Rebecca Winters - The Vineyards Of Calanetti

Still, as much as he wanted to be with her, something about this troubled him.

“So you worked for Signor Bartolini for eight years?”

“Actually he died a while back. But Melony and I were there for years. He made his home our home.”

He took comfort in that, and relaxed a little. But her statement that there had been no one for her since their relationship popped into his head again, haunting him in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

She’d spent the time they were apart truly alone. A sign that she’d had trouble forgetting him—forgetting what they’d had. She’d genuinely sacrificed so he could live his dream. The power of it humbled him.

He pulled the collar up on his jacket. “It’s really cold.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her simple black wool coat. “Our coldest January in a long time.”

Moonlight spilled over the streets and the glistening water of the fountain.

“You never did tell me your wish.”

“Because I want it to come true.”

He laughed and caught her hand, joy filling his heart. Maybe the thing to do would be forget the past and let this night happen.

They walked into her building bundled together like longtime lovers sharing secrets. When they entered the elevator, Mic caught her hand, swung her to face him and kissed her. She murmured her pleasure, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across hers, sending chill bumps to her toes.

The elevator bell rang. She heard the doors swish open, but they didn’t stop kissing. Feelings and sensations returned in long, elegant waves of arousal that wound through her, warming her and filling her heart with joy.

The elevator door swished closed again, but Rafe pulled away and swatted the “open” button. As the doors slid apart again, he scooped Lily into his arms.

“Which door?”

“Two,” she said, nuzzling her nose into his neck which was scented with a combination of aftershave and man. She would have thought this a dream, but the muscles beneath her fingers were solid and strong. He was solid and strong. She’d missed him in a way that had slowed her heartbeat and stolen her soul, and now he was here and she was in his arms.

Easy strides took him to her door. She rummaged in her jeans pocket for the key and, leaning back, punched it into the lock and opened the door.

He stepped inside, took a quick glance at her simple furnishings and said, “Nice.” But he didn’t slow his steps. He strode back the short hall to the last room and dumped her on the bed.

She squealed with delight and rolled away when he would have fallen on her, a game they used to play all those years ago. He caught her arm and brought her back to him, but she scooted away again. They tumbled across the bed like two kids before he finally stopped them by pinning her beneath him.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

It was so wonderful, so perfect, to feel his weight on her, to feel his heartbeat thrumming down into her breast. “Only you think so.”

He blew his breath out in a sound of disbelief. “You don’t look around. I see how the apprentices and cooks stare at you. Not to mention customers.”

“Then maybe you should kiss me to make sure I never notice them.”

He laughed and did as she’d asked, but not in the playful way she’d expected. The kiss was slow and deep, merging their mouths, awakening their souls. A lazy haze enveloped her. When he pulled away, she caught his arm to stop him.

“Coat,” he said, jerking off his jacket.

She quickly reached for the buttons of her black wool coat, but he nudged her hands away so he could undo them. As each popped, a piece of her coat slid away. His eyes darkened.

She levered herself up, so he could remove the garment. But she didn’t wait painstaking minutes he was taking. She sat up a little more, put her hands at the bottom of her sweater and jerked it over her head.

He kissed her then. Desire trembled through her, along with her first shadow of doubt. After their breakup, she hadn’t been able to even look at a man in eight years. Was it smart to spend one more night with the man who seemed to ruin her for other men?

Mic awakened hours later. He glanced at the clock. Three-thirty. He needed to be at Mancini’s at seven, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Snuggled into his side was beautiful Lily, the only woman he’d ever loved.

As he got out of bed to dress, he took in her simple bedroom. Airy lace curtains. A comforter of soft colors for beauty and warmth. Thick rugs on hardwood floors. Dressed now, he walked into the living room, seeing it was the same. Warm colors. Simple furniture that spoke of ease and use. No showpiece. No art. Her apartment was a home.

He hadn’t thought of home in a long time. And knew that was because the only woman he had ever wanted to settle down with was in the room down the hall.

There were no ifs, no buts, no ands, no maybes. His life was exciting, but cold and frequently empty. Lily filled up the empty spaces in his heart, gave his life meaning … gave him a sense that he wasn’t just a piece of talent. He was somebody.

Fate had given him another chance to have the woman he loved. And if he walked away without asking her to marry him, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Lily was just about asleep again when Mic returned to the bedroom. Eyes closed, she rolled to her side. “I thought you were leaving. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

She felt his weight on the bed beside her and opened her eyes.

“I forgot something very, very important.”

“Really? You look totally dressed to me. Is there a sock under the bed?”

“No.” He glanced away then gazed at her again. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

She laughed. “Of course, I think about the future.”

“No. I mean do you ever really think about the future.” He motioned to the bed. “How this affects our future?”

She studied his serious face, the odd look in his eyes. She had no idea what could take him from her happy lover to this serious man … then it hit her. She and Mic hadn’t ever had a one-night stand. They’d been serious about each other from their first night. Lovers who intended to marry. This night didn’t fit them.

“You worry that you’re going to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you again.”

His serious tone pinched her heart. There was no way she’d let him regret making love. No way she’d have him leave thinking she was a charity case. She wasn’t.

Before he could say anything, she sat up. “Look, Melony isn’t the only one who got money for school from Signor Bartolini. I let Melony get enrolled and settle in before me to give her a sense of freedom, a chance to find friends without me hanging about. But next month I’ll be joining her in Florence.”

His face fell. “You’re going to school?”

She stroked his arm. “Yes. I get to live my dream too.”

He studied her face. “You have a dream?”

“You think I didn’t?” She sat up a little farther in bed, determined not to let him feel sorry for her or regret their time together, even though her heart splintered. Did he really have so little feeling for her that he didn’t see how this conversation would hurt her? Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to say, “Take me to Paris with you.”

But he wouldn’t take her to Paris with him. He wouldn’t be so bold as to ask again, and she wouldn’t be so humiliated as to beg.

“I love art. I visited so many museums that I swear I know more than the curators.” She laughed, working to hide the weird feeling in her heart that nudged her to admit she loved him and beg him to give her a second chance. She had to preserve her pride. She’d known this was only a one-night thing. She could not embarrass herself. “That’s what I want to be.”