Until Twilight
Authors: Desiree Holt,Cerise DeLand
Until Twilight
Book 3 in the Nemesis series.
Isabella Sebastiani has the best instincts. For defusing bombs. But the moment she
spots Lane Hallowell in the piazza in Florence, she
knows
her instinct for finding an irresistible lover has improved. Yes, she’s to meet Lane for a job interview.
Sì
, her mind tells her to ignore his tempting good looks and his incomparable charm. But her body
tells her to embrace him. And her heart demands she take him home with her. Into her
arms. Her bed.
A seasoned security operative, Lane shouldn’t be enthralled by a woman within
minutes of meeting her. But the cool, professional explosives expert fascinates him and he’s determined to protect her from harm. As the two of them track a group of terrorists from Florence to Rome and on to Paris, Lane and Bella learn that time doesn’t matter
when passion demands a future filled with love.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Until Twilight
ISBN 9781419934728
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Until Twilight Copyright © 2011 Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Edited by Helen Woodall
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication July 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
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UNTIL TWILIGHT
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Until Twilight
As she wove her way through the diners at the tiny circular café Isabella Sebastiani
was not in the mood to be shocked. Not twice in one day. She’d already endured one
trauma this morning in Florence’s Bargello when she had defused the worries of that
ancient gallery’s young director over a suspected bomb in a small, lady’s purse. That
had been a false alarm that made her late for a very important job interview.
But halting in her tracks in front of the replica of Michelangelo’s
David
in the Piazza della Signoria, she saw one man whose appearance created a bursting sensation deep in
her stomach.
No, Bella, deeper than that.
She straightened and tamped down the fierce physical attraction that raged like a five-alarm fire in her soul.
“
Va bene
,” she told herself all was well. She could handle men who were so good
looking they were too vain to really care for a woman. Placing one foot before the other, she hitched the straps of her slim leather briefcase higher over her shoulder. “Men do
not astonish you.”
Why does this one?
She could not take her eyes from him, this man who was a
stranger to her, this man who was the only man among those in the café in the piazza
who could possibly be the one she was meant to meet.
She pushed her sunglasses up her nose and tried not to stare. No matter that he did
not seem to notice her. No matter that at least fifty others dined on the terrace of that same famous little restaurant. He was the tallest one. The fittest. The most
mouthwatering. With chocolate-brown curls and fine, strongly chiseled features that
rivaled the
David
overlooking the square, this man appealed to every cell in her body.
And he mustn’t, Bella. If he likes you as a person, if he values your
vitae
, if he accepts you
as his partner in this international security firm for which he works, then you must not want
him to pet you,
cara
.
5
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
She wove her way through the diners at the tiny circular tables. May in Firenze
began the march of the tourists—and squeezing among the tables required a ballerina’s
maneuver of hips and legs that had him fully facing her.
He seemed not to breathe. Not one movement betrayed whatever the hell he
thought of her. He sat, one leg crossed over the other, his sunglasses concealing his
eyes, yet she felt his gaze burn away her white cotton dress to caress her nipples and
her pussy.
Can your tongue arouse me more, American?
Her thong became drenched with her cream at the hope he would taste her and
delight her. Her nipples hardened and she cursed the fact that her Italian lace bra had no padding to conceal her interest in him.
Do I attract you at all, Mr. Hallowell?
At that moment, he shifted in his chair and she suppressed a smile of satisfaction.
That sadly was difficult because now as he faced her fully, she could only admire him
more. With his muscular frame molding the expensive black tee shirt to his chest, the
gray trousers skimming the long legs, the elegant fingers holding his copy of
La Stampa
, he consumed her so slowly she felt her labia begin to melt in torrid need. How could he destroy her like that? With a concentration she had never known in any other lover.
Was
he going to be her lover?
No. Not now. Not soon.
She had just rid herself of one. She needed to be alone for a while. Independent for a while. Unpossessed by a demanding man. She stopped in
front of him and removed her own sunglasses. “
Buon giorno
, Mr. Hallowell.” Smiling, she held out her hand. “Isabella Sebastiani.”
He rose to his feet and towered over her by at least six inches. Her knees went to
butter as he shook her proffered hand then cupped her elbow with the other. His skin
was warm, his grip strong. “
Buon giorno
, Isabella. I am very pleased to meet you.
Per
favore
, please sit with me.”
She sank into the wrought iron chair, realizing his Italian accent was good but he
chose to communicate with her in his native English. That was wonderful, keeping her
6
Until Twilight
on her mark mentally as she sought to keep her eyes from devouring him. She placed
her briefcase to the pavement, put her glasses on the tabletop and focused on his
arresting face. What nationality was the name Hallowell, anyway? These Americans
were so many variations on a theme. His complexion was tanned but not olive. The
strong bone structure Nordic. The lips heavily sculpted as any classical Greek god’s.
And the eyes? What in hell color were they?
Isabella had to know. “I hope you have not waited long. I was called to an urgent
meeting this morning.”
“Not a problem. I am here in Florence between assignments and taking a few days’
rest.”
“Ah,
bene
. I see. How do you like our city?”
He inclined his head. “Adore it. My mother is a professor of Renaissance
architecture at the University of Chicago. Florence is a second home to me.”
How coincidental.
“How intriguing. My father is an expert in Renaissance frescos of the
Duomo
here and throughout northern Italy.”
“All the things we learn at home from our parents become a part of us,” he
murmured in a baritone that stroked her skin like the whisper of sheerest Luccan silk.
“Is that how you first discovered you wanted to restore fine paintings?”
“It is,” she confirmed, knowing he had read her résumé and perhaps even
memorized her career path from art restorer to explosives expert.
“You have come far for one who is only twenty-eight.”
“
Sì
, I work hard,” she said and smiled, causing him to lean forward and allow her to catch a whiff of his cologne. Bergamot? Verbena? The man was a feast for the senses.
No, Bella,
fermate
! Stop this.
“My first case was to restore a painting by Caravaggio that had been mutilated by a bomber.”
7
Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
“I read that. The thieves had taken it from the Uffizi, put a false canvas on the back
of it, encasing a film of C4 inside, intending to return it to the gallery and blow up the building in high tourist season of July.”
She grinned, making him firm his lips.
At last, a reaction. Molto bene.
“I compliment you on your background check of me. All of you at Nemesis obviously do a fine job of
researching your candidates for employment.”
“Thank you. We pride ourselves on that.” He sat back, folded his hands in his lap
and just stared at her. Calm and steady as the sun moving across the sky.
She let him look his fill until her pussy was so swollen, so very wet, she had to say
something to divert the urge to grab his hand and lead him home with her. “And
Signora and Signore Molloy? They are enjoying their honeymoon?”
“They are,” he said with such diplomatic aplomb she swore she was going to make
him wait for years—decades!—before he ever got her into bed. “They apologize for
their tardiness today, but there was an accident on the
autostrada
from Milan. Many cars and a few trucks are piled up. They will proceed south as soon as the highway is
cleared.” Hallowell nodded, his lips curving in a way that stretched his firm jaw in a
grin and brought out a dimple in his left cheek.
Could she place her lips there?
No, Bella.
“Ah, unfortunate.”
“Luckily, their delay gives you and me an opportunity to get to know each other.”
She nodded, but she burned with irritation at his suave demeanor.
Meanwhile, I
blaze from head to toe in an irrational inferno of desire for his hands on my skin.
“I have never worked with a partner.”
“I myself have never had a permanent one.”