Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (16 page)

“You’re not going to get emotional again, are you?” He lifted an eyebrow. “They’re just spices.”

“It’s the thought that counts, salt and pepper man.”

“And steak sauce.”

“Oh, no. What would your mother say about that?”

“We never ate steak when I grew up. Always traditional food. I still love it, but a man needs his rib eye.”

“Of course he does.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “What are you going to cook for me tonight?”

“Leftovers?”

“Perfect.”

He laughed, His body shaking beneath her hands. “You’re too easy to please.”

“I am.” She nodded toward the spice cabinet. “I love the spices. Tell your housekeeper thanks. And give her a big raise.”

“Him.”

“Your housekeeper is a him?”

“Yup. He’s an aspiring author I met at a local writers’ group. He needs income, or he has to quit school.”

“He cleans for you?”

“And cooks a little. Does my grocery shopping.”

She kissed his chin. “You’re a really nice guy, Antonio.”

“No. Not really. I’m selfish, hedonistic, and argumentative.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.” She winked.

His brow furrowed as he looked at her, his gaze darting around her face.

She could sense he had something to say, but he stepped back.

“I’m starving. Sit, and I’ll heat up some mastacioli and meatballs.”

“Yum.” She slid onto a barstool and he set a glass of red wine in front of her. “How long have you lived here?”

“Three years.” He microwaved two plates of pasta.

“Your family stays here with you when they come to visit?”

He laughed. “Hell no! I put them up at a casino. The nieces and nephews aren’t too bad, but the adults make me
pazzo
.”

He was really reclusive.

He pulled a loaf of peasant bread out of a paper bag and sliced it.

She got up and walked into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

“Stir the pasta?”

Opening the microwave door, she waited for the steam to escape, then stirred the food around. “Your brother Dante has children?”

“No. My older brother, Luca. They live in a house on the vineyard.”

“So you said you like your nieces and nephews?” Was she being too obvious? Yeah, she was, but she wanted to know if a guy like him would ever consider adding kids to his life. She restarted the microwave.

He walked up behind her and put his hands on her hips. “Are you interested in children?”

She leaned back onto his chest, tipped her head, and looked up at him. “I am. What about you?”

“Very interested.” He kissed her then swatted her butt and went back to the bread.

She looked around her. What a lifestyle. Judging by the penthouse, sports car, and motorcycle, she would never have guessed he wanted a family. Of course, she grinned, the mini-van would come
after
the children arrived.

He set the food on the counter, poured more wine, then turned on the television in the refrigerator door and ripped open the envelope with the surveillance footage.

She sat on her barstool. “You just can’t wait, can you?”

He looked at her. “Aren’t you curious?”

She nodded. “Sure. Let’s get it over with.”

Sliding the DVD into the player, he grabbed the remote and sat next to her. The picture looked grainy, but she saw the black Corolla pull up to the corner. Monica got out and put three quarters into the box, opened it, and stuffed the paper bag in.

“That’s Monica.”

“I’ll forever think of her as Taser girl.”

She laughed. “I’m going to start calling her that.”

“Don’t tell her I came up with it. She’d zap me.”

The car drove off, then about a minute later, the same car pulled up.

He frowned. “You went back?”

She set down her fork. “No. We didn’t.”

The driver got out. It looked like Valerie, gray sweats with the hood pulled up.

Antonio looked at her.

“Really. That’s not me. We didn’t go back.” Her voice sounded squeaky.

The hooded figure put quarters into the box, opened it, and took the bag. Keeping “her” face averted, “she” got back into the car and drove away.

Antonio looked in the envelope. “Nothing else. I couldn’t see the license plate on the second car. It was probably covered.”

He took a drink of wine.

She knew what he was thinking. Why would she make the drop-off then go right back and pick it up again? “That wasn’t me in the second car, Antonio.”

He sat back in his chair. “I have a friend in Vice. I’ll ask him to analyze the footage.”

“And until then, I’m guilty?”

He shook his head. “No.” He ran his hand through his hair. “But you can see why it raises questions.”

“Yes.” She picked at her food.

He took her fork, cut a piece of meatball, and fed it to her. “Admit it. You still have some reservation about my involvement too, don’t you?”

She chewed and looked into his eyes. “Mm hm.”

He fed her pasta. “It’s understandable. The way we met, the suspicion we felt.” He broke off a piece of bread and put it up to her lips.

She opened her mouth, and he shoved the bread in and laughed. “I’m enjoying this conversation. It’s the first time I’ve been able to get my point across without you contradicting me.”

Swallowing, she laughed. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“No.” His smile told her otherwise.

“Antonio, I admit I still have doubts. I think we both will until this thing is solved. Until the blackmailers are in jail.”

“Probably.” He replayed the video as they ate. “The second person is built differently than you. I think it might be a man.”

She watched Antonio’s face. He was intent on studying the footage. She wanted to believe his innocence, but this was the perfect way to take the spotlight off him—by putting it on her. She shook her head. If she was getting serious about him and wanted to spend the night with him, she shouldn’t have any uncertainty about him. “Crap.” She mouthed the word silently.

“What?” He stared at her.

“Nothing.” She looked behind him. “You have a balcony way up here?”

He filled their wine glasses, helped her off her stool, and handed her the glass. “Let’s step out.”

Sliding the door open, he took her hand and led her to the railing. “Too windy?”

She laughed. “It’s like a ride at the Strat.” She looked down at the activity on The Strip. “It’s amazing how quiet it is up here.”

“You can hear yourself think. Down there, your words get swallowed by the insanity.”

She looked up at him. “That was powerful. You should use that in your book.” Her hair whipped around her face, and she took her hand from his and captured it at her nape.

“Too personal. I don’t want the world to get into my head.”

She immediately felt concern with the way he phrased the thought, but she wasn’t his psychologist. She let it go.

He stared off into the distance, looking like his mind was light years away. He drank his wine, but his eyes seemed troubled.

She wanted to help. “Antonio?”

His gaze shot to hers as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Sorry, cara, I’m being too introspective.”

“You can talk to me if you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He shrugged. “And that’s what I’m paying my therapist for, anyway.”

“When do you see him next?”

“Tomorrow.” He raised a brow. “Were you worried I’d only go once and be ‘cured’?”

“No. Not you. I’ve seen that happen before, but you aren’t the type.”

“The type. What type am I?”

Oops. She looked into his eyes. Had she said too much? “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“If you don’t mind.”

She sighed. “My professional opinion?”

“Yes.” He leaned his elbows on the railing, watching her closely.

“There’s something you want to exorcise from your life. It’s what makes you use anger as a defense.”

He looked at her for a long, silent minute then dropped his head and stuck his fingers in his hair.

She wished he hadn’t asked. “Your type? A man who’s decided there’s something, some reason, to fight to get the demon off his back.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

She moved closer and touched his back. “I want to help you. I’ll never judge you.” She sighed.

“You think you can change me?”

“No. I like you just the way you are.”

He stood and pulled her close. “Flaws, demons, and all?”

“We all have our demons, Antonio. You’re not alone.”

“Riiiiight. You’re saying you have demons?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Tell me.”

“No. Not tonight.”

He arched a brow. “I’m intrigued.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to lose interest.”

“No chance,
mio cuore
.”

“
Caro
.”

He groaned. “I love it when you speak Italian.”

“
Baciami
.”

He kissed her, as ordered.

She laid her head on his chest, looking out at the city. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” That came from her heart.

He stepped back and took her hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

They walked through the foyer to his office. He gestured into the room and flipped on the light for just a moment. “This is where I write.”

She could tell it was his private sanctuary, and, unless invited, she’d be sure not to invade it.

At the next door, he said, “The bedroom.”

She stepped over the threshold and stopped. He bumped into her and grabbed her to keep them from tumbling to the floor.

“So,” she whispered. “This is where the magic happens.”

Chapter Fourteen

Antonio let out a startled laugh. “I don’t know whether to be offended or excited.”

“Excited, definitely.” Valerie looked around the large room. Floor-to-ceiling windows formed the wall facing The Strip. Another wall held a large fireplace, and in front of it, a round, overstuffed, tan sectional sofa with ottomans and pillows invited cuddling.

“Very cozy,” she said then glanced at him. Very Playboy Mansion.”

His hands moved up her arms to her shoulders, and she knew exactly what he had on his mind. Stepping away from him, she broke the contact. She was too vulnerable right now, and needed time to get her bearings.

His bed sat prominently in the middle of the room. Dark wood headboard and footboard—very bold and masculine. The brown comforter and pillows came as a surprise, when she’d expected red or tiger-stripe, or something wild. They were satin, however, very shiny and slippery looking.

“I’m tempted to run and jump on the bed and slide off the other side.”

“Go ahead. I’d like to see that.”

She laughed and skimmed her hand over the comforter. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“I’d hoped you would—help me mess it up.”

She looked back at him and saw the predatory gleam in his eyes. He stood in the doorway, leaning on one shoulder, his arms crossed.

She gestured to the two large doors near him. “Your closet?”

“Mm hm.” He walked over and opened them, and the interior lights snapped on.

“Impressive.” She walked in, strolled past suits, tuxedos, sports jackets, dress pants, and Dockers. A dozen pairs of shoes with Italian brand names were lined up on a rack. She looked at the wall where sweaters and shirts, polos, and Hawaiian print shirts hung. A half dozen pairs of athletic shoes and a couple pairs of very macho sandals sat on the floor. She didn’t open the drawers, but she guessed she’d find his casual wear.

“You have all these beautiful clothes, and you always seem to be in jeans and a T-shirt.”

“I wear what I’m comfortable in.”

“I like that.” She stroked a black cashmere mock-turtle. He’d fill it out very nicely. Walking out of the closet, she headed for the bathroom door on the opposite side of the room. She stepped in, amazed by the exquisite cerulean tiles.

“This is beautiful.” The large whirlpool tub and walk-in shower next to it lined up against a wall of dark windows. She could see out but guessed no one could see in. She ran her fingers over the edge of the tub.

“Big enough for two.”

“I’m sure it is.” She smiled, and her imagination leapt to a vision of them both in the water, surrounded by bubbles. She held back a giggle. Was he the bubble type?

He hitched a thumb toward a separate room with the toilet. “I’m going to go…all that beer at your place.”

“Oh. Yes. Um. I’ll be out here?” She sounded silly.

He laughed. “Okay. But you’re welcome to stay. If you’re curious.”

He had no idea how curious. Making a quick departure, she walked out into the bedroom and flipped the switch on the fireplace. It flamed on, and she sat on the edge of one of the ottomans to watch it, willing herself to relax.

Would he push her now that he knew she had feelings for him? He was a gentleman so far, with few very naughty exceptions. But being alone with her in his bedroom might prove to be too much for him—and for her.

He sat next to her. “Would you like more wine? A G&T?”

“Wine would be nice.”

“Wait here.”

He came back with their glasses and handed one to her. “To us.”

“To us.” She tapped her glass on his and sipped. “Funny, it’s ninety degrees outside, and a fire is still nice.”

“Romantic.” He put his fingers on the nape of her neck then ran them through the length of her hair. “
Bellisima
.” “Would you like to get comfortable?” He nodded toward the couch.

“Smooth, aren’t you.”

He chuckled. “I like to think so.” They moved back and settled in the cushions. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in to him, tucking her legs up under her.

Perfect. She felt content in his arms, the scent of his aftershave exciting her, the wine warming her, making her drowsy. “This wine is wonderful.”

“You’re wonderful.” He kissed her temple, softly kissed her earlobe, and whispered hot in her ear, “Tell me about yourself.”

She pulled her hair away from her neck and tipped her head to the side. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”