Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (19 page)

“How come you didn’t mention the dumbbells when
I
asked if you had something belonging to Ginger?”

“First, I forgot about it, but mostly everyone asked about something that Ginger gave to me. Ginger never did give me the dumbbells
.
T
hat’s why. Oh, God, I can’t think about the way she died. It’s making me sick again. I don’t care what
DeFiore
says. S
he was a good person. She wanted to help poor children in Africa.”

“Let’s not talk about it then,” he said.

The atmosphere went from warm and cozy to cold and distant. Maybe it was a sign from above. Pack your stuff and go back to your place, away from temptation, safe from betrayal.

They finished eating in silence.

In spite of all her good intentions, Mina kept pushing fate. “Do you ever take off your boots?” she asked.

He turned, head cocked to one side, staring directly at her, his eyes pulling her in. “Why do I feel like this is a trick question?” he
asked
. “Let’s see—I definitely take them off when I shower, and when I sleep in my own bed.”

“How about when you sleep in someone else’s bed?” They had moved across the room from each other, Diego with his back to the brightness of the kitchen, Mina in the living room, basking in the rosy dimness of the silk sconces.

“It would depend on whose bed it is,” his voice a tad husky.

She felt a stab of heat rush through her and knew he must’ve noticed.
Maledizione.
A phone rang in the guest room. Diego moved to answer, keeping his eyes on her in a deliberate way. She wished she could disappear into the floor. Maybe she should clean up the kitchen, or gather her few personal things and go to sleep in her own bed. Instead, she walked to the patio door, lifted the dark drapes and discovered it was pouring.

Euphoria gushed through her the way it did back home at the sight of first snow. In Southern California
with rain
as unforeseen as first snow in Venice, Mina
couldn’t resist
the siren song
of the falling drops
. She slid the door open and walked onto the wet patio. Arms stretched wide, eyes shut and head lifted into the weeping sky, she let the cold rain drench her, soak her like a second skin.

“What
’s
got
ten
into you?” She heard Diego’s words at the same time as he put his arm around her waist
,
practically carried her inside his living room and closed the patio door without letting go of her.

“Hey!” Her back against his torso, she elbowed his ribs. “Let me go, party pooper.”

“You
’
re all wet
. Y
ou’re going to catch something, and you
’
re not
even
supposed to be out there, an open target.”

“An open target? Oh, no, I told you
—
the bad people stole the dumbbells
. T
hey got what they were looking for. I’m free, no need to worry about me.” His arms relaxed and she turned to face him. A wide, wet spot marked the place where he held her against his chest. She rubbed her hands over it. “Oh, Diego, you are so good to me, I don’t deserve all your kindness.” Water dripped from her clothes to her shoes and the floor. She could imagine what her hair looked like, but right this moment she didn’t care. She nudged closer to Diego, trying to read his face.

He stepped back, “You need to get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

“I can do that. No problem.” She kicked off her shoes with such enthusiasm that the right one
went
airborne and fell on the coffee table with a thud. He rolled his eyes and stifled a smile. She unbuttoned her wet blouse
. I
t wasn’t easy
;
the buttons were slippery.

Now he smiled openly
.
“I’ll get a towel
,
” he said and walked away.

How dare he?

The man didn’t appreciate an improvised striptease? His loss. The buttons undone, she furiously removed the shirt and dropped it on the floor. Her jeans had barely joined the shirt when Diego came around the corner with a bath towel. He stopped in his tracks, and she watched him gulp. Mina asked herself if her choice of lingerie in the morning was in preparation of this precise moment. Regardless,
t
here she stood in her pure silk white bikini
panties
and push up bra, both with only a hint of lace. The silk habit she picked up from her mother, and she was aware of the consequence of wetness on white silk. She could read the effect on Diego’s face. Flustered at first, avoiding her eyes, he unfolded the towel and attempted to wrap it around her. With a sharp giggle she freed herself and pressed the weight of her small frame against him. Caught unprepared, he teetered, backed into the wall. Mina leaned on him,
and then
stood on her toes to reach his face.

“You smell of rain,” he said, his lips on her forehead.

She breathed against his chest, stretched again to find his mouth, and her nostrils filled with his scent of mountain pine. His arms went around her back, drawing her closer. Could he feel the heat pounding beneath the flimsy smoothness of the silk? His heart hammered against her breasts, he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom. When her body slid against the coziness of the sheets, she felt the warmth of his tongue on her neck and heard the thud of his boots hitting the floor.

W
as
it
true that the more sex you had, the more you wanted—or needed
?
Not that she
’d
had an exorbitant amount of sex in her life, but she’d been thinking about it a lot when Diego was around.
Or maybe it was a coincidence because during the night hours
,
her senses seemed to come alive, and Diego could be easily described as a nocturnal being. It was morning now.

The morning after.

No need to turn and check, every inch of her body
sensed
his presence next to her. It was as if Diego exuded sexuality
,
and her only desire was to catch the next surge.

“
Ciao
,
bella
,” his lips on the nap
e
of her neck
.
G
oose bump
s
raced for territorial rights over her spine. Mina couldn’t remember the last time a man caused her to heat up in a flash like that. Must be his sweet Italian
pillow talk
—or not. Memories of her time with Brian crossed her mind, flash videos of a tender past.
Go away
. She turned and slipped her arms around his torso.
Because he was shorter than Brian, she found an effortless comfort in the entwining of their bodies. They joined together like the halves of a whole, like hands in prayer.

“What are you thinking about?”
H
e nibbled on her ear.

“Stuff…”
H
er hands stroke
d
the length of his back.

“Stuff? Try again.”

“What’s on your back?”
H
er palm found a rough spot. She moved the hand on a wider circle, two, not really a bump, more like a scar, a round scar. She rubbed her finger on it, her eyes studying his expression. He shook his head, hid his face in the curve of her neck
.
“Mina, Mina, you and your questions…what does it feel like?”
Sweetness
in his voice be
lied the shortness of the remark.

Mina lifted herself on her elbow and decided to take a good look at Diego’s back.

“Oh,
Mio Dio
, Diego, it looks like—like—someone shot you—twice. Is that it? Is it what happened?”

Without warning, he flipped around and his back now rested on the bed, Mina’s hand landed on his chest. “Long time ago
,
” he said, “not much to talk about. As you can see, I’m here and all is well.”

She looked at him in disbelief.
“That’s it? You act like it was just another day at the office. Exactly what is it that you do for a living?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said
,
and this time his voice had no sweetness.

“I need coffee.” She slid off the bed and w
ent to
the kitchen.

Nuda come un verme.
Naked as a worm was one of her grandmother’s favorite quotes.

She couldn’t help but
notice the guest room door was shut again. Her instinct urged her to try the knob
, but s
he resisted and went into the kitchen. Coffee should cure her pissy mood or to be more precise, her arousal fogged mind. The smell of sex and sweat lingered on her skin. Of all the stupid things she did in her young life
,
this was a real winner. She remembered her last conversation with Brian
,
“I’ve been sleeping in my neighbor’s bed.” It appear
ed
she could have a career in the world of mediums and charlatans because she could predict the future. She was making enough racket slamming cabinet doors and drawers to wake up Snow
White and all her dwarfs. The empty bottle of Prosecco was still on the counter. She dumped it in the trash. Diego was watching her
from across the room. S
he hadn’t heard him coming. He looked like he
just
stepped out of the shower. A
three-minute
shower? He wore
jeans, no shoes. In his hands he held a white shirt that looked like it was fresh from the cleaners. Wet hair drooping and curling around his face. She could smell the
pine-scented
soap from the other side of the kitchen.
It m
ade her feel dirty and cheap and more turned on than before. A great way to start a Sunday.

“Care to share why you are abusing the kitchen cabinets? I could hear the slamming all the wa
y to the bedroom.” He was right;
she felt embarrassed.

“Coffee, where do you keep the coffee?”

When h
e shook his head, a lock of hair fell over his eyes, so cute
, so tender.

Diego handed her his shirt, “Here, put this on
.
I’ll make coffee.”

“
This is clean.
” She tr
ied
to return the shirt.

“I have more clean shirts, only one Mina. Get out of the kitchen.” He smiled.

He was too nice, made her feel uncomfortable. She liked him more horizontal than sentimental.
Only one Mina?
Not good. She
headed
back to the bedroom. From the entangled web of Barbara, Ginger and Angelina’s mess right into another mess without even coming up for air. Well done. And this one she couldn’t blame on anyone but herself. Maybe she should take Adams’
s
advice and go to Europe. Right now she needed to get back to her own place. She
showered and
dried herself in the big, fluffy towels in Diego’s bathroom, slipped on her underwear from the day before and decided to wear the clean white shirt after all
. S
he could have it washed, pressed and returned to Diego. Might as well bite the bullet, go get some coffee then pack and move back home.

She heard her phone ring—Brian? She rushed to the living room and picked up on the third ring. “Hello.”

“Mina, good morning.”
DeFiore
? O
n Sunday? “ I want to make sure you get your car tomorrow
. D
on’t let what happened with Angelina worry you, okay?”

“What happened with Angelina? Are you talking about the hot cocoa and…”

“Dam
n
it, Mina, where are you?”

“Over at Diego
’s
, why?”

“I called him last night, about Angelina.” Mina remembered Diego answering his phone at about the same time she decided to go dancing in the rain
.
M
aledizione
. N
o wonder he didn’t talk about the phone call from
DeFiore
, she distracted him.
Distracted him…
the understatement of the year.

“When is your boy
friend getting home?”
DeFiore
asked.

“Never mind my boyfriend, I want to know about Angelina and let’s not forget you are the one who forced me to stay at Diego’s.”
Forced he
r
,
she liked that, perfect antidote to guilt. “Oops, my coffee is ready, I’ll ask Diego about Angelina and you have a lovely Sunday.
Ciao.
” She hung up on
DeFiore
. Double damn.