buying her a ring? How’s the restaurant business treating you, Tony?” I froze.
What the hell?
I spun around and stopped dead in my tracks when my eyes met his. Well, I assumed that our eyes met. He was wearing a pair of dark aviator glasses, looking like he’d just walked off the set of Top Gun. Tony hadn’t shaved that morning, and the whisker burns on my neck and breasts flared as I focused on him. I knew by the twitch in his jaw that he was not happy with me.
Parting the sea of paparazzi and marching over to me, he took me by the arms and hauled me against himself. In one fell swoop, his lips were moving against my own. His rough stubble irritated my face, leaving marks as angry as his impassioned kiss. He smelled like spearmint and espresso and marinara. The combination was heady and intoxicating and totally summing up the Italian in him.
After the initial shock wore off and the clicking of the paparazzi’s cameras registered in my ears, I tore my lips from his and shoved him backward. He only moved a fraction of an inch, despite the force I put behind it. Tony’s lips and chin were covered in my ruby lipstick, and the knowledge that I’d marked him as my own was invigorating, but I wouldn’t allow myself to give in.
“You bastard!” I said, seething. “That shit is going to be all over the front page of the tabloids tomorrow!” Sure, I may have been exaggerating a tad—neither of us were famous enough to make the front page—but I was so furious with the liberties he’d publicly taken that I was willing to sound like an idiot to prove my point.
“Why the fuck did you leave me last night, Winifred?” he demanded, pain registering in his voice. I could only stare in frustration at him. I had no idea what to say. “Did you really think that was the smartest thing to do, after I had just gotten through telling you how much I’ve always wanted you? After I made love to you? You’ve been on my mind for years! What the hell are you scared of?”
I stilled, listening to but not comprehending what he was saying. I kept hearing “I made love to you” over and over again. This thing obviously wasn’t supposed to be a one-time event in his mind.
Revelations and consequences flashed through me like lightning—scenarios of what could be—but I forced them away with a shake of my head. However much I had liked him and wanted him when we were younger, it wasn’t possible. We weren’t the same people anymore. And yes, the sex had been magnificent, but I was no longer a teenager driven by hormones.
“I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, and especially not you .” My words were firm, daring him to question the resolve in my voice. When he didn’t protest, I pushed against his chest. “Now, let me go, Tony,” I ordered, willing my voice to remain steady and strong. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Marci and Astin were still around, I saw them staring wide-eyed at the scene we’d created. I pulled free from Tony’s grasp, leaving him stunned and reaching toward me as I walked away quickly.
“Are you okay, Winn?” Astin asked, watching me in the rearview mirror as I climbed into the car. Concern was etched on his face as he studied me, and the unshed tears brimming in my eyes threatened to spill over.
Blinking against the moisture, I tossed my purse down beside me. “Drive. Just . . . get me back to the hotel, please.”
Astin hit the gas and we pealed out of the parking space just as Tony made his way toward us, leaving him to kick at the concrete with his beautiful Italian oxfords.
Chapter 5
The black cocktail dress I’d picked out for the final night’s events was tight in all the right places. Losing weight from my teen years, and again after my pregnancy, was the best thing I’d ever done for myself. My body was something I was proud of because it was my own, and I enjoyed the fact that I could design the clothes to accentuate it. Despite whatever society felt about
What the hell?
I spun around and stopped dead in my tracks when my eyes met his. Well, I assumed that our eyes met. He was wearing a pair of dark aviator glasses, looking like he’d just walked off the set of Top Gun. Tony hadn’t shaved that morning, and the whisker burns on my neck and breasts flared as I focused on him. I knew by the twitch in his jaw that he was not happy with me.
Parting the sea of paparazzi and marching over to me, he took me by the arms and hauled me against himself. In one fell swoop, his lips were moving against my own. His rough stubble irritated my face, leaving marks as angry as his impassioned kiss. He smelled like spearmint and espresso and marinara. The combination was heady and intoxicating and totally summing up the Italian in him.
After the initial shock wore off and the clicking of the paparazzi’s cameras registered in my ears, I tore my lips from his and shoved him backward. He only moved a fraction of an inch, despite the force I put behind it. Tony’s lips and chin were covered in my ruby lipstick, and the knowledge that I’d marked him as my own was invigorating, but I wouldn’t allow myself to give in.
“You bastard!” I said, seething. “That shit is going to be all over the front page of the tabloids tomorrow!” Sure, I may have been exaggerating a tad—neither of us were famous enough to make the front page—but I was so furious with the liberties he’d publicly taken that I was willing to sound like an idiot to prove my point.
“Why the fuck did you leave me last night, Winifred?” he demanded, pain registering in his voice. I could only stare in frustration at him. I had no idea what to say. “Did you really think that was the smartest thing to do, after I had just gotten through telling you how much I’ve always wanted you? After I made love to you? You’ve been on my mind for years! What the hell are you scared of?”
I stilled, listening to but not comprehending what he was saying. I kept hearing “I made love to you” over and over again. This thing obviously wasn’t supposed to be a one-time event in his mind.
Revelations and consequences flashed through me like lightning—scenarios of what could be—but I forced them away with a shake of my head. However much I had liked him and wanted him when we were younger, it wasn’t possible. We weren’t the same people anymore. And yes, the sex had been magnificent, but I was no longer a teenager driven by hormones.
“I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, and especially not you .” My words were firm, daring him to question the resolve in my voice. When he didn’t protest, I pushed against his chest. “Now, let me go, Tony,” I ordered, willing my voice to remain steady and strong. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Marci and Astin were still around, I saw them staring wide-eyed at the scene we’d created. I pulled free from Tony’s grasp, leaving him stunned and reaching toward me as I walked away quickly.
“Are you okay, Winn?” Astin asked, watching me in the rearview mirror as I climbed into the car. Concern was etched on his face as he studied me, and the unshed tears brimming in my eyes threatened to spill over.
Blinking against the moisture, I tossed my purse down beside me. “Drive. Just . . . get me back to the hotel, please.”
Astin hit the gas and we pealed out of the parking space just as Tony made his way toward us, leaving him to kick at the concrete with his beautiful Italian oxfords.
Chapter 5
The black cocktail dress I’d picked out for the final night’s events was tight in all the right places. Losing weight from my teen years, and again after my pregnancy, was the best thing I’d ever done for myself. My body was something I was proud of because it was my own, and I enjoyed the fact that I could design the clothes to accentuate it. Despite whatever society felt about
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