Educating Gina (12 page)

Gina held on more tightly, lifting her face so that her lips glided over his throat to the side of his neck. He splayed his hands across her lower back, doing everything he could not to reach down and cup her firm behind. Enough activity stirred below his belt. He didn’t need to ask for more trouble.

“Michael?”

He looked down at her upturned face, and she raised herself on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t encourage the kiss, but he didn’t retreat, either.

She finally drew back and looked at him with big uncertain eyes. “You do not like kissing me anymore?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“You have not kissed me in a week.”

“I know.” He made the mistake of staring at her mouth too long. The slight pout inspired all kinds of wicked ideas. “I should never have kissed you in the first place.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“But—”

“Look, do you want to talk or dance? We can go back to the table.”

Temper flared in her eyes. Her lips parted, and he could tell she was dying to say something, but instead, she lifted her chin a notch and then laid her cheek against his chest.

And then she moved her hips. The motion was subtle, but enough to get his attention. Enough to make him suck in a breath and tense.

She moved again.

This time she wasn’t so subtle.

Mike exhaled slowly. He loosened his hold of her waist and stepped back a little. She followed.

“Gina.”

“Yes?” She tilted her head back again, her face the picture of innocence.

“You’re asking for trouble.”

Excitement danced in her eyes. “Yes?”

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

A sly smile curved her lips, and then she laid her cheek on his chest again. He tried to keep an inch between them, but she wouldn’t cooperate. She snuggled closer each time he tried to retreat, becoming bolder with every attempt to thwart him.

Of course he could lead them back to the table, refuse to dance with her anymore.

Yeah, right. As if he could. She felt too damn good.

Her hips moved to the beat of the song, doing the most damage with the bass guitar. Getting back to the table without everyone laughing and pointing was going to be some trick. At least the lighting was dim and he wore jeans, which had become painfully tight.

The song started to wind down and he didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. He’d be off the hook with the next fast number. And bands never played two slow songs in a row.

Wrong. When none of the couples seemed anxious to break apart, the band lapsed into “Unchained Melody.” Everyone continued dancing. Including Gina.

“We should head home,” he said into her ear.

“Why?” She looked up at him.

“Because…”

The light from the stage made her moist, parted lips glisten. He lost what was left of his resolve and lowered his head for a taste. Surprised, her mouth opened more and he slipped his tongue inside.

Insane. They were in public—in the middle of a crowded dance floor. He knew better. And God, he hated this kind of public display. But stopping himself seemed too overwhelming a task. She was like an addiction. She told him what she wanted, when she wanted it, and he was helpless to refuse.

Gina responded to the kiss without hesitation. She seemed more sure of herself than she had the first few times they’d kissed. Her tongue wasn’t tentative or frenzied anymore, but slow and sensual in its assault of his willing mouth.

They had to stop—
he
had to stop this. At least before the song was over and the curtain of bodies disappeared. But her hips moved, grinding against him, and his shameless penis shot to attention.

He really did have to stop this.

In one more minute…

The song ended, effectively accomplishing what Mike should have had the willpower to do. He pried his lips away from Gina’s, reluctant to look at her, but powerless not to watch the way her lips remained parted, her eyes half-closed.

Other couples slowly pulled apart. But before the floor emptied, the next song started, the rhythm fast and furious, drawing a whole new crowd of energetic dancers.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

She gave no argument but readily followed him back to the table. He was going to down his beer, since there was no cold shower available, and then they were getting the hell out of here.

After he had delivered her safely home, he’d go back to his apartment and write a hundred times on the blackboard—“I will not mess with Gina Ferraro.”

Shit! He felt like a high-school kid again. Stupid. Aimless. Thinking with his crotch. All his best intentions evaporated as soon as she was in the same room. He had to get a grip.

“Finish your wine, if you want,” he said now. “We’re leaving.” He didn’t bother to sit as he picked up his beer.

She slid into the booth. “It is only midnight.”

“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.” From his vantage point above her, he had a clear view down the front of her dress. He took a ragged breath and looked away. “Ready?”

Sighing, she stood and tugged down her hem. “How far away is your apartment from here?”

His last swallow of beer nearly came back up. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Far.” He took her by the elbow and headed for the door. He lived close to Antonio, but she didn’t have to know that.

Outside, another couple waited for a cab ahead of them. Two bouncers attended the door, checking IDs and monitoring the long line of people still waiting to get in.

Gina idly studied the well-heeled crowd and then turned to Mike with a pretty frown. “Michael? What is a blow job?”

“Hey, buddy, we all wanna hear the answer,” the redhead’s bearded companion called out, and started everyone laughing again.

Mike cursed under his breath. “Let’s go,” he barked at the driver.

“Keep your pants on.” The man peered into the rearview mirror at the stream of oncoming headlights. He finally edged his way into the traffic. “Where you going?”

Mike gave him Antonio’s address and then grudgingly glanced at Gina. She stared at him with concern. Sighing, he looked out the window. A weeknight, and the sidewalks were still packed at midnight. Of course, that was one of the things he’d always loved about New York. The city always teemed with activity.

So why didn’t he get out anymore and enjoy the festivals and street entertainment and corner vendors with the best hot dogs in the world?

“Michael?”

Oh, man, he knew this was coming. “Yeah?”

“Why are you acting so strangely?”

He glanced at the driver. “Let’s talk about it when we get home.”

“Everyone laughed—did I do something wrong?”

“Gina.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll explain later.” He sent a meaningful look at the driver. “At the apartment when we’re alone.”

She sighed with impatience and then nodded.

Damn. He had intended on telling the cabbie to wait for him, seeing her to the door and then getting the hell out of Dodge. But knowing Gina, she’d ask Antonio to explain what a blow job meant. That would be rich.

He wouldn’t have to stay long. He’d give her a one-line explanation. She’d be embarrassed. He’d give her a few words of reassurance and then be outta there.

Traffic was light once they got off Lexington, and they arrived at the apartment by one-ten. It still amazed Mike that Antonio gave her a two-o’clock curfew. Certainly not an unreasonable time, considering she was twenty-three. But that didn’t seem like Antonio.

Mike asked the driver to wait, but the guy already had another pickup scheduled. No problem. As long as Mike delivered Gina and left before she talked him into a demonstration, instead of an explanation of a blow job…

The ridiculous thought got him heated, and he took a deep calming breath as he pressed the elevator button. This was Gina. They were on their way up to Antonio’s—his boss’s—apartment. Nothing was going to happen.

“Michael?” She laid a hand on his arm, curling her fingers possessively around it. “Do we have to go inside right away?”

“Yes.” He looked straight ahead at the door. Her eyes did funny things to his resolve. And if she did that pouty thing with her lips—

“But Zio Antonio will probably be home, and it will be hard to talk.”

“I don’t plan on staying long. I’ve got to get up early, remember?”

The elevator doors opened and he expected her to drop her hand. Instead, she linked her arm with his and pressed closer. Antonio was probably asleep, and she was hardly doing anything suggestive. Mike’s guilty conscience made him squirm as they approached the apartment door.

“Look, I’ll just say good night out here.” He disengaged her arm. “Call me tomorrow after you wake up.”

She tugged at his sleeve and lowered her voice to a persuasive pitch. “But it is still early.”

“Gina, it’s after one.”

“That is not late.”

“You said yourself your uncle is home.”

“We can go to the roof. There is a patio there that is very private and—”

“Oh, no.” He freed himself again. “No roof. Where’s your key?”

“Michael.” Her lips formed the pout. “You still have to explain what a blow job is.”

He muttered a curse. He glanced over his shoulder even though he knew the corridor was empty. “Don’t say that word anymore, okay?”

“Why?”

“Give me your key and I’ll explain.”

She snapped open her tiny black bag and then looked up into his eyes. “I have something to tell you. Please do not be angry.”

Dread slithered up his spine. “What?”

“I lied about my curfew.”

“What time?”

She wrinkled her nose the way she always did when she didn’t understand.

“What time did he tell you to be home?”

Pink tinged her cheeks and she looked down at her hands. “Midnight.”

“Great.” He glanced at his watch, even though he knew it was almost one-thirty. “Just great.”

“He does not have to know.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Sometimes he does not get home until two. And then he goes straight to bed and snores like a pig in one minute.”

“And if he’s sitting in the living room when we walk in?” Mike had one of those bad feelings again. “What then?”

“Please do not tell him I lied.” Her pleading eyes sucker-punched him. “He will send me back home.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

She nodded with conviction.

What if he did send her back? The thought shook Mike. “He won’t be happy with me, either.”

“If he is awake, I will confess. But I am certain I can sneak in.”

“What if he’s already looked in your room and seen your empty bed?”

“I leave it messy when I go out. With lots of pillows under the covers so it looks like I am there.”

“You learned that in Catholic school?”

“Si.”
She nodded so solemnly that he couldn’t help but laugh.

He took the key she’d taken out of her purse and quietly opened the door. The lamp was on in the corner of the living room. That told him nothing. Antonio left it on all night.

Gina followed him inside and then he quietly closed the door. He thought about leaving, but if Antonio did wake up, Mike didn’t want Gina to face him alone.

“Go straight to your room,” he whispered. “I’ll leave once you’re inside.”

“But what about—?”

“Gina, for God’s sake go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then headed toward the hall.

Just then Mike thought he heard someone talking outside the apartment. He listened for a second and heard a slightly slurred, off-key rendition of “O Sole Mio.”

Shit! “Gina, it’s your uncle.”

She turned and frowned.
“Scusi?”

Mike heard the key rattling against the knob as if Antonio was having trouble inserting it. “He’s at the door. Go!”

Her eyes rounded. “What about you?’

Good question. The coat closet. Where the hell was it?

“Come.” She waved him frantically toward her.

He shook his head. “Go!”

When she started back toward him, he had no choice but to go to her. Grabbing his sleeve, she dragged him down the hall to her room. Talk about déjà vu. Except this time, he’d landed in the lion’s den. Or in this case, the lioness’s den.

She closed the door behind her and sank against it.

“I would have been better off hiding out there,” he said in a gruff whisper.

She promptly shushed him with a warning finger to her lips. They both listened for a moment. Mike thought he heard clanging in the kitchen, but he couldn’t be sure. For all he knew, Antonio hadn’t found the lock yet.

He knew Robert was worried about his father’s recent fondness for late nights of imbibing with his friends at a cigar club on Seventh. The new routine had started shortly after Antonio’s wife died. Mike thought Robert had been overreacting, since Antonio never missed work. Now he wasn’t so sure.

All was quiet and Mike started to think Antonio might have already gone to his room when a light knock at the door gave him and Gina a start.

She put a hand to her throat. When Antonio called softly, she didn’t respond. Mike gave her a nudge and hoped like hell she’d locked the door. He peered at the knob, but they’d left the light off, and with only the soft glow of the night-light, he couldn’t tell.

She finally answered Antonio in Italian, doing a good job of sounding as if she’d been asleep. Probably learned that in Catholic school, too. In spite of everything, he laughed to himself. Rumors about private-school girls had been abundant in his day. Now he understood. Not that Gina was wild, just resourceful.

Antonio also responded in Italian, which made Mike nervous. His gaze darted around the room for a place to hide just in case. The closet door was open and the tiny space inside was already packed with Gina’s clothes and suitcases. Maybe under the bed—

Gina gasped. She said something in rapid Italian to Antonio and made a frantic motion with her hand for Mike to hide. He dropped to the floor, about to crawl under the bed when he realized the area was crammed with storage boxes.

Gina kicked off her shoes, flung her purse on a chair and pulled back the thick quilt. “Here,” she whispered, pushing the mountain of pillows to the side, half of them tumbling to the floor.

He dove in without another thought, burrowing between the pillows while she yanked the quilt over him. She called out something else in Italian and then slipped in bed beside him.

A protest nearly tumbled from his lips, but he heard the doorknob turn and clamped his mouth shut. Gina turned on her side and wriggled her bottom into position against him. He sucked in a breath and curled to follow her form, hoping Antonio didn’t wonder how his niece had managed to gain 170 pounds overnight.

Only because of the bulky pillows did they have a prayer of not being discovered. And the fact that Antonio sounded a little inebriated.

He entered the room, using only the night-light and sat at the edge of Gina’s bed. The mattress dipped with his weight and Mike closed his eyes, hoping the whole damn bed didn’t collapse with the three of them on it.

Gina faked a yawn and muttered something, part in English, part in Italian, about being sleepy. She’d sounded too coherent a moment ago. Antonio had to be half in the bag to fall for that line.

All the unfamiliar Italian drove Mike nuts, but fortunately Antonio was brief. He apparently gave something to Gina, and then immediately stood after she thanked him. Italian for good-night, Mike recognized, and then he heard the door close.

He let out a relieved breath, but made no move. He waited for Gina to give him the go-ahead. When she said nothing, he slowly lifted a hand to get her attention. The problem was, he knew where her butt was, but touching her anywhere else could end up being a surprise for both of them.

Tempting. Very tempting.

Instead, he just kind of moved. She responded by wriggling her bottom harder against him.

Oh, boy, this wasn’t going to work.

“Gina.” She didn’t answer, so he whispered her name a little more loudly.

“Wait.” She rolled out of bed, and he hoped like hell it was to lock the door.

He listened, fairly sure it was safe to get up, but not willing to take the risk. A moment later she slipped back into bed, this time facing him.

His chest tightened. What the hell was she up to? “Did you lock the door?”

“Si.”

Mike rolled onto his back, prepared to slide out the other side.

“Wait.” She grabbed his wrist. “Not yet.”

His heart slammed against his chest. “Has he gone to bed?”

“No, he is in his office.”

Whispering in the dark was too intimate. It made him nervous. It made him weaken. As did her scent. He closed his eyes and breathed in her feminine muskiness.

“What for?”

“I did not ask him.”

Mike tried not to think about her breasts so close to him he could put his mouth on them. “What did you two talk about?”

She sighed and her warm breath danced across his cheek. “Poor Zio Antonio. He is sad tonight. He misses his wife.”

Mike sobered. “He came in to tell you that?”

“He gave me her locket. Since he has no daughter, he wants me to have it. It is an heirloom, very beautiful and valuable.” She sighed again. “He is a little drunk. Tomorrow I will give it back.”

“Why? If he wants you to have it…”

“Someday Robert will have a daughter. The locket should go to her.”

Mike said nothing. Hard to imagine Robert married, much less a father. But Gina was probably right. He’d have a bunch of kids, just like the rest of the Scarpettis.

Gina shifted, hogging a pillow Mike had wedged between them. “When he is in such a mood, he may not go to bed for a long time.”

“What does he do in there?”

“He looks at old pictures of my aunt. And drinks too much. I will speak to him about his health before I go.”

“Really?” Mike smiled. Sometimes she sounded so grown-up, and other times she was like a child, curious and adventurous, and asking too many touchy questions.

“You do not think I should speak with him?”

“No, it’s just that I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just…Gina, I’m in your
bed.
”

Her soft laugh came out throaty and sexy as hell. “
Si,
Michael, I know this. I am in my bed, too.”