Her Italian Soldier

Tomorrow morning she would move her stuff to the hotel before she left for the photo shoot. The pills always knocked him out. When he woke up, he’d see it was for the best.

Annabelle slept poorly for the rest of the night. Around seven she awoke after hearing a noise. She sat up in bed and listened for it again. Maybe Lucca hadn’t been able to sleep and had gotten up to fix himself some lemon tea he favored.

There it went again, that mournful sound. An animal outside maybe? She threw on her robe. The minute she opened the door, she realized it was coming from Lucca’s room. After listening again she realized he was in the middle of another nightmare. It didn’t surprise her. Stefana’s visit would have triggered memories from his subconscious. Unfortunately they’d found expression once he’d fallen asleep.

She tiptoed into his room. His covers were strewn on the floor. He lay on his stomach wearing nothing but the bottom of his sweats. Her heart ached to watch gut-wrenching sobs shake his body while his face was buried in the pillow. His hard-muscled physique was as stiff as an iron poker.

Without conscious thought she sat down on the mattress and curved one of her hands around his shoulder. The other went to his hip. “Lucca,” she called softly to him. “Wake up. You’re dreaming. Come on.” Using a gentle rolling motion, she managed to get him on his back. More unintelligible words flew out of his mouth.

His tear-washed face was her undoing. She bent over him and started kissing his eyelids and cheeks. “Lucca?” she whispered. “You’re no longer in the air force. You’re home and safe.” She ran her lips over every rugged line and angle of the face haunting her dreams. Her hands massaged his shoulders, willing him to relax and let go of the powerful flashback.

“Hush now,” she murmured against his lips, both of theirs salty from his tears. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Just when she thought she wasn’t getting through to him he muttered, “Annabelle?”

“Yes,” she cried, so relieved he’d come back to reality, she didn’t care what he thought of her unorthodox methods. Her sorrow for what he’d suffered went too deep for tears. He’d been injured and had lost his best friend. She rocked him in her arms. With a swift strength she could scarcely credit, he pulled her body all the way on to the bed.

“Your leg—”

“I’m being careful,” he assured her. “Take off that nurse’s hat and give me the kiss of life again so I know I’m not dreaming.” In the next second his mouth covered hers and she found herself opening up to him. She couldn’t hold back, not when she wanted him with such a hunger she was shocked by it.

Lucca had come awake, drawing long, deeply passionate kisses from her mouth until she couldn’t breathe. They moved as one flesh, giving and taking their pleasure. She’d entered a realm of rapture she’d never known before and time ceased to exist.

Under his spell she was so far gone, she didn’t hear the knocking on the kitchen door until Lucca relinquished her mouth with a groan and sat up to listen. He was more beautiful to her than any Roman god.

The knocking persisted even louder than before. “Someone wants to see you.”

“Maybe its Basilio from work with a message from your father. It must be important, but I don’t know why he didn’t phone me. He has my cell number.”

Embarrassed to be caught like this, Annabelle scrambled out of Lucca’s warm arms and got off the bed, totally disoriented and disheveled. She could tell his morning whiskers had given her a slight rash.

“You stay here, Lucca. I’ll see who it is.”

His eyes were still slumberous from their passion. “Hurry back.”

The huskiness of his tone set her body trembling. She shut the door to the bedroom and raced through the house to the kitchen, cinching the belt to her robe tighter around the waist.

“Who is it?” she called from behind the door.

“Signorina Marsh? It’s Fortunato Colombari!”

Guilio’s grandson. She’d never met him, but she’d heard about him. Taking a second breath she opened the door. A dark blond Italian teen, maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood there rocking back on his heels with a surprised look of undeniable male interest in his brown eyes. He stared at her for what seemed a full minute. Had he noticed her swollen lips, which Lucca had nearly devoured because they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other?

“My mama sent me down to see if you require anything,” he explained in very good English. “Guilio, my grandfather, is in Milan, so she agreed to watch out for you.”

“How nice of her. It’s a pleasure to meet you, For tunato.”

“Same here. Mama sent you some fresh melons. I will put them on the counter for you.” Without waiting for permission, he walked inside carrying a basket of them. When she shut the door and turned around, her eyes saw what he could see.

Lucca must have been so tired last night, he’d pulled off his clothes and had thrown them over one of the kitchen chairs. His socks and shoes lay on the floor, one shoe on its side. Though he’d brought the dishes in from the living room, he hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen after the big lunch he’d made for him and Stefana yesterday.

After almost staggering out of Lucca’s bed and room, Annabelle had been so enthralled with him, she hadn’t noticed anything else. But there was no doubt Fortunato was looking at everything and coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t living here alone. And she was a messy guest, too.

“That was so kind of you to bring me fruit, Fortunato. Please thank your mother for me.”

His eyes slid to the white cargo pants and blue sport shirt. He gave her a devilish grin. “I will tell her you are enjoying Italy very much.”

She felt heat swarm to her face. Guilty as charged.