Authors: Desiree Holt,Cerise DeLand
“Right. Right.” Lane plunked fifty euro into the man’s outstretched palm, having no
time to ask him what the bill really was and an urgent need to get on with Maddie’s
issue and return to Bella. “
Grazie. Grazie. Ciao.
It was great, Maddie. We hit it off.”
Wow,
if you only knew.
“You think you can work together?” Maddie pressed.
“More than,” he told her as he shut the door, juggling two bottles of wine and the
phone.
“
Really
?” she asked in a tone that told him he’d revealed more than he wanted to.
“Why’s that?”
He winced. “We have a lot in common. Parents who are in the art world. A love of
Italy. The language.”
“Right. I knew that, Lane, before I picked up the phone.”
Perceptive Madison
Foreman.
“Tell me more, quickly, please.”
“We communicate well.” Lane fought for a rational assessment of how well he and
Bella blended beyond the bedroom. Searching for words to be objective, he wandered
into Bella’s small colorful kitchen and put the wine bottles on the counter. “We
understand each other without talking. The body language is—”
Bella appeared at the corner, fresh from a shower, her smooth olive skin dewy with
water and utterly bare.
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
He swallowed. Hard. “Clear,” he managed as he snaked out an arm and circled it
around her delicate waist, then buried his lips in that tempting spot at the hollow of her collarbone. “We talk with our minds.”
“Sounds kind of woo-woo to me, buddy,” Maddie concluded.
Bella snuggled against him, her hands to the button of his waistband. “It is,” she
whispered, obviously having heard Maddie and prompting him to repeat her own
words.
He did, not able to find another set that might be better considering Bella was busy
brushing her fingers along the skin of his ribs.
“Ahh,” Maddie chuckled. “What do you say in those moments?”
Bella heard and rubbed her nose down his chest to lick one of his nipples and elicit
a grunt. His nipple turned to fire as he groaned.
“Is that so?” Maddie laughed lightly. “I think I know this language.”
“Does she?” Bella paused to ask and look up at him with limpid onyx eyes.
He sank his fingers into the satin hair at her nape and pressed his lips to hers for
only a second. Her mouth left his reluctantly, still open as he gathered his damn wits
and responded to Maddie, “Perhaps you do.”
“Can I ask if the person you are really communicating with right now is Isabella?”
“You can,” he told her as he bent to capture Bella’s lush mouth once more with his
own.
“Lane?” Maddie asked none too delicately.
“Hmm?” was all he could manage as Bella’s hands brushed his trousers down his
hips and cupped his cock in one and his balls in the other.
“I’ve got a case I need to get started here.”
“I understand,” he replied like a drone while Bella sank to the floor and flicked her
tongue over the slit of his cock. He growled. “I tell you Bella’s good. Very…
good
.” He 24
Until Twilight
shut his eyes, wanting to finish the conversation and get on with enjoying the woman
who was tonguing his hardening shaft.
“I have to make her an offer, Lane.”
Against his skin, he felt Bella moan as she drew away with a pop and stared up at
him. Her large, dark eyes hazy with lust, she said in her accented contralto, “Tell her to give it to you.”
“Give it to me,” he told Maddie and Bella as well, his fingers gripping the back of
her head to lead her to take him inside her warm cavern once more.
Bella laughed, deep in her throat and did as he wished. He nearly came right there,
his cock so erect, so thick, so full he could hardly bear Bella’s languid strokes.
“Ahhh. Okay. Hmm. One hundred forty thousand. Lane? Are you there?”
“Yes. Yes.” He was here all right. Where the hell else would he go with Bella’s
expert mouth loving him like this? “One hundred and—” he began to repeat.
“Higher,” Bella crooned and sank over him with such a strong, long pull that he
thrust his hips at her.
“It is!” he told her.
She pulled away, unable to stop a giggle.
“Pardon me?” Maddie inquired in her professional, no-nonsense voice.
“I want more,” Bella said when she heard Maddie and licked drops of his pre-cum
from his seam with the delicacy of a woman devouring a rare treat. He wobbled on his
feet and nearly went to his knees. “Tell her. I want more.”
He repeated it, his gaze fastened on her lips. Pink, rhythmic, lush. Her mouth
serviced him with such sure-fire strokes he had no freaking idea what he was doing.
Only knew what he wanted to do. Have done. To him.
“Okaaaay. More,” Maddie responded with consideration. “One fifty.”
“
Bene.
And assurance of one month’s vacation a year,” Bella paused, her lips wet with his essence.
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
Voice hoarse, Lane repeated her terms.
“Agreed,” Maddie shot back. “Of course, we have best health insurance, usually
three weeks off between assignments, profit sharing, a 401K.”
Bella smiled up at him, hearing all of it because now he had lowered the phone to
her ear.
Hell. Why pretend any longer?
But Bella still spoke only to him, her gaze glued to his. “I want a trial period. One
month.”
He frowned.
Why
, he asked her silently.
Her expression was as closed as that of a master’s Madonna. But her hands
pleasured him like a sultry lover.
“Lane?” Maddie asked.
“A trial period. One m—”
“Got it,” Maddie shot back. “Agreed. Anything else?”
Bella shifted her gaze from him to his cock, then sank her lips over him to totally
envelop his length.
He had to put a hand to the wall to remain standing.
She withdrew slowly. “I want assurance that for that month my only partner will be
you.”
He thumbed her lower lip. “She wants—”
“I heard her, Lane. What do
you
say to that?”
“Maddie, I’d say,” he breathed as he set the phone on the kitchen table and hooked
his hands under Bella’s arms to lift her into his embrace, “I need her. I want her. I’ll do my damndest to ensure no other man will do.”
He hauled her up, crushed her to him, loving every inch of her marvelous mouth,
feeling every sinuous curve of her breasts and belly and thighs wrapping around his.
He kissed her once. “What do you say, Bella? Are we a team?”
“We are. One month.”
26
Until Twilight
He couldn’t wait to begin and bent to scoop her into his arms.
Bella managed to pick up the phone and say, “
Mille grazie
, Maddie. You have
yourself a deal.” She listened for a minute, then said, “
Sì, ciao
, Maddie.”
“She wants you to call her later so she can tell you more about the new client.” Then
she clicked off the phone and put her lips to his. “Show me, Mr. Hallowell, how good a
partner you will be.”
“Now that I’m not in a rush,” he grinned and strode back to her bedroom,
pretending to be so fucking cavalier when he really felt like King Kong the Conqueror,
“I have a few things I’d like to do all night long.”
She laughed, hair thrown back, as he set her down on the rumpled bed. “We’ll need
more than wine.”
“I cook.”
“Superb!” She clapped her hands together and rolled away from him as he climbed
on the bed. “I think I will be ravenous.”
He grabbed her ankle to pull her toward him. His mouth on her musky cunt, he
nuzzled her, then licked her diamond-hard little clit. “God knows I am.”
Panting with his rapid-fire attention to her pussy, Bella blessed the concrete walls of her old building as she began to keen while he ate her. “I cannot bear this!” she yelled at him and fisted his shoulders.
“I must taste you. Again. Often.”
“You will!” She sank back to the bed, her arms out like a slave. And was she not? To
him?
Oh, dangerous, Bella.
But his mouth was so sweet as he sucked her. And his tongue was so fast, so hard
as he tickled her. And his hands, so commanding as he held her ass to lift her to his
delicious mouth.
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
“Lane.” She fought for reason. “We are now
one
!”
He lifted his head, his jaw set, his gaze sensuous green and brown heat. “For only a
month. I must hurry.”
“
Hurry?
” She tried to close her thighs. Impulsive, demanding man, he would not let her. “I will not have a man who hurries!”
“My thought, exactly.” He fumbled around on the nightstand and produced a
condom, then tore it open and slipped it on. “I hurry to convince you to stay with me.
Beyond the month.”
“You must prove—”
He circled her legs up, her ankles around his neck as he slid in deeply, totally filling her. “I will.”
She shuddered at his size, his heat. “I think I believe you.”
He began to move, a rhythmic dance that took her mind away.
And her house phone rang.
“No,” they both objected to the intrusion in unison.
“Maddie again?” she asked as the two of them halted, paused in mid-stroke.
“Calling on your phone?” He winced and shook his head once. “I doubt it. She
knew what was happening here. So who?”
She gave his cock an internal massage. “I must answer. It might have to do with the
Bargello again. Or another emergency.” As the preferred explosives expert in Italy she
was on call with all the police departments as well as major institutions when a threat occurred. But at the moment she could barely put one thought in front of the other.
Lane felt too marvelous to let him go. But she must. “We will return to this.”
He sank over her, his arms shaking, and kissed her lips.
The phone was ringing over and over. Not relenting.
28
Until Twilight
She rolled to the side and struggled to her feet. In her hall, she picked up the
receiver. A man began a flood of information. The Bargello’s director. “
Sì, sì
, Signore Silvestri. I understand. Where did you find it?”
“Beneath Donatello’s
David
,” he answered, his voice shaking with fury and fear.
“I see. Like this morning. And it looks the same as the little purse from earlier
today?”
This could hardly be coincidence. It just wasn’t possible that all American female
tourists had the same taste in purses. And why leave another exactly like the first in the exact
same spot?
“Leave everything just the way you found it,” she said to him, regretting that her “interview” with Lane had to end. “Have you called the
polizia
again?”
Sometimes she was the first call even before law enforcement agencies were alerted.
This would be an excellent opportunity to see how well she and Lane worked together,
and access to Nemesis if the situation proved too much for La Guardia di Finanza or her to handle. Which was a distinct possibility. But she needed to get the panicked museum
director under control. “Calm yourself, Signore Silvestri. The pack this morning was not lethal in any way. The
polizia
tell me the forensics prove what I detected.”
“No matter, I do not care what they say!” the young director pressed her. “They
will return. My precious children, my priceless treasures, are in danger. Come at once.
At once.”
“
Sì, sì
, I will come. I will examine this one. Not to fear.”
Lane came to stand in front of her and took her in his arms. His lips in her hair, he
kissed her sweetly. But against her belly, she felt the strength of his very erect cock. She let him caress her back in tender strokes, her breasts beading against his strong warm
chest, while trying to concentrate on what she was hearing. But she froze at Silvestri’s next words.
“What do you mean the Uffizi has the same purse?”
How could the palace museum of
the de’Medici along the river and more than ten blocks south of the Bargello have the same
purse? What was going on here?
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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand
The young director of the Bargello was clearly upset, racing along in Italian, spilling out his information so quickly, she had to make him repeat his words.
“It is the same manufacturer as this morning’s, Signorina Sebastiani. L.L. Bean.
American. Brown. As was this morning’s pack. But this time the person has left it
beneath the oil by Artemisia Gentileschi.”
The Florentine woman known for her rare achievements in oil painting in an age
dominated by male artists. “Which one?”
“
Judith slaying Holofernes.
”
“A woman with a sword,” Bella said immediately, her first thought of the
similarities between the bronze statue of David the Goliath slayer and Judith the slayer of a nefarious Assyrian. Was there something symbolic about that?
“
Sì. Sì
,” he said. “Violent. Bloody.”
“The painting is, yes. But the
David
is almost sweet, were it not for the sword and the fact that David has his foot on the severed head of the giant.”
“Crafted nearly a century apart,” Silvestri told her, but he did not have to. Her
years in Florence, her childhood listening to her parents and their friends discuss the lives and works of hundreds of artists had left her with a storehouse of information in her brain. “Donatello did his own version of Judith slaying Holofernes,” he added.