Shannon McKenna Bundle: Ultimate Weapon, Extreme Danger, Behind Closed Doors, Hot Night, & Return to Me. Shannon McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ them. You cannot continue to function like this. You are acting irresponsibly and unprofessionally. You will come with me, and get some fucking dinner.”

      She bristled. “Do not order me.”

      He sighed, and tilted his head to the side, as if praying for patience and inspiration. “Tamar. Bellissima,” he said wearily. “Please. Be reasonable. This is Italy. You need have no fear of the food here.”

      “That’s not it,” she snapped.

      He raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Fear of me, then?”

      “Fuck, no!”

      “Well, then? An eating disorder? A bid for control over your life? How sad. Let us discuss your feelings now, get to the bottom of this problem, so that you can eat before you collapse, no?”

      She laughed at the thought in spite of herself. “Picture it. Thrashing through my emotional issues on the couch with Dr. Val. I can just imagine what you would prescribe as treatment.”

      His eyes gleamed. The corners of his lips curled up. His penis lifted eagerly.

      Tam rolled her eyes, and threw up her hands. “All right, fine,” she said. “Dinner. If it makes you happy.”

      “It makes me ecstatic. Five minutes,” he said.

      She yanked on her sweater, the jeans he’d bought for her at a boutique on the main drag of one of the little towns they’d passed through on the winding coastal highway of Amalfi. She slipped on the black suede half-boots from yesterday’s catalog adventure, her default earrings, the ones with the hypodermic and the soporific, and the multiblade ring, the one she had named for Liv Endicott, Sean’s wife.

      It wasn’t much in terms of weaponry, but it was better than nothing. She decided not to bother with makeup. She didn’t have the energy to create illusions. Tonight was all about the truth. Being real.

      Then she sat down facing the loggia that framed the sunset over the Mar Tirreno and put in a call on her cell phone to Connor and Erin.

      Erin picked up. “Hello?”

      Tam winced. Rachel was making noise—a lot of noise—in the background. “Hey, Erin, it’s me. We just arrived. How’s it going?”

      Erin sounded resigned. “It’s going,” she said. “She’s a tough cookie, but she has to give in sometime.”

      Hmmph. Tam had her doubts about that, knowing Rachel the way she did, but there was no point in saying so. Let Erin hope for the best. “Did she sleep? Or eat, at all?”

      “No, and no. She’s on strike. Hold on, let me see if she’ll talk to you. She’s on a speech strike, too. Hey, sweetheart, calm down. You want to talk to Mamma?”

      Rachel was startled into silence, and then gave a cry of heartbreaking rage and abandonment.

      Aw, shit. Tam slumped, and put her face into her hands. She felt sorry for Rachel, for herself, and mostly for Erin and Con and Sveti, who had to be bug-eyed by now. No one knew better than Tam how stressful a wigged-out Rachel could be.

      Erin came back on the line. “Looks like she’s not up for a chat.” She sounded exhausted. “We have had some good moments, though. She’s a sweet kid. But she misses you.”

      “Erin, I’m sorry.” Tam felt helpless and guilty. She missed Rachel like crazy. It was hitting her hard.

      “It’s not your fault. I understand, and we will all live.”

      Conversation was impossible under the circumstances, so they signed off. Tam rested her face in her hands and wondered how long this depraved drama was going to take. And if Rachel could weather it.

      She had to, she told herself. She had to.

      Val touched her shoulder. She jumped. “Shit, you startled me!”

      “Perdonami,” he murmured. “Bad news?”

      She shrugged, feeling overwhelmed. “Rachel’s miserable,” she said bluntly. “So’s everyone around her. Big surprise.”

      He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

      She got up, and turned her back to him. “And thrilled to be thousands of miles away from it, right?”

      He wisely left her alone to think and got dressed. She did not watch him clothe his spectacular nakedness. The bathed, shaved, combed, scented, designer-clothing-draped, mind-blowing finished product was enough for her nerves to take. Naked, he blew her circuits.

      He took her to a restaurant that he knew well, judging from the authoritative way that he led her through the steep, twisting streets, and from the deferential way that they were treated once they arrived. The place was small and out of the way, but quietly beautiful. The food and wine were superb, although Val regarded her choice of green salad, roasted vegetables and grilled fish with dark disapproval.

      “Not enough,” he growled. He tried to load her up with some of his tagliolini alla boscaiola, and a slice of his enormous, bloody tagliata di manzo.

      Nice try, she thought, staring at the snarl of oily, garlicky fresh pasta and the hot pink slab of tender meat he had dumped on her plate. He couldn’t make her eat it, though. He had better luck with the wine, making it his business to keep her glass very full.

      “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked.

      He shrugged. “I am hoping to relax you. Would it work?”

      “No,” she informed him. “I never relax. And by the way. I might as well tell you right now so you can wrap your mind around the concept. There will be no more sex tonight. Zero sex. So forget it. OK? Don’t even give me that look. I don’t want to see it on your face.”

      But he didn’t obey. That sexy, devastating smile showed no signs of fading. He sawed off a chunk of his tagliata, chewed it as he studied her thoughtfully from beneath those hooded eyes, and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Ah. No?”

      “No,” she repeated firmly, fending off the urge to repeat herself. Bleating like a fluffy lamb, losing credibility with each repetition.

      He sipped his wine. “You seemed to like it,” he observed.

      “Whether I liked it or not is beside the point. I’m exhausted. I can’t face another blitzkrieg. I want sleep. Peace, quiet, and privacy.”

      “It does not have to be that way,” he remarked, his voice bland. “I can be gentle. I can be playful. I can do it any way you want it.”

      “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she blurted.

      He gazed at her. “You’re afraid to find out what you really want?”

      That suave, superior air irritated her. “Stop with the fucking psychoanalysis, Val. You’re a hit man. Not a shrink.”

      “I am not a hit man,” he said mildly. “But all this talk of sex reminds me of something that I meant to ask you.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ