Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (31 page)

His mouth goes dry as his eyes roam over her. “What are you doing?”

“I was just getting a little cramped and needed to stretch.”

She’s tall and lithe, with legs that go on forever. He’s never seen Lindsay naked in full daylight, and it’s a sight to behold.

“Come back here,” he says, reaching out for her, but she moves out of his grasp.

“I think I’m going to take a shower now. Maybe spend the rest of the day in one of the poker rooms. We
are
at the Bellagio, so I should at least checkout Bobbie’s Room.” She gives him a coy smile. “Unless you have something better in mind?”

He rises from the chair and moves toward her, but instead of waiting for him, she quickly goes into the bathroom and closes the door.

He rattles the knob. It’s locked. “What the hell are you doing?” he growls.

“Girl stuff,” she tells him from the other side.

His brows rise, but then he sighs and goes over to sit on her side of the bed. Her suitcase is open nearby with various items of clothing shuffled around. The heels she had on last night are tossed on the floor. Her laptop and phone are sitting on the nightstand, along with the gold hoop earrings she wore yesterday, a tube of red lip gloss beside them.

He stares at the minutia of her life and is struck by how much he likes having it all here. It isn’t just her fox that relaxes him, but Lindsay herself.

The bathroom door opens, and she emerges wearing nothing but a smile.

“I was worried you might have gotten dressed,” he says with a grin.

“Me?” She laughs. “You’ve yet to learn this about me, but I’m the original nudist.”

He takes her in with appreciation as she climbs onto the bed beside him.

“The question is why are
you
still dressed?”

His eyes continue to roam as she comes closer, and he grows more aroused at the sight. She pulls on his shoulders until he’s lying over her, looking down into her face. She smells like mint, and he realizes she must have brushed her teeth.

“I’m not the original nudist,” he confesses.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy.”

He nods. “A delicate flower. I hope you’re gentle with me.”

She chuckles in a way that tells him gentle is the last thing she’ll be. “Of course, I’ll be
very
gentle. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” He’s smiling at her, and he can’t stop. He’s certain he looks like an idiot, but he can’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

“Now, where shall we begin?” she breathes and then pulls him in for a kiss. And all he can think is
so damn glad I stayed
.

They doze for a while, and when Lindsay wakes up, she discovers Giovanni is still asleep. She remains still, watching him beside her. All the normal tension on his face is relaxed and he looks younger, peaceful for a change. She wishes she knew who or what happened to him. Part of it’s the stress and sadness over losing a good friend and then trying to help Paul’s family, but there’s obviously more going on. She’s fought her own demons, and clearly he has some he’s been fighting for years too. If only he’d tell her what they are.

As she’s thinking all this, he blinks a little and opens his eyes. It’s late afternoon so the room isn’t dark, the Vegas sun shining through the gaps in the curtain.

He doesn’t speak as they gaze at each other. Kindred spirits.

“Wow, look at you,” she whispers, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “Your eyes are as blue as the skies of Norway.”

He chuckles then closes those blue eyes for a few seconds. “Thank you. All my Viking relatives will be pleased you think so.”

“You’re very welcome, Olaf.”

He groans with contentment then pushes the covers back to get out of bed. “I need to take a leak.”

He gets up and she watches him walk, that ass and those thighs all moving in perfect concert. “Hurry back,” she tells him. “I have more plans for you.”

“Plans? Christ, woman you’ve already worn me out.” He looks at her over his shoulder. “In fact, I may have to start charging you.”

“Oh? And what’s the going rate?”

“Let me think about it.” A few seconds pass and then she hears him in the bathroom pissing. “Twenty thousand,” he calls out.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t afford you,” she mutters.

There’s water running in the bathroom sink, and a minute later he emerges, still naked. She takes him in from head to toe. He’s muscular all over and beautifully proportioned, including that cock—currently flaccid, bouncing gently between his thighs.

On the way back, he stops at the cart with the leftovers from the room service they ordered earlier. “Do you want anything?”

Lindsay sits up in bed, shoving some pillows behind her back. “Maybe. What’s left?”

“Mostly fruit,” Giovanni says, popping what looks like a piece of melon into his mouth.

“No, that’s okay.”

He brings a plate over with him and sits in bed beside her. She can’t resist helping herself to one of the strawberries. “I was thinking about what happens when we get back to Seattle tomorrow. I’ll probably stay with Natalie and Anthony while I look for a place.”

He turns to her with confusion still chewing. “What are you talking about? You’re going to live with me as my wife.”

“Do we really need to take it that far?”

“Yes, we do. There’s a good chance we’ll have to meet with someone from the adoption agency, and they’ll need to see that we’re an actual couple.”

She puts the leafy part of the strawberry back on the plate. “But how? Are you going to rent an apartment? We can’t just live in a hotel.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got it covered. I already bought a house in Seattle.”

She goes still. “You did what?”

“I bought a house last week.”

“How?”

“Online.”

Her eyes widen.

“It’s close to the hospital where I’ll be working, but also looks close enough to the university for you.”

“You bought a house off the Internet? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

He shrugs, still picking at the fruit on his plate. “We needed someplace to live and besides, I start work soon.” His expression turns officious. “I don’t like loose ends.”

She doesn’t know what to say. “I still have a small studio I rent. It’s in a warehouse with a bunch of other artist’s studios.”

“Like the place in Berlin?”

“Sort of, but nobody lives in the building. Not on a permanent basis, anyway. I could probably stay there for a couple of weeks if it doesn’t work out with my sister for some reason.”

He puts the plate down on the nightstand then reaches over and takes her hand. “I just told you I bought a house. You’re living with
me
. I’m your husband, remember?”

“Are we going to share a bed?”

“Probably.” He pauses. “Don’t you want to?” He’s studying her now.

She feels a little uneasy. “It’s just that we barely know each other, and yet we’ll be living together.”

Giovanni considers her. “It’s a four-bedroom house. You could pick out one of the rooms as your own. Would that make you feel better?”

She nods. “I guess so.”

He’s still holding her hand, looking down as he plays with her fingers, examining them. Lindsay, who dislikes her hands, tries to pull away.

“This arrangement between us has obviously gotten more complicated,” he says.

“It has. All the more reason I need my own space.”

He doesn’t reply and she senses he’s a little wounded, although she’s not sure why. “I’m not saying I want to stop having sex or anything,” she clarifies. “Or stop exploring things between us.” In truth, she’s so attracted to him they probably could share a bed in his house, but then it would seem too much like an actual marriage.
And I definitely can’t deal with that.

He grins a little, still playing with her fingers, starts kneading them. “Glad to hear it.”

As always, his touch feels amazing, but she still tries to pull her hand away. “Let go.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really like my hands.” She can’t believe she’s admitting this. Over the years, she’s learned if you don’t point out faults to men, they rarely see them on their own.

“That’s nuts.” He’s still holding her hand, examining it now. “Why don’t you like your hands?”

She shrugs. “Everybody has to have something about themselves they don’t like.” In truth, she knows her hands are too rough-looking, and they’re hardly dainty. “They’re too big, and because of the various media I work with my skin is always dry.”

“Your hands aren’t big.” He holds his up against hers to measure, and they’re noticeably larger. Despite their size, Giovanni’s hands are elegant with long, tapered fingers. It’s easy to imagine him using them for the intricate work he does.

Her hands look like a peasant woman’s, though she’s certainly not admitting that out loud.

He’s still looking down, and he laces their fingers. “We have something in common too. We both work with our hands.”

Her brows go up. She’s never thought of that. “True,” she murmurs. She watches his handsome face, tries to imagine what his work is really like. So much responsibility. “What made you decide to become a pediatric plastic surgeon? I’m guessing you’d make more money working on adults.”

He doesn’t answer right away. “I went through a bad time when I was an undergrad in college. I was already pre-med, but everything in my life basically fell apart.” His thumb caresses the top of hers.

Lindsay wants to ask what specifically fell apart, but doesn’t.

He continues on his own. “My dad finally intervened and got me a job working at a children’s hospital. Just grunt work, mostly volunteer stuff, but I really enjoyed it. I’ve always enjoyed being around kids.” His expression goes tense as he remembers the past. “It was smart of him to do that. It made me realize how selfish I’d been.”

Giovanni shifts position and lies down to get more comfortable. “That’s partly why I’m indebted to Paul. He was my roommate at the time, and when things started to go bad for me, he’s the one who went to my parents and told them what was happening.”

“What
was
happening?”

“I moved out of the dorm and into a party house, started working at that strip club as a bouncer.”

“Were you still taking classes?”

“Barely.”

Lindsay lies down too. “And your parents didn’t know? Didn’t they see your grades?”

“No, they didn’t check. I’d always been a good student until then.” He reaches for her hand again. “Despite my acting like an asshole and telling Paul to mind his own business, he still managed to get in to see my father—no easy feat in itself. He told my dad how I’d moved out of the dorm, how my life was turning to shit.” He grows quiet. “At first, I was seriously pissed at Paul for meddling, but later I realized he’d done me a favor. We became really good friends after that.”

“Did your father ask you why you went off the rails?”

“No. I think he made some assumptions, but he didn’t know the real reason.”

She keeps her breath steady. “What was the real reason?”

He studies their joined hands, and for a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Finally, he whispers, “I fell in love with the wrong woman.”