She's On Top. Susan Lyons

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Then put it aside and don’t worry about it until then. Here we are, with good food growing cold, enough champagne in our glasses for a toast, so much yet to talk about. Let it go, Rina.”

      He’d always been like that. Quick to shove problems aside, take the easy route. But tonight, he was right. She’d enjoy tonight and tomorrow face the consequences.

      “You’re right.” She shook back her hair, as if that one head toss could free her of all troubling thoughts. “What’s the toast?”

      He raised his glass. “To us, being together.”

      She lifted hers and clicked it gently to his. “To us, being together.” The warm intensity of his smile brought another flush to her cheeks and chest.

      She drained her champagne just as the waiter arrived with their glasses of wine and their dinners. Then she took a forkful of salmon, swirling it in tomato, lemon, olive oil sauce. “Delicious. How’s your lasagne?”

      Giancarlo had been tasting too, and let out a sigh of contentment. “Fancier than Mamma’s, but very good. Here, have a taste.” He extended his fork, which held a sizable mouthful of pasta, meat and cheese.

      Had to be a hundred calories in a bite. But man, did it look and smell good. She leaned forward and closed her lips around the food. She closed her eyes too, the better to savor the taste as she drew the lasagne into her mouth. “Mmm.” Heaven.

      When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her, his face taut with…was that excitement? Sexual excitement?

      An unusual sense of female power filled her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward so that her loose top slipped off one shoulder, revealing a lacy black bra strap and more than a hint of cleavage. His gaze moved down, lingered, and his eyes glittered with heat.

      “More, please,” she murmured, trying to sound seductive.

      He exhaled with a quick rush of air. When he scooped up another bite of lasagne and held out his fork, his hand was actually shaking.

      Even a woman of her limited experience could tell he was seriously aroused.

      And so was she. If she’d had Jenny’s nerve, she’d have grabbed his hand and said, “Let’s go find a bed.” Instead, she leaned forward and parted her lips to slide the lasagne off his fork.

      “You have a sexy mouth,” he said, voice rough at the edges. “It makes a man imagine all sorts of things.”

      “What do you imagine?” she dared to ask.

      His eyes widened, and he gave a quick bark of laughter. “I can’t tell you; I’m too turned on as it is.”

      “What do you want to do about that?”

      “Want?” His smile flashed wickedly. “To tell the absolute truth, I want you to slide under the table, unzip my pants, and…well, you can figure out the rest.”

      “Giancarlo!” God, she’d loved having him in her mouth, and loved the way he responded. The memory made her squirm with desire.

      “I’d never ask you to do anything embarrassing. Besides, I’m trying to learn pazienza.” At her curious look, he explained, “Patience. All good things are worth waiting for, yes?”

      “They are. We’ve waited a long time for…this.” Nine whole years, and now that she’d felt his fingers on her hand, she craved the whole-body experience.

      “Do you know what I’d been thinking just before I got your e-mail?” he asked.

      She shook her head.

      “That my life’s been crazy and I wanted to slow down, enjoy a quiet evening, a nice lasagne. And then I read your message and thought, yes, this is what I want. To do these things, with this woman.”

      He’d really thought that? And yet, obviously, he’d chosen her company over that of whatever females were working on his current video. “Well, that’s what we’re doing,” she said, trying to regain control, “so let’s continue. The food is wonderful.”

      “I’m so glad you enjoy it. We should eat before it gets cold. And we’ll talk about…what would you like? Anything other than sex. You must help me be patient.”

      His wink made her smile. She considered various topics of conversation. If he got onto his career in music video, the romantic mood would be spoiled. After all, what was she thinking, contemplating sex with a man who’d chosen a career she couldn’t respect?

      No, enough. For tonight she wanted to preserve her rosy-colored romantic glasses. “If we’re to take up where we left off, then we need to go back. Let’s relive that summer, share the memories we’ve carried with us.” She slanted him a grin. “And I promise, I won’t mention sex unless you do.”

      He smiled. “You are a tease, bella. Very well then, do you want to know my very first thought when I arrived in Banff? It was that I’d circled halfway around the world, only to end up back home, in a small village in the mountains. Except with people who were far richer and spoke English.”

      “Your English wasn’t so great,” she remembered. “It’s sure improved, even though you’ve kept a touch of the accent.”

      “I was so eager to learn.” His dark eyes sparkled as he added, “And you were such a great teacher.”

      She flushed, thinking, as she knew he’d intended, of all the things they’d learned together. Mostly about their sexuality.

      They continued to talk casually, exchanging reminiscences, as they ate their main courses. Both had chosen meals they could eat with one hand, and it wasn’t long until their free hands were linked across the table. A connection, a bond, a hint of more to come.

      When their waiter cleared the empty plates and wine glasses, he asked, “Something more to drink?”

      “Coffee,” Rina said. She’d had more to drink than usual, not to mention being intoxicated by Giancarlo’s charm. And she had to drive home.

      Or did she? Would this evening really lead into bed? Either his or hers?

      “I’ll have coffee as well,” Giancarlo said. “Rina, dessert?”

      “We have an excellent tiramisu,” the waiter said.

      “I’m full,” she said. If there really was a possibility she and Giancarlo were going to have sex tonight, she didn’t want a bulging stomach.

      The waiter brought two cups of coffee, along with two liqueur glasses filled with something clear. “Sambuca,” he explained. “Compliments of Francesco. Please, enjoy.”

      “Would you tell him molte grazie?” Giancarlo said.

      Then, when the waiter had gone, he said, “Rina, will you excuse me a moment?”

      “Of course.” She needed a trip to the ladies’ room anyway.

      She collected her purse and made her way to the back of the restaurant, past a wall of photographs СКАЧАТЬ