Luca's Bad Girl (13 page)

She leaned her torso into him, her breasts squashed against his back. Her hands found his arms, her palms running up and down the warm solid weight of his biceps.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade. ‘Were you close?’

Luca nodded. Regret, never far away, twisted the ever-present knife deep into his heart. He had been the apple of his nonna’s eye. Even after that horrible day that had changed his family life for ever.

She’d been the only one who’d believed there was more to Luca than the irresponsible teenager who had let everyone down.

Turning his back on her had been a particular wrench.

‘We spoke once a week.’ It was how he knew his family still hadn’t forgiven him.

Mia absently brushed her mouth against Luca’s back once, twice, three times. His muscles seemed to be quivering beneath her lips and she knew she couldn’t leave him like this.

‘It’s okay, Luca,’ she murmured. ‘C’mon, lie down for a while.’

She scooted back, until she was sitting propped up a little against the bedhead, and placed a hand on his shoulder. For a moment she thought he was going to resist but then he let her pull him down so the back of his head was cradled against her shoulder, her arm braced across his chest.

Luca lay still as Mia settled the sheet in around them. He turned his face and nuzzled her arm, inhaling her
fragrance, letting the beat of her heart close to his ear soothe the ache in his chest.

‘Do you want to talk about her?’ she asked, trailing the fingers of her free hand up and down his arm.

Luca shook his head. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to think. He just wanted to lie here next to her and forget the world.

‘Okay. We’ll just lie here for a bit, then.’

So they did.

She had absolutely no intention of staying. Absolutely no intention of falling asleep. No intention whatsoever other than to offer a little bit of comfort and companionship in Luca’s time of need.

She really, really didn’t mean to fall asleep.

Or stay the night …

Mia woke to the most delicious feeling of warmth. Of being wrapped in a cocoon of contentment. She stretched languorously against all that solid heat behind her then snuggled back into it again. A heaviness at her hip spanned her waist and curled around her breast. A delicious sensation buzzed her neck. A hardness nudged at the cleft of her bottom.

Hmm. Luca.

She sighed as sleep wrapped her in a sticky embrace. For five seconds.

Then panic set in.

Luca!

Damn! What time was it?

She cracked open one eye, then the other, squinting at the digital clock on the bedside table. Eight-fifteen.

In the morning.

Damn, damn, triple damn!

She lay very still for a long moment, listening to him breathe, not daring to do so herself. It was deep and even. Was he asleep? His lips had brushed her neck only seconds ago but had that been involuntary?

His hand at her breast, tantalising and erotic, seemed lax. Not that her nipple seemed to know the difference as it scrunched and scraped erotically against the flat of his palm.

Neither, for that matter, did his erection. She could feel it nestled against her, big and heavy.

Ready for action.

How the hell could he sleep with that thing? Surely his brain was being deprived of oxygen?

Mia waited a bit longer for signs of life. Other than his erection.

No. He was definitely asleep.

She took that as her cue to get the hell out. What had she been thinking? She didn’t do this. She didn’t stay the night. She didn’t … spoon.

Hell, she didn’t even cuddle.

And he knew that!

Okay, no one she’d ever been to bed with had received a phone call that their grandmother had died either—but that was beside the point. She was supposed to have left hours ago. She couldn’t let one man’s personal life alter years of self-discipline.

She’d very nearly failed medical school, thrown away her future, by letting men and booze rule her life for those couple of crazy years after she’d found out about her father, about her mother’s deception. She’d made a promise to herself back then that it would never happen again.

And Luca was no exception.

Yes, he’d transcended her staunch one-night-stand policy. But he was still just a convenient body—hot, sexy, best she’d-ever-known body—and that was all.

Dead grandmother or not.

Her decision from last night—before she’d totally messed up and stayed—to end things with Luca suddenly just got a whole lot more urgent.

Mia didn’t breathe again until she’d slunk very carefully out of his bed and tiptoed out of his room. Thankfully the central heating was still on because it looked like a frosty old day through those big bay windows as a stiff breeze blew across the harbour, rippling the surface like goose-bumps on flesh.

She strode to the centre of the room and scooped up her jacket, shrugging into it, again ignoring the buttons as she tied it at the waist.

Now, where the hell were her shoes?

She quickly scanned the shoeless route from the lounge to Luca’s bedroom. Her gaze stopped at his doorway.

Please, don’t make me go back there.

She didn’t need the temptation of a sleeping Luca. She hadn’t looked back as she’d fled the room and she didn’t want to know now either. She needed to get out.

She’d leave her bloody shoes if she had to. Even if her feet would be half-frozen by the time she reached her apartment.

Yes, she needed to tell him this wouldn’t be happening again. Especially now. Especially after last night.

But she could leave that for tomorrow. For now she needed to get out. And quickly.

Her panicked gaze backtracked, sweeping a broader area than before. It snagged on a partially obscured
heel somehow under the bar stools that lined the central kitchen bench.

Wow. She must have kicked them off wildly—or had Luca pulled them off then tossed them across the room?

Her mind had been mush at the time.

Mia quickly retrieved it, trying not to think about just what she and Luca had done on that kitchen bench. How he’d swept aside the dirty dishes and taken her right there on the cold granite bench top.

Stop it! Don’t go there!

Mia shook herself. One shoe down, one to go. She refined her search—if one had ended up near the kitchen, the other one could be anywhere. She dropped to her knees in front of the lounge suite and looked under the chairs.

Bingo!

She reached under for it but the lounge didn’t have a lot of clearance and she had to get down lower to even get her fingers to it. She extended her arm further and finally dragged it out, giving a triumphant murmur as she sat back on her haunches.

‘What are you doing?’

Mia lurched abruptly to her feet. Luca was leaning against the doorframe, in nothing but underpants, his arms crossed, a small frown making a harsh line out of his beautiful mouth. There was a shadow in his eyes that was a perfect foil for the one darkening his jaw and seemed to match his serious countenance.

‘Luca.’ Mia, excruciatingly aware of her nakedness beneath the coat, absently kicked first one foot up behind her and then the other as she slid the shoes in place, ‘Sorry … couldn’t find my shoes.’

Luca watched as she shimmied into her stilettos.
Usually he liked the way women did that. It was sexy. But this morning the death of his grandmother and the burden of guilt he felt over his absence in her life weighed heavily.

As did Mia being witness to it all.

This morning he was immune to sexy
.

When he’d woken alone he’d been relieved. His vulnerability last night had shaken him. He wasn’t used to being that emotionally exposed to anyone, least of all a woman. Marissa had burned him for life in that regard and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

The last thing he needed this morning was to see pity in Mia’s eyes.

He needed to be alone.

‘I need coffee,’ he said abruptly, pushing away from the doorframe.

Mia watched him stride to the kitchen, a very different man from the post-coital Luca she’d come to know. No sexy smile, no lazy laugh, no knowing gaze. And certainly very different from the man she’d held last night, who’d fallen asleep in her arms.

He seemed to have erected a wall and was putting her firmly on the outside.

Which was great.
Exactly what she wanted
. Exactly what she’d been hoping for. No need for the big talk after all. Just slip out of his apartment and consider it over.

Perfect.

If only her body wasn’t rebelling. The site of his strong, naked back, the way the muscles played beneath the fine moulding of copper flesh, the sexy indentation of the small of his back was causing a riot amongst her
hormones. She ground her feet into the carpet to stop herself taking a step towards him.

When had her body started to crave his like this? It was so … base.

‘I’m going to go,’ she announced to his back. ‘Check that Evie hasn’t slipped into an alcoholic coma. And you have a lot to organise today.’

Luca frowned as he filled the percolator with water. ‘Organise?’

‘Flights, time off work, packing.’

‘Flights?’

It was Mia’s turn to frown. ‘For the funeral? I’m sorry, I assumed your grandmother lived in Italy? Is she here in Sydney?’

He hadn’t told her that.
But, then, why would he? They didn’t … chat. They’d had sex a few times. That’s what they did. That’s all they did.

Until last night
.

And it was why they were over now. Now that their relationship had evolved to a level of emotional intimacy neither of them wanted.

Luca flipped the switch on the coffee machine and turned to face her, his hands gripping the bench behind him, his knuckles white. ‘I’m not going to the funeral.’

Mia blinked. ‘What?’

‘I’m not going,’ he repeated.

‘But … I thought you said you were close to your grandmother?’

Her yearning for a grandmother of her own, someone who could have softened the harsh realities of her childhood, been a buffer even, returned as Mia struggled to understand what Luca was saying.

Luca nodded. ‘I am.’ He raked a hand through his
hair as he realised what he’d said. ‘I was … I haven’t been back to Italy since the day I left and, trust me, no one in my family wants me to return.’

The edge of bitterness in his voice surprised Mia and instead of turning and walking to the door, which would have been the wisest course of action, she wandered closer to the kitchen.

‘No one?’

He nodded grimly. ‘Sicilians have long memories.’

Mia slid onto one of the stools, the urge to comfort him as strong as it had been last night despite his
keep-out
expression. ‘Look, I don’t know what happened with you and your family—’

She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to interrupt. He looked like he was going to tell her to mind her own damn business, which was fine by her. Apart from knowing he’d left Marsala at the age of sixteen, he hadn’t told her about his past or the fact that he’d never been back.

And she didn’t want to know. That wasn’t what they were about—it was nothing to do with her.

Except she understood. She understood how things could be so bad that you’d never go back. How many times had she visited her mother in the last five years? Half a dozen? And how long ago had she given up on trying to keep in contact with a father who had moved on to a new family after the woman he’d loved had totally destroyed his old one?

‘I don’t want to know, Luca, but it was a long time ago, yeah? Maybe things are better now?’

Out of habit or manners, Luca poured two coffees and pushed one towards her. Even though he didn’t want her to stay. He could see empathy in her gaze and
wanted no part of it. They were just about sex—nothing else. Sex was all he did. He’d lost his head for a little while, but not any more.

‘They’re not.’

Mia stared down into the thick dark coffee—the colour of Luca’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

He shrugged. ‘It’s the way it is.’

Mia looked up sharply. She could see regret in his espresso gaze and hear a slight rawness to his accent. And suddenly she was mad.
Damn it!
Why was it that way? Why was he still being made to suffer twenty odd years later—this was his family. What had he done that had been so bad? Why did she feel guilty about not keeping her family together, about not keeping in contact when neither of her parents bothered? Why should she give a damn when they didn’t?

‘You should go,’ she said.

Luca saw something glittering in her stained-glass-window eyes. They shone with an intense brightness that for a second looked almost like tears. But then it crystallised into determination.

He shook his head. ‘Some things are better left alone, Mia.’

Mia shook her head emphatically. ‘No, damn it! She was your grandmother and you loved her. And you need to go to her funeral and to hell with what everyone else thinks. You need this for you, Luca. You deserve this. Don’t let them take this from you because of some stupid ancient history.’

Luca wasn’t entirely sure that this passion was all about him and his predicament but he appreciated the sentiment. It was surprisingly good to have someone
on his side in this whole family mess, even though she had no clue of the facts.

Another spurt of guilt made him uneasy. Would she be this passionate about it if she knew the background? Was she only being this vehement because she thought she knew him well enough to surmise that he’d been wronged by his family?

‘Don’t think I’m the injured party here,
cara
. They had every right to ostracise me. To be angry with me.’

His voice sounded far away in another time and Mia paused. She hadn’t expected any explanation but she had expected him to defend himself when offering one. They’d ostracised him and he just accepted it?

‘Still?’ she demanded, regrouping. ‘After all these years? Doesn’t that make you angry?’