Run To Rome
The lump in Trent’s throat grew painfully large as he stared at the top of her head in astonishment. He could name on one hand the number of people he knew who might’ve recognized what he needed and then offered it without hesitation. Hell, he hadn’t even known how bad he needed this simple comfort until her warmth surrounded him.
Nothing could’ve kept his arms from closing tight around her. He turned his head to rest his cheek on the top of her head and held on for dear life.
Time stood still until she finally whispered, “I’m sorry, Trent.”
“For what?” The question barely scraped past the emotion clogging his throat.
“Your brother. Your friend. What happened back at your villa.”
“None of it’s your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.” Her heartfelt words stirred the hair on his chest.
His arms clenched for a moment, then he relaxed his hold and looked down. She lifted her chin. Long dark lashes rose, revealing deep blue eyes moist with unshed tears. He drank in the compassionate understanding in her shimmering gaze, and in the space of a heartbeat, their moment of companionship transformed into something more.
Air locked in his lungs. Her lips beckoned, parting with a soft intake of breath. Earlier desire surged forward, heating his blood faster than a shot of whiskey or glass of wine. It went deeper than simple lust, unlike anything he’d experienced before.
Because Halli was unlike any woman he’d ever known—and she proved it when he leaned down in anticipation of their second kiss of the day. Instead of melting into his embrace and giving him everything he wanted, she pushed against his chest and stepped back.
A growl of frustrated yearning rumbled in his throat when her palm broke contact with his flushed skin. Her lashes lowered again, sweeping against rosy cheeks.
Suddenly her eyes widened and she spun around. “Um…you need to take over the controls.”
Oh, he’d love to take control. Lose himself and the rest of the world in her. But she headed topside so fast he was forced to call after her, “I’ll be right up.”
His entire body hummed with suppressed awareness, some places a hell of a lot more insistent than others. Maybe it was a good thing she distanced herself. With his heightened emotions, and the bed a mere step away, any encouragement from her would’ve spun things out of control in record time. She may be different, but he was still just a man.
Trent reached for the button on his jeans in the interest of comfort only to discover it was already undone and the zipper half down from before. No wonder she’d run the other direction.
With a wry twist of his lips, he pulled out a pair of boxer briefs, cotton shorts and a T-shirt from a drawer built into the wall next to the bed. On second thought, he exchanged the T-shirt for a short sleeved button down shirt so he could slide it over the bandage. He left the shirt undone, tossed his blood-stained, wet jeans over the tiny shower rod in the head, and went up to see where she’d stopped the boat.
Halli avoided looking at him as he powered back up and nudged the bow north. A few minutes later, he pointed out the cluster of lights hugging the dark shoreline ahead and to their right. “That’s Bellagio.”
“So what do we do now?”
“A friend of mine has a place up here where we can dock for the night.”
“We’re not staying at their house, are we?” Dismay colored her tone. “I’m really not up to facing strangers right about now.”
“It’s okay, we’ll stay on the boat. George is on vacation in France, anyway.”
“George?” Sudden interest raised her voice an octave. “Clooney?”
“No, not Clooney.” He felt the beginnings of a frown. “I suppose you’ve seen his stuff.”
“Of course; I love his movies. Do you know where his place is on the lake?”
Her hopeful question triggered unexpected annoyance. “He’s on location until September, so forget it.”
“Chill out.” She sat back in her seat, arms crossed. “I was only going to ask if we could drive past.”
“He lives down in Laglio, near Como, and we’re not going back that way.”
“Fine. Sorry I even mentioned it.”
Of course she’d seen Clooney’s movies. Trent knew he shouldn’t care if she didn’t watch his movies, yet his ego growled in protest. He clamped his jaw tight and tried to forget the whole subject as he’d ordered her to.
A few hundred yards shy of the peninsula of the inverted Y of the lake, he eased the Scappare alongside George’s long dock with it’s yacht and motor boat for water skiing. He cut the engine and maneuvered the cruiser behind the other vessels. Halli jumped onto the dock before he could voice the request forming on his tongue. He tossed out the mooring rope and she secured the stern, then they both moved to the bow.