Maybe he’d say them first.
Maybe she’d awaken one morning in his arms and he’d tell her what she yearned to hear, that he adored her, wanted her, needed her…
“Hey.”
Stefano’s soft voice and warm breath were at her ear. Fallon turned over and smiled.
“Hey yourself.” She snaked her arms around his neck and brought his mouth to hers. “Did you get a lot of work finished?”
“Uh-huh.” Stefano sat down on the edge of the lounger and gathered her into his arms. He’d changed into a swimsuit and his skin carried the coolness of the high-ceilinged rooms inside the castello. “And you? Did you get a lot of resting done?”
Fallon grinned. “Any more resting and I’ll turn into a sloth and start hanging, upside down, from the branches of the nearest tree.” She ran her hands over his muscled chest. “Mmm. My own personal air conditioner. Very nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Smiling, he ran his hands down her arms. “You’re as toasty as a fire on a winter afternoon.”
“Sicilian sun will do it, every time.”
“You smell delicious, too,” he said, nuzzling her hair aside and kissing her throat. “What are you wearing?”
Fallon batted her lashes. “An exclusive fragrance, signore. Eau de Sunscreen.”
“Eau de Woman,” Stefano said, laughing as he kissed her mouth again. His hands skimmed over her back, around her ribs and cupped her breasts. “You should take this suit off, cara, and get an all-over tan.”
Fallon caught her breath as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.
“An all-over tan, huh?”
“Yes.” Stefano reached behind her and undid the bra’s clasp. “All in the interests of good health, of course.”
“Of course. Your suggestion couldn’t possibly have anything to do with—” her breath caught as he bent and kissed her naked flesh “—with getting me out of my clothes.”
His laugh was low and incredibly sexy. “And it worked.”
“Brilliantly,” Fallon whispered as she lifted her hips so he could slip off the tiny thong that covered her. “Your turn,” she said, and cupped the hardness of his arousal.
Seconds later, they were both naked and Stefano was deep inside her, and the scents and sighs of their lovemaking drifted languidly on the warm, sea-scented air.
* * *
Afterward, sated, they lay quietly in each other’s arms.
“We should go in,” Fallon said lazily.
“Mmm.” Stefano gathered her closer. “Soon.”
“I have to shower.”
“Mmm.”
She sighed, closed her eyes and snuggled against him. “Want to go for a walk on the beach?”
Stefano ran his hand up and down her back in long, soothing strokes.
“Too much effort.”
She smiled, her lips curving against his throat. “How about me beating you at Scrabble again?”
“You only beat me because you refuse to let me use perfectly acceptable words.”
“‘Qat’ and ‘zuz’ are not words, acceptable or otherwise.”
Stefano laughed, rolled onto his back and drew her on top of him.
“You’re just ticked off because I took you to the cleaners playing poker last night.”
“The least you could have done was told me that was how you’d made your first stake,” Fallon said, trying to sound indignant and failing. It was difficult to sound indignant when you were pressed, naked, against your lover’s sexy body and his hands were gently cupping your bottom.
“I did tell you.”
“Uh-huh. After I’d lost the game. You took advantage of me, Lucchesi.”
Stefano worked at looking wounded. “How about some credit here? We could have been playing strip poker.”
“As if I’d have agreed to that,” Fallon said haughtily, and spoiled the act by nipping at his bottom lip. “Actually, that sounds like fun.”
“Only because you owe me a hundred trillion lire.”
They both grinned. Stefano thought, as he did a dozen times each day, how happy it made him to see her smile. Would she still be smiling after he told her what he had in mind?
“Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “I thought we’d try something different this evening.”
Fallon folded her arms on his chest. “Strip Scrabble?”
He smiled, took a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.
“That’s tempting, cara, but I thought we’d drive into Catania for an early supper.”
She became stiff in his arms. “What for?”
“I told you,” he said patiently, “for an early supper. And I thought you might like to see the shops. There are some little galleries near the harbor—”
“I’m not in the mood for shopping.”
“In that case, we’ll just go in for supper. I made reservations at a little café on the water—”
“No, thank you.”
Fallon tried to roll away from him. Stefano expected it and tightened his arms around her.
“Don’t turn away from me, cara.”
“I’m getting up, that’s all. The sun—”
“The café won’t be crowded early on a weekday evening.”
“How nice,” she said politely.
“A quiet meal, some wine—”
“I said no.”
“Fallon.” He tilted her face to his. “You have to face the world sometime.”
“And what a wonderful way of putting it that is.”
Her tone was bitter but he wasn’t going to let himself be drawn into an argument, not when he’d just spent an hour making calls to New York, dragging his top people out of late dinners and early beds, trying his damnedest to deal with a problem without flying back and handling it in person.
His attempts had been useless. He had to go back, and there wasn’t a way in hell he’d do that before he settled things here.
“You can do this,” he said softly. “And you won’t be alone. I’ll be with you.”
She swung her legs off the recliner and this time, he let her go. She rose, grabbed an oversize towel from the table beside them and wrapped it around her body.
“I’m not going with you. I can’t make it any clearer than that.”
“You are going. I can’t make it any clearer than that.”
Her eyes flashed. “I don’t take orders from you or anybody else.”
Stefano sat up, reached for a towel and wrapped it around his hips. Hell, what a mess he was making of things.
“Let’s start again,” he said carefully. “I don’t want to quarrel over this.”
Fallon nodded. “No.” Her voice was very low; he had to strain to hear it. “Neither do I.”
“Good.” He forced a smile to his lips as he stood up and cupped her shoulders. “Cara. Come to Catania and have supper with me. I know a little restaurant I’m sure you’ll like.”
“I’m sure I would, too,” she said, her smile as false as his, “but I don’t feel like having dinner out. You go. I’ll have supper here.”
Stefano glared at her. So much for trying again. He’d forgotten that she could be as stubborn as she was beautiful.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being practical. You must be going stir-crazy, never going anywhere, never seeing anyone, never doing anything except—”
“This isn’t about me going out and you know it.”
Fallon flashed a bright smile. “Really, I won’t mind. A host doesn’t have to feel housebound just because his guest—”
He cursed, not in Sicilian but in English as pithy as only a man raised in New York could. His fingers bit into her shoulders.
“That’s crap. You’re not my guest.”
“All right. Maybe that’s a little formal.”
“And I’m sure as hell not your host. I’m the man who—”
Who what? He stared at her blankly. This was hardly the time to tell her he loved her. Declarations
of love deserved the softness of moonlight and the scent of roses, not a sun hot enough to be lethal and the smell of chlorine.
Besides, he’d promised himself not to say anything until he was sure she was ready to hear it. In a handful of weeks, Fallon had dealt with a horrendous accident that had changed her life. He wanted to give her time to be whole again.
And he didn’t want her to confuse her feelings for him with gratitude.
Now, he’d almost ruined everything, almost blurted out the most important message of his life with no finesse, no planning, no—