Free A Weekend of Misbehaving by Carmen Falcone

Missing taking care of Cara would be the worst—she’d grown to love her as if she were her own. Almost as much as she loved Brenda. Sadness welled up, and she closed her eyelids to avoid the tears brimming her eyes.
    If anything, the fancy-ass whisky only made her more emotional. Fantastic. The click of the handle prompted her to straighten her shoulders and face the French doors. Lorenzo walked in, his dinner jacket hanging on his shoulder, hair tousled, and shoes in his hand. He dropped the shoes and jacket on a chair and dashed to the bathroom without a glance her way.
    The sound of running water had her sit up. God, this would be awkward. Should she pretend to be asleep? She fluffed the pillow. Nah. That was way too Lifetime Movie.
    What do you want?
    She wanted him. No. Had wanted, until he acted like a grade-A jerk at the beach, blackmailing her into not changing her mind. The en-suite door opened, and a cloud of steam announced his presence. He wore a pair of black pajama bottoms, and her mouth dropped at the sight of his wide chest. Droplets of water that had undoubtedly survived his vigorous towel drying glided down the hair of his pectorals, and she couldn’t stop ogling his taut nipples and washboard abdomen. The patch of hair dusting his olive skin vanished under the waist of his pants. Sweet Jesus.
    He opened the closet and stared at his shirts hanging there before closing it and reaching inside his leather suitcase. Was he looking for a pajama top to put on and deny her that gorgeous view?
    “Is it okay if I take the right side?” she said, lounging on the bed like this was her casual Friday night.
    Lorenzo nodded, rubbing his eyes. Great, so Mr. Selfish was so mad he couldn’t even look at her? And she was drooling over this jerk? Yes.
    She reached for the carafe and poured some water in a glass, which she swallowed faster than she had the whisky. Not even the minty toothpaste had yanked that smoky aftertaste from her throat.
    He turned off the lamp and plopped beside her. The heat from his skin was like an electric force, sending currents to her in waves, each time harder. When she dreamed about going to bed with her boss, this wasn’t it.
    Hell, was Lorenzo Baldi one more thing she couldn’t have? One more college? One more career? One more regular, semi-decent boyfriend? One more healthy sister?
    She flipped to her side, facing away from him. Her cute pajama top burned on her skin, and she undid one button, anxious for a breeze to sweep in and save her from overheating. His leathery scent teased her nostrils, and she scooted to the very edge of the bed, her foot pushing out the sheet. One more inch and she’d face-plant on the floor.
    The mattress shifted beneath her, and she could tell he was also fidgeting. Great. Sharing a bed with Lorenzo, the nearness of his body, triggered a tingle of excitement that rushed through her.
    “Alice.” His voice cut through the room. “There’s still a lot we need to talk about. I apologize for being abrasive at the beach. I’m not good at this stuff.”
    She cleared her throat. “Really? I thought being abrasive came naturally to you.”
    “I mean apologizing. You are very important to me. I lost my cool,” he said, and she could kick herself for sucking in her breath. Apologizing wasn’t his forte, sure, but what kind of idiot was she? Her bones were almost melting under his statement that she mattered to him.
    “Why did you lose your cool?” she asked, deciding not to let him off the hook so easily. “I understand this situation is stressful, but you acted like a real prick back there. Why?”
    A hissing sound cut the silence, like he was sucking air through his teeth.
    “You can’t stand me, right? You can’t stand the fact you kissed me at the grotto,” she said, and slapped her forehead with her palm. What the fuck, Alice? Why did you just say that?
    “Oh, I can stand you. What’s killing me is just how much I can stand you…and how