Luca's Dilemma (11 page)

Lately he’d begun to grasp onto any excuse to be around the sexy woman in hopes that things would deepen between the two of them. He’d volunteered to wait until she was up in hope of inconspicuously lingering after the job was done. But stating she didn’t want to be a burden, Sheila had assured him coming by while she slept would not be a problem. The disappointment from her simple statement was less foreign now, but bothersome nonetheless.

He was beginning to understand what his father and cousins had been telling him all these years about the power their wives held over them. All those years of snickering and making digs about how whipped they were now seemed to be coming back to bite him. At least those men could blame it on the sex. Technically, Luca hadn’t gotten that far with Sheila since she wasn’t quite divvying out the goods. Karma really was a bitch.

It didn’t take him long to complete his morning chores and tackle the weather–proofing project. The pervert in him wanted to peek in the bedroom to see what she slept in, if anything. With difficulty, he managed to be a good boy for once. With the new weather stripping in place, Luca locked and secured the front door, making a mental note to get Sheila’s boiler checked. The tiny house was freezing, and he didn’t want his baby to be cold.

My baby
. No doubt he’d claimed her, at least in his own mind. Restful nights now consisted of vivid dreams, which kept reviving their intimate encounter by the pond and those glorious feelings that came with it. Only in his dreams he managed to confiscate her underwear, which was full of her precious juices. He’d awoken the last few mornings with wet sheets on his face, stained with saliva after having been sniffed and licked all night. How lame.

“What the hell kind of spell has this woman cast on me?” he couldn’t resist saying out loud, honestly not caring what magic Sheila was using. Nor could he hold back a huge grin. For the first time in a long while, Luca was truly happy.

The trek back across the field didn’t take long, and before he knew it, the large structure he called home loomed before him, the sight of it causing his shoulders to slump. As of late, the house had begun to feel too big. Images of coming in from the barn to Sheila’s southern cooking — minus the pork, of course — kept popping in his head when least expected. Funny thing was, Sheila had never stepped foot in this house or cooked for him.

Shaking off the image, he immediately went to his study where the decoders were kept. Using his psychological training, he managed to push the vision of Sheila in her underwear away and swung into professional mode. His fingers danced across the binds of the multiple, recently updated phone books that lined the walls of his study, searching for the right one. Anyone else would assume that they were the usual books provided by the phone company. However, these books were specifically made and updated on a regular basis for this task. They contained classified information that most phone providers would be envious of.

A moment later, he plucked the one for Limington, Maine off the shelf. The fact that the assignment was in his own backyard was an anomaly, one he’d have to question Pop about later. Rarely were assignments given so close to home because they were too dangerous and left little room for error. Luckily, Luca was one of the best of the best at what he did. At least there would be no traveling.

Sitting down at the desk, he began to whistle an old Italian tune while thumbing through the white pages of the small book.
Let’s see, ten
, he thought, recalling the numerical sequence his pop had given. A good memory was key in this line of work. Continuing to whistle, he quickly located the appropriate page.
Now who is line fifteen?
His large calloused index finger cruised down the pages, quickly coming to a rest at his next target. The name and address that his finger landed on literally sucked the breath out of him.

“No. It can’t be,” he whispered in agony. Discomfort started in his chest from the increased intensity of his heart. Placing his finger at the top of the page, he deliberately skimmed downward again, silently counting off each line before stopping at line fifteen again. The pounding became downright deafening when the name that his finger landed on remained the same. A quivering hand he hardly recognized as his own ran through his hair at the realization that Sheila Leigh of 19 RR, Limington, Maine, was his next assignment.

Chapter 9

“Seriously? They had white hoods on and everything?” her brother, Calvin, asked, seemingly unable to believe what had just been conveyed to him. Sheila’d missed his last monthly video call from Afghanistan, having been at the fair.

“Serious as running out of bacon in the Leigh household on a Sunday morning,” Sheila responded, holding her left hand up in testimony. They came from a long line of bacon connoisseurs and knew firsthand the repercussions the absence of the tender meat in their childhood home had carried.

“Damn! That’s messed up,” he said, laughing his ass off.

“Tell me about it. Thank God my landlord was there to save me.”

“Your first real panic attack, huh? I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” He chuckled.

“Oh, it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Everybody and his brother within range started closing in on me. For a minute there I felt like that chick in that Michael Jackson video. You know… the one with the zombies,” she stated, mimicking the dance moves.

Hearty laughter rent from both of them.

“But the people were all only trying to be helpful. Luca later explained that the getup is used to keep their little woolly coats from getting dirty.”

Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly, Calvin raised one inquisitive eyebrow. “So… armed with this newfound information, you hustled on back there to pet them again and apologize for your odd behavior?”

“Fuck no! Are you crazy?” Sheila could see the tears rolling down her brother’s cheeks as she joined in on his belly laugh.

“Girl, you are insane. What am I gonna to do with you?” he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

“You could call your parents and tell them I’m a grown woman, more than capable of making my own decisions,” she answered, all traces of humor gone.

“Hmmm. They still hounding you about Ahmed, huh? Trying to talk you into going back to Atlanta?”

“Yeah. The jerk’s still got them fooled into believing his shit don’t stink. It didn’t help that he called them when I left, once again winning them over with his chocolate–covered bullshit. I’m too ashamed to tell them what really happened, not to mention they’re mad as hell that I put Grandma’s house up for sale. But, hey, she did leave it to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I know. Just remember I’ll always be on your side, Shi. Keep in mind that Grandmamma and Granddaddy also left you plenty of money to live off of if you should decide that place is too boring for you. Maybe you should move to California with Mom and Dad.” A clever grin crossed his handsome face.

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Then I’d never be grown in their eyes. But thanks for always sticking up for me, Cal,” she said, struggling to keep the emotion she felt from her brother’s sentiment out of her voice. “As far as the money goes, I don’t touch it for a reason.”

“Now you’re being foolish. There’s no need to be working yourself to death knowing you could be living a life of luxury, even without Momma and Daddy’s help. Your inheritance could last you more than a lifetime if you don’t go hog wild with it. Life is short. You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered, peevish from hearing this speech again. “So why are you putting yourself in harm’s way every day when you
too
could be living the good life?”

“It’s different for me. I’d go stir crazy without my job. You, however, have your art to focus on.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Seriously, Shi. You should get yourself a nice place, somewhere warm, and start selling your paintings, for real. You’re more than talented enough.”

“Is that your commanding officer calling?” she asked, trying to get him to change the subject. She wasn’t ready to share with her brother that she’d sold three paintings at the Portland Art Festival this past summer because it would only bring more pressure. Painting was the one thing she really wanted to do. Her confidence level just wasn’t quite there yet.

“All right, all right, I got your number, girl. Keep in mind that when I get back to the States, Ahmed is due a thorough ass kicking. That is… unless your landlord gets to him first.”

“What?” she gasped. “What’s Luca got to do with Ahmed?”

“I heard the way you said landlord, like the mere thought of him makes your drawers all wet,” he teased.

“Man! Get off my computer!” she ordered, laughing.

“Sheila and Luca sitting in a tree…”

“Bye!” she cut in sharply, feigning anger.

“F–u–c…”

“I said bye, boy!” His laughter was the last thing she heard before disconnecting.

Shaking her head in amusement from her brother’s joshing, Sheila sat on her couch trying to decide what to do next. Last night she’d had a good shift with Damon. They had joked around good–naturedly and listened to jazz music while putting masks together. That particular part of the job Sheila hated with a passion. But it had been fast work with the two of them tackling it together. Like April, Damon was responsible enough to play music at a normal volume and had no problem handling his duties.

Not having to work tonight, Sheila had rolled out of bed at about one in the afternoon with pep in her step. She had showered and was catching up on some housework while wailing mercilessly to Rufus and Chaka Khan’s “Do You Love What You Feel”, before Calvin so rudely interrupted her. Unable to think of anything better to do, she decided to continue cleaning.

“He’s right, I do live one boring ass life,” she said with a chuckle, finding hilarity in light of her present circumstances.

Truth of the matter, she was fine with her current lifestyle. Working nights sucked, but she felt safer at the lab than being home alone. In Atlanta, her family had strived relentlessly to transform her into the quintessential southern–belle. She’d been forced into the lifestyle of a socialite, living the life of her momma and grandmamma before her. She didn’t miss the stress associated with putting on airs for the various parties, functions, and balls she had to attend, especially during the holidays.

That’s what being a Leigh, working in management at the insurance company, and acting as Ahmed’s eye candy had entailed. That lifestyle had been tiring and had often left her feeling empty and incomplete. Now, Sheila truly felt like a part of something and loved improving the quality of life for others, even though it meant sacrificing the quality of her own. No ball gowns necessary.

She smirked at the fact that her parents would be appalled if they found out she’d dodged them last Thanksgiving to watch the game at Tina’s, dressed in well–worn jeans and a Giants T–shirt. And the language she’d picked up while living in New York wouldn’t go over well with them either. Calvin had choked and stuttered the first time he heard foul language come out of her mouth, and she’d learned quickly to squelch it around Ahmed, who appraised her with stern disapproval whenever a cuss word unwittingly slid past her lips.

But then there was Luca. The rant of foul words seemed to have shocked the hell out of him the first time they had met, but Sheila was starting to think… no… knew it turned him on. Maybe that’s why she liked him so much. For whatever reason, giving into the desire to cuss had come to equate to freedom. Luca made her feel free.

***

As the afternoon transitioned to evening, a knock came at Sheila’s front door. Drying her hands on a dishrag, she padded the short distance from the kitchen to answer it and was slightly surprised to find her neighbor, Janie, standing on her porch.

“Well hello, neighbor. Wasn’t sure you’d be awake, but I figured I’d try my luck anyway. I happen to know that some people bounce back from working nights much more easily than others, but one can never be sure of such things, ya know. But I really do hope I didn’t wake you,” Janie rattled on in her habitual incessant chatter, finally finishing with her usual toothy smile.

“Hi, Janie,” Sheila said with a giggle, returning the greeting with a smile of her own. The older, salt–and–pepper–haired woman always felt like home to Sheila. Perhaps it was the buns on either side of her head, reminiscent of the Princess Leia hairstyle or her carefree demeanor. Even in the summer, she always wore a flannel shirt with jeans over her ultra–thin body. Today Janie had traded in her mocs for those famous L.L. Bean boots that everyone around here seemed to like. “Come on in, it’s freezing out there,” she added, stepping aside to grant her impromptu visitor entry.

“Oh, honey, no. I’m fine. Just cooked up too many pumpkin pies and thought you’d be nice enough to take one off my hands.” Janie gestured toward her with a covered dish in hand.

Sheila was touched. “Why, thank you,” she said with sincerity. Stepping forward to receive the gift, the cold wood of the porch floor beneath her bare feet instantly reminded her of the impending season. “Now, if I only had someone to help me eat it. I don’t think I need any more winter padding.”

The two women giggled.

“I wouldn’t mind helping you with that.”

Sheila’s heart sped up at the sound of the familiar deep voice. Both women turned their attention to the single porch step Luca was now climbing. As always, he looked fine as hell in his dark blue jeans, red flannel shirt, and Dingo Harness work boots. He leaned against the porch railing, the bangs hanging to either side of his forehead paying homage to the sexy bad boy Sheila had come to know.

Janie’s face lit up. “Well hello, dear. I considered bringing you a pie too, but you never seem to be home when I drop by. Not that I drop by often, ya see, but I do drop by.”

Sheila watched in amusement as the older woman’s hands went up to smooth already tidy hair and almost died when Janie’s seemingly always–rosy cheeks began to fill with more color. Sheila could identify with the woman’s reaction. Despite the cold weather, Luca was smoking hot, his mere presence bringing warmth to the outdoor space.