''I Do''...Take Two! (6 page)

He had a good idea why and gestured to the four-poster. “Sorry about the one bed. I can bunk on the sofa in the other room.”

She nodded, but the troubled look didn't leave her eyes.

“We don't have to stay here, Kate. Or in Venice, for that matter. Aviano's only an hour away. My hotel outside the base doesn't have anywhere near the view or elegance, but...”

“It's not the palazzo.” She carved a vague circle in the air. “It's everything. This trip. Ellis. His job offer. Your prince. Us. I feel as though I've jumped on a speeding train and don't have a clue where it's heading.”

“And that's bad?”

“Unsettling.”

Good, Travis thought fiercely. Unsettled was good. He'd take uncertainty any day over her previous insistence they'd grown too far apart to find their way back. And just to inject a little more doubt...

He crossed the room and brushed a knuckle down her cheek. Her eyes widened, but she didn't flinch, didn't draw back.

“Maybe our approach to life was too deliberate the first time around, Katydid. Looking back, we laid it out like a playbook. You would finish your undergraduate degree. I would go through flight school. We'd get engaged, get married, work our way up the chain, take on more challenges, more responsibilities. Start a family only when we were ready.”

“That
was
the plan,” she agreed, sighing as he made another light pass over her cheek. “What we didn't take into account was how those challenges and responsibilities would force us into such separate worlds. You gone so much, me turning more and more to work to fill the void.”

She hesitated but had to tackle the subject that had become increasingly painful for them both. “It wouldn't have been smart or right or fair to bring a baby into that void and expect him or her to fill it.”

“So we throw that plan out the window,” Travis said with rigidly subdued violence. “Start new. Here. Now. That's why I wanted you to meet Ellis. Why I'm ready to hand in my papers as soon as I return to the base and complete this project.” He tipped her chin up, drew his thumb along her lower lip. “I know you need more time. I won't push you. But while you're weighing the pros and cons, don't forget to include this in your calculations.”

He lowered his head, giving her time to draw back, feeling the jolt when she didn't. At the first brush of his mouth on hers, hunger too long held in check kicked like an afterburner at full thrust. The heat, the fury burned like a blowtorch.

His palm slid to her nape. His mouth went from gentle to coaxing. From giving to taking. He circled her waist, drew her into him. They were hip to hip, thigh to thigh, her breasts pressed against his chest, her palms easing over his shoulders.

This was what he needed. What he'd ached for. The feel of her. The taste of her. The pleasure was sharp, knifing and so welcome he had to tap his last reserve of willpower before he could raise his head.

When her lids lifted, the smoky desire in her eyes almost snapped his last thread of restraint. He was a breath away from scooping her up and depositing her on that shimmering blue bedspread when she huffed out a husky laugh.

“Well, looks like there's one aspect of our relationship we won't have to restart.”

“You sure?” He waggled his brows. “That was a pretty small sample. Maybe we should run another test.”

Her laugh was more natural this time, although she didn't quite meet his eyes as she eased out of his arms.

“No time for another test if we're going to make an early dinner. As much as I enjoy swanking around in a Ferrari convertible, I need to soak the road and wind out of my pores. It may take a while,” she warned. “Do you want the shower first?”

“You go ahead.” He paused for a beat. “Give a shout if you need me to scrub your back. I'm pretty good at it, if you recall.”

He was, Kate admitted as she dug out her cosmetic case and clean underwear. Very good! Really excellent, in fact, at scrubbing her back, her front and everywhere in between. They must have slopped an ocean of soapy water onto the tiles in the bathroom of their first apartment.

The erotic mental image took on a more vivid texture with her nerves still skittering from the feel of his mouth and body against hers. Just the sight of the claw-foot tub set in solitary splendor on a raised dais brought the heat rushing back. She sat on the tub's edge, set the old-fashioned black plug and twirled the gilt-edged taps. Steam rose almost instantly from the gushing spout, as hot and vaporous as Kate's memories.

It was only after she'd added floral-scented bath salts and adjusted the temperature that all-too-familiar guilt edged out the memories. Guilt that her pride in her husband's service to his country didn't compensate for empty days and lonely nights. Guilt that she couldn't adjust to the long rotations and short-notice deployments with the same seeming ease as other wives in his unit. Guilt that her gnawing loneliness only added to the stress Travis carried into every op.

Now he was ready to leave the military. Walk away from a job he loved and the comrades in arms who understood the dangers and frustrations and challenges he faced every day. The men and women who spoke the same language and shared the same highs and lows.

As Kate stripped down and slid into the frothy bubbles, her rational self reared up to do battle with the ever-present guilt. Theirs wasn't the only marriage to crack under the pressure. The divorce rate in the air force was the highest in more than two decades. It ran even higher for special ops. Separations, stress and the high risk of the job all took their toll.

And dammit, she shouldn't feel so guilty at the prospect of Travis walking away from that close-knit special ops community. Judging by the interaction between him and Brian Ellis earlier this afternoon, her husband might well find the same satisfaction, the same camaraderie, outside the military as he did in it.

Buoyed by the thought, she grabbed the puffy sponge supplied by the hotel and dunked it in the still-fragrant froth. A thorough scrubbing left her skin tingling and her thoughts free to dwell on something other than the guilt she'd carried for so long.

Like the kiss Travis had laid on her a few moments ago. And the feel of his shoulders bunching under her palms. And her almost suffocating need to glide her palms over that smooth, hard muscle again. Tonight. After a candlelit dinner on the terrace, with the grand palazzi and glistening canals of Venice.

Oh, hell! Who needs candlelight and canals?

Travis was willing to risk all to save their marriage. Could she do any less?

The decision came without conscious thought, so sudden and sure it brought her out of the tub draped in a slick sheen of bubbles. Plucking a towel from the rack, she wrapped it around her. With only a fleeting prayer of thanks that she'd continued on the pill, she left a trail of wet footprints all the way through the bedroom.

Travis was in the sitting room, his shoes kicked off and ankles crossed on a hassock as he surfed channels on the sixty-inch flat-screen TV. Kate caught snippets of Italian, German and Japanese before she cleared her throat.

The ostentatious “ahem” brought his head around. The sight of her towel-draped body froze his thumb on the remote. The channel stuck on an Asian newscaster with a mellifluous voice describing what looked like a typhoon forming in the South Pacific. The swirling turbulence on-screen matched the chaotic thump of Kate's heart.

“You were right,” she said, her pulse pounding.

The remote hovered midair. Caution threaded his voice. “About?”

“The sample was too small. We should run another test.”

She almost laughed at his look of blank confusion. It took him a few seconds to make the connection to their kiss right before she'd retreated to the bathroom.

Then his feet hit the floor, the remote hit the hassock and he was out of the chair in one fluid move.

Chapter Five

T
ravis had vowed to give Kate the romantic Italian interlude she'd always dreamed of. He'd constructed contingency plans for every possible variation, from exploring the hustle and history of Rome to roaming sun-kissed Tuscan vineyards to braving Naples's teeming streets and feasting on the city's famous margherita pizza. Each contingency included the admittedly tenuous hope that they would make slow, delicious love every night they were together.

Slow and delicious didn't so much as pop into his head as he came out of his chair. All he could think of, all he could focus on, was his near-naked wife. The sheen of damp flesh above and below her towel sent his self-control into a frantic free fall. Her wet hair made him hurt with the need to bury his fists and his face in the tangled, silky mass. He was across the room in two strides. Had her backed against the wall in two more.

“I don't know what size sample you had in mind,” he got out in a low growl, “but I suggest we start here.”

His mouth covered hers, hard and hungry. When he moved to her throat and nipped at the taut cords, his blood was hammering like a pile driver. He inhaled the scent clinging to her wet skin while he feasted on her.

“Then we'll work down to here...”

He tugged the towel free, let it drop in a soggy pile at their feet. Cupping her breast, he teased the nipple with his thumb until it stiffened, then dipped to take the dusky peak in his mouth.

“Oh, Travis.” Kate's spine arched. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “It's been so long.”

He grunted a fervent agreement and shifted his attention to her other breast. Head back, neck arched, she let him take his fill until her skin flushed and her breath came in short pants. Wedging an elbow against his chest, she pushed him back a few inches. His heart damned near stopped until she gasped out an urgent demand.

“You need...to get out...of those clothes.”

He didn't make it all the way to naked. Her feverish hands shoved down his jeans and shorts, but he barely got one leg free before she wrapped a fist around his already rampant sex. Her fingers were hot, tight, eager. His were every bit as greedy, parting her thighs, exploring her slick folds, matching her stroke for stroke until her brown eyes went wild and stormy.

“Now, Trav. Now!”

He didn't need any further urging. Cupping her bottom, he raised her a few inches, bent a knee and positioned himself. Some last shred of sanity screamed at him to ease in. Slowly. Slowly. Wait for her to open. Take him in. Bring him home.

Every muscle in his body quivered, every tendon strained. Then she hooked a calf around his thigh and ground her hips down on his. Somehow he managed to hang on long enough to pull out, thrust in. Then he shot her into the stratosphere with him.

* * *

Kate wasn't sure what pierced her haze of sensual delight. Her first guess was the scratchy itch of textured plaster against her butt. Then again, it might have been the bony hips pinning hers to the wall or the hard chest mashing her breasts. One thing about Travis Westbrook, she thought ruefully as the last waves of pleasure dissipated. There wasn't an ounce of soft or cushiony anywhere on the man.

He'd dropped his forehead to hers. Another pressure point. She tried to adjust by angling her head and body a few degrees. The wiggle only dug his hips deeper into hers. He was still inside her, she realized belatedly, although how long that condition would last was questionable.

“Travis.”

“Unnngh.”

“I'm going to have permanent marks on my back and butt.”

His head lifted. “Huh?”

“My butt. My back. The wall.”

“Oh.” His hazel eyes went from semidazed to almost clear. “Right.”

He eased away a few inches, taking her with him, and hefted her higher while somehow managing to kick free of the jeans still tangled around one foot. She swung up her right leg and caught her left to form a tight vise around his waist as he started for the bedroom. She clung to him, breathing in the sharp tang of his skin.

The scent of him, the feel of him against her, rekindled her sluggish senses. By the time they reached the bed, she'd come alive again. Travis, however, barely got the bolster yanked down and Kate deposited on the sheets before he shed his shirt and shoes and collapsed in a boneless heap beside her. He lay sprawled on his back, long limbed and loose and wearing an expression she could only describe as goofy.

Kate rolled onto her side and propped up on an elbow. As though it had a will of its own, her hand touched and explored and revived memories she'd tried so hard to suppress. The smooth curve of his shoulders, the barrel of his ribs, the ropy muscles of his thighs were as familiar as the nicks and dents he'd collected during a very active boyhood and vigorous manhood.

He'd added a new one, she saw with a hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach. As she feathered a fingertip over the still-angry scar on his hip, the old fear grabbed her by the throat. She had to swallow hard before she could ask.

“How did you get this?”

He didn't open his eyes or alter his lazy sprawl. “Lousy intel.”

“I need more than that.”

“We flew into a forward airstrip that wasn't as secure as the locals swore it was. Rebels overran the field, and we had to get out of Dodge in a hurry.” He pried up one eyelid and angled a look at his hip. The chagrin in his voice tipped into disgust. “It was only a flesh wound, not much worse than a mosquito bite, but I bled all over the damned cockpit before we got back in the air.”

She felt caught in the vise of her worst nightmare. She'd dreamed it so many times, with so many variations, and always in terrifying Technicolor. Perimeter forces under assault and falling back. Armed rebels swarming some unimproved dirt landing strip. Travis and his crew scrambling aboard, engines roaring to full power, props spitting up clouds of dust, bullets pinging off the fuselage.

She wanted him out of that. So badly
she
hurt with it. But not unless he wanted it, too. She pushed up higher, her voice suddenly tight and urgent.

“Be honest with me, Trav. Would you really be happy working with Brian Ellis?”

He rolled onto a hip. He had both eyes open now. She saw the light from the windows reflected in their dark pupils, and absolute certainty in their hazel depths.

“Yes, Katydid, I would.”

“Then do it. Accept the offer. For me.
Please.
”

He didn't blink, didn't question her abrupt change of mind and didn't hesitate. “Consider it accepted.”

With a small sob, she fell forward and buried her face in the warm skin of his neck. Joy flooded her, riding a crest of sheer relief. A distant corner of her mind warned that guilt would return later, but at that moment her heart had no room for anything but happiness.

“I'll call Brian tomorrow. And Colonel Hamilton,” he added. “I'd better tell the old man personally before he gets word via the grapevine.”

“Yeah, you'd better.”

Kate had got to know the colonel and his wife, socially and otherwise. Carol Hamilton served as mentor and confidante to spouses who faced the challenge of coping with sick kids and lost dogs and the frequent short-notice deployments of their husbands and wives. The vivacious brunette took those responsibilities as seriously as her husband did his.

Although Colonel Hamilton would probably cut off his right arm before admitting to any favorites, Kate knew he considered Travis one of the best and brightest officers in his command. He would
not
be happy to hear Major Westbrook had decided to hang up his air force uniform.

Travis didn't seem particularly daunted at the prospect. His shoulder muscles bunching under Kate's cheek, he slid a hand through her hair and tipped her head back.

“I'll put in the official request for separation from the air force as soon as I get back to Aviano. But not for you, Kate. For us.”

When he lowered his head, his kiss smothered the doubt and loneliness and worry she'd lived with for so long. She knew flying was in his blood. Knew he would still strap himself into a cockpit and probably court more than his share of risks as Ellis Aeronautical Systems' VP for test operations. But he wouldn't be dodging surface-to-air missiles or taking off in a hail of bullets.

Or would he?

She jerked her head back, her eyes wide with dismay. His filled with instant wariness.

“What?”

“This big modification you said EAS was working on with Lockheed. Will it require flying into hostile airspace to test it?”

“Maybe. I can't talk specifics at this point. I'm not cleared into the program and don't know anything about it.”

“Okay. All right.” She chewed the inside of her cheek and fought for calm. “Here's the deal. I need to know what EAS's VP for test and evaluation does. Specifically. I want statistics. Probabilities, if you can't give me hard data. Or at least an estimate of the risk factors involved in testing the kind of aeronautical equipment EAS develops.”

He didn't pretend to misunderstand where she was going but did his best to deflect her aim. “For God's sake, Kate. I'll be overseeing a small army of engineers, test pilots, mechanics and technicians. If I log enough hours in the air every month to maintain my FAA certification, it'll be a miracle.”

“I don't care,” she said stubbornly. “I want to crunch the numbers. And don't hand me the usual BS about the data being classified.”

She expected him to protest that it wasn't bull. She didn't expect him to burst out laughing.

“I don't see what's so amusing.”

“You don't, huh?”

Still laughing, he took her with him as he fell back on the sheets. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, chins bumping.

“How about the fact that we're naked and in bed together for the first time in more weeks than I want to count and all you want to do is crunch numbers?”

“Well...” She felt him hardening under her, and her body responded instinctively. Heat boiled low in her belly; her breath turned thick. “That's not
all
I want to crunch.”

“Do tell. Or better yet, show.”

“I will,” she promised. Hiking a leg over his hips, she rolled upright again. “I most definitely will. But I want those numbers.”

Travis would have promised her anything at that point. Spreadsheets crammed with EAS test data, diamond ankle bracelets, a cruise to the South Pacific, the yappy toy poodle she'd almost talked herself into some years back. At the time he'd cringed at the possibility one of his crew might spot him walking a white rat with pink bows and toenails on the end of a leash. Now he wouldn't hesitate to parade the critter up and down the flight line if that was what it took to get Kate back.

His mind and body soared. He had her in his arms, in his bed, in his life. He'd keep her there, whatever it took. And damned if this wasn't the perfect start. She looked like a sea siren with her still-damp hair in wild tangles and a seductively wicked smile on her lips as she straddled him. He was determined to take it slow this time. He wanted to watch her skin flush with desire, see her back arch and her head go back as her pleasure mounted.

Only after she'd climaxed in long, tight spasms did he grip her hips and let himself join her.

* * *

By the time she surfaced for the second time, a different but almost as compelling hunger gripped Kate. It made itself heard with an insistent rumble from the vicinity of her stomach.

“I need pasta,” she moaned. “Lots of pasta!”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Recovering far faster than Kate, Travis rolled out of bed with the lithe agility that had landed him a basketball scholarship to UMass.

“We missed our reservation for dinner on the roof, but there's a great little trattoria only a few minutes' walk from here. Not fancy, but really good food.”

“I'm in!”

While he grabbed a quick shower, she cleaned up, made a valiant effort with her hair before dressing in khaki slacks and a bright red tank. She'd reached for her purse and was about to sling it over her shoulder when she decided to check her iPhone for messages.

She had a bunch. Scrolling through the long list, she found five from work, one from Cassa di Molino and two from Dawn. The last came with an italicized subject header.
CALL ME!

Alarmed, Kate hit the re-call button. A dozen gory possibilities blazed through her mind while the phone buzzed. She was a bundle of nerves when Dawn finally answered with a breathless
“Pronto.”

“It's me. I just saw your message. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just the opposite, in fact. You should see this villa! It's like something out of
Lifestyles of the Italian Rich and Famous
.”

Sagging in relief, Kate dropped onto the rumpled covers as Dawn continued. “It's so over-the-top luxurious, Callie's nervous as hell. She thinks we'll be presented with a bill when we leave that we won't be able to pay and we'll end up in debtors' prison.”

“Debtors' prison went out in the late 1800s,” Kate countered, but she understood Callie's worry given the fact that her friend was currently unemployed.

“How the heck can an Italian Air Force major afford a place like this?” Dawn wanted to know.

“According to Travis,
maggiore
is only one of Carlo's titles. He's also a prince.”

“Prince? Like in royalty or rock star?”

“Royalty.”

“Holy crap! Just like in the
Three Coins in the Fountain
movie. Is he as yummy as Louis Jourdan?”

“I didn't ask Travis for a physical description.”

“What's his full name? I'll look him up on the internet.”

Kate searched her mind. “I'm coming up blank on the last name, but I think he's prince of Lombard and...” She scrunched her forehead. “And someplace else.”