Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (28 page)

Until Ty came along she was something of a bitch about dirty talk, but the language they engaged in didn’t bother her in the least. In fact, she kinda sorta definitely liked the words Ty used. She liked the whole notion of being ‘taken.’ And possessed. And devoured and yeah,
fucked
. By him.

Grabbing hold of his shoulder for balance was a necessity if she didn’t want to fall on her face when she bent to slide a foot from the jeans. He said and did nothing. Just sat on the floor, legs out straight and crossed at the ankle. Charlie found it mildly amusing and quite a turn on that he did absolutely nothing to assist her.

The giggle-joke was on him, though, if he thought expecting her to put on a performance was something she’d have a hard time with. Shit. She was practically born with her name in lights and Nana made sure to encourage Charlie’s enthusiasm for playful acting. Of everyone in her family, she was the one they all looked to for entertainment. This?
Pfft.
Except for the part where her ass was going to be naked—this was a breeze.

A bit of striptease music might have helped, but once she eventually got the jeans off and was upright again, she let the excitement take over. Since his directive was to take her pants off, that’s exactly what she did—which left her in a pair of her absolute favorite undies. Nothing spectacular or especially sexy—just a pair of silky pink panties with soft ruffles along the edges that had ribbon ties on each hip. There was a matching bra, but since Ty was rather vocal about her not wearing one when they were alone, well…

Straddling him in nothing but the scrap of blush pink and a scoop neck T, Charlie put her hands on her waist and stared down at him.

“Don’t think for a second that your little information bombshell isn’t going to be discussed,” she drawled. “I’m not this easily distracted.”

He ran his hands up the inside of her legs and made quite the production of playing with her panties. “Not a distraction, baby girl. An intermission.” Two fingers pressed against the silk covering her and drew a line from back to front. “And besides,” he murmured in that deeply, sexy voice he used when seduction was his goal. “I think better when your pussy is stuffed full of me.”

The man had a way with words.

N
OBODY EVER MOVED AS FAST
as his ‘tessa did when it came to shopping. The girl did not browse. She went straight for whatever was on her mind and tended to make quick work of it. His impression was that slow, leisurely mall crawls on a Saturday afternoon would never be her thing.

The backpack slung over his shoulder was getting pretty full as they made their way through a crowded market, stopping at the stores she pointed out like a general leading her troops.

They were now two days past the end of their official professional arrangement. Her report was submitted but far as Cal was concerned their time together was in no way coming to any sort of an end. He had no fucking idea what was next or what the hell he was doing most of the time—the only thing on his mind morning noon and night was the blonde vixen currently haggling with a shopkeeper over some flimsy piece of purple fabric he was half-sure would end up being a dress. ‘tessa loved a good dress. Dresses were her thing.

Neither of them showed a willingness to discuss their situation—which struck him as odd. It was their version of not asking and not telling. There was a sensation that everything was in constant motion. A chance encounter with a bohemian whirlwind upended his entire life, and look how that was turning out.

Crepuscolo was freaking the fuck out, and he couldn’t pretend not to understand why. His sudden decision to retire was messing with a lot of people’s livelihoods. Did he have doubts that what he was doing wasn’t right? No. This shit started to turn moldy a while ago. And while he did feel bad about the business realities, he was so fucking over being the star of a freak show dominated by money and power. He’d had enough.

Now admitting he’d had enough in no fucking way implied that he had so much as half a clue what to do next with his life. He’d finally had a long talk with his brother. Jax was Cal’s north star. Normal little brother hero-worship at the core, he held the man in high regard and respected the holy shit out of him for everything he’d been through and survived.

Cal saw similarities in their situations, but his was self-made while Jax’s issues were included with his military discharge papers. The war changed his brother. After his military commitment was satisfied, Jax did an abrupt about face and simply announced one day that he wasn’t continuing with medical school. The family had been stunned but accepted his choice. It was Jax after all. The ultimate golden boy. The guy didn’t make flighty decisions. He knew what was best for him.

These days, his brother took his loner shtick on road trips as he hopped from project to project doing restoration and renovation work. Apparently, dropping into some small town divorcee’s life seriously shook up Jax’s world. If he read the tealeaves correctly, his brother was in love and in a big way.

But then he heard from his mom that big brother managed to put his foot in it. He’d even run home which meant some sort of serious shit must have gone down. Cal didn’t know how to react to all of this. Whatever was happening with Jax put everyone on edge so he said nothing about his personal situation.

Probably a bonehead move but he wasn’t any closer to making firm decisions. About anything. Except for the driving. He was finished with that.

‘‘tessa rushed toward him, a huge smile lighting up her face. “Isn’t this to die for?” she gushed—waving the flimsy fabric so he could see. “I know just what to wear it with.”

Cal silently chuckled. Oh, here we go. Once she got a thought rattling around, she kept at it until nailing the fucker to the ground. What was that word he came up with earlier? He thought for a second. Relentless. Yeah, that was it. She was unstoppable, that’s for sure.

Exactly as predicted, she wasn’t flagging in the least—cheerfully dithering on about the damn piece of fabric. “And I’ve got the perfect shoes. You’ll have to take me to dinner, Signor Tyler. Someplace with soft lights,” she sighed. “ Oh! Let’s go over to deMarco’s, okay? I need a new atomizer.”

And boom. Just like that she was off and running in another direction. He got it now. The dragonfly reference. She was beautiful in the sunlight—all flashing blues and purples and greens—gracefully speeding along. And at night, she became the lightning bug—slow, almost motionless she hung on the breeze, mesmerizing him with the throb of brilliance he compared to the fire in her soul.

Stuffing the dress back in its wrapper, she shoved it into the backpack. Slipping her hand through his arm, ‘tessa clung to him and started them walking. “It’s been such a beautiful day.” She sounded wistful, so he tightened his arm to hug her arm and hand.

“We should stop at the farmacia on the way to deMarco’s. One last thing to get.”

“I got everything on my list,” she cooed. “Plus a few extras.”

“Well, young lady. If you want to hit that reverse cowgirl position again, we’re going to need the super size box of condoms.”

“Oh my God, Ty, Shhh,” she squealed. “What’s wrong with you? Anyone could hear.”

“Baby,” he drawled. “This is Italy. Everybody assumes we’re doin’ it so relax.”

She giggled softly while he scowled. Italian guys, especially the young ones, had no fucking problem balls out trying to get a woman’s attention. Any woman. Married, single, young, old. Perfecting a menacing glare Cal used it quite regularly whenever they went out. A glare that said ‘MINE’ with a follow-up, ‘touch her and die’ in case the first message didn’t make an impression.

‘‘tessa wasn’t oblivious to the attention she received, but he learned early that she found it annoying. Real men, she told him, wouldn’t need to resort to such tactics. And ogling her uh, assets? She stared death rays at those unfortunate souls who dared to imagine she’d be okay with such behavior.

Hours later, all their errands finished, they were seated at a table in an outdoor café, enjoying the late afternoon parade of people when he had a funny feeling. An unusual prickling—almost a burn—in his neck. Every single internal alarm went off at once.

Nonchalantly lowering his sunglasses to cover his gaze, Cal sent his eyes on a search mission to figure out what was wrong. Nothing seemed even remotely out of whack. The crowd was thinning, but there were still plenty of people milling about. Most of the café’s outdoor tables were occupied. Several waiters went back and forth with orders. A group of nuns rode by on some pretty damn sophisticated bikes.

His companion was perfectly relaxed across from him at the small table, quietly people watching. The croissant she ordered was barely touched. Cal got distracted by her loveliness. He couldn’t help it. She exuded a gentle calm that called to him. A calm that gave her an air of serenity he wanted to lose himself in.

Some noisy kids ambled by and down the street a horn honked. Cal blinked, cleared his vision and swept the surrounding area again. And then, almost beyond his field of vision, he saw it. The disturbance giving off a warning sound. Renzo fucking Alphat. Goddammit. And the little fucker was looking directly at ‘tessa as he spoke into a phone pressed to his ear.

Without any hesitation, he picked up the backpack, motioned to the waiter and caught ‘tessa’s attention.

“Baby,” he said. “Don’t react, okay?”

Her eyes swung to his, but the dark glasses hid his expression. “I think we’ve picked up a paparazzi.”

She flipped a tumble of her hair behind her shoulder. The resentful sigh from his companion wrapped around his heart. They were having a moment and she was pissed something got in the way.

“I suppose that means we’re leaving?”

“Having your picture all over the Internet wouldn’t be helpful.”

She looked put out. Had he put that the wrong way? Maybe, but he couldn’t think about that right now. There were decisions to make. If they got up and walked back home, Alphat would be able to easily follow and snap one picture after another. Calling a cab seemed the better alternative.

The waiter approached. He spoke quietly to the young man in flawless Italian. Explaining with as little pompous assholery as he could, Cal made up a story about his date, saying her feet hurt from all the walking. Would the waiter please take care of getting them a cab? The guy was all over it like a rash—eager to do a favor for a celebrity.

When the taxi arrived, they coolly grabbed their stuff and made for the car with very little fuss. The taxi pulled away from the curb and he couldn’t resist rolling down the window to give Alphat the finger as they drove by. Not the brightest move ever but fuck, man. In no way was he kidding each time he said he was sick of this shit.

“Think Angela is finished?” she asked. “We shouldn’t rush her, Ty.”

Oh, shit. Right. He’d forgotten. Mrs. Torissi, Angela, was at the apartment doing her weekly housekeeper thing. They’d cleared out when she arrived—after Cal introduced the two women. Claiming her as his girlfriend, he stumbled over giving a name and went with ‘tessa—and immediately started wondering how the fuck he could be up to his nose hairs in an affair with a girl whose real name he didn’t know.

“Yeah, no worries. I’m sure she’s had plenty of time. It’s not like the place was a mess.”

“I know, but there was all that laundry. Towels and stuff.”

How funny that she gave a shit about his laundry. Thinking he was being cute, he elbowed her playfully. “Mrs. T doing the laundry is the twenty-first century equivalent of hanging the bed sheet from the window.” Cal snickered. “She knows way too much.”

He expected laughter. Or a sock in the arm. He got nothing. Nada. Zip. Barely a blank stare. Uh oh. More friggin’ red flags and warning bells. Great.

Cal repositioned and turned toward her. He was getting better at this male-female stuff. If she blew hot and cold, there was a reason. ‘tessa didn’t play games.

“Okay. What did I do? I haven’t scratched my balls since we left the house. Far as I can recall, not one unseemly burp or fart. I let you hang a damn saddlebag on me so you could haul half the market home. So what gives Contessa? What earned me the icy silent treatment?”