Angelina had difficulty figuring out who Luke was talking about at first, so distracted was she by his warm lips burning against the pulse near the column of her neck. Electrical pulses ricocheted throughout her body.
Then she came back to reality. She did not have two sexy men making advances at her. This was just a show for Allen. She’d do well to remember that. She’d almost expected him to kiss her a moment ago. Angelina pulled away reluctantly, took a deep breath, and got back into character. She chalked her stick and sashayed to the opposite side of the table, leaned forward to give Allen the full rear view Luke had enjoyed moments ago, and lined up a nearly impossible bank shot.
Marc kicked their performance up another notch by following her around the table. Just as she prepared to strike the cue ball, she felt the heat of his body behind her seconds before he pressed his pelvis against her hips and leaned his entire chest over her back.
“Would you like me to show you how to make that shot, bella?” he whispered, his whiskers tickling her ear.
Mustering every ounce of strength she could to keep from melting into a puddle under him, Angelina wiggled her hips, feeling a definite bulge against her butt. Mio Dio, it was heating up in here! A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts.
“Not to worry, Marc. I can’t miss.” Where had that bravado come from? She took a deep breath and gave it her best shot, despite being pressed under the steel-hard muscles of one of the two sexiest men she’d ever met.
Mio Dio, yes! She stood and faced them. “And that, boys, is how it’s done.”
“Hot damn, Angel. That took skill, given the distraction you had to deal with.”
Angelina saw an expression of envy on Luke’s face before he smiled to mask it. The man had missed his calling. He should have been a theatre major. Extricating herself from Marc, she set up her next shot. This should be the last. She wished the game didn’t have to end so soon.
When she checked the trajectory of the ball, Luke placed his hands around her waist and turned her to face him. Her heart thudded against his chest. She looked up at him, a mixture of uncertainty and excitement quivering in her belly.
Angelina reminded herself to breathe as he bent down and brushed his lips across hers. She sucked in a shallow breath and Luke teased his tongue between her lips. Not deep, bold strokes. Just playful forays. Her lips tingled deliciously.
No one had ever kissed her in such a playful way before. She felt her insides clench, followed by a throbbing in her clit. Too soon, he pulled away, but the wink he gave her reminded her that this was all an act for Allen. She forced a smile to her lips and tamped down her disappointment. This roller coaster ride of emotional highs and lows was exhausting her.
“Your move, cara,” Marc reminded her.
She turned to him and saw another hint of jealousy. They both were very good at playing up the rivalry bit. But tonight was only make-believe. A fairy tale. She didn’t really have two men vying for her affections.
Not really feeling as interested in the game as before, she returned her attention to the table, took what should have been an easy shot, and missed.
Angelina stepped back to let Luke have access to the table and to put some distance between both of them so she could catch her breath. Even though it was just for show, having two men strumming her like a mandolina felt good for her ego. If Allen had been half as attentive toward her, maybe she’d have let him do whatever he wanted sexually—her four overprotective brothers be damned.
No, she had to admit Allen had never turned her on like this. He’d just been…safe. Or so she and her brothers had thought. Wondering what it was she’d seen in him, she glanced toward his table and found him watching her. The expression on his face scared her. Lust, sure. But a seething anger simmered just below the surface. She shuddered.
Stunned at the vehemence in his expression, she turned away, only half watching as Luke cleared the table of every remaining solid, including the eight ball.
Feeling sad that the game was over, in more ways than one, she went to the wall and hung up her stick. “Well played, Luke,” she said.
Having Marc’s body pressed against her and Luke’s tongue playing with her lips had shaken her to the core. If she’d been alone with either man, she wouldn’t have told him to stop. Before she embarrassed herself by asking for something they weren’t interested in, she’d best remember this was all a show.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, she walked back to the booth. Her feet hurt again. Funny how sometimes she didn’t notice them at all. She guessed it depended on her focus. Luke passed her on the way to the men’s room and she saw Marc head over to the bar, probably to order more drinks.
No sooner had she sat down than a familiar voice said, “Angie, it’s good to see you out tonight. How’ve you been?”
Angelina’s lungs constricted. She’d known Allen would approach her at some point tonight, but weariness had lowered her defenses. Taking as deep a breath as she could, she faced the man who had tried to break her, as he had put it that night during the flogging.
“Fine.” She hoped the chill in her voice conveyed to him he wasn’t wanted here. She looked at him, wondering why she’d dated him so long. His blond hair and tanned skin gave the appearance of an outdoor enthusiast, but she knew he paid for his tan at a salon across town. His hawkish gaze once made her insides quiver, she thought because of sexual attraction. Now the fierceness in his expression only caused her to shrink away in revulsion. He intimidated her, as much as she hated to admit it. Her hands began to shake. The man had shattered Angelina’s trust and taken advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. Unforgivable.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get a moment alone with you.”
“What do you want, Allen?” When she heard her voice quaver, she took a deep breath and continued, “I have nothing to say to you. Not that you’d listen to me anyway.” She’d always believe he’d ignored her safe word. No way had she left the word unspoken.
“Look, honey, that night…you just misunderstood…”
“Oh, I understood perfectly, Allen. For days afterward. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Dismissing him, she picked up her wineglass and drained it. Her heart pounded so loudly, she was certain he could hear.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Allen’s hand coming toward her, but before she could even jump back, a bigger hand with long, slim fingers grabbed his wrist in midair.
“You heard the lady,” Marc said.
Allen yanked his hand out of Marc’s grip, glaring at him. She felt the intensity of his hatred, but Marc never flinched. Allen took a step back.
“If you ever put your hands on her again, I’ll break them,” Marc didn’t so much make a threat as a promise.
Allen stood up straighter, coming short of Marc’s height by half a foot. His gaze shot daggers at the taller man, then gave him the once over. “Do I know you?”
“Doubt it.”
Marc grinned at him in an almost deadly way. The level of testosterone around her had reached critical mass. Someone was going to get hurt. And, as much as she detested Allen and knew he would come out on the short end, so to speak, she didn’t want Rico to have any trouble with the law at his bar.
“Marc…”
Allen looked down at her. “If I’d known you were into threesomes, Angie…”
She winced, but before she could form a response, Marc’s hand snaked out and grabbed him by the throat.
“Apologize to the lady before I mess up that face you seem so fond of.” His voice remained calm, but lethal.
Angelina’s heart raced as Marc held him. Allen sputtered for air, his face turning red, eyes bulging from a lack of blood to the head. Eventually, he held up his hands in defeat and Marc released his hold on his throat…somewhat.
“Hey, guys, I don’t want any trouble in here,” Rico said. Angelina hadn’t seen him approach them, so focused was she on Allen and Marc. “Allen, I think you need to leave.”
“Not yet,” Marc said, his voice as smooth as pulled taffy. “He owes Angelina an apology.”
“Marc, it’s not necessary…” Please just let him go away. She didn’t handle confrontation very well, especially public ones. Luke slid into the booth and sat across from her. When her hands began to shake, he took both between his and held them tight. She smiled her thanks, her lips quivering.
“Oh, it is quite necessary, cara.” Marc’s gaze captured hers and she felt her heart jump into her throat. Though outwardly calm, his eyes were spitting fire. Thankfully, his rage wasn’t directed at her. “No man speaks that way to a lady.”
Marc’s gaze returned to Allen, who straightened his shirt where Marc had crumpled the collar in his hands. He kept his focus in Marc’s direction. “I’m sorry, Angie.”
“Don’t tell me,” Marc said. He nodded his head in her direction. “Tell her.”
Angelina’s face burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Marc. Something warmed in the pit of her stomach as he defended her. He’d come to her rescue. She couldn’t ignore how incredibly turned on she was now.
“I’m sorry for what I said, Angie.”
Angelina refused to even look at the weasel. She nodded, “Apology accepted,” but her gaze remained fixed on Marc’s.
“Now, get the hell out of here. If you ever come near her again…” Marc began, and then let Allen use his own imagination. When the bastard didn’t move away fast enough, Marc took a step toward him and Allen stepped back.
“Come on, Allen,” Rico said. “Get your date and leave.”
When he’d gone, Marc sat down beside her. He winced, then shifted and pulled her hair clip from his pocket, handing it to her. “I believe this is yours.”
How did he just turn off all that power in an instant? Now that the confrontation had ended, Angelina began shaking even more. Marc wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his side. She laid her head in the crook of his arm and shoulder.
“Shhhh. It’s over.”
Angelina froze, transported back once more to the words spoken by her dream lover. Had that been a premonition for meeting Marc? Was this predestined? No, the scene in her dream was nothing like this one. Her angel-man-wolf held her in his arms on a loveseat, probably at the same club at which Allen had beaten her. She shuddered as she remembered how she’d barely been able to function for days, and almost lost a client as a result.
Given what she’d learned about deep subspace on the Internet, maybe the dream was just part of a hallucination when her mind and body had separated. She’d created the Dom she wanted. Karla told her a dungeon monitor had found her in time. If not, she could have had serious hallucinations and other problems while her mind and body remained separated.
Like Marc, the man in her dreams was Northern Italian and the two often spoke the same words verbatim. Was it cultural? Or was Marc a Dom, as well? She hoped not. She’d had enough dominant men to last a lifetime. She tried to conjure up an image of the elusive dream man’s face. All she’d really see were a mouth and a square chin. Right now, she was too exhausted to sit up and compare Marc’s chin with that of her dream lover’s. She felt so incredibly safe in Marc’s arms that wanted to stay here forever. Angelina relaxed against him even more.
Rico came back to the booth. “You okay, Angie?” She nodded, but didn’t pull away from Marc, or even open her eyes.
“I think the lady could use something a little stronger than wine,” Luke ordered.
“I’ve got just the thing.”
When the margarita was placed in front of her a few moments later, Luke leaned over and held it to her lips. “Here, Angel. Drink.”
Angel. Was that an endearment or just a shortened version of her name? She let him hold the glass as she drank, but the act was over, wasn’t it? She took the glass from him and drained it, then sputtered as it burned from her throat to her stomach.
Luke laughed. “Whoa, you might regret that come morning.”
“She earned it,” Marc said, then turned his attention to her and whispered. “You were so brave.”
Her heart swelled at the familiar words. She searched his eyes. Green. Why did she think her angel-man-wolf’s eyes were the same color? She really couldn’t remember, though. The images were vague.
“I’m sorry he insulted you guys like that,” Angelina said. “I don’t want to go into what we broke up over, but…”
Marc grew serious and cupped her chin and jaw, lifting her face to meet his gaze. The pulse in her neck beat against his fingertips. Surely he must feel it. She pulled away.
Marc’s eyes furrowed as if hurt by her retreat, then he smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for, and I know exactly what he…is.” He seemed to be about to say something else before correcting himself.
Angelina tried to smile at them both for being so supportive, but couldn’t ignor her disappointment. With Allen’s departure from the bar, her magical evening with them would come to an end. She looked at Marc, then Luke. Both radiated concern about her well-being. Well, they were search-and-rescue workers, after all. And they’d certainly rescued her from Allen.
“Thanks so much for being here for me tonight. Despite how it’s ending, I had a wonderful time.” She reached for her shawl and purse.
“Who says the evening must end, cara?”
“I do. You’re both gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
Luke smiled. “Wish all our rescue missions were this much fun.”
“We have no desire for this evening to end either,” Marc assured her.
“That’s kind of you to say,” she began, “but if I’m going to prepare that feast I promised tomorrow night, I’m going to have to get to the farmer’s market early in the morning.”
Marc pointed to her empty margarita and two wineglasses. “One thing you will not be doing tonight, cara, is driving home.”
She smiled at his overprotective attitude. “No worries. I walked.”
“Well, then, we’ll take you home, Angel.” Luke reached in his pocket for his keys as Rico approached the table, his damned “big brother” notebook in hand.
“Fellas, can I have a word with you?”
Man, how’d he know what they were talking about? Italian radar, she guessed. Angelina sighed. “Now, Rico, don’t go all big brother on me.”
He grinned, but didn’t budge. “Can I see some IDs?”
“Beg pardon?” Luke asked.
“Rico!” Angelina rolled her eyes, but she knew from experience there was no way to get an Italian big brother—even a surrogate one—to back down once he got all overprotective.
“I just want them both to know that I’ll be checking up on you later tonight. If you’re not okay, I’ll be reporting them to the police.”
Marc reached for his wallet, laughing. “It’s fine, cara. I would want no less for my sister.” Why did his thinking of her like a sister bother her so much, when she didn’t even want a relationship with him or any other man at the moment?
Luke reached for his wallet, as well, and both men laid their driver’s licenses on the table long enough for Rico to jot down their information into his notebook.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up to her curb. She said goodnight to Luke in the SUV. Marc cupped her elbow as he helped her out of the vehicle and escorted her up the short sidewalk to the porch of her bungalow rental. The evening air was chilly, but her pulse thrummed, warming her blood. Okay, the margarita might have helped, too. Not to mention the hot body walking beside her.
When she missed the top step in those damned shoes, Marc caught her in his arms before she fell and spun her toward him, pressing her against his hard body. The contact with her thighs and breasts triggered a red alert throughout her body.
Careful, Angie. This man could break your heart.
She stepped out of his arms, but her body swayed toward him with a will of its own. Oh, man. She backed toward the door and opened her handbag. She hated to send him on his way tonight and didn’t want to analyze why his leaving disappointed her.
“Thanks for seeing me home, Marc. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner. Sevenish. Come hungry.” She looked up at his eyes, which crinkled with a smile. “I can’t thank you and Luke enough for all the rescuing you did tonight.
“It was you who rescued us, cara—from yet another dull night in a strange town.”
Marc leaned closer, sending all thoughts from her head. Her heartbeat accelerated, leaving her gasping for her next breath. She opened her mouth to draw in more air just as his firm lips captured hers and all thoughts, happy or otherwise, fled her brain. His kiss was gentle, teasing. He nibbled at her lower lip, but didn’t force himself inside.
One hand slid behind her to support her back, stroking her bare skin through the keyhole opening. She placed her hand against the back of his head and hoped he would deepen the kiss. At first, he seemed to grow tense. Just when she thought he would pull away, Marc’s warm tongue delved into her mouth, causing a delicious heaviness to settle in her pelvis.
For the first time in her life, there was toe-curling—just the kind she’d read about in her novels.
Too bad someone wasn’t supporting her legs, because they were about to give out. As if he’d heard her thought, he pressed her against the doorjamb, holding her upright with his hard body. Angelina wrapped both arms around his neck to hang on for dear life. The curling sensation moved to the pit of her stomach, then burst like fireworks, causing her nipples to swell and an insistent throbbing to begin at the juncture of her thighs.
Just when she knew she wouldn’t be able to deny him anything tonight, he pulled away. His breathing was harsh and erratic.
“Sleep well, angelo mio.”
Drawing a ragged breath, she tamped down the feeling of regret. Intellectually, she knew this was for the best. Thank God at least one of them had self-control.
When she just stood there panting and staring up at him, Marc chuckled. “Let me unlock the door for you, pet.” When she didn’t move, he took her handbag and retrieved her key.
Pet. Her dream lover had used that endearment. Well, as endearments went, it was lousy. An independent woman like herself should have been offended by his calling her pet. So why did the word cause butterflies to flutter in her stomach? If he was a Dom, she should be running far and fast. But one thing she knew for certain—at this moment, she would have submitted to him if he’d asked. Maybe not for kinky BDSM play, but definitely for sex.
Thrown completely off balance, she continued to lean against the doorframe for support as he unlocked and opened the door. Being a possible Dom was bad enough. The man also was a D’Alessio. So out of her league. And Luke? She’d been ready to fall at his feet when he kissed her at the pool table.
What was the matter with her tonight? Was she just sex starved?
So, how had she gone from wanting no man to wanting two? Despite what Allen had insinuated, she didn’t do threesomes.
Oh, Angie, who said anything about a threesome? Get the hell inside before you embarrass yourself.
“Well, um, good night, Marc.” Her words sounded rushed, breathless, and lame, but before she changed her mind and dragged him inside with her, she scurried into the living room and closed the door behind her. Breathing a lungful of lavender-scented air to replenish the oxygen his nearness had deprived her brain of, she leaned her forehead against the door and sighed.
“Lock the door, cara,” he whispered.
A tingling danced down her spine as if he’d whispered a sexual command against her ear. Like “kneel, cara.” She grinned, then turned the deadbolt and locked the doorknob.
Marc chuckled. “Good night, bella.” Then she heard his footsteps cross the wooden planks of the porch. Moments later, the car ignition turned over and they drove away.
Tomorrow they both would be inside her house for the dinner they had earned. Then she realized that Marc hadn’t kissed her just now as a show for Allen.
Mio Dio! What was she getting herself into?
* * *
Angelina applied lip gloss and pressed her lips together, then stepped back from the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it, but the white Manoush party dress hid her wide hips. Twirling to hear the swish of the petticoat, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. Returning to the closet, she slipped into the stilettos, knowing they were sexy as hell. At least she wouldn’t have to walk much in them tonight.
Time to get the bruschetta ready. The guys should be here within the next half hour. The smells of Nonna’s kitchen permeated the rooms of her tiny bungalow, transporting her to summer nights in Marsala, Sicily.
Angelina made her way back to the kitchen where she’d prepared many of her family’s favorites, hoping Marc and Luke would enjoy them, as well. Judging by how snug the waistline of this dress fit, she wouldn’t be able to eat much tonight herself.
Her stomach knotted every time she thought about Marc’s kiss last night, which had left her aching for something more. Her defenses had crumbled like a fortress of cards, her conviction that she was finished with men buried in the rubble. Luke’s kiss during the pool game had sent similar thoughts into her mind. But that was just for show.
Dressed like this, she certainly didn’t look like she was planning to put the brakes on whatever either of them wanted. Thoughts of their hands on her body sent a flush to her face.
She spread her homemade roasted garlic and golden tomatoes onto the slices of bread and heard the doorbell ring as she drizzled it with imported olive oil. A quick glance at the wall clock showed it was only six-thirty-five. They’d come early. She smiled at their eagerness. She’d serve them a glass of wine while she finished up in the kitchen. At least she was dressed. After rinsing and drying her hands, she nervously smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. Her heart raced in anticipation before she even reached the door.
Knowing who she’d find there, she opened it without checking first and came face-to-face with Allen instead. Her heart plummeted. Talk about a letdown. He smiled an insipid smirk. Funny she hadn’t noticed what a weak mouth he had before.
“Angie, you look gorgeous.”
Looking around his shoulder toward the curb, she hoped to see Marc and Luke pulling up. No such luck. She turned her attention back to the unwanted man standing in her doorway and willed her voice to remain calm. “Allen, I’m expecting company.”
A shadow crossed over his face and his smile faded. “Those guys from the bar?”
“None of your business. I really don’t have time to talk now.”
She moved to close the door on him, but he shoved it out of the way, forcing himself inside. Caught off balance, she retreated a step or two, trying to regain her equilibrium on the wobbly stilettos.
“Get out, Allen! I told you I don’t want you anywhere near me again.”
His gaze roamed over her, making her feel dirty from head to heel. “You let those two men paw all over you last night, but you barely let me touch you in seven months. Then when I do, you get all hysterical.”
Angelina’s heart pounded as warning bells went off in her head. The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t going to take a simple “get lost” for an answer. Something in his face wasn’t right. She tried to remember the lessons her brothers had taught her about fighting off overly amorous boyfriends, but she’d never really had to use them before. Most guys respected her “no” as a no.
“Allen, leave now or I’m calling 911.”
If I can remember where I put my damned cell phone.
He reached out and trailed a finger across her bare shoulder. She cringed, and pulled away from his cold fingers, her stomach churning. “You were so gorgeous on the St. Andrew’s. I can’t wait to see you there again. Only this time, I’ll make it even better for you.”
Mio Dio! Bile rose in her throat. “Get away from me, Allen.” She wished her voice didn’t shake, but damn, she was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. He wasn’t acting sanely.
Allen’s hands gripped her bare shoulders as he pulled her against his body and one hand began mauling her breast. Adrenaline surged through her. When he lowered his mouth toward hers, instinct—and a well-aimed knee—kicked in. She connected solidly with his groin at the same time she thrust the heel of her hand upward toward his chin. But he moved his head and his nose took the full brunt of the intended chin jab.
“God damn you!” His hand flew out and he backhanded her across the cheek, causing her neck to snap as she hurtled backward. Falling in slow motion, she would have been sprawled on the floor if she hadn’t hit the back of the sofa. Allen doubled over, one hand on his crotch while the other covered his nose, blood seeping through his fingers. She needed to act. Now!
Taking advantage of his momentary inattention, she charged head first with all the force she could muster and tackled him, pushing him through the open doorway. His bloodied hand reached out for the doorjamb, but he never regained his balance and fell backward down the steps. Not waiting for him to come at her again, she slammed and bolted the door.
“You’re going to regret this, Angie!” She heard his muffled shout from the other side of the door. His voice sounded so close. He could so easily break down the thin door. Dio, please help me.
Then she heard a car start and peeked out the curtains on the door to find the porch empty. Closing her eyes, she laid her burning right cheek against the curtain. The windowpane beneath felt cool to her flushed face. Her head began to spin. Breathe, Angie! She tried to fill her lungs with air before she passed out, but her legs began to shake violently. The tremors soon spread throughout her body. She kicked off the shoes and stumbled around the chintz-covered sofa, collapsing face down and curling into a ball on her side.
She had no idea how long she lay there before she heard the doorbell again. Allen had come back! Her heart thudded against her chest. Run!
Where was her damned cell phone? She tried to rise too quickly and winced as her stomach pitched. Don’t get sick. Hair tumbled in her face and she pushed it back, then groaned as the muscles in her shoulders and neck protested.
Her numbed mind registered the murmur of deep voices. Marc and Luke, not Allen. Relief flooded her senses, until she looked down at her blood-splattered dress. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked several times.
How could she answer the door looking like this? She’d certainly get a visceral response from them both—just not the one she’d hoped for when she’d chosen to wear this dress. Her anticipation of another fun evening with them had vanished. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t here, they’d think she’d stood them up and go away. At this moment, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed—alone—and hide.