Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (8 page)

She gives him a flirty smile. “Lucky for you, my ego can handle that. I am an artist, after all. Now, aren’t you going to ask what I think of you?”

“I’m not sure I want to know. My ego might not be able to take the hit.”

“Come on, we both know your ego is the size of Norway.”

His lips twitch. “Okay, so tell me, Lindsay, what do you think of me?”

She pauses to consider him. “I think you’re the kind of man who tries to do the right thing, though you often suffer for it.”

Giovanni blinks. Seems startled even. Apparently, it wasn’t the flippant answer he was expecting.

And while she still has him off balance, she steps in closer. Being an artist isn’t the only thing she’s talented at and she decides it’s time to leave him with a reminder.

Silently, she puts her palm out to touch his face. His skin is warm beneath her fingers, rough with stubble. She’s surprised how good he feels.

He goes completely still, like an animal struggling with something. She can see it in his eyes.

He doesn’t move, so she goes to him. She slips her arms around his neck and presses her body against his, enjoying the solid feel of him. His masculine scent drifts over her like musky incense. Luckily, she’s wearing heels, but even with her high-heeled sandals, she discovers it’s a stretch to reach him.

At first, she only licks his lower lip, her tongue running along the edge where it’s smooth, then lower to where his skin is salty and rough like sandpaper.

His breath hitches.

She licks him again, and he shudders.

Lindsay draws back. Giovanni’s mouth is open slightly, but his eyes are closed. There’s something undeniably raw in his expression. Unguarded. It stirs a place within her, beckoning like the mysteries of a deep ocean.

“It’s only a kiss,” she whispers.

His eyes open at her words. They’re dark—inky blue. His hands grip her waist, and this time, it’s Giovanni pulling her close, his mouth slamming down hungrily on hers.

She gasps at the need rolling off him. The bruising way he’s kissing her. She shouldn’t want him, but the pleasure rolling through her won’t stop. It’s been ages since she’s felt like this, possibly years. Maybe never.

They break apart only because the cab driver is yelling at them in German.

“I can’t invite you up,” she tells him, her voice shaking, though she tries to hide it.

“I know.” His gaze is hot, lingering on hers, but then he looks away. “It’s a bad idea.”

They’re in agreement, though neither of them makes a move to separate. Finally, Lindsay forces herself to break contact and pull away.

His eyes, still dark, go back to her.

She’s not sure what to make of his intensity. A part of her is tempted to explore those waters, but then she remembers what happened last time she swam in them. How she felt like a prostitute afterward, abandoned in a hotel room.

No one is allowed to make me feel like that. Ever.

It could be years until their paths cross again—it’s possible they never will.

“Have a great life,” she says. It’s one of her standard lines, and she uses it with most men after she’s done with them.

He nods. “You too.”

She hopes Giovanni does have a great life.

Far away from mine
.

Lindsay doesn’t wake up until noon the next day and lounges in bed for a bit before deciding to spend some quality time with her vibrator.

Of course, it complains again, grousing just like last time. The damn thing is barely vibrating at all.

“Come on, seriously?” She fiddles with it, shaking it around before hitting it against the mattress.

Lady, you need a man, not an appliance.

You think I don’t know that?

She finally gets it to work, but then all she can think about is Giovanni. She doesn’t want to think about him, but he won’t leave her alone, still harassing her even in her vibrator sex fantasies.

It’s the way he felt against her last night—solid and strong, as big as Thor with those muscular thighs. And, of course, she already knows what he has going on between those thighs. A big cock, and if memory serves, he knows exactly how to use it.

I refuse to have sex fantasies about Giovanni.

But it isn’t just those thighs and the memory of that large package that has her going. She keeps seeing his face, the raw emotion on it after she kissed him. The need.

God
. Her breath grows shaky.

The need is what’s getting to her. The way he looked at her, like a sinner finally offered salvation. It was lust, but something more too. What would it be like to assuage him? Intense, that’s for sure. It was intense last time, but something tells her this would be even more so.

Okay
, she sighs and makes a bargain with herself.
I’m going to allow one sex fantasy about Giovanni, but only one. That’s all.

Afterward, Lindsay throws on jeans that fall low on her hips and a white T-shirt before wandering down the hall toward the kitchen, stopping to say hello to a few people. Most of the artists who live in the building leave their doors open during the day while they’re in their studio working, which creates a nice feel of camaraderie. Someone’s boom box is playing foreign rap music, and the sound echoes off the walls.

Unsurprisingly, the communal kitchen is a mess. She cuts off a chunk of German rye bread then grabs cheese and cold cuts from the refrigerator to make herself an open-faced sandwich—a classic German breakfast.

She takes it back to her studio where she has an electric kettle she uses to heat water for her French press. When the coffee’s done, she adds a splash of condensed milk, then takes everything over to her sculpting table, eating while she studies the polymer clay mask she’s currently working on.

She’s always found masks interesting—the mystery of them, the way a mask allows the wearer to hide in plain sight. As an attractive woman who’s been judged by her appearance her whole life, she wanted to explore what’s beneath the surface. Her masks are all doubles. You lift the outer mask to see the one below. The true face.

There are ten of them now. One is still a work in progress, two are here in her studio, and the rest have all been sent to different galleries, both in Berlin and back in the States. She has an art agent who handles the business side of things.

Hopefully, she can sell the whole series. That along with her poker money should be enough to keep her in the black for a while.

Lindsay’s eyes flicker over to the bag of clay where part of her bankroll is currently hidden. She has hiding places all over her studio. It turns out Berlin is the poker capital of Germany.
Who knew?
She wasn’t planning on playing cards at all when she arrived here, and had obtained a temporary work visa which allowed her to take a job in a cafe the first few weeks, but then her money started running low.

She’d gone to Spielbank Europa mostly as an experiment. They had tournaments, and she played in a few before discovering she could make far more playing cash games. It would have taken her a month of waitressing to earn what she could in one good night of poker.

She thinks about Giovanni’s accusation, but she would never rip anybody off. Although she did feel bad taking Cockroach Breath’s money, despite the way he called her a whore and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It was what he said about his wife.
Love is everything
. People seldom surprise her, but a sentiment like that coming from such an unlikely source did.

I must be going soft. Way too soft.

The fact is she beat him fair and square. She may not be as talented as her dad, but she plays a clean game. Straight up. Always.

I don’t need to cheat to win.

“What’s wrong?” Lindsay asks her sister, Natalie. It’s early evening and they’re Skyping with each other. She has her laptop set up on a chair near where she’s been working all day.

Natalie looks frustrated and tired. Her blonde hair is pulled back, though strands of it have come loose. She’s holding little Luca at her breast, nursing him. “I just found out Anthony is leaving for an observing run in Chile. He’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“When is this going to happen?”

“Not for a couple months, but he just came back from Keck a few weeks ago. How am I going to juggle work and a baby?”

“I wish I were there to help you. I never should have come here.”

“No, you need to live your life too. I’m glad you went to Berlin.” Luca’s little hand pats Natalie’s breast as he nurses, and Lindsay can’t help but smile. There’s an ache inside her, a hollow place she knows can never be filled.

Natalie is smiling at him too. She strokes his dark hair. “I wish I could keep bringing him to work with me, but I can’t have a baby around hot ovens.”

“What about daycare?”

“I looked into it. There’s no daycare that keeps baker’s hours.”

Lindsay’s not surprised. “Well, I can help when I get back.”

“I know, but I don’t expect you to do it every day. That’s too much. Plus, I know you’re starting classes.”

She’s been glad for the opportunity to come to Berlin, but a part of her feels guilty she left Natalie right after Luca was born. “What does Anthony say?”