Luscious Read online

  He remembered getting drunk when she came home from culinary school engaged to Keith. He’d been thrilled when she’d appeared in his office looking for a lawyer to handle Chameleon. His specialty was divorce law, but he knew enough about everything else to handle her business, and it gave him an excuse to talk to her now and then. Of course, handling her divorce had been an absolute pleasure—and ignoring her when she had hit on him had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  Olivia sighed and turned her head. Her body slipped sideways, so he caught her with his arm and nestled her head on his shoulder. His heart thudded in his chest and he couldn’t help a sigh of utter contentment. Her scent, fresh and flowery, drifted up to him, and he leaned to press his lips to her sleek blond hair.

  Chapter 5

  The late afternoon sunlight in Italy was brilliant, as if God had put a lot of work into this part of the world and wanted it brightly displayed. Rectangular and pale, the enormous stone structure of Villa Farfalla graced the blue sky with its peaked, red-tiled roof. Gardens, greener than she had been expecting from late August in Verona, stretched out on either side of the house. The rounded Roman archways and tall, shuttered windows looked like romantic eyes on the front of the building. Patio furniture lazed on the front porch where cheery white umbrellas shaded the wrought-iron tables and chairs. The pictures her mother displayed on the website didn’t do it justice—Villa Farfalla was stunning.

  Too bad she was in no mood to admire the scenery. She had been panicking since the moment their plane touched down in Paris. She had spent their layover stress eating pastries, and the flight to Verona had been too short. Now they were pulling into the driveway. What was she going to say when her parents wanted to know how long she was staying? How was she going to explain Sean? What was she going to do after she told them she was finished with Chameleon? How on earth was she going to explain her apathy in the kitchen? Her cooking mojo had all but deserted her and there was no way her mother wouldn’t notice. Her mother hated idle hands in the kitchen. What had she been thinking? She should have taken off for the Caribbean instead.

  The taxi slowed, then stopped. She chewed on her lip and peered out the window.

  Sean opened his door and slid out of the taxi. She could hear him thanking and paying the driver. Now their luggage was on the curb, waiting. Sean opened her door.

  She fought off the anxiety that froze her muscles and slowly climbed out of the car. Sean tugged her out of the way and slammed the door behind her. The taxi sped off, raising dust from the dry road.

  He put his bag over his shoulder and rolled her carry-on and suitcase behind him. “Let’s go.”

  “Give me a minute,” she muttered.

  It was ridiculous to drag her feet after traveling for nearly twenty hours, but she wasn’t ready to face her parents. Unfortunately, her hesitation didn’t register with Sean. He motioned for her to precede him, then herded her up the walk toward the round archway that shadowed the door.

  “Let me take something,” she begged, needing to do something with her hands.

  “I’ve got it. Go ahead. Open the door.” Her feet felt heavy and her heart fluttered as she tugged on the elaborate brass handle.

  It was cooler inside.

  “Mamma?” she called.

  “Olivia!” Her mother’s voice flew from the back of the house, and her stout body barreled through a swinging door and into the foyer a bare moment later. She enfolded Olivia in her arms and the smell of basil and yeast was overpowering. The bones of her mother’s shoulders were curved, felt brittle, and there was a new slackness to her middle, as well as a lot more silver in her blond hair. It had only been two years—why did her mother seem so much older?

  Her mother squeezed her tighter. “You’re not eating enough.” The familiar criticism provoked instant regression. Too skinny, too slow, too—

  Her mother stiffened. Olivia felt her mother’s head swivel back and forth and knew she was searching over her shoulder. Her mother held her at arms length. “Where is your Nonna?” Her brown eyes were sharp. “And who is this?”

  “Uh—” Olivia bit back a hysterical giggle as she quickly rejected several possibilities, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase Nonna’s situation. She should have thought about this on the plane. “Well…Nonna met an old friend in Norton…and she wasn’t quite ready to come home yet. She’s coming for the Gala next weekend, I think.” There. That sounded pretty good.

  Her mother cocked her head to the side. Her gaze intensified. Olivia felt like the truth was plain on her face, inscribed on her forehead for her mother to read. Nonna’s shacked up with a mobster. Finally, her mother blinked hard and let go.

  Olivia stepped back to allow Sean room to hold out his hand to her mother. “This is Sean Kindred, my lawyer, and your new guest.”

  Her mother frowned. “Mr. Kindred! I wasn’t expecting you to arrive with my daughter.”

  “It was a surprise for her too,” he said.

  Understatement of the year there, Olivia thought.

  She heard a door swing open near the back of the house and looked up, hoping it was her father, usually only a few beats behind her mother. Instead, a dark-haired man wearing a black chef coat swept through the dining room and entered the hall. He stopped behind her mother, who gave him a broad smile and presented him with a flourish that instantly put Olivia’s uh-oh meter on high alert.

  “This—is Alessandro Bellin, our chef. A man who can cook.”

  Oh boy, she had walked into that one. Subtle, her mother was not. No wonder she’d given Sean the stink eye. She already had Olivia’s next man lined up. Alessandro Bellin, the man who could cook, must have her mother’s blessing in the kitchen, unlike Olivia’s ex-husband who had repeatedly earned her scorn.

  Alessandro took the hand she held out to him politely and used it to draw her forward to kiss her soundly on both cheeks in the Italian fashion. He brought the heat of the kitchen with him. The chef looked down at her, still holding her hand, making her wonder if he knew about her mother’s romantic hopes for them.

  “I have heard so much about you, Olivia.” His English was subtly accented and made Olivia think of the elegant way snakes move, sinuous and mesmerizing. She couldn’t fault her mother’s taste in potential boyfriends, that was for sure. The chef had a full-lipped James Dean pout, a sexy mouth that looked as if it ought to have a cigarette dangling from it at all times. His brown, almost black, eyes danced beneath brows too elegant for a man’s face, and his distinctly Roman nose was only eclipsed by the strength of his proud chin. He looked every inch the chef, God’s gift to the kitchen and the world.

  Inwardly, she groaned. Just what she needed—someone making her feel even less capable than she already felt. No doubt he was one of those old school protocol-conscious nightmares too.

  Alessandro turned to Sean with a cordial nod, but he still didn’t release Olivia. “Welcome to Villa Farfalla,” he said in a tone that felt as proprietary as his grip on her arm.

  ***

  Sheer perversity made Sean take Olivia’s hand and pull her away from Bellin.

  “I’ll show you your rooms,” Mrs. Marconi said, stressing the last word intentionally, he was certain. He wondered when and if she would connect him with the boy who had often cut through the parking lot of their restaurant, hoping for a glimpse of her daughter. Once, he’d even saved up enough cash for him and Colin to go in for dinner, just so he could watch Olivia bus tables. Colin had been about five and behaved badly, knocking over his water glass and dropping food all over the floor. Sean had avoided any attempt to eat there again after that.

  Mrs. Marconi tugged her daughter away from his side and pulled her toward the stairs, leaving Sean to contend with their bags. Olivia shot a helpless glance over her shoulder, shrugging in apology and snagging her carry-on as her mother corralled her.

>   “I must get back to my stove.” The chef shot him a look of amusement and disappeared toward the back again.

  Sean threw his bag onto his shoulder and lifted Olivia’s heavy suitcase. He trudged after them, trying not to outwardly fume. The chef had clearly been hitting on her.

  “Where’s Papà?” he heard Olivia ask as he reached the top of the stairs, somewhat behind them.

  He didn’t hear the response. The upstairs hall branched left and right. He went right, toward the sound of voices and stopped in front of an open door. A four-poster bed dominated the room, which was heavy on antiques and brocade. Sean set Olivia’s suitcase inside the door.

  “Mr. Kindred, if you’ll follow me.” Mrs. Marconi ushered him swiftly out the door.

  They continued down the hall past several closed doors.

  She stopped in front of the corner suite and unlocked the door, gesturing for him to precede her into the room.

  The first thing he noticed was that his bed was even bigger than Olivia’s. He stifled a grin. When he had booked it yesterday, the Montecchi Suite had been the only room available, probably because of the exorbitant price. He set his bag next to the bed and turned to thank his hostess.

  She handed him the key. “I hope you will enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Kindred. Villa Farfalla guests are immersed in Italian culture from the moment they arrive at our estate. You can learn our language, as much as you wish, and our chef will be more than happy to instruct you on all aspects of the traditional foods that will be served to you each day.” Yeah, I’ll just bet he will, Sean thought as she continued. “My husband conducts daily tours of our small winery, which exports our private label wine to the United States. Our full-service spa, Bella Farfalla, is just down the hall. My niece, Giovanna, is an excellent massage therapist and aesthetician. I’ll be happy to introduce the two of you at dinner. A staff member will always be available should you have any questions and Olivia is too busy in the kitchen.”

  Before Sean could muster more than a bemused nod, she gave him a tight smile and turned her back, stepping out of the room and closing the heavy door. Closing him in, he thought.

  Sean crossed the room to the doors that led out onto a small balcony overlooking the back of the estate. He flipped the bolt and stepped out into the hot afternoon sun. He shrugged out of his jacket and unknotted his tie, tossing both onto one of the small chairs on the balcony.

  Looking over the edge, he saw a tiled patio that wrapped around the back of the villa. Off to the side, a small garden boasted bright splashes of color. As he had half expected, a hammock swung in the shade of two trees. The vineyard stretched behind the house and down the hill as far as he could see. Just below the escarpment, he saw a well-camouflaged building that he guessed must be the winery. It appeared to be growing out of the hill, making him wonder if the wine cellars stretched behind the structure into the earth. Another building, more of a barn really, sat just at the edge of the vineyard. He turned his thoughts back to his immediate surroundings.

  Villa Farfalla was posh, beyond posh. Everything around him underscored the casual luxury of people who took money for granted. He’d had no idea Olivia’s family was so wealthy, but she must be used to it. She hadn’t batted an eye at the wide expanse of pink marble casting a rosy glow over the foyer or the chandeliers dripping with jewels. She hadn’t caught her breath, as he had, at the size of her bed or the opulence of her room.

  He rubbed his eyes with his fists. His big bed was calling to him in a serious way. Jet lag was making him feel dizzy, but he wanted to get himself on the local schedule as fast as possible.

  He checked his cell phone again, as he had a dozen times since they landed. Still no signal. His service provider had apparently lied. He’d have to figure out how to get a working cell phone as soon as possible. He trusted Colin to stay out of trouble but he didn’t want to be out of touch, and he needed a working cell phone to keep in touch with Mr. Russo. He’d left the villa’s number with his client, but time was of the essence. Who knew how long Mrs. Russo would stay in the Veneto region? He didn’t want to have to chase her down to the tip of Italy’s boot.

  He heard a noise in his room so he ducked back through the doors, half expecting to see the talented Giovanna, sent by Mamma Marconi and armed with oil, hot towels, and strong hands. With relief, he saw Olivia poking her head in his room.

  She shut the door behind her, scowling. “My presence has been commanded in the kitchen. I haven’t even been in the building for ten minutes, and I get called in to work. My mother is something else.”

  “Terrifying,” he agreed.

  “You think so too, huh? Glad I’m not the only one.” She joined him at the balcony doors and looked out the window.

  “I’m sure she just wants you in the kitchen so she can spend some time with you.”

  Olivia’s sigh turned into a choked laugh. “Give me a break, Sean. She wants free labor.”

  He shrugged. “So don’t go.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, intending to offer comfort, but she gave a little groan and leaned into him, making him want to offer more.

  “Of course I’m going. I have to go. If I don’t, it will upset the order of the universe. I spent a zillion years in school getting a business degree and a culinary degree because she told me to. Why would I balk at a little kitchen duty?”

  “Why don’t you get a massage in the spa instead? Your mother would approve. She was just in here extolling the skills of Giovanna. Your cousin, I presume?”

  Olivia turned to face him. “Gia’s here? I haven’t seen her in years. She’s always traveling.”

  He drew her forward against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, seeking the tight knots in her shoulders with his fingers. She froze and he thought she would pull away, but then his fingers hit a tight spot and she gasped and pressed closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

  They stood silently for long minutes as his hands moved over her strong back. Her muscles were long and lean, ribs and shoulder blades prominent beneath her flesh. “You’re not eating enough.” He mimicked her mother’s disapproving tone.

  She giggled and he felt her tension ease a bit under his hands. Satisfaction glowed inside him. “That’s better,” he said.

  She raised her face. Her eyes asked a silent question and no force on earth could have made him disappoint her. He bent his head and touched his lips to hers in a kiss so soft it felt like floating, yet so intense he hardened immediately. Need clawed his throat and the taste of her breath made him groan. He wasn’t the only one. Olivia wrapped her arms around his neck. Her whimper blanked his mind to everything except the desire to get closer to her. He steadied her body with his and took slow steps toward the bed.

  Dimly, he registered a sound in the periphery of his awareness but ignored it. When they bumped the mattress, he bent to lay her down, not losing contact with her mouth even for an instant. He stretched out on top of her, carefully sheltering her from the weight of his body. Her mouth opened under gentle pressure and her thighs widened to make room for him. He poured his gratitude for her welcome into his kiss, worshipping each delicate curve of her mouth with his lips and tongue. He reached for the bottom of her shirt, intending to pull it over her head.

  She froze. “Sean—”

  The noise at his periphery sounded closer and he realized it wasn’t his pulse hammering in his ears.

  “Mr. Kindred?” he heard Mrs. Marconi call, a second before the rapid knock came at his door again.

  Olivia gasped, eyes wide.

  Sean rolled to the side. “Quick—hide.” She slithered over the edge of the bed and dropped onto the floor, ducking her head. He took a moment to straighten his clothing, betting the door would open before he reached it. He was right.

  “Oh!” Mrs. Marconi exclaimed as he caught the door and prevented it from openi
ng fully. “You startled me!” Her arms were full of folded towels.

  “I could say the same.”

  “I wanted to make sure you had enough towels.”

  “Never too many, thank you.” He held out his arms for the towels.

  She dropped them into his arms. “Have you seen my daughter?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

  He didn’t confirm or deny, but he smiled and let the door swing wide enough for her to take a look around the empty suite. “Have you tried her room?”

  She flushed. “Naturally.”

  He smiled. “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

  “Grazie.” She spun on her heel, heading for the stairs. This time he locked the door.

  He tossed the towels onto the bed and walked around to the other side where Olivia was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes dark. He held out his hand.

  She stood without his help. “I better get down to the kitchen.”

  Disappointment flared inside him. “Tell her you’re too tired from the trip.”

  “I slept the whole way here,” she said.

  “Your mother doesn’t know that.”

  Olivia snorted. “My mother knows everything. Just ask her.”

  “Not everything. At the moment, she doesn’t know where you are.” He pointed at the towels on the bed. “If my memory of the website serves me correctly, there’s an enormous Jacuzzi tub in my bathroom and I now have more towels than I could possibly use all by myself. Why don’t we take a dip?”

  She cleared her throat. “Sean, I don’t think—”