The Real Rio D'Aquila

She was going to love the villa.

He hadn’t been there in a long time. He’d been too busy, making deals and making money. A housekeeper and grounds keeper came by every couple of weeks to keep things organized.

And he’d never taken a woman there.

That was another good thing. A very good thing. Mustique would be about fresh starts. And honesty.

It would also be about being in a place where he could take Isabella out to some small, intimate café for dinner. Hold her in his arms as they moved to slow music on a tiny dance floor. Behave like real people. And any time, in the cool of the house or the heat of the sun, they could go into each other’s arms and make love.

And then …

A muscle flickered in Rio’s jaw.

Then, when the time was right, he’d admit everything.

That he had not been—not been completely forthright with her but then, this had begun as a clever game.

How could he possibly have known it would turn into something else?

Isabella, his Isabella, would understand. He was certain of it. She wasn’t a prima donna. Okay, she might be a little miffed at first but once she got over the shock, she’d laugh along with him at how he’d dug the hole he’d made for himself deeper and deeper.

She would, wouldn’t she?

Wouldn’t she?

“What a long face!”

Rio jumped. Isabella was standing beside him, smiling.

“A long face, and before you’ve tasted my cooking!”

She had two plates in her hands. Rio shot to his feet and took them from her. He smiled, leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Everything looks perfect,” he said.

Perfect eggs, perfect bacon, perfect toast …

Perfect woman, he thought, and his heart did something it had never done before.

It soared.

They were almost at the airport when he told her what his “surprise” was.

Isabella looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“We’re flying to where?”

“Mustique. It’s an island—”

“—in the Caribbean. I get that. But—but I can’t just—just do something so—so outrageous on the spur of the moment!”

“That’s what doing things on the spur of the moment is all about,” Rio said, steering around a pickup truck loaded with crates of lettuce. “If it’s not outrageous, what’s the point?”

She stared at him. There was truth in that, if you were into doing outrageous things, but—

“But?” he said, and flashed her a smile. “I can hear the but from here, sweetheart.”

“But,” she said, “I can’t.”

“Because?”

“Well, because—because I have commitments.”

“What commitments?”

What, indeed? Or maybe the question was, what commitment could possibly supercede the sheer joy of flying to an island in the sun with her lover? Her gorgeous, sexy, amazing lover.

“Well—well, I’m supposed to have lunch with Anna.”

Rio reached into the pocket of his blue chambray shirt, took out his cell phone and handed it to her.

“Call her. Tell her you can’t make it.”

“I’m supposed to return her—” Isabella sucked in her breath. “Oh, boy. I’m supposed to return her car.”

“Ah. The car. Right. I almost forgot that. Where’d you have the accident? Can you give me some kind of location?”

“No, not really. I just … Wait. There was a field of corn on my right.”

Based on what he knew of the area, that narrowed things down to something like a zillion square miles.

“How about some visual clue? A house. A store. A sign.”

“A sign,” she said eagerly. “I passed it maybe five minutes before the car drove off the road.”

“Uh-huh,” Rio said, trying not to laugh. “Can you remember what it said?”

She frowned. “A man’s name. James. Jack. Jeffrey.” She snapped her fingers. “Jonas,” she said happily. “Jonas’s Organic Vegetables. ”

“Excellent. Call Anna, then give me the phone. I’ll call—”

He’d almost said he’d call his caretaker. “I’ll call a service station and arrange to have the car towed.”

“But Anna—”

Rio checked his mirrors and pulled his truck onto the shoulder of the road. He undid his seat belt, reached over, cupped Isabella’s face with his hands and gave her a long, deep kiss.

“I want us to be alone,” he said gruffly. “In a place that’s entirely mine.” He stroked a curl from her temple. “If that’s what you want, call your sister. If it isn’t—” He took a deep breath. “If it isn’t, I’ll drive you back to the city, right now.”

Isabella could feel her pulse racing.

This was crazy.

All of it.

And she didn’t do crazy things.

She was not the driven-to-succeed type like Anna. She was not a walk-the-tightrope-over-the-chasm daredevil like her brothers. She was—she was Izzy, who liked to plant things and watch them grow. She was steady and nurturing.

Except, she wasn’t only that Izzy anymore.

She was also Isabella, a woman sexually and emotionally awakened. A woman who had found a man who made her heartbeat rise into the stratosphere. Life had handed her a gift. It was something that probably would never come her way again.

“Isabella?” Matteo, her wonderful lover, looked deep into her eyes. “Am I taking you to the city, or to Mustique?”

Isabella took a steadying breath and punched Anna’s number into the cell phone.

One ring. Two. Four and then, at last, Anna’s voice, husky with sleep.

“Hello?”

“Anna. It’s me. Izzy.”

“Izzy? What time is it?” Anna’s voice sharpened. Isabella could picture her getting a look at the clock, then sitting upright in bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just—I just called to tell you I can’t meet you for lunch.”

“Why not?” A pause, and then Anna’s voice hardened. “Isabella. Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why should anything be wrong? I told you, I can’t—”

There was mumbling in the background. Isabella rolled her eyes. Wonderful. Anna’s husband, Draco, was awake now, too.

“No,” Anna said, “it’s just Izzy.”

It’s just Izzy. Isabella reached across the truck’s console and felt Matteo’s warm, strong hand clasp hers.

“Also,” she said, “I wrecked your car.”

“Ohmygod! Izzy! You’re not all right! You’re in the hospital. Where? I can be there in—”

“Anna,” Isabella said, “will you listen to me? The car’s a mess. I’m fine.”

“Not fine,” Matteo said softly, lifting her hand to his lips. “You’re perfect.”

“Izzy? Who is that? You’re with someone. A man? Izzy? Are you with a—”

“I am,” Isabella said, her breath catching as Matteo sucked her finger into the heat of his mouth. “I am with a man. I’ve been with him since yesterday. And I’m going to spend the weekend—”

“The week,” Matteo murmured. To hell with returning to the city by Wednesday.

“And I’m going to spend the week with him.”

Silence. Then she could hear Anna drag in a deep breath.

“Iz. Remember when I phoned you from Rome that time? And I asked you if you remember Psych 101, that stuff about fantasizing sex with a stranger?”

Isabella looked at her lover. She held up a finger, opened the door and stepped onto the grass.

“I do, indeed,” she said calmly.

“Remember the rest of what you said?” Anna’s voice rose. “About fantasizing sex with a stranger? A dark and dangerous stranger? You warned me against it. You warned me!”

“And you really listened,” Isabella said with saccharine sweetness.

“Isabel

la. Damnit, when did you meet this man? Where? What do you know about him? For God’s sake, Iz—”

“When did you meet Draco? What did you know about him? As I recall, you fell into bed with him, what, a couple of hours after you set eyes on each other.”

“I am not going to discuss that with you,” Anna said coldly. “Besides, that was different.”

Isabella laughed. “Really?”