Free Murder Under the Italian Moon by Maria Grazia Swan Page B

daughter." I hadn't heard him approach.
    "I didn't know you had a daughter."
    "Yes, there's a lot you don't know about me. We have all the time you want. Ask away."
    "Olivia," I repeated. "She lives with you?"
    "Sometimes. Right now she's backpacking through Europe with a friend." He pointed to the baby grand. "That's hers."
    "You're divorced?"
    "No."
    "Married?" I wanted to die the minute I asked—before hearing the assumed answer.
    "No. It happened in college. We both knew we made a mistake, but we decided to keep the baby. We have a friendly relationship and joint custody. Olivia's mother lives in Florida with her husband of fifteen years. How about I take that dish before your fingers freeze?"
    I handed him the food and walked away. I didn't want to be here, in his house. I wanted to go home. I wanted the home-turf advantage. Home-turf advantage for what? I walked to the massive window, where I could see the lawn and the fountain we passed driving up to the house. Outside that circle of light I saw only darkness.
    "I have quite a view by daylight." He stood behind me and again. I hadn't heard him coming. Was he barefooted? I turned to glance at his feet, and my head hit the stem glass in his hand. He reacted quickly, so the wine spilled on the wooden floor instead of his shirt.
    "I'm so sorry."
    "You should be. It's your glass. Mine is over there." He smiled at me.
    "Where can I get a rag to clean up?" I found it difficult to talk, embarrassment flooding my brain.
    "Lella, a few drops of wine isn't going to ruin the floor. Forget about it. Let's sit down, relax and enjoy our drinks until the food is ready." He took my hand and walked me over to the linen couch. I envisioned myself spilling wine on the white cover.
    "The slipcover is machine washable."
    "I'm going home." I didn't have the pluck to look at him. "Where did I put my purse?"
    I moved slightly and he stood. "Lella." He put his hand on my shoulder.
    "Don't touch me." I pushed him with both fists. He fell back on the couch and I fell with him, my face inches from his. We looked at each other, my furor to his coolness, my transparency to his secrecy, my insecurity to his boldness. Our mouths locked and none of it mattered. Like in the car, tasting his lips, I felt more urgency.
    His body slid from the couch to the floor, taking me with him. His erection pressing against my belly aroused my lust to the point of physical pain. I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed myself away from him. I savored the wetness of our kiss, inhaled the scent of his aftershave and the scent of his skin.
    His hands traveled the length of my body, reached my elbows and gently nudged me away. We looked at each other without smiling, the want in his eyes as heady as the need I felt. He moved so that we lay side by side, facing each other. I didn't want any space between us. I wanted my body against his. I kicked off my shoes without changing position and locked my legs around his, drawing him even closer. The fabric from his slacks felt warm and soft and I found myself stroking the cloth, back and forth, with my toes.
    He cupped my face in his hands, tilted my head back and brushed my throat with his lips. Eyes closed, I felt his fingers move under my dress, forcing it off my shoulders. When he unhooked the front clasp my bra slid off my hard nipples. It occurred to me in that instant that I used to fantasize and hope, without much conviction, about finding passion and desire again, at least once, before getting too old to care. Here I was, drowning in passion and desire, the need for sex so strong my whole body quivered in anticipation.
    I pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants without undoing his belt and began to unbutton it. I was a woman on a mission, and I soon had him out of the garment. I put my hands on his belt buckle, hesitated an instant and then moved to the zipper. His hands beat me to it. I heard his shoes hit the floor and when I opened my eyes he was totally naked