Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (3 page)

BOOK: Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3)
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Nobody leaves me alone in a hotel room.

“I thought we should clear the air between us,” he says.

She pours some water in her glass from a bottle she keeps in the small fridge. “Oh?”

“We’re family now. Seeing as your sister is married to my kid brother and they just had a baby.”

She brings her glass over and sits opposite him again, sipping her water. In truth, Giovanni is having a peculiar effect on her. She remembers it now from when they were together before. He feels familiar. It’s like a tiny part of herself wants to let down her guard and trust him, to curl up on his lap and tell him all her secrets.

It must be the doctor thing
, she decides, analyzing the situation. They probably try and foster this sort of response from people. Always giving off the impression they’re capable and in command and deserving of your trust.

“I never would have slept with you if I’d known those two were going to get married,” he continues.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Consider the air cleared. You can go.” She waves her hand toward the door.

She expects him to get up, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he fiddles with his glass a little, still watching her.

“Good night,” Lindsay tells him. “Or should I say,
Gute Nacht
.”

“Clearly, we’re not done here.”

“Oh, we’re done all right. We’re as done as it gets.”

He shifts his large body in the kitchen chair, and she can’t help admiring it. He’s big, yet well-made. Her eyes trail down his shoulder to his muscular arms, and she imagines sculpting his likeness. It would be a real pleasure.

Despite what she said earlier, Giovanni had been fantastic in bed. A one-night stand, but a memorable one. They met at a party, and the attraction between them was so hot they left after barely half an hour to check into a hotel. It was more than just physical though. They talked and laughed, ordered room service, playing with their food after it arrived. He smeared melted vanilla ice cream on her nipples and between her thighs before carefully licking it off. He told her she was beautiful at least fifty times that night, whispering it in her ear as he moved deep inside her. It was the way he said it too, like it was more than her appearance he was talking about. She could barely believe it when she woke up alone. There’s no way sex that good was only one-sided.

She studies his face. He doesn’t look that different from when she last saw him. He’s handsome, but not in a pretty way like his brother. There are lines etched near his eyes and mouth, a small scar near his left brow. He’s tan, probably too tan for someone with blond hair and blue eyes. Though he’s Italian, he doesn’t look it. His hair is short and wavy, and if it were longer, she suspects he’d have ringlet curls.

“You’re angry,” he says in a thoughtful tone. “Is it because I never called you? I thought you understood the situation.” His expression goes earnest. “I was on a plane to Kenya less than a week later. I would have wanted to see you again otherwise.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I really liked you.”

In amazement, she recognizes what he’s doing. He’s letting her down easy. She’s done it herself a million times.

He continues to fiddle with his glass as he tries to appear sincere. “So you see, I wanted to call, but I couldn’t.”

Except I wrote the book on this maneuver, asshole.

Lindsay studies her lap for a moment as if she’s struggling for composure then takes a deep breath and pretends to be distressed. “Was it just meaningless sex for you? Is that it?”

“What? No, not at all.”

“Because I thought we shared something special. How could you leave me like that?” She leans forward, curious to hear his answer. In truth, she had been a little hurt at the time, though mostly she was pissed. No one had ever done something like that to her before.

“I didn’t have a choice. My job takes me all over the world. As much as I liked you—and believe me, I did—I couldn’t let myself get attached.”

“You broke my heart,” she tells him, putting a dramatic quiver in her voice. “I cried for weeks.”

His eyes widen. “I . . . did? You
did
?”

“Of course. What do you take me for? Some kind of hussy?”

He squirms a little, and Lindsay smiles to herself.

“I thought you were trustworthy,” she says, laying it on thick now. “I can’t believe you would
use
me like that!”

Giovanni seems agitated. “Look, it was just one night. A great night, but I don’t think I used you.”

“It was magical, admit it. A magical night!”

He blinks. “Magical?”

And that’s when she sees the first glimmer of suspicion in his eyes.

“I can’t live without you,” she tells him, trying to hide her smile. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life. You’re the wind beneath my wheels.”

He stares at her. “Don’t you mean
wings
?”

“Oh, yeah . . . right . . .
wings
.” And that’s when Lindsay can’t hold it in any longer and starts laughing.

He seems taken aback, but then a grin appears on his face. “Damn, you really had me going there.”

“I know, but come on. Telling me how much you
really
liked me. Is that the best you can do?”

“I
did
really like you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me the bullshit, okay?”

Giovanni doesn’t say anything. He appears to be taking her measure, and she lets him. She leans back in her chair, meeting his gaze.

“All right,” he says, slowly. “No bullshit. I had fun with you. You were great in and out of bed, but I wasn’t looking for anything more.”

“Neither was I.”

“I guess the air is cleared then.”

“It looks that way.” She considers pointing out to him how rude it was when he left her alone in that hotel room without so much as a good-bye, how he made her feel like a hooker, but decides not to bother.

He’ll never have me again anyway, so what does it matter?

“Great,” she tells him. “You can leave now. We’re finally done for real.”

“Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?”

“Because it’s the middle of the night.”

He glances at his watch. “It’s barely after ten. You don’t strike me as someone who goes to bed early.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know a little.” His eyes rest on hers. They travel from her hair to her face, then downward. “I have to admit, you’re still very beautiful.”

She glances around the room in boredom. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“Whatever. It’s not going to happen between us again.”

Something flickers in his eyes.

She realizes it was the wrong thing to say to a man like him. Like waving a red cape in front of a bull.

A smile pulls on his mouth. “Catnip.”

She lets her expression go completely flat, hoping to end this conversation.

He swigs down the rest of his drink then stands, unfolding his large body from the chair. He’s too big for her kitchen, her apartment—and, she suspects, her life. She likes bad boys, and has tamed a few in her time, but overbearing men like Giovanni are usually more headache than they’re worth.

She can’t help enjoying the look of him though. Her eyes roam over his body, lingering for a moment at the bulge below his belt. He was big all over, as she recalls.

Her mind flashes back to the night they shared. The way his hands felt on her. Hot and sensual. Somehow, the warmth of them had gone deeper than her skin.

Annoyed, she pushes the memory away.

He was also arrogant as hell. Clearly nothing has changed in that regard.

Giovanni doesn’t make a move to leave, just stands there studying her like he wants to speak.

“What is it?”

“I want to talk to you about something.” He doesn’t say anything more, simply stares at her, deep in thought. Finally, he shakes his head and looks away. “It’s weird, but you kind of remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“No one. Forget it.”

“I remind you of no one? I’m flattered, truly.”

He lingers like he’s still waiting for something.

“Gosh, I don’t mean to be rude, but please don’t let my front door hit you on the way out.”

“Have you seen pictures of our new nephew lately?”

Lindsay softens. She Skypes with her sister Natalie at least once a week and gets to see little Luca every time. “Yes, he’s quite the cutie.” The baby looks a lot like Anthony, though she sees some of her family in him too.

“I’m glad for those two.” He glances around her studio for a moment. “I was surprised when they got married, but they seem genuinely happy together.”

“They are. It’s a good marriage, and they’ve managed to make it all work.” Both her sister and Anthony came into the marriage with a daughter from a previous relationship. “You missed a great wedding.”

Their eyes meet, but he doesn’t say anything.

“A lot of people were disappointed when you didn’t make it.”

“Were you one of them?”

“Me?”

“Seeing as I’m the wind beneath your wheels.” His voice is dry.

She tries to hide her amusement, but can’t quite manage it. “No, but your brother, your parents, and a whole bunch of Italians straight off a plane from Rome certainly were.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock at the door.

“Dammit, what time did you say it was?”

He glances at his watch. “Almost ten thirty.”

“You need to leave. I have to get ready.”

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” A feminine voice with a German accent drifts through the door.

He turns his head toward the sound. “You’re going out?”

“Yes, I am.” She stands up and pushes past him, disturbed by the spark of pleasure at his nearness. “It’s open!”

Her friend Dagmar comes in. “I’m almost ready,” Lindsay tells her as she heads toward her bedroom area to find some clothes. “I just need to get dressed.”

“Someone told me there were two men outside fighting in front of your building—” Dagmar stops talking when she sees Giovanni. “Who is this?”

“Nobody important. Just ignore him.”

Dagmar eyes Giovanni with curiosity.

“He’s leaving now.”

“That’s a shame. He’s handsome.” Dagmar smiles at him with approval. “Who are you?”

He steps forward to introduce himself. Irritated, Lindsay notices the way he’s smiling at her. Dagmar is blonde and cute, and a lot of men smile at her like that.
She can have him.
Be my guest.
Though Dagmar already has a boyfriend. Lindsay notices he’s icing his hand again. She wonders how much it’s bothering him.

“I’m going to get dressed. When I come back,
you
need to be gone.” Lindsay throws a pointed look in Giovanni’s direction.

Pulling on a robe, she grabs her clothes, leaving the two of them alone in her studio. She walks to the bathroom at the end of the hall, praying it doesn’t stink. Unfortunately, her prayers go unanswered. The stench of beer and bratwurst farts is as thick as a fiery cloud of napalm.

Lindsay holds her breath as she quickly slips into dark jeans that accentuate her long legs and a silky black tank top, which shows just the right amount of cleavage. She’s not particularly well-endowed but knows how to work it. And “working it” is exactly what she’ll be doing tonight.

She takes shallow breaths. Trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes, she fluffs out her long dark hair, then puts on fresh eyeliner and red lip gloss. Lindsay grabs her purse to check the bankroll she pulled out from its hiding place earlier.

There’s a fat wad of euros, two thousand to be exact.

Hopefully, I can double that.

The most she’s earned in a single night was fourteen hundred. It depends mostly on the guys and whether there’ll be a few donks, especially if they’re drinking. Inexperienced, drunk, and throwing around money—that’s her favorite kind of man right now.

Finally, she flings the bathroom door open and rushes outside, breathing in sweet clean air with relief.

Time to go to work.

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