“Oh Burberry is delightful,” she declared, letting me go but sliding an arm around my waist and propelling me into a huge room with beautifully tiled floors and lush, plush but comfortable looking furniture scattered around that practically begged you to collapse on it and have a nap and huge, arched, opened doors that led out to a flower bedecked terrace with a view to the lake. “But obvious is bad any way you can be obvious and profuse is definitely bad no matter how you’re profuse, no?”
Clearly, Luciana went to the same How to Be a Sophisticated and Chic Woman Class as Celeste but missed the day where they taught you not to accost people even in a friendly way and also the day where they taught you not to blab about your friend’s exes or, at the very least, former dates within seconds of meeting his current one.
“Well,” I started, “profuse being bad as in, you’re faced with a box of chocolates you really like, then eating so much of them it makes you sick so you never do something that idiotic again then, no. Profuse as in, using a heavy hand while spritzing perfume, then, yes.”
Luciana threw her dark mane back and laughed a throaty laugh and I noted around fifteen men turned their heads to watch. Then I turned my head and looked over my shoulder to see Sam talking to a white-coated waiter.
I hoped that meant champagne, I was thinking I was going to need it.
She stopped us in a pocket of privacy and turned to me, dropping her arm and asking, “So, Lago di Como, how are you liking my home?”
“It’s beautiful,” I told her and meant it.
“Sì, bella,” she murmured, her eyes moving over my face and I got the impression she was complimenting me but I didn’t have the opportunity to react to a stunningly beautiful woman implying I was the same.
No.
Instead, for the first time I had the opportunity to take her in fully and she was stunningly beautiful but the rest was a complete and total farce.
She was kidding herself if she thought she was hiding the pain in her eyes.
And I was learning a good deal about kidding yourself since I’d been doing it for years.
And for some reason I didn’t know and even later, thinking back, I didn’t get, before I could think better of it, my hand shot out and caught hers. When it did, I gave it a firm, warm squeeze and, just as quickly as I did it, I let her go.
I realized my mistake and wished I could take back my gesture when the sorrow so close to the surface suffused her face, I watched her swallow then she turned her head, buried it shallowly below the surface again, clapped and cried, “Bravo! Champagne,” at an approaching Sam who was carrying two flutes filled with champagne.
I made a mental note to tread more cautiously with the effusive but clearly fragile Luci as Sam made it to us. He gave me mine, gave one to Luci and then slid in beside me, his long arm curving at a slant down my back starting high at my side and ending with his fingers curled in at my hip. I felt funny standing there like that and I had three choices, pull away (which would be rude), put my arm around Sam (which, uh, no way in hell I was ready for that) or lean into him.
I chose door number three and when I did, Sam’s arm curled tighter and the pads of his fingers dug in at my hipbone.
My knees went weak.
Luci spoke.
“Why don’t you have a glass?” she asked Sam.
“Because I’m driving,” Sam answered.
She waved a hand in front of her face even as she took a sip of champagne then she dropped her glass and stated, “Drink, enjoy, I’ve plenty of bedrooms. You get tipsy; you and Kia can spend the night in one.”
Unfortunately, at this announcement, I too was sipping champagne therefore, hearing her words, I choked on it.
Sam chuckled.
I tipped my head slightly to the side on a turn, giving him a look out of the corner of my eye.
Sam chuckled deeper and longer.
Whatever.
I looked to Luci and declared, “This Cinderella has a curfew.”
Mistake.
Luci’s brows snapped together with adorable confusion but I didn’t take much of that in before Sam’s arm around me curled, taking me with it, so instead of my side leaning into his long, hard one, my front was pressed to it.
My head tipped back to see his was tipped down and he asked, “What?”
“I have a pre-booked boat tour that takes off at seven. I have to be in bed early so I can be rested and enjoy my tour.”
This, actually, was true.
“How early?” Sam asked.
“Ten o’clock,” I tried even though I probably could push it to eleven.
This time, Sam’s brows drew together and it wasn’t confused or adorable. It was scary.
“Baby, it’s quarter to nine now and we just got here.”
“Sorry, I’m seeing maybe I should have told you this before,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Luci butted in. “Drink, eat, enjoy and miss your tour. Stay the night. I’ll let you borrow some clothes tomorrow so you can sleep in. While you have breakfast with me, Sam can pop back to the hotel to get something to wear then you two can use my boat and he can take you on a personal tour tomorrow.”