Seduced by Sunday (24 page)

Her internal clock said it was four in the morning. The clocks in Rome said one in the afternoon.

She and Michael had a two-bedroom suite with a middle great room that overlooked the lights of Rome. They agreed to snag a couple of hours of sleep and then do their best to stay awake as long as possible, grab some food, come up with a plan, and head out first thing in the morning.

They were dragging their eyelids at nine in the evening, doing their best to move past the jet lag as soon as humanly possible.

Meg tossed her purse onto the coffee table when they stumbled into their room.

“I’m dead,” Michael managed.

“If you wake me before nine, I might not be responsible for my actions,” Meg warned.

Twelve hours of sleep sounded like a slice of heaven.

Michael managed a slight wave and headed to his room.

Meg moved into the bathroom inside her room by braille. She washed, brushed, and flushed before making her way to her bed. While in the process of unbuttoning her shirt, a grunt, or maybe it was a grumble, sounded from the other side of the room.

The room was lit by the lights of the city filtering in from the window. The outline of someone lying on her bed forced her eyes open.

She clicked the closest light and felt her heartbeat slow.

“Val,” she whispered.

What the?
She’d sent a text when she’d arrived in Rome and hadn’t heard from him . . . assuming that he was in bed. In Florida.

In bed . . . but not Florida.

Lying on top of the sheets, he still wore a dress shirt, minus the tie; his slacks hid his long legs. A day’s worth of stubble stood out on his chin, his mouth was open a sliver as even breaths told her he was sound asleep. Equal parts sweet and sexy, she contemplated his presence.

Why was he there and why was he in her bed?

With a silly smile on her lips, she quietly turned off the light, retrieved her nightgown from her suitcase she’d yet to unpack, and slid quietly back into the bathroom to prepare for bed.

Meg pushed back the covers and slid under them. “Val?” she whispered his name again, wanted to wake him enough so he knew she was there. “Val?”

He mumbled something in Italian.

“Val?” Her voice was louder this time. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Cara?”
He rolled toward her.

“What are you doing here, Masini?”

He didn’t open his eyes. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure he was even aware he spoke. “Airports . . . Italy . . . the rooms were full. So tired.”

She understood the last part. Exhaustion threatened her sanity. She moved close enough to reach his shirt and started to unbutton it. “Take this off, Val. You won’t sleep well in it.”

His hands followed hers even though his eyes were closed.

Half-dead, she admired the view as he sat up and shrugged out of his shirt.

He started to lie back and she kept him upright a little longer. “Pants. The belt in bed might be exciting another time . . . but not tonight.”

A smirk managed to cross his lips and one eye cracked open. Val’s next words were once again cloaked in Italian.

Val wore boxers was her thought before he moved under the covers beside her.

She started to lie down when he pulled her into the nook of his arm and kissed the top of her head.

“Sleep,
bella
. Thank you for not kicking me out.”

“Too tired to kick anything.”

He squeezed her closer and she sucked in his scent. Maybe in the morning she could tell him that she didn’t do the sleepover thing with men.

Gabi woke to the ocean surrounding her.

She’d fallen asleep in Alonzo’s arms after a romantic on-deck dinner the chef had prepared.

She loved being on the sea. The vast open space felt safe on the yacht as gentle waves lulled her to a sense of serenity land couldn’t offer.

Alonzo had met her at the airport in Key West and swept her onto his yacht and out to sea within an hour. When she asked where they were headed, he didn’t say . . . simply handed her a glass of champagne and told her not to worry. Between the sun, the wine, and the amazing meal, she found herself falling asleep under the stars. They were both tired when they’d crawled into bed, yet Alonzo had made love to her with her eyes half-closed. The act was nearly over before it began but Gabi was too tired to care.

She woke groggy and found a bottle of water and two pills by the bedside.
For your headache
was written on a note next to the bottle.

How did Alonzo know she’d wake with her head cracking from the inside? Maybe it was the wine? Or maybe the sea managed to dig deep.

She took the pills and pushed out of the empty bed. She looked out the starboard and port sides of the ship and could tell they were in the middle of the sea. No land in sight.

The onboard shower was as luxurious as a yacht could offer. The water soothed her headache but didn’t completely wake her.

By the time she left the shower, someone had been in their suite and a white sundress, one she didn’t own, lay on the bed with another note.
For my bride.

With a smile, she slid the linen dress over her head and turned to the full-length mirror. The fit was perfect and went to her toes. Even in the heat of the Caribbean Sea, the cloth felt cool against her skin.

She placed her hair in a knot on top of her head and tried to shake the sleep from her head as she left her room in search of her fiancé.

“Miss Masini,” the steward greeted her in the living quarters, pulled out a chair at the dining table. “Mr. Picano asked that you eat before your big day. He’ll be along shortly.”

“Coffee. I’d love some coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The young man scurried away and returned with coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit along with a variety of muffins. She was halfway through the coffee and nibbling on a muffin when Alonzo walked into the room.

“There you are,” he said, kissing her on the head as he took the seat beside her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock. Though a rock doesn’t sleep, does it?”

Alonzo nudged her nose with a knuckle and waved the steward over. Without asking, the attendant brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“It’s a bit early for this, isn’t it?” she questioned.

Instead of saying anything, he winked and shooed off the help, leaving them alone.

He lifted his glass and waited for her to pick up hers.

“To us,” he said.

How could she say no to the smile that spread over Alonzo’s face? “To us.” The sweet, fizzling wine tickled her nose and rolled down her throat.

Before she set her glass back down, Alonzo was pouring more into it.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?” she asked for the tenth time since he picked her up at the airport.

He moved around the table and sat beside her, pulled her close. “How about a honeymoon?”

The question sounded strange on his lips. “You want to talk about where we’ll have our honeymoon?”

He sipped his wine and encouraged her to join him. “Someplace away from everyone. We can make love for hours, come out only to eat . . . or have someone bring in food.”

That didn’t sound like him at all. The man didn’t sit still long enough for lazy fantasies like the one he described. “And what would we do the next day?”

He laughed, kissed the side of her cheek. “You know me so well.” He leaned against the back of the seat, placed his head alongside hers. “I’ve been so busy. I need you to ground me.”

Enjoying the feel of his arms around her, she settled beside him and sipped her wine. The thought of being
the someone
he needed in his life to make him complete left a warmth in her chest. In her life, no one truly needed her. Her mother needed Val, especially after their father’s death, but Gabi always felt like more of a burden than an asset. “It’s nice to be needed,” she confessed.

He nuzzled her neck. “I need you, Gabriella. More than you know.”

His lips sought hers for a brief kiss. When he pulled away, he lifted his glass. “For needing each other.”

She sipped more wine and felt it hit her head. Warmth filled her cheeks as she set the glass down.

“Marry me,” Alonzo said at her side.

She giggled. “I already said I would.” She waved her left hand in the air.

Alonzo set his glass beside her and knelt on the floor, taking both of her hands in his as he stared up at her. “Marry me now. Today.”

She blinked, pushed the fuzz out of her brain. “Today?”

“Yes. Today. I don’t want to wait. I want you to take my name today.”

“But the wedding—”

“We can do it all again later, dress, flowers, family. Let’s do this now, for us. No one even needs to know about it. Just think,” he said with a silly smile on his face. “Years from now we will tell our children how we eloped on the open waters on a summer day with a breeze off the ocean.”

Are you serious?

The expression on his face told her he was.

She considered the possibility, felt something inside her hesitate.

“Think of the weight lifted if the public wedding isn’t filled with emotional stress.” He kissed her fingertips. “Please.”

She wanted to say yes, was about to utter the words, when she felt her head grow heavy. “How can we? There is no priest.”

“My captain has the authority, darling. On the deck, right now. I’ll pledge my life to you.”

“Oh, Alonzo.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, fully. Several seconds passed before he moved away far enough to whisper, “I love you, Gabriella. Make me the happiest man on the ocean and take my name.”

Could she? Why should they wait? They could do it all again in a few months . . .

She felt the boat tip, or maybe it was her. The whirlwind Alonzo was pushing her in was a vortex she didn’t feel she could avoid. With a giddy heart and a fuzzy head, she found herself nodding.

“Yes?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

After another kiss, he handed her the glass again and stood. “I’ll tell my captain and arrange everything.”

Gabi’s hands shook as she tilted the wine to her lips. She looked down to see her glass nearly empty. She glanced at the bottle and realized it, too, was almost gone.

Had she really just agreed to eloping?

She smiled, despite the twist in her gut. Making a decision on her own, without the guidance of her family, felt right. Besides, pushing up the date by a few months meant nothing.

Not really.

Chapter Twenty

On some level, Meg realized she was in a hotel bed . . . but this one was moving. And since she’d graduated from college, hotel beds with magic fingers were no longer part of her circuit. Thank God.

Still, her head moved up and down in a steady motion.

Rome. That’s right, I’m in Italy.

Her eyes popped open.
Val.

Sure enough, it wasn’t a dream. Her head was flat against Val’s chest, and from her angle, his chest was something to behold. Wavy, firm bits with a small dusting of hair. His Italian color along with living on a tropical island gave him a golden tan many strove for but seldom obtained.

Doing her best to lie still and not wake her bed partner, she took stock of where all of her limbs were and what they were doing. She lay on her left side, her left arm curled between the two of them. Her right arm was shamelessly draped low on his chest, her right leg entwined with both of his. She couldn’t resemble a human blanket much more. Even in his sleep, Val hung on. His right hand rested on her hip . . . a hip completely exposed to his touch. Seemed her
excuse for a nightgown wanted to ride up in the night. His other hand held her arm that lay over his chest.

I don’t do sleepovers.

Yet she was wrapped around him like lips sucking a lime after a tequila shot, and he was hanging on for the ride.

Sleepovers meant commitment. There was nothing about Val that was committed. They hadn’t even slept together . . . well, slept, but not . . . she closed her eyes and burrowed a little deeper.
How can he smell good after a full day of traveling and a night of sleep?

Meg indulged in the feel and smell of him a little longer before forcing her eyes open for good. She attempted to pull her right hand out from under his only to have his fingers wrap around hers and pull her even tighter.