some Johnny Walker Blue. Back in his seat, he sipped at the Scotch. Maybe it would ease the knot of anger lodged in his gut.
Luca turned his head and stared out the window.
The view was perfect. Pale blue sky. Cottony clouds.
Except, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Cheyenne McKenna as she must have looked when she rose from the bed, her expression dismissive, her interest centered on dressing as quickly as possible without waking him so she could sneak away from that small, barren room.
Away from him. From the possibility of his waking and wanting another performance, because that was what the entire incident had been, a performance, a woman wanting quick sex, no strings attached…
His hand tightened around the glass of whisky.
“Luca?”
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, twenty-first century style.
“Luca!”
He turned toward Matteo. “What?” he snarled.
Matteo raised his eyebrows.
“You hold that glass any tighter, you’ll bust it.”
“What in hell are you talking about?”
Matteo jerked his chin toward Luca’s hand.
“Your knuckles,” he said quietly. “They’re white.”
Luca followed his brother’s gaze . His fingers were so tightly wrapped around the glass that he could feel them cramping. Deliberately, he relaxed his muscles and put the glass on the small table beside him.
“I guess that’s what happens when a man finally gets his hands on good Scotch,” he said with what he hoped was a smile.
“I take it that your morning with the McKenna woman was…interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hey! At least growl before you bite my head off. It meant exactly what I said. That your visit with her was probably interesting.”
“It wasn’t a visit. I offered to stand in for Travis. She accepted.” Luca heard the sharpness in his voice. Carefully, he picked up the glass and took a drink. The whisky was warm, smooth and soothing. “And that was it.”
“It was even money on which one of you would make it through the morning alive,” Matteo said, grinning. “Devoted brother that I am, my money was on you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Was the property any good?”
“The land was okay.”
“The buildings?”
“One good barn. The other outbuildings, the house—all write-offs.”
“The house isn’t worth repairing?”
“Not if you’re sane, no.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad.”
“How’d she take the news?”
Luca took a long swallow of Scotch. “Not well. She has a mind of her own.”
“Uh huh. We kind of figured she’d give you a rough time.”
Luca looked at his brother. “Were Cheyenne McKenna and I a topic of conversation after we left?”
“No,” Matteo said quickly, “of course not.”
“But you talked about me. About me going with her.”
“Hell, dude, I’m not part of whatever’s biting you.”
Luca felt a muscle jump in his cheek. He raised his glass. It was empty. He got to his feet, went to the bar and refilled it.
“Sorry. I’m tired, that’s all. Still feeling the effects of last night, I guess.”
“Yes.” Matteo leaned into the aisle and looked back at his sisters. Both had fallen asleep, Bianca with her iPad on the floor beside the loveseat, Alessandra with her magazine open and forgotten in her lap. “The girls are completely exhausted,” he said softly.
“It was one hell of a night. And I have to admit, I never imagined it would end with us breaking bread with the Wildes.”
“Breaking blueberry muffins, you mean.”
Luca smiled. “She’s a good cook, that Lissa.”
“She is.” Matteo paused. “They’re nice people. And, like it or not, they’re our brothers and sisters.”
“Half-brothers and half-sisters. But I’m not ready to think of them that way.”
“To be honest, I’m not quite there, either. But it’s a truth we can’t walk away from.”
“A biological truth. The rest will take time.”
Matteo nodded. His email program pinged; frowning, he read the note that had
Luca turned his head and stared out the window.
The view was perfect. Pale blue sky. Cottony clouds.
Except, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Cheyenne McKenna as she must have looked when she rose from the bed, her expression dismissive, her interest centered on dressing as quickly as possible without waking him so she could sneak away from that small, barren room.
Away from him. From the possibility of his waking and wanting another performance, because that was what the entire incident had been, a performance, a woman wanting quick sex, no strings attached…
His hand tightened around the glass of whisky.
“Luca?”
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, twenty-first century style.
“Luca!”
He turned toward Matteo. “What?” he snarled.
Matteo raised his eyebrows.
“You hold that glass any tighter, you’ll bust it.”
“What in hell are you talking about?”
Matteo jerked his chin toward Luca’s hand.
“Your knuckles,” he said quietly. “They’re white.”
Luca followed his brother’s gaze . His fingers were so tightly wrapped around the glass that he could feel them cramping. Deliberately, he relaxed his muscles and put the glass on the small table beside him.
“I guess that’s what happens when a man finally gets his hands on good Scotch,” he said with what he hoped was a smile.
“I take it that your morning with the McKenna woman was…interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hey! At least growl before you bite my head off. It meant exactly what I said. That your visit with her was probably interesting.”
“It wasn’t a visit. I offered to stand in for Travis. She accepted.” Luca heard the sharpness in his voice. Carefully, he picked up the glass and took a drink. The whisky was warm, smooth and soothing. “And that was it.”
“It was even money on which one of you would make it through the morning alive,” Matteo said, grinning. “Devoted brother that I am, my money was on you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Was the property any good?”
“The land was okay.”
“The buildings?”
“One good barn. The other outbuildings, the house—all write-offs.”
“The house isn’t worth repairing?”
“Not if you’re sane, no.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad.”
“How’d she take the news?”
Luca took a long swallow of Scotch. “Not well. She has a mind of her own.”
“Uh huh. We kind of figured she’d give you a rough time.”
Luca looked at his brother. “Were Cheyenne McKenna and I a topic of conversation after we left?”
“No,” Matteo said quickly, “of course not.”
“But you talked about me. About me going with her.”
“Hell, dude, I’m not part of whatever’s biting you.”
Luca felt a muscle jump in his cheek. He raised his glass. It was empty. He got to his feet, went to the bar and refilled it.
“Sorry. I’m tired, that’s all. Still feeling the effects of last night, I guess.”
“Yes.” Matteo leaned into the aisle and looked back at his sisters. Both had fallen asleep, Bianca with her iPad on the floor beside the loveseat, Alessandra with her magazine open and forgotten in her lap. “The girls are completely exhausted,” he said softly.
“It was one hell of a night. And I have to admit, I never imagined it would end with us breaking bread with the Wildes.”
“Breaking blueberry muffins, you mean.”
Luca smiled. “She’s a good cook, that Lissa.”
“She is.” Matteo paused. “They’re nice people. And, like it or not, they’re our brothers and sisters.”
“Half-brothers and half-sisters. But I’m not ready to think of them that way.”
“To be honest, I’m not quite there, either. But it’s a truth we can’t walk away from.”
“A biological truth. The rest will take time.”
Matteo nodded. His email program pinged; frowning, he read the note that had
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