Run To Rome

“Do it, Rachel,” Ben ordered, his voice raised on purpose. “For me.”

“What do you know, Benjamin finally shows some sense.” Alrigo pulled his pistol out and made a show of ejecting the ammo clip, surveying the bullets, and shoving the clip back into place with a loud click. “Listen to your brother, carina.”

Rachel stared at Ben in abject misery until Alrigo took hold of her arm. “We go. Now. You must not keep Halliwell waiting.”

****

Evalina Gallo, aka Eva Anelli to Alrigo and his associates, watched Raphael pull out of the drive with Tony and the American girl in the back seat of the Lancia. Oddly enough, her first inclination was to go see the brother again. However, Alrigo and Nino had remained at the villa to finalize some details on the shipment due in two days, and showing too much interest in the American would be unwise. Nino would not understand.

Besides, did she really want to spend more time with a man who was too intuitive for her own good? If she wasn’t careful, Benjamin Sanders could blow the foundation she and Nino had carefully laid with Alrigo over this past year.

And that she could not risk. After six long years, she owed it to her father to finish what he’d started.

Chapter 13

Details registered on Halli’s mind as her consciousness slowly surfaced from sleep. Like the tantalizing aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafting by her nose. A nose that was chilled, while the rest of her was toasty warm. Not entirely comfortable, but warm.

Soothed by the gentle rocking motion of the seat beneath her, she listened to the soft slap of water against the side of the boat and the rocks on shore. The echo of bells across the lake, and the cries of the seagulls added to the morning symphony.

She shifted underneath a soft blanket she didn’t remember tucking around her shoulders and wiggled her toes to discover her shoes were gone. A plump pillow cushioned her head from the firm bench seat of Trent’s cabin cruiser.

Another whiff of coffee teased her nostrils, tempting her to open her eyes, stretch and sit up. She resisted. This moment of sensation was hers to fantasize of a fun, relaxing day on the lake with a gorgeous man who wanted her, not the SD card in her video camera. To pretend yesterday hadn’t happened, and that today did not stretch endlessly into an uncertain future.

It was just the simple here and now. One selfish moment.

But all the day-dreaming in the world could not hold reality at bay. She sighed softly and stretched her arms up over her head. Muscles protested, sore from being tackled by the thug on Trent’s lawn.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Her fantasy man’s deep voice rumbled through her and awakened the butterflies that’d cropped up last night when he’d leaned in to kiss her. She pushed to a sitting position and finger-combed hair from her eyes before lifting her gaze to Trent’s. His smile made her heart stumble. How long had he been sitting there watching her?

“Hi,” she said self-consciously. Where was a darn mirror when she needed one?

He lifted a black mug and one dark eyebrow. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. With sugar.”

He headed below deck. Another stretch wrung a groan from her. “What time is it?”

“Quarter after six,” Trent called from below.

Halli scrubbed her hands over her face and rubbed sleep from her eyes. Ran her fingers through her hair before smoothing the sides. The sound of Trent’s footsteps made her drop her hands back to her lap. When he handed her a forest green mug identical to his, she concentrated on not spilling it , nervous to look at him.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“Didn’t sleep much.”

He sat in the chair opposite her, much the same as last night with the wine. Steam curled up into the cool morning air and the hot coffee warmed her hands through the ceramic. Its robust aroma cleared any remaining cobwebs. She lifted the mug up to her mouth and blew softly.

It was impossible not to notice how wonderful Trent looked in the morning sunshine. The whiskers darkening his jaw had been trimmed, but not close enough to eliminate the scruff look. He wore it well. It was hard to recall if she’d ever really seen pictures where he wasn’t clean-shaven, and she understood exactly why he didn’t shave now. He blended well with the many dark-haired Italians and was hard to recognize. So long as he didn’t smile.

Like now. That smile was a dead giveaway. Her heart thumped and she dropped her gaze from his. Clean jeans encased his long legs—and the question of what he may or may not have on underneath was firmly ignored.

Her face warmed anyway. Darn it. She switched her focus and noticed he wor

e the same short sleeved shirt from last night, though it was buttoned now. So what. Better if she didn’t have to avoid staring at his bare, muscled chest. The material of the left sleeve stretched tight over the bandage and she seized on that detail like she’d been thrown a life preserver.

“How does your arm feel this morning?”