That's Amore! (22 page)

"Okay. Bring me back a small pizza, will you?"

Rachel grinned at the young woman, whose tiny frame didn't look like it could manage a single slice, much less an entire pizza. "Okay." Then she met the younger woman's eye, silently urging her to understand. "As long as you agree to handle Maria Martinelli's fitting—if she ever decides to show up for one." Lowering her voice, she said in a thick whisper, "Please, Maddie. I can't do it … for very personal reasons."

Maddie opened her mouth, obviously intending to shoot it off. But apparently Rachel's tone, not to mention the pleading look in her eyes, got the message across. She nodded. "Okay."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Maddie said. "And now, you owe me breadsticks, too."

Pizza and breadsticks. A small price to pay for avoiding the woman who was about to marry the man Rachel had so unwisely fallen in love with.

There were those words again. In love.
Are you crazy?

Maybe. But that didn't make her feelings any less real. Just her luck, she'd gone and fallen in love—for the first time ever—with a man she couldn't have.

Unfortunately, she realized as soon as she entered Santori's, avoiding Maria wasn't going to be so easy. Because the woman was seated a few feet away. Across from Lucas, in a booth near the door.

Oh, God. She instinctively began to whirl around,
then
realized Mrs. Santori was watching her in avid curiosity from behind the counter. Luke's mother gave her a big welcome, coming out from behind the counter, arms extended. "Rachel, you should have told me you were coming for lunch. I woulda had Ant'ny working on a spinach calzone for you."

Her favorite. Rachel managed a shaky nod of hello, even though Luke had immediately looked up at his mother's words. He appeared tense, uncomfortable even. But when his eyes met hers, his expression softened and he offered her a smile of such unexpected tenderness, she nearly stumbled.

She wondered if Mrs. Santori kept a mop on hand to clean up the women who physically melted under Luke Santori's smile.

"No, thanks, Mrs. Santori, I came to drop these off." She kept her voice low as she placed the sealed cardboard carton on one of the empty tables. "The favors were delivered this morning and I thought Maria might like to see them." Casting a quick glance toward the not-so-happy-looking bride and groom, she added, "Maybe you could give them to her later."

Mrs. Santori said nothing for a moment, merely giving her a long, thorough stare. Rachel willed her breathing to remain steady and her cheeks not to redden.
There's nothing to feel guilty about.

She'd barely touched Luke, except, of course, when she'd thrown herself in his arms that first day. But only because of fat fingers Freddy. She'd certainly had no idea how much she'd
like
being in his arms until after she'd landed there, so she couldn't feel guilty about it.

Unless her innermost thoughts and wishes counted. Then, well, someone might as well call the executioner because she was guilty as hell.

"I think you should stay a little while," Mrs. Santori said. "You're very welcome here." Her voice was
low,
her expression caring, as if she somehow understood what Rachel was feeling.

Before Rachel could respond, she heard Maria's loud voice. "Rachel! How nice to see you."

That was about as friendly as Rachel had ever heard her, but she also noted a hint of forced gaiety in the other woman's voice. Maria's eyes were suspiciously bright as she rose from her seat and approached.

"I brought a box of your favors so you could check them out," Rachel said softly.

"Oh … those silly little almond things my father insisted on?" She gave a weary sigh. "Fine, why don't you leave them here and I'll go through them later."

Gloria Santori emerged from the kitchen and joined the conversation. "Oh, no, you're not getting out of this one. You have to open the top one right now, and end this suspense. Just how many babies are you and Luke going to have?"

Oh, God. Babies? Rachel sucked in a quick breath and clenched her fingers into fists, determined not to react in any way, though the mental picture pained her somewhere deep inside.

Maria reacted enough for all of them. "Babies? What babies? I'm not pregnant. Who told you I was pregnant?" Her voice was sharp and
raised
.

Luke walked over. "I don't think anyone suspects that's possible." He and Maria exchanged a telling look, both, Rachel noticed, remaining stiff and untouching. As if they weren't comfortable with one another. As if they shared no intimacy whatsoever.

Which definitely got her wondering.

"You know the custom, don't you?" Gloria asked as she reached for the box and began tearing off the packing tape. "The engaged couple opens the first little container, and however many almonds are inside determines how many children they'll have." She grinned. "Tony and I had two in ours, which means I'm off the hook for life!"

Though Rachel would rather have been anywhere else, she could think of no graceful way out. She had to
stand
here and watch Luke and his fiancée go through a family wedding ritual. Which she looked forward to about as much as she looked forward to her first tax audit.

Maria and Luke didn't appear very happy about this whole thing, either. Neither of them smiled, and they certainly didn't laugh intimately together at the thought of any children in their future. Meanwhile, Luke's mom just kept shifting her attention between them all, obviously sensing something was up.

Only Gloria appeared oblivious to the undercurrents as she finished tearing off the tape, then pushed the box across the table to Maria. "Go on."

The center of attention now, Maria slowly peeled up the sides of the box and peered inside. She was silent for a moment, though her face grew pale and her mouth opened.

Then she let out a scream. A loud one.

The few diners in the place dropped their forks and one woman tipped her glass over. Everyone stared in shock as Maria threw her hands over her face and began muttering something.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

Maria lowered her hands, displaying what looked like fear in her expression. "It's an omen. All those eyes staring at me, judging me." Staring wildly around, her gaze finally came to rest on Luke.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding much more patient than anyone else probably felt.

"I confess. I'm guilty. I'm having an affair. I'm in love with my dentist, Dr. Schwartz!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rachel hadn't
stuck around for the fireworks after Maria had dropped her bomb on all of them. She'd stammered something—she couldn't even remember what—and headed for the door. Gloria had done the same thing, beelining for the kitchen. And Mrs. Santori had lowered her head and walked away.

Now, twenty-four hours later, she was still wondering what on earth had happened. Had Lucas been furious? Relieved? Forgiving? Had Maria been
asking
for forgiveness, or ending their engagement? The wedding—was it on, or off?

Was Luke free?

Heaven help her, but that question was the one that had really bounced around in her head all night Saturday night, and throughout Sunday morning. It's what had driven her so crazy, she'd had to leave her little apartment and go in to the shop, to do a few hours worth of work, even though they were closed on Sundays.

Coming to the store probably would have been fine, if it weren't just a few doors down from Santori's. Thankfully, the restaurant was closed and dark, as usual this early on a Sunday, when they only opened for dinner.

Still, even the outside of the building brought up vivid memories. She couldn't stop picturing that bizarre moment when Maria had wailed about eyes staring at her, and had made her dramatic confession.

"Lady, you are obviously out of your mind."

In more ways than one. Not for the first time, Rachel wondered what kind of pea-brained lackwit would choose some dentist over a man as amazing as Luke Santori.

Though there was work to do, she couldn't concentrate on files or receipts or bookkeeping. At the very least, she could clean off her big new desk, already covered with the shoeboxes, a sewing kit, and snippets of thread and lace. But she couldn't keep her gaze away from the mountainous stack of fabrics sitting on the carpeted platform where customers stood during fittings.

Her attention remained squarely on the lovely piece of peach-colored silk that Luke had touched so seductively the other night. Her breathing slowed and her whole body felt languorous, just remembering it.

She couldn't help it. Some wicked
impulse made her rise to her feet and approach
the platform. In the floor-length mirrors which surrounded it, she could see the wistful expression on her own face as she gave in to some need to connect with Luke. She was reaching for the silk before her brain could tell her she was being a fool. And even when it did, she didn't care.

"So soft," she murmured, bringing the fabric up to rub it delicately against her cheek.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. That same wicked impulse made her lower the silk, sliding it across her neck, her throat. To the tops of her breasts, revealed in her lightweight, scoop-necked sundress. "Would you have touched me like this?" she whispered aloud, picturing warm hands instead of cool fabric. One specific pair of hands.

"Oh, absolutely."

She froze, shocked into silence, hardly even breathing. Because that soft, husky voice had been unmistakable.

Luke.

"You're here?" she asked, still not turning to face him, though she did, finally, open her eyes.

"I'm here."

"I wondered if you'd come."

She heard him step closer. "I wanted to. But I wasn't going to walk through your door again until I was a free man."

A warm, lava-flow of happiness oozed through her veins, and she slowly turned around, letting out a tiny sigh to indicate she'd heard his softly spoken words.

"Hi," he said when she gave him her full attention.

"Hi."

He hesitated. Then said, "It's over."

Over. He and Maria were over. He was free. Here because … because… "Why are you here, Luke?"

His eyes widened in surprise and he stepped closer. "You have to know that."

Nibbling her lip, knowing she might offend him but having to know the truth, anyway, she said, "Because I'm handy and available?"

His jaw tensed, and his brow creased in anger. He ate up the few feet between them with two giant steps, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her close. "Don't you ever say that
again.
Don't you even think
it.
"

She stared, waiting.

"I want you, Rachel Grant." He began running his hands up and down her arms, lightly, then harder, testing the softness and texture of her skin.

She couldn't deny the truth, not when it was this blatant, this strong. "I want you, too, Luke."

He kept touching her, stroking her, twining one hand through her hair and sifting its strands through his fingers. The other remained on her arm, sliding lower until he caught her hand in his.

Oh, it was rapturous. Just as she'd known being touched by him would be.

"Do you know how much I've wanted to do this? How often I've fantasized about having you in my arms this week?"

She nodded. "About as much as I fantasized the same thing."

"But I couldn't," he said thickly, continuing to play with her hair, and now, the nape of her neck. "I didn't want you to think I was one of those grooms, looking for a last fling, trying to notch my belt one last time. Because this is nothing like that."

"I know."

Rachel had suspected the way it would feel to be touched by this man, judging by the way he'd touched the silk. The reality far outweighed her fantasies until her whole body was a mass of nerve endings, anticipating each slide of his fingers across her arm, or the scrape of his hand on her throat.

But even his touch couldn't have prepared her for his kiss. He drew out the tension until she thought she'd explode then, finally, leaned down to kiss her. He lowered his mouth to hers and their breaths met and mingled for a second before their lips did. One second of anticipation.

It seemed like an eternity.

Then he kissed her, hot and sweet and hungry, until she sagged against him. Tilting her head, she urged him deeper, meeting every delicious, lazy thrust of his tongue, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

His hands dropped to cup her waist and Rachel couldn't resist an age-old instinct that made her curve her hips closer. He hissed against her mouth, but she wouldn't let him pull away. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kept kissing him, wanting more and more.

"I want you, Luke," she whimpered against his mouth as the pressure built to an unbearable level.

She didn't even have to think about it. She wanted this. Here. Now.

He didn't say a word. He simply moved back far enough to catch hold of her shoulders, and gently turned her around.

She was facing the mirrors. All those mirrors in which she was reflected over and over again, with the same heavy-lidded look of sensual desire on her face.

He stepped behind her, lowering the zipper of her dress inch by agonizing inch, when what she wanted was to rip the damn thing off and be done with it. His sultry grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her with his slowness and restraint.
Driving her crazy.

Well, two could play at that game. She met his eyes in the mirror. Shrugging one shoulder, then the next, she allowed the dress to fall to the floor, giving him a smile just as sultry and inviting.

"God, you're glorious," he muttered. The desire in his stare was something she could dine on for months. It was heady, powerful, having a man so filled with hunger for her.

But the upper hand shifted yet again when he reached around her to stroke her stomach. Her legs felt quivery and she had to gasp for breath, both at the sensations caused by his touch, and the image of his dark hands on her pale skin, reflected endlessly in the mirrors. He pressed his hot mouth on the side of her neck, and she arched in delight.

Those amazing, strong hands of his teased and taunted and built the pressure. He'd slid his fingertips across the elastic top of her bikini panties, but no lower. Then he moved them to the lacy bottom of her bra, brushing featherlight caresses there, until she wanted to cry out for him to cup her breasts before she exploded. He never did and the urgency was making her whimper.

"I love touching you." His whisper scraped across her nape,
then
his teeth lightly did the same.

She moaned. "I knew I'd love the way you touch me."

But it wasn't quite enough.

Reaching around her back, she unhooked her bra. Luke's brown eyes darkened to near black as he watched every move she made. She let the straps slide down her arms, but didn't allow the bra to drop completely away, wanting to draw out the moment, to tease him. For the first time in forever, she was exceedingly glad for her curvy figure. Because the desire was practically dripping off the man in waves.

And when she did uncover herself completely, he let out a low, long groan of pleasure.

As if unable to help himself, he reached up to cup her, caressing her breasts with the same skill in his every other touch. She moaned when he toyed with her nipples, and cried out when his other hand slid lower, across her midriff and her belly, below the top of her panties.

He pushed them off, dipping lower to touch her even more intimately.

"Please, Luke…" she muttered hoarsely, needing so much more.

She didn't have to ask twice. As if in one smooth move, he pulled off his T-shirt, kicked off his shoes and pulled a condom packet out of his jeans pocket. Then he unfastened the jeans and pushed them, and his briefs, to the floor.

All the air left her lungs. She'd watched his every movement in the mirror, and the sight of him—proud and erect and throbbing—made her feel suddenly weak, yet also incredibly powerful.

Wanting to see him without the interference of the mirrors, she slowly turned around. She let her hungry gaze rove over him—his broad chest and thick arms. The flat stomach awash with rippled muscle. The lean hips. Lower.

"Oh, my," she whispered. She gasped at the thought of all that strong, male heat being inside her in a few moments.

"I didn't plan for our first time to be on the floor," he said as he looked around the crowded room. Then they both glanced at the pile of fabric on the raised platform. Wicked anticipation lit up his whole face. Rachel shook a little, picturing exactly what he was picturing.

Luke pushed the pile of material over and they watched it cascade across the carpeted platform in a rainbow of color and texture. The peach silk was on top. Of course it was.

"I pictured your skin when I first touched this," he said as he gently lowered her onto the cushiony, silky mound.

"I know."

Then there were no more words, there was simply soft, cool, smooth delight. She was enveloped by the material scraping deliciously against her sensitized skin. Cool silk and smooth satin and delicate lace and warm cotton. All combining in a cacophony of sensation that had her tingling from head to toe.

Luke took special delight in lifting the edges of the peach silk and rubbing it across the most sensitive parts of her body. Wherever the material touched, Luke's mouth soon followed until she was going out of her mind with the pleasure of it.

Cool and hot. Smooth and rough. Slick and damp. And finally, oh,
finally,
hard and full and deep.

Joined. In the most intimate way possible.

It was utterly amazing.

"I love you, Rachel," he said hoarsely as he drove into her body, driving out any doubt, any second-guessing.

Nothing had ever been this perfect, she realized, as she arched against him, wanting him deeper, wanting to fill herself up with him so she'd always feel like he was a part of her.

And when she finally felt the incredible climactic sensation washing over her in waves, she admitted to both of them, "I love you, too."

I
n all his life
, Luke realized, he'd never made love to a woman. He'd had sex with plenty of them. But never,
never,
had he connected all the dots—put all the pieces of emotion, pleasure and tenderness together—to truly make love. Until now.

After they'd shared their shattering climaxes, he'd rolled onto his back, pulling her over to rest on his chest. They lay silently for a few moments, letting hearts return to normal, breaths slow and hunger
be
sated. For now.