Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (14 page)

He came up next to her, gasping for air, his overwhelming arousal making him weak. “Tease.”

“Horny bastard.” She splashed him and swam to the drop-off.

He followed. “Constantly horny around you.”

When she stood, the water reached her neck.

He got his footing next to her, not daring to touch her for fear he’d be unable to control the urge to strip her bare and make love to her.

“You have an amazing body, Antonio. I didn’t realize.”

The waterline splashed at the level of his pecs, and she reached a hand to touch him. She slowly drew her fingers over his chest muscles, down his abdomen then ran her hand up and down the muscles. “Six-pack abs. Wow. You do work out.” Both hands ran up his chest to his shoulders then down to his biceps. “Flex,” she ordered, and he did. “Yummy. A hard man is good to find.”

When she looked into his eyes, he sensed she could see his barely controlled passion. “Valerie, you need to stop, or I won’t be able to.”

“Sorry.” She removed her hands from him. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”

“Hm.” His need to have her became physically painful. If he stood there watching her any longer, he’d grab her and… Drawing in a deep breath he dove under the water, down as far as he could in the deep end, and he stayed down until his lungs ached, then he shot up.

She stood drying herself by the bar then put on a cover-up, thank God. After pouring the wine, she carried the glasses to the edge of the pool, and sat on her heels.

“Do you want your wine in there or out here?”

“I’ll get out. Do you have a towel I can use?”

“Sure. Barbie or Cinderella?”

“No GI Joe?”

“I might have something macho.” She stood and put their wine glasses on a table between the chaise lounges and went into the small changing room.

As he got out of the pool, she tossed him a Baywatch towel.

“Where do you get these?”

She dried her legs with an M&M towel. “I started picking them up when I moved in last year, and now everyone brings me the craziest ones they can find.”

He dried himself and sat on a lounge chair. Watching her sip her wine, he ran the towel over his hair. “So, what does it mean, in psychologist terms, that you collect crazy towels?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Gosh, I don’t know. I never thought about it, but I’ll ask my therapist tomorrow.”

He hadn’t expected that. “You have a therapist?”

“Yes, I do.” She cleared her throat. “This wine is amazing! You have excellent taste.” Was she changing the subject?

He hesitated, unsure that he wanted to bring up therapy after what had happened that night on the motorcycle. It had to be discussed sooner or later, so may as well dive in. “How long have you been seeing a therapist?”

She set her wine glass down and looked into his eyes. “Okay. Serious conversation time. I started seeing him after the incident at Caesar’s Palace, at the gala.”

“I remember, but what happened to make you feel you needed a shrink?”

“You sound like my dad, calling me a shrink.”

“Avoiding the question?”

“No, I’d like to talk about it.” She shifted, put her head back on the chaise, and looked up at the sky. “I felt out of control that night. I had feelings for you, but I was with another man. And I had no feelings for Troy except friendship. Which made it kind of creepy when he kissed me.” She shuddered.

He laughed. “And that’s why you never slept with him?”

“Yes, mainly. I’m not usually the type who jumps into bed with a man on the first date.” She looked at him, and a blush colored her cheeks.

“Usually. I’m the exception?”

“Yes. Which unsettled me. I called a friend in the business, and he agreed to see me professionally.”

“I hate the thought of my insanity making you need a therapist.” He ran his hand through his hair, and she watched the gesture.

She smiled. “Sometimes we just need a professional to listen to us, to point out the things we don’t see ourselves. He’s the one who asked me why I was still seeing Troy.”

“So you made a decision.”

“Yes. I made the right choice.” She looked at him. “Not the easiest guy to be with, but you’re getting better.”

“Valerie, I want you to know I took your advice, and I’m seeing the therapist you suggested.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Antonio didn’t like the sound of that.

“He called me after your first session.”

That made him even more uneasy. He swirled the wine in his glass. “Why?”

“You gave him my name as the referring doctor. He called to ask about you, but I told him it was a referral based on your request, not on my observations. You didn’t have to give him my name, you know.”

He shrugged. “I thought maybe you would get points or something.”

She laughed. “Like a gift certificate to Olives with three referrals?” She smiled. “I’m glad you decided to talk to someone. The truth is…” She picked up her wine glass. “…I wouldn’t have let you back into my home if I didn’t know for sure you were in therapy.”

“I don’t blame you.” Heaviness settled in his chest. “I’ve been a real jerk.”

“No. You’re just intense, you feel things fiercely. You need to learn how to reign in the emotions before you open your mouth and make an ass out of yourself.” Her eyes sparkled bright blue, her full lips curled into a smirk.

She was perfect. Serious, teasing, flirty. She had it all. His heart did a double time, and he let himself admit, right then, he didn’t want to spend another day without her.

She sat up, put her wine glass down, and held out her hand. “Antonio, I’m sorry, I was just teasing.” She must have misinterpreted the serious look in his eyes as anger.

He sat up and took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “The way I see it, I have two possible responses to your uncharacteristically rude comment.” He winked at her. “The first, which I would prefer, is to seduce you, carry you up to your bedroom, and make love to you all night.”

Chapter Twelve

Valerie drew in a loud breath, and Antonio felt her hand tense in his.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, the second—is what I’m going to do right now.” He stood, leaned over her, and in one motion picked her up in his arms. “You’re going to get wet.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Laughter coated her words.

He walked to the edge of the pool and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “No, please.” She used a drama voice. “I’ll do anything!”

“Tempting.” And she was. Nearly unbearably so. The way he held her, his hand touched the side of her breast, his other hand pressed against the soft skin on the back of her knee. She clung to his neck, pressing her breast firmly against his chest, sending bolts of pleasure down his body.

“All I want from you…” He kissed her gently. “Is a big splash.”

“All right.” She let go of his neck and placed the back of one hand on her forehead, feigning the dramatic heroine. “If it makes you feel better, throw me in.”

“Oh, it will.” He tossed her into the pool in her cover-up, flip-flops, and towel.

She came up sputtering and laughing. “I didn’t think you’d do it!” She grabbed a floating flip-flop and threw it at him, followed by the other one.

He caught them then sat on his heels. She swam to the edge of the pool and handed him the soaked towel.

Crossing her arms on the pool’s edge, she looked up at him. “You surprise me.”

“I have a lot more surprises for you,
bella
. Later. Right now, I’m going to leave. Thanks for a great evening.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for the wine.”

“Can I see you Sunday?”

“Sure. Stop by for dinner?”

“I’ll be here.
Ciao
.”

“
Ciao, bello
.”

He grabbed his clothes and sandals and left. Racing his car through the streets of Vegas, he beat himself up. Why didn’t he want to see her Friday or Saturday? Why was he still so addicted to his life as Carlos? He’d told the therapist everything, every detail: the secrecy, the dancing, the money, the women.

The man just took copious notes and asked a few questions but gave him no advice on how to stop. He said he wanted to think about it, and, when they met next week, they’d work through it.

Antonio put it out of his mind as he felt the hot breeze through his wet hair. He burped, tasting Valerie’s outstanding cooking. It had been good to meet her father. But her mother? She’d be a challenge. Antonio didn’t know her brother, but he seemed like a good guy. Valerie talked about a sister, and he hoped she had Valerie’s sweet personality not Dena’s invasive protectiveness.

But with his luck…

****

Monica struggled with her own problems. It was Friday afternoon, and Joe hadn’t responded to the text message she’d sent him Monday. She guessed it was over. After eating three pounds of prime steak and drinking a bottle of wine that night, even after a week of salads, she felt like she’d gained ten pounds.

Her last patient of the day was a consultation on facial surgery. She was running late and asked her nurse to sit him in her office with a couple brochures on surgical options.

She entered her office through the clinic door and stopped dead when she saw him. Her eyebrow lifted, and she looked at the patient file her nurse had given her. “Mr. Olfart? Clever.”

Joe Pappa smiled. “Mr. P.—as in Pinhead—Olfart.” He stood and walked over to her. “Monica, I want to apologize for Monday.”

She moved behind her desk before he reached her. “I understand that your job comes first.” She blinked. How whiny had that sounded?

He walked around behind her desk.

She stood her ground.

Joe stopped right in front of her. “No. It did come first. For a lot of years, it was my life. But I can’t live like that anymore. I need more.” He reached out and touched her arm. “Forgive me for running you over while I drove myself to the edge.” His eyes seemed sincere.

“It felt like you were driving a semi.”

He nodded once. “I know. I’m an insensitive rat. Will you give me another chance?”

She turned and walked away, not wanting to be influenced by his sexy eyes, his seductive scent. “Long distance relationships, Joe. They don’t work.”

“I’m not asking you to decide right now. Let me spend a few days with you. Then give me your answer.”

She turned and looked at him. “A few days? You’re staying in Vegas for the weekend?”

“No, we’re going to Temecula.” He smiled, pulled a brochure from his pocket, and held it out. “I have a friend who has a house up there—he’s working this weekend, and we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Stepping closer to see the brochure, she stayed a few feet from him. For her heart’s safety. Wineries, restaurants, shops. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “A two-bedroom house?”

He put his hand over his heart, and pulled a comical face. “I’m offended that you’d think I’d try to—”

She touched her fingers to his lips. “I hope you will try.” Monica meant it. She wanted everything from him, and if he talked seriously about changing for her, she’d let herself enjoy every minute with him.

He kissed her fingers then slanted his lips over hers. His tongue caressed hers, coaxed her to kiss him. She ran her tongue on his teeth then he deepened the kiss, bent her backward over his arm, and melted away any residual anger, any doubts about his intentions.

When he took his lips from hers, he kept her close. “Will you come away with me?”

She could barely open her eyes. Heavens, he could kiss. “Anywhere you want to take me.”

****

Sunday afternoon, Valerie stood in the kitchen flipping through cookbooks and trying to decide what to make for Antonio. She came across a recipe for Walleye. Would it be tacky to use the fish fillets Troy left her? Yes, definitely tacky.

Her doorbell rang, she heard a key in the lock, and the door opened. “Hello?”

“Hi, Monica. I’m in the kitchen.”

Her sister came in carrying a dress in a dry-cleaner bag. “I’m returning the gown I borrowed. I’ll run up and put it in your closet.”

“Okay.” Valerie’s stomach knotted. She would have to mention the Troy issue. She and her sister had a good relationship, but they often disagreed. Loudly. And today would be one of those days.

Monica came into the kitchen and twirled in a circle. “We had such a great weekend. Joe and I went to Temecula and got along fabulously.”

“You look lovely.” Monica wore a flouncy red dress and matching glasses that accentuated her green eyes. “Who’s Joe?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I must have told Ryan.” She sat on a barstool at the island. “Joe and I met when I consulted on a burn case. He’s an E.R. doctor in Los Angeles.”

“Cute?”

“Hunky. Tall and thin. Blond. Nice smile.”

“Personality?”

“Yes, Dr. Val, he has a nice personality and is kind to animals and does not start fires and does not wet his bed.”

“Just asking.” Valerie held up her hands in surrender. “You don’t have to get defensive.”

“I just hate it when you analyze everyone I date.”

“You’ve been dating some odd characters lately.”

“I’m quirky. What can I say?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Quirky is an understatement.”

“Well, Joe’s a keeper. No more eccentric oddballs for me. And,” Monica sing-songed. “How are you and Troy getting along?”

“Would you like some wine?” Valerie pointed to the bottle of red that Antonio brought.

“No, thank you.”

“How about a beer? A margarita?”

“Why are you trying to get liquor in me?” Monica wrinkled her brow. “Did something happen? Everything seemed fine last weekend?”

Valerie looked at her sister. It was nice to have someone this close to her, someone easy to talk to.

Then Monica whined, “Did you screw it up, Val?”

So much for easy. “Why do you assume it’s my fault?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I broke up with him on Friday.”

“No!” She smacked her hands flat on the counter. “He’s perfect for you.”

The phrase she’d used on her parents popped into her mind—
the person who seems perfect may not be the right one
—but Monica wouldn’t appreciate her psychobabble. “I liked him, but I didn’t have that feeling for him.”