Full Moon in Florence (18 page)

Laine nodded. He was upstairs in bed. She wanted to go back to him.

“Did I mess things up for you?”

“It’s all fine now.”

“I want to make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to do anything.”

“When do you return to America?”

“In a few days.”

“I’m leaving you my car and driver. He’s at your disposal for the rest of your stay in Florence.”

“You don’t need—

“— In addition, you will have private access to any museums of your choice—“

“— Lorenzo, you don’t—“

He held up a long-fingered and manicured hand. “—
Per favore
, Laine. Let me do this. I will book you dinner reservations as well. The best restaurant in town. Have you been to Giammo’s?”

Laine smiled. “I’d love to go back.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Lorenzo. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He stood up and adjusted the buttons on his suit jacket. Laine stood as well.

“After the authorities have gone through the estate, if there is anything left of artistic value I will send something to you in San Francisco. It may not be worthy to be the center of a collection, but it will be a token for my grandfather and his memories.” He took Laine’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “As well as mine.”

The Signora called from the lobby. “Cappuccinos are ready.”

Lorenzo took one last look at Laine and then left.

As the Signora watched him go, she whispered. “I think you made the right choice.”

She handed Laine the tray. “Oh, and these were just delivered for you.”

From behind the desk, Signora Natalia lifted up Laine’s reconstructed and brightly polished red shoes.

“I’ve always wanted a pair of red shoes,” said the Signora longingly.

Laine thought about the places, inner and outer, that those shoes had taken her. She smiled at the Signora. “If they fit you, you can have them. My gift to you.”

Signora Natalia beamed. She started kicking off the shoes she was wearing. Laine wondered if Colin would miss them, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t mind her decision.

Laine carried the cappuccinos upstairs.

Colin

Colin stirred in the bed. A dream he’d been having was beginning to fade. He and Laine were walking along a path together hand in hand. They’d come to the edge of the cliff. Beyond the cliff was the sea. Laine turned to him and smiled. She gripped his hand tighter and then looked back to the sea. Colin sensed they were both about to jump, but it wasn’t to their deaths. Somehow, they were going to jump and then they were going to fly.

Colin didn’t want to wake up just yet. He wanted to feel what it was like to fly. But he was waking up, beginning to be aware that he was in a hotel in Florence, that Laine had spent the night. But had she stayed this time? He didn’t want to wake up unless Laine was there. He kept his eyes shut tight until he heard a noise. A door opening and closing. Then he smelled the sweet aroma of Italian coffee.

He kept his eyes closed until he felt the bed shift. A warm naked body curled up against his back. Every part of him responded. Slowly he rolled over. Then he opened his eyes. He gazed into Laine’s smiling face.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Better than good. Best morning of my life,” he said, and then he kissed her.

“I thought you might like to wake up to a nice, hot coffee,” she murmured as she adjusted herself under him, opening her arms, her legs, and not making any move to get the coffee.

He didn’t care about the coffee. That’s one thing that never ran out in Italy.

“All I want is to wake up next to you.” He kissed each of her temples.

She drew his hips to hers. “For the next three days, you can.”

His lips kissed their way from her ear to her throat. “And after that?”

There were no words after that. Their bodies merged and spoke in kisses, moans, and thrusts. Plans were made in the arch of a back and hands tangled in long hair. It wasn’t their words that made plans but their hearts, and Colin and Laine knew that their hearts would be able to bridge their continental divide, just as they both knew now that some dreams could become reality.

THE END

KC MARTIN

www.kcmartinauthor.com

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About the Author

I write about discovering the true power hidden in pleasure and living with an open heart.

Stories have the power to change hearts and lives. Love, eroticism, and sensuality provide the greatest inspiration for the heart. When we claim our pleasure, we activate our power and embolden our hearts to create lasting change in our lives and the world.

Some of the simple pleasures I enjoy:

French 
macarons
, Kir Royale (a glass of champagne with 1/2 oz of Cassis, a black currant liqueur from France), hot baths by candle light, walking in the forest, working in the garden, visiting museums, giving and receiving massages, laughing with friends, cooking, painting, and most of all: writing.

KC

KC MARTIN

www.kcmartinauthor.com