Her Best Friend's Brother (17 page)

“That’s lovely. Sad, but lovely.” Libby whispered, thinking of Nona living on memories al those years.

“It is the kind of love I want to find for myself. I think I wil go to New York. In the morning.”

“Tomorrow!”

“Si. I have four weeks off and I said I wanted to see America. I wil come back before I return to Italy. And then I think we wil be fabulous together—as friends.”

“Thank you Gio.” Libby didn’t know what else to say.

“Thank you Betta, my American adventure. Come.

Let’s get his attention shal we?” A twinkle lit up Gio’s face.

“You want to help me make Tony jealous?”

Gio chuckled, and spun Libby in a wide arc before puling her back to him. “Tony and every other man in the room. Did you not know that I have been the target of much jealousy this evening?”

The rest of the night passed without much incident.

Gio continued to provoke Tony lightly, and Tony continued to bristle at the words
Mia Betta.
But al in al they had a good time. When Gio excused himself, commenting that he was stil tired from his flight, Libby walked him to the door and hugged him tight. “See you in month?”

“In a month.” And with a kiss on her cheek he left.

Chapter Seventeen

Soon after Gio left, Mel and John folowed. “Ready Lib?” Tony asked in a quiet almost sulen voice as he stood up.

“Oh.” Libby remembered agreeing to stay in his guest room. “Umm yeah. I think I’l just go home to Stuart’s though.

Tony shook his head. “You’ve been drinking, which means you’re riding with me. And my car is headed home. Let’s go.”

Tony knew ful wel that Libby hadn’t had anything to drink in hours, and that Stuart’s house was more or less on his way home so he could have dropped her off there.

But he wanted her to himself. He had hated sharing her with Gio al night.
Go Slow
indeed! He was such an idiot. He should have met her at the airport with a minister in tow.

Now he had to compete with Italy’s answer to
dancing
with the stars
in person instead of just the memory of her European fling. Not that he was giving up. No way. He would fight as hard as ever.

Tony fumed inside his head al the way to the car, and the entire drive back to his house. He hated Gio!

Hated. Mel had mentioned he was older, but come on!

The guy was ancient! And the way he pawed at her al night! Always touching her arm, or brushing nonexistent hair out of her face. It was positively disgraceful. Tony had barely contained the impulse to grab Libby and run as fast as he could towards the door when he first heard Gio whispering
Mia Betta
in a lover’s voice. Mia, as in mine.

Wel think again pal, Tony thought, Libby has been mine for years… she just hasn’t realized it yet. She would though.

Tony just needed to find the right way to show her. How could he convince her?

“So… are we here?”

Tony realized they had puled into his driveway, and he wondered how long he had been sitting there spacing out. “Oh, sorry Lib. Guess I’m tired. Yep. This is it.” Tony and Libby had to run for the door. The drizzle from the morning had turned into a shower, and then into a down pour, and now it looked to be progressing toward thunderstorm. Tony’s house was a pretty stone Victorian.

There was a smal covered porch with a white porch swing to the left of the front door. It looked like a home, Libby thought. Inside, Libby looked around and burst into giggles when her eyes rested on the living room.

“And I thought you didn’t have living room furniture!” Libby teased as she plopped down into a plastic lawn chair. One of four set up in the otherwise empty room.

“Wel I didn’t want to brag.” Tony lowered himself into another chair and stretched dramaticaly. “I wil get furniture.” He continued more seriously. “And with this news about my book— money shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

Libby nodded sleepily. “That’s great Tony. You don’t have to defend yourself to the girl living in her stepfather’s sardine can sized guest room. Show me the rest!” She popped up out of the chair.

The kitchen was a warm affair with a big island and it opened into an equaly warm morning room. The baker in Libby noticed the ample counter space, and double ovens.

This was a dream kitchen. Unbidden images of Tony wearing a pink apron and shoveling cookies into his mouth sprung into her mind.

“Can I get you anything? I have juice, and not much else.” Tony poked his head into the fridge. “Sorry. I eat out a lot. There might be some lemonade mix around here.” Tony rummaged through empty cabinets as if sliding their meager contents around on the shelves would produce more appetizing choices.

“I’m good Tony.” Libby wandered around the two rooms. She liked them. She liked the house. There was something distinctly intimate about being here alone with Tony so late at night. It reminded her a little of late night monopoly games—only the feeling was a thousand times more powerful. And then she realized something-- it hit her with a crash! Actualy the crash was thunder outside, but the effect wasn’t lost on Libby. Standing there dripping slightly onto the tile floor, and watching Tony foolishly worry about beverage choices Libby realized that she was Nona.

Tony had ruined her for al future romance. Not even hot Italian chefs who adored her and were wiling to rearrange their entire lives for her, were capable of swaying her heart.

She was going to be in love with Tony for the rest of her life. Damn.

“Wel I promise to make it up to you with the best take out breakfast we can find in the morning.” Tony abandoned his search and turned to find Libby staring thoughtfuly off into nowhere. “You look tired. Want to see your room?”

“Okay.” Libby numbly folowed Tony up the carpeted spiral stairs. Charming she thought. Just like the rest of the house, and just like Tony.

“Wel this is the bathroom—there’s another in the master so you can have this to yourself, and my room is that door there.” Not that she needs to know that. Tony chided himself. “And this is you.” Tony swung the door open to reveal a guest bedroom that was furnished with his childhood furniture from the Marchetti’s.

“No wonder your parents don’t have a guest room anymore.” Libby teased taking a step into the room.

Something wasn’t right. What was that noise? They both saw it at once.

“Shit!” Tony rushed forward feeling the bed. It was soaked. And there was a steady drip coming from the ceiling above. “Oh man!” Tony moaned as he puled the bedding back revealing the soaked mattress beneath.

“Know any good roofers?” He joked lightly over his shoulder.

“Sorry, no.” Libby shook her head. “Is it very awful?” She asked.

“Not as bad as it could have been. The bed is trash, but it probably saved the floor. And I knew the roof needed work. I have just been too busy to look into it.

Guess I should have made time.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Damage control.” He jogged out of the room and returned with a big sheet of plastic, and a large pot. They pushed the bed out of the way, and put the plastic drop cloth in its place to protect the floor if the pot didn’t catch al the drips. Afterwards Tony carried the bedding down to the laundry room.

Having done al they could Tony and Libby stood staring at each other in the halway. Because now there was one bed.

“Sorry about this, Lib. Listen, you take my room.

I’l…”

“Sleep on the couch?” Libby finished for him with a smirk.

“The floor, I guess.” Tony grimaced at the idea.

Libby knew the obvious solution was to ask him to take her back to Stuart’s. But something else had been niggling at the back of her mind since her epiphany in the kitchen—she wasn’t realy Nona because Nona had 16

months of happy memories. So if Libby was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone, she was damned sure going to have at least one memory.

“Can’t we share?” Libby hoped she sounded sultry. She didn’t have much cal for
sultry
in her life, so she was sort of making things up as she went. “I mean we are both adults and old friends… I am sure we can share with no
problems
.” Okay now she was getting sultry confused with slutty. But she was getting desperate so maybe slutty would work. Besides Tony had only ever been interested in her as a casual partner—maybe slutty was good? No, she had some pride, slutty was out.

Tony’s throat went dry. So did his brain—al the blood seemed to have deserted his brain. How much had she had to drink? Did she have any idea what she was saying? Tony tried to think back and count the hours since her last glass of wine. He hadn’t had anything but water al night. He had been punishing himself by living through al those
Mia Betta’s
stone sober. He was pretty sure that it had been several hours since the wine—pretty sure, but not positive.

“Tony?”

“We can share. I guess that would be okay.” He couldn’t do it. Wel he
could
do it. Physicaly he was definitely able. But you don’t take the woman you love to bed for the first time after she’s been out al night drinking, not to mention dancing with another man. Of course that was tonight. Tomorrow was a different story. “Umm wait here.” Tony rushed into the master bedroom. Libby heard a few clunks and bangs. He was straightening up for her!

So very charming. “Okay. That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” He popped his head back into the hal.

Walking into Tony’s bedroom made Libby’s stomach flip. It was so very like those nights when they had stomach flip. It was so very like those nights when they had been teenagers playing monopoly. Except they weren’t teenagers anymore, and Tony’s parents weren’t asleep down the hal, and they didn’t have a monopoly board.

“Nice.” Libby commented as she took the master bedroom in. The bed was big and sort of made. She had a feeling he had thrown the covers up just now. A big picture window looked down over his back yard, or it would if it weren’t so dark outside. A door that probably led to the master bath was on one wal, there were a few dark wooden dressers lined up against another wal, and matching nightstands framed the bed.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Tony wanted her to love it. He wanted to tel her he had bought it for her—the bed, the dressers, the whole damn house was for her. A part of his campaign to win her over; show her that he could give as much to her as any Italian chef.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

“What?”

“Your car was only headed home remember?”

“Oh right.” He had been kind of an ass at the bar, but he had been looking forward to having Libby to himself

—and then she had mentioned going back to Stuart’s. So yeah, he had been an ass. He could have at least stopped and let her pack a bag. “Do you want to borrow a tee shirt?” He would never be able to sleep if she was lying next to him wearing only his tee shirt. Not that he planned on being able to sleep anyway.

“I have a camisole on under this… Maybe if you have a pair of boxers or something?”

“Sure, here you go.” Tony numbly walked to a dresser and tossed her a pair of blue boxers. He wondered what a camisole was. Some kind of undershirt he guessed.

He puled extra pilows out of the top of the closet, and started lining them up down the middle of the bed.

“Umm… just in case” he muttered when she raised an eyebrow at him.

Of course. Libby’s insides came crashing down.

Clearly she had no idea what was slutty, sultry, or otherwise. He was determined not to take advantage of her, and she was too mortified to be any bolder. So much for her one memory. “I guess I’l just use the bathroom, and get changed.” Dejectedly Libby walked into the hal bath and changed clothes. Hanging her dress over the bath tub to preserve it for the next day she walked back into Tony’s room.

Okay, not an undershirt! A camisole was apparently a torture device made from silk and lace. Tony could barely tear his eyes from Libby, she was so beautiful.

Her camisole was beige (practicaly skin colored) and scraps of lace teased at the tops of her breasts. Breasts that were obviously bare beneath that silk—the material pooled slightly at the neck line, and Tony wondered what he might see if she were to lean forward slightly. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” A cold one. “Don’t wait for me or anything.” Tony walked right into his bathroom and didn’t look back.

Officialy a failed seductress, Libby climbed onto her half of the bed, careful not to destruct the great wal of pilows, and fel asleep… eventualy.

Tony took a long cold shower. And then he waited, Tony took a long cold shower. And then he waited, he counted to a thousand, he folded the pile of clean towels in his linen closet, he cleaned the toilet, he tried to remember al the states in alphabetical order (he could only think of 47

—wait North Carolina-- 48!), and then he quietly eased into the room slipped into the bed, and waited for sleep. 6

times 8 is 48, 7 times 8 is 56, 8 times 8 is 64.

Chapter Eighteen

This was his best dream. Tony was dreaming of lavender, and silk, and soft soft skin. In his best dream ever Libby was spooned in front of him, her silk covered breast filing one hand, and her hip curved temptingly beneath the other. Of course normaly in his Libby dreams she wasn’t wearing shorts, but no matter, he tugged the cotton down low enough to gain access to a palms worth of warm smooth skin. Dream Libby made a soft mewing noise.

Tony’s eyes flew open. Libby, real Libby, was curled into him. Her soft perfect bottom nestled into his hips, and her legs tangled with his. Craning his neck slightly Tony could see a pile of pilows lumped near their feet. Who had moved the pilows? Duh. He was the one on the wrong side of the bed. Libby mewed again.

Tony tried not to panic. He also tried not to think about the incredible sensations awaiting him if he were only to thrust forward slightly. Lesson number one in how to send a woman screaming into another man’s arms: Molest her in her sleep. What the crap was wrong with him?

Slowly, gingerly he eased the elastic of her borrowed boxer shorts back into place. She was stil lying on one of his arms. Holding his breath, and praying she stayed asleep, Tony cradled her in a loose hug , and roled their bodies until he was able to slide his arm free. The loss of her weight and warmth against him pierced painfuly in his chest. His arm’s wanted to reach out and pul her close again, so he got up and stalked into his bathroom for another cold shower.