“Do you make a habit of inviting strange men to join you at family parties?” he asks near my ear, giving me goose bumps.
“No.” I laugh nervously. “I’m Chiara Moretti, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Alistair Walsh.”
Hell and damn. Even his name is sexy.
“That’s not a common American name, is it?”
“Nope. My parents are Irish with Scottish blood.”
“Hmm, how Outlander. Well, nice to meet you, Alistair. See, now we’re no longer strangers.”
I rev the engine and take off, needing to work extra hard to keep the balance with the increased weight.
This is, by far, my craziest stunt. I’m sure I’m going to receive a lecture from my father, and he usually looks the other way when I do something that pisses my mother off. It’s too late now. Besides, knowing Alistair will be there has already managed to dissipate the anxiety that had been crushing my chest an hour ago. I’m actually giddy, and I don’t even know why exactly.
“So, Alistair,” I scream to be heard over the wind. “What brings you to beautiful Tuscany, business or pleasure?”
“Neither,” he shouts near my ear, his warm breath fanning over my skin and doing crazy things to my body.
My nipples are as hard as pebbles now, and the little hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
Ah, shit.
As of now, I’ve only slept with two guys, and neither of them was a real man like Alistair. They were boys really, inexperienced as hell.
“Well, that’s a first. I assume you’re here alone?”
Please be alone. Please be alone.
“Yup.”
Relief washes over me.
“Gee, do you always answer in monosyllables?”
“Nope.” He chuckles, and I find myself smiling as well. This will be fun. “I’m sorry. It’s a bit hard to talk with the wind blowing on my face.”
That’s true, but I’m enjoying him shout-whispering near my ear. He has no idea the effect he’s having on me right now. It’s a miracle I can hold a conversation when I’m so aware of his hard chest pressed against my back, of his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Even though I’m the one driving the Vespa, he’s controlling the ride. I might need to change my underwear when I get to Villa Moretti. My panties are soaked. I’ve never gotten so turned on so fast by any guy before.
When my grandparents’ villa finally appears on the horizon, I let out a sigh. Staying this close to Alistair for another minute would have me combusting on the spot.
The building at the top of the hill is a typical stone construction, dating back centuries ago. To strangers, this must seem like an idyllic location, but I never enjoyed coming here. It always involves family affairs, and besides Max, all my cousins are odious.
The first thing I notice is the number of cars parked in the courtyard has doubled.
Alistair whistles as I park the Vespa. “That’s a big party.”
“Not really. Most of the guests are family and close friends.”
I wait until he hops off before I do the same, smoothing my dress. I try to tame my hair next by combing it with my fingers. “Be honest, how close is my hair to resembling a bird’s nest?”
Alistair moves closer, and I have to crane my neck to keep staring at his face. He’s so damn tall, and I’m five foot nothing. To my surprise, he runs his hand through my loose strands, and I have to suppress the moan that threatens to escape my lips. His eyes capture mine, and I begin to drown in the depths of his azure gaze. The color of the Mediterranean Sea. Tiny flecks of turquoise in his irises give an extra depth to an already mesmerizing stare. My breath hitches right before the tip of my tongue darts out to moisten my suddenly dry lips. Alistair’s eyes drop to them, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He wants to kiss me, and I’m dying for him to do so.
“Chiara! Where have you been?” my mother yells from the front door, breaking the spellbinding moment.
Alistair takes a huge step back and turns toward the house, finding my mother there with fire spitting from her mouth.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
“I went to town like I said I would.” I open the Vespa’s storage compartment, retrieving two bags filled with the most expensive cigars I could find.
My mother’s sharp gaze diverts to Alistair, who stays rooted to the spot, watching her warily. I bet he’s regretting his decision right now.
“And who is that man?” my mother asks bluntly.
Ah, shit. I haven’t thought of an excuse to justify Alistair’s presence. Stupid me. I’m glad Alistair doesn’t understand Italian, but I know he couldn’t miss the sharp tone of my mother’s voice. She narrows her eyes at me when I don’t answer right away.
“Um, he is—”
“Ecco, he’s my friend, Aunt Ofelia.” Max joins us in the courtyard to save the day.
Where the heck did he come from?
“Yes, he’s Max’s friend from the US,” I add quickly before my cousin starts speaking in Italian to the poor guy.
I don’t miss the eyebrow raise Max gives me, nor the upturn of his lips.
