Free Always by Celia Juliano Page A

their word, that was a value Grandpa Frank had taught her, one she’d tended to forget as she’d grown up. She’d gotten used to men—in business and personal life—who played games, manipulated, not men who could be trusted. She’d learned to question every statement, consider the angles, the hidden meanings and agendas.
    “No thanks. I can walk. It’s all downhill from here.”
    “In those shoes?” He pointed to her three-inch red heels. “I’ll give you a ride. It’s on my way to work.”
    He shrugged on a shirt. The fun was over. Gina hunched and picked up her dress and underwear. They both dressed in silence.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
    Vincente shoved on his workboots. He turned to Gina. Tensing his body, he ignored the shooting heat blasting through him. Her red dress brought out some sort of sparkle in her skin and hair, which were, alone, enough to make him lose his mind. And he had, the way he’d been acting. Get it together.
    “Ready?” he said.
    She nodded, pouting a little. She must be used to getting her own way. Though not with her family, it seemed. But she’d been out on her own for years, and she could bring a man to his knees with a flip of her hair. He swallowed and held the door for her. Her ass switched back and forth in a mesmerizing dance. He shook his head and moved his gaze to the long hall. Paintings of the family villa and the surrounding town hung along the yellowy-cream walls. Plush Mediterranean blue carpet lined the floors, all the colors echoing those in the paintings.
    “Pretty paintings.” Gina waved a hand. “They look like the ones in Enzo’s living room and foyer. Is it somewhere significant?”
    “Uncle Enzo and Grandpop grew up there.” She must know that, since Gina’s late grandfather and his generation of D’Angelos had been from a neighboring town.
    “Have you been?” Gina turned at the landing and started down the stairs.
    “Just once.” After his late wife, Marie, had died, he’d needed to get away. He’d gotten away all right, retreated into a safe, if sedate, dwelling, his own private shelter in his mind, and heart…He used to think it was a respite, a retreat, but now…what he thought had sheltered him from emotional storms had closed him off to the excitement, the pleasure found in a woman like Gina. And not just the pleasure of her body, but her spontaneity, her passion. She made him feel…revitalized, energized.
    “Is that where Enzo’s great-nephew Lorenzo is?”
    “Yeah.” Was she keeping tabs on everyone in his family? He shook his head. Her suspiciousness was affecting him. Probably Celeste or Sophia had mentioned it to her.
    “Must be nice.”
    She didn’t sound nice, so Vincente didn’t comment. Gina couldn’t be the one for him. He didn’t need a woman who had a problem with his family, and who seemed to just be using him for sex, and maybe information. That wasn’t the kind of relationship he was looking for. But he hurt for the possibility of a chance with her even though his mind told him she was all wrong for him. Something in him wanted to keep seeing her, keep feeling this new energy in him. His body felt light, but grounded, like at the beginning of a great workout. But better than that.
    She waited at the bottom of the stairs. Clattering—probably Marcella doing dishes—came from the kitchen.
    “Stay here,” Vincente said, knowing Gina didn’t want anyone to see her. He opened the door to the main part of the house and checked down the front hall. “Come on,” he called. She hurried down the hall, her curves jiggling. He really had to get to work. A distraction from Gina, and the feelings she conjured in him, was needed.
    He held the front door for her. Then he led her to where his truck was parked. He helped her up, trying not to actually touch her. Hopping into the driver’s seat, he started up the truck, pressed the automatic gate, and pulled out.
    The sun was obscured by grey clouds and low-lying