The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (2 page)

Hysteria filled
Tracy’s whisper, “They’re all wearing masks.”

“It must be a masquerade wedding.”
JC’s hushed voice brimmed with excitement. She inconspicuously lifted her palm for a high five. “Perfect.”

Ignoring the gesture, Tracy’s
eyes popped wide, fretfully pointing to her face. She grumbled through clenched jaw, “We don’t have masks.”

JC’
s gape fixed beyond Tracy’s shoulder. A smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. “We do now.”

An usher appeared at
the end of the pew wordlessly offering a selection of gorgeous masks displayed on a silver tray. Tracy reached for two, smiling appreciatively at the handsome man. Keeping the delicate black mask for herself, she handed JC the white mask with opalescent crystal-like sequins.

Sheer
ribbon tied to each side of the stunning mask. She ran the tip of her finger over the intricate lace pattern embedded with Swarovski crystals. “This is beautiful.”

Molding
the thin metal mask perfectly to the contours of her face, she tied the ribbon holding it secure.

Every creak echoed off the stone walls and dark wood floor as she settled int
o her seat. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of moisture impregnated into the wooden pews. A small group of musicians dressed in white shirts and dark vests accompanied the bride as she stood at the end of the aisle.

Tracy let out a tender gasp, taking in the magnificence.
Light radiated in from the stained glass at all angles, creating a breathtaking moment in time. It took every ounce of self-control not to break out her camera and capture the shot, but she realized it was more than just the image before her, it was the love and energy filling the cathedral.

As the bride marched slowl
y down the aisle, Tracy cinched JC’s fingers and whispered in awe, “Can you imagine getting married here someday?”

JC
tossed her an indignant scowl. “Hell no. I’m never getting married.”

“I wish I could get marr
ied here someday. It would be perfect.”

****

The reception commenced on the terrace. Heat radiated off the lava rock wall as Tracy leaned her hips against it for support, aiming her lens at the glorious view. A light breeze swept through her coppery mane. She lifted her chin, taking in the late day sunshine and sweet scent of geraniums planted in large blue pots along the white terrace.

Giggles from two A
merican girls strolling along the flagstone sidewalk two stories below caught Tracy’s attention. Their interest shifted from the vast caldera jutting up from the sea, to three gorgeous Greek men in suits meandering outside the chapel near an overlook. One of the young women let out a catcall and the men turned to take notice, but the girls dashed out of sight. A warm smile of remembrance etched across her face. She lifted her lens to capture the endearing moment.

JC appeared at her side with two tall thin glasses of clear liquid.

Tracy pointed to the girls saying softly, “Those girls remind me of you on our first trip to Greece.”

Glancing at the men
, JC released a sigh of appreciation. “I’ve wasted the last few summers wandering the streets of Greece searching for hot men. I should’ve been crashing weddings! All the gorgeous men congregated in one spot…it’s like a buffet of yumminess just for me.”

Tracy and JC
started traveling to Europe after JC graduated high school and they spent the last several summers there. JC had a serious weak spot for handsome Europeans and mastered the art of flirtation, especially when it came to Italian men.

Italian men flirt like other men breathe, regularly and naturally
, as if it’s part of their DNA. Their charm surpassed even the most charismatic American and could heat up women ages twenty to seventy with just a smile or merely opening a door.

Watching JC
flirt was like taking a summer semester of theater. Unfortunately, the art of seduction of any kind was not Tracy’s strong suit. Socially interacting with men didn’t come easily for Tracy. She enjoyed the challenge of studying for an exam far more than testing the waters of a relationship. However, she did enjoy watching JC’s harmless flirting from the sidelines.

Clearing her throat, JC
playfully bumped her sister’s hip and handed her a long narrow shot glass.

“What is this?”

“Ouzo. Otherwise known as liquid courage. You’re gonna need it tonight. The hottest guy in all of fucking Greece has been staring at you for twenty minutes. Well, maybe not all of you, but definitely your ass. And…he’s Italian.”

“Doubtful dear sista. I’m sure he’s eyeing you, not me.”

JC’s height and beauty captured most everyone’s attention when she entered a room. Not that Tracy wasn’t striking. She mirrored the subtle timeless beauty of their mother, with azure blue eyes and more curves than Lombard Street in San Francisco.

“Not toni
ght. Now look, when he comes over—“

“He’s not coming over here.”
Tracy casually peered over her shoulder, drinking in a set of broad shoulders adorned in a charcoal grey suite standing at the outdoor bar. She set the glass on the rock wall. Peering through her camera’s lens, she zoomed in on his backside to get a better look.

“
How can someone who is so smart be completely oblivious to her surroundings? Seriously? Your IQ ranges in the highly gifted category, but your hot male sensors border on nonexistent.”

“I’m pret
ty sure you inherited the gorgeous men receptors.” Tracy inspected the man’s dark trimmed hair, buzzed tight at his nape.

“How can you be twenty-three and so naïve?
You probably don’t even realize you’ve been dancing to the music.”

Giving her sister a sideways glance, she scoffed. “I have not been dancing.”

“Oh yes you have. Well, kind of. You’re swaying.” JC provoked with a sensual drawl.

“I think you’ve been at the bar too long.” She paused, admitting with a small chuckle, “After so many years of dance classes, it’s hard not to
dance to the music.”

“When he comes over here
just pretend he’s a professor coming over here to teach you Italian,” she directed. “Scratch that. Don’t talk about college the whole time. You’ll sound like the brainiac that you are.”

Vaguely l
istening to her sister’s tactics on how to talk to a guy, she took notice of his shirt collar lying crooked over his jacket exposing the scruff on his jaw. Lowering her aim, she studied his trim fit frame. True to his heritage, the man oozed fundamental appreciation of fashion and style, all the way down to his bare ankles and formal footwear. His ruffled appearance gave the impression of a casual demeanor but his monk strap shoes with burnished patina and gunmetal hardware suggested a precise aura of sophistication.

H
is tailored suit molded perfectly to his lean body. She lingered at the rise near his hips before continuing button by button up his shirtfront to the sun kissed skin at his throat. His black mask played contrast to his full white smile.

“Sweet. Jesus.”
A small gasp slipped from her parted lips. “He’s staring at me.”

CHAPTER TWO

Arrested by his amiable
gaze, Tracy couldn’t move. A slow burn crept over her skin causing her to shiver as she hid behind the camera lens. She turned to face her sister, lowering the camera and setting it on the rock wall.

“He’s coming over here,
” JC swooned.

Everything
around her seemed to stand still. The sound of her breath filtered out background music, voices, and laughter, leaving her with only the sound of approaching footsteps. Nerves cinched around her throat making it impossible to swallow.

“Liquid courage.” JC simmered raising he
r glass.

Tracy
instinctively accepted the chilled glass from her sister’s hand, grasping onto it for moral support.

“Just be yourself,
” JC snickered clinking her glass against Tracy’s. “Actually, don’t be yourself! You’re wearing a mask, no one knows us. Let’s have some fun! Cheers sista.”

Tracy took a deep breath
, nodded and threw back the licorice drink. The silky liquid slid down her throat, turning into fiery lava as it hit her chest, squeezing her lungs into a tight knot and knocking the breath out of her chest.

She felt the slight pressure of fingertips touch her shoulder. Tracy drew in a breath and began to cough, shaking violently, nearly choking. Her hand covered her mouth attempting to conceal the
sound and embarrassment, but it was no use.

Every time s
he sputtered and hacked, JC’s eyes grew wider from behind her mask, cringing with a look of you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

The warm hand remained on her shoulder in a consoling manner. She tried to breathe in but it only brought on another
spasm. Her entire body shook and contracted with each cough. A layer of damp perspiration and just mortification covered her from head to toe.

“
Customarily, you mix it with water.” Came a soft deep voice, layered deeply in a thick Italian accent.

“
Grazie, but you’re a little late,” she croaked. “I think I just drank oven cleaner.” Tracy pulled in a slow easy breath through her nose, not yet daring to look at him, fearing she’d erupt again.

“Ciao,
” JC interceded. A mischievous gleam twinkled in her eye as she winked at Tracy. “This is my sister Maggie and I’m May.”

Tracy’s eyes
popped wide, holding back another attack. Every set of goldfish they had growing up were named Maggie and May in honor of one of their dad’s favorite rock star.

Tracy’s father, Richard, passed away when she was in college.
A year and a half after his death, their mother Tess met and fell in love with one of Hollywood’s most celebrated actors, Tom Clemmins. They were married within six months. Her famous stepdad was known around the world and stalked by paparazzi and obsessed fans. The year that followed their wedding, gave new meaning to the word crazy. Tracy likened her life to the Bugatti Super Sport race car, zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds. The paparazzi followed them relentlessly, becoming dangerous and ruthless at times. It got so bad, Tom hired security during the year that followed the wedding. Occasionally, JC took the liberty of introducing herself under a false name to protect her anonymity.

“Ciao. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Giovanni.” The weight of his hand left her shoulder, greeting JC with an expected kiss to both cheeks.

H
e turned his attention to Tracy, gently running his hand down the back of her arm and cupping her elbow. JC rose to her toes peeking over his shoulder. She pulled her eyes cross and sucked in her cheeks, blowing Tracy a fish kiss.

“Ciao,” she said in a whisper
. Leaning in, she turned her face slightly offering her cheek as a greeting. Her pulse throbbed frantically near her collarbone, waiting to feel his lips.

He didn’t move.

Their stare connected, sending a tickling sensation down her spine. Tracy’s gaze drifted over his recklessly handsome good looks, hidden behind an intricate black mask. His light grey eyes swallowed her whole, the thick rim of ebony surrounding the cloudy irises like the calm in the eye of a storm.

Subconsciously, Tracy raised her fingers, touching them to her mask. His
stare never blinking or shifting from her face. Turning away, she wondered if he knew her true identity.

A
tremor rippled through her, feeling his soft lips press against the hallow of her cheek just below the mask. His scent, warm and spicy, surrounded her as he moved to the other cheek.

“
Ciao.” His eyes lowered to the flesh on her arm standing at attention on full display. “I was going to point out the beauty of your striking blue eyes, but your exquisiteness…how do you say …takes my thoughts away.”

Tracy’s brow arched
and a smile radiated across her face, holding back a laugh.

“That’s a new one.” JC snickered
from over his shoulder in a mocking tone. “Speechless, Giovanni. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“Si`
. Speechless.” There was no change in his expression, just an intent stare full of unapologetic charm.

“Good luck with that.” JC’s face
verged on a new shade of red. “I’ll be at the bar.”

Neither
spoke momentarily. Giovanni’s eyes held, lingering over her face as if she were a fine piece of art hanging in a museum. Another surge of heat raced through each limb and every nerve ending in between. Sharp features accentuated his square jaw, the trimmed beard only adding to his unpolished sexiness.

“
Ouzo is the spirit of Greece, but you should drink it carefully and slowly.” Reaching around her, he retrieved two glasses of red wine from the ledge of the wall. “Greek men compare it to the seduction of a woman.”