could I borrow Lassiter—”
She broke off when he took the tablet from her hands and dropped it back into her purse. “Not tonight, Caitlyn. No cell phones. No tablets. Tonight is for romance. Not another word of business. Instead, I want to hear about your version of happily-ever-after. What does it look like, feel like? I want to know the woman, not the exec. What are your dreams?”
She blinked at him in frank astonishment. “Excuse me? How many romantic evenings have we talked shop over a bottle of Chianti? I thought that was what you preferred.”
Tension filled him. “Do you want to spend your life with a business partner or with a lover? When the sun sets on our day, does it set with us discussing the Reed account, or will we be exchanging the sort of intimate details about ourselves that only lovers can share?”
Her eyes grew dark with an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something between nervousness and hope. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Very serious. In fact, I want to ask you a question. A serious question.”
“You can ask me anything. You know that.”
“Do you believe in love at first sight . . . at first touch?”
“At first touch?” Her expression gentled and she slipped her hand into his. “Are you aware you’re massaging your palm the same way I do?”
“I . . .” He glanced down with a frown. “What?”
“Your palm. Ever since we first shook hands and felt that odd spark. I catch myself massaging it. I didn’t think you ever did, but you’ve done it twice so far tonight.”
“You’re right.” He could have told her it was a reaction to The Inferno, one he didn’t realize any of the women shared. Did Sev’s wife, Francesca? He’d have to ask. He returned his attention to Caitlyn. She wouldn’t understand the significance of the burn they shared. Not yet. But she would. He’d see to it. “Do you ever wonder about the day we first met?”
“All the time,” she confessed softly. “I thought I’d imagined it.”
He tried to curb the intensity behind his question so he wouldn’t alarm her. “Why?”
She shrugged uneasily. “You know.”
He’d made her uncomfortable, no doubt because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Because I changed after that.”
“I understood,” she hastened to reassure. “I’m an employee in your family’s business. It wouldn’t have been appropriate that day to—” She broke off with another shrug.
“To take what we’d started in the lobby to its inevitable conclusion?”
To his amusement, she avoided his gaze. “Discreetly phrased, but yes. We both know where matters were headed that morning.”
“What do you think would have happened if instead of walking on to that elevator and pushing the button for personnel, you’d gone with me?”
Her head shot up and this time she gave him a direct look. “Neither of us would have reported for work that day. I’d probably have been fired and you’d have . . .” She broke off with a shrug.
“Have what?” he prompted.
“You would have found my behavior totally inappropriate. We’d have had an interesting day and I’d be working elsewhere.” Her smile wavered. “And we wouldn’t be sitting here discussing it.”
“I have another scenario.” He forked his fingers deep into her hair and tilted her face up toward his. “I think we would have slipped away and allowed what we felt for each other to reach its natural conclusion. And then I would have called personnel and explained that I’d misappropriated you on official Dantes’ business and that you would begin work the next day.”
“That’s a nice fantasy.”
He shook his head. “It’s what should have happened. Instead I almost lost you. What happened in the lobby became nothing more than a dream, one that faded with each passing day until you began to think you’d imagined the connection we forged that morning.”
“But it’s back now,” she reminded him with a misty smile. “So it’s all good.”
“And it’s going to stay good. Because this time we’re listening to our instincts, instead of running from them.”
“And when reality intrudes?”
“I want you to promise you’ll keep listening to those instincts. That you’ll follow your heart instead of your head.”
She laughed again, louder and more freely than before, which pleased him no end. “I can’t believe you of all people are telling me that, Lazzaro Dante.”
He stiffened at the name. “And why is that?”
“Oh, please. Just yesterday you were explaining that emotion and instinct weren’t to be trusted. That the reason we get along so well is because we’re both rational, logical people.” A frown creased her brow. “What’s changed your mind since then?”
“I’m surprised you bought into that load of horse manure,” he replied, attempting to turn it into a joke.
She persisted, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who said it. Don’t you believe it?”
“Not even a little.”
“Well, I do. Did,” she corrected. A hint of tension underscored the word. “Now I’m really confused. What’s going on, Lazz?”
“Caitlyn . . .” He needed to find a way to put them on a different footing than the one she shared with his brother. “I’d like to start over. Right here and right now. For the rest of this trip, let’s pretend it’s that first morning again and we’ve just met. Do you think you can do that?”
“I suppose.” The tension seeped away little by little. “Actually, it sounds like fun.”
To Marco’s relief, Caitlyn took his suggestion to heart and accepted, where before she’d questioned. The attendant approached just then to inform them they were about to land. Once again, he’d arranged for a car to take them to their hotel, a gorgeous rambling structure beside a small, sparkling lake. They were immediately escorted to a private suite on the top floor, one with acres of bed, a sunken bathtub, a whirlpool that could have doubled as a swimming pool, and a private balcony complete with hot tub.
He turned to her and grinned. “Which one do you want to get naked in first?”
Chapter Four
Caitlyn simply stood and stared at the amenities in utter disbelief. “My entire apartment could fit into that bathtub.”
“Hmm. Sounds like you need a larger apartment. Maybe we can do something about that when we return. My place is at least as large as that bed. What do you say, cara? Interested in swapping a tub for a bed?”
She spun around to face him. “You know, that’s the third time tonight you’ve called me by that endearment, which is really strange considering you haven’t used it since the morning we first met. In fact, I’ve heard you use more Italian in the past couple hours than in the past couple weeks.”
“Get used to it. Passion brings it out in me.” He looked around with almost boyish enthusiasm and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s try out everything. Where do you want to start? A long, romantic soak with candles and chocolates? A spin in the hot tub?” His voice deepened. “Or should we play hide-and-seek on that football-field-size bed?”
“Lazz—”
He couldn’t help it. His brother’s name on Caitlyn’s lips sent him straight over the edge. He needed to find a way of separating the two of them in her mind, to put an indelible mark on her that could never be erased.
“The bed it is.”
He reached her side in two easy strides and scooped her up in his arms. She shivered within his hold, trepidation warring with desire. He saw the instant desire won. It leaked into her eyes and tinted her cheeks a gentle rose. It trembled on her lips and rippled endlessly through her, turning her soft and pliant. With the quietest of sighs, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.
“I don’t want to be a high-powered business exec anymore,” she informed him in a muffled voice.
He felt unbearably tender toward the woman in his arms. “Who would you like to be?”
“Me. Right now. With you.” She lifted her head to look at him with an endearingly solemn expression.
“What could be more perfect?”
“Nothing that I can think of.”
He stripped back the plush comforter and blanket before easing her onto the mattress. Her hair spilled like black ink across sheets of baby-soft ivory cotton, the ebony strands as soft as spun silk. He came down beside her, in no hurry now that he had her where he most wanted her.
“We could make this trip even more special, if you want,” he offered gently. “When we return tomorrow, it could be as Mr. and Mrs. Dante.”
For a split instant he thought he’d pushed an inch too far. Staring up at him, she moistened her lips. “You know,” she admitted hesitantly. “I’d planned how I’d answer you tonight, just in case Britt and Angie were right about your intentions.”
“And what did you decide?”
“To tell you how much I appreciated our friendship and hoped over time it could become more than that. More intimate than that.” The explanation sounded more like a confession. “That I was willing to take the next step if you were, but that we’d have to take it slowly.”
“And now?”
Tears sparkled like diamonds in her eyes. “And now all I can think about is how lucky I am to have found you again and how afraid I am that I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll just be a lovely dream. That our relationship will go back to the way it was and I’ll lose all this.”
“This isn’t a dream and you’re not going to lose me.”
The apprehension lingered, a shadow that darkened the clear blue of her eyes. “What happens if everything changes again? What happens if we revert to how we were before?”
“That won’t happen, I promise.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth. “Marry me, Caitlyn, and I’ll fill your days and nights with more romance and adventure than your wildest dreams.”
“Considering some of my dreams, that’s a pretty tall order.”
“Try me.”
Joy welled upward and she nodded. “I do believe you just won yourself a bride, Mr. Dante.”
“Are you sure?”
“Then, what do you say we do this right?” He checked his watch. “The marriage bureau doesn’t close until midnight—”
Her arms tightened around his neck. “And how do you know that?”
“Cara,” he admonished, laying on a thick Italian accent. “It’s my great pleasure to anticipate your every need.”
“Which you’re doing brilliantly.”
“Which I’ll soon do even more brilliantly. Let me make a quick phone call and then we’ll go for our license.”
“Perfect. That’ll give me time to freshen up.”
She didn’t shift from her position, but simply gazed at him with such yearning that Marco knew that if he didn’t get them off the bed and fast, they wouldn’t leave it anytime soon. He risked another kiss, sliding across the lushness of her mouth before dipping inward. Just a gentle give and take, a lazy teasing duel that teetered on the edge of flaming out of control.
She broke off the kiss with a strangled moan. “I don’t understand any of this. It’s like kissing an entirely different person.”
That had him levering off the bed. He softened his desertion by holding out his hand with a warm smile. “Come on. Now that you’ve said yes, I want to turn my brand-new bride-to-be into my brand-new wife.”
She sat up, delightfully appealing in her rumpled state. He’d done that to her. He’d upended her neat little columns and smudged all her meticulous rows. And she’d let him. More, she’d encouraged him to yank her outside her box and into his world, a world without order or logic. It did, however, have a plan, one he’d executed with all the care and precision of his twin brother.
“A bride-to-be and a wife, all in one night.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure it gets much crazier than that.”
“Give it time,” he said, hoping she missed the irony underscoring his comment.
While Caitlyn freshened up, Marco placed a phone call to confirm the arrangements for their wedding, arrangements that would, he hoped, make the night as special as possible. The trip to and from the marriage bureau took hardly any time at all, though filling out the necessary forms gave Marco a moment’s worry. Fortunately, since Caitlyn had forgotten her reading glasses in her rush to meet him, the forms were a total blur.