“Are we going to just stand here and wait for sunrise?” she asked.
“Not at all. I thought we could sit in the hot tub and relax. Enjoy the champagne and the rest of the evening.”
The warmth of his hand on the center of her back and the low thrum of the hot tub located on the end of the balcony settled her nerves. She let go of all the planning and concentrated on the fact that she was here with a charming and sexy man.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“There’s a changing room over there stocked with robes,” Marco said, his voice deep and dark in the moonlit night. He gestured to the small building next to the tub.
Having spent most of her adult life waiting for this exact moment, she knew it was time for her to act. But action was the one thing that had always scared her. Her grandmother had loved Lorenzo Moretti and that single act had completely ruined Cassia’s life.
Perhaps sensing her unease, Marco said, “Do you know about the stars?”
“What?”
“The stories of the different stars and why the constellations fill the sky,” he said. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her to a double lounge chair and gestured for her to sit down.
She did, and Marco sat down next to her. He put his arm around her shoulder and shifted until she was lying next to him with her head on his shoulder.
She looked at him and knew without a doubt that he had sensed her keyed-up nerves. And she wondered if this was a sign from the universe that she should give up on her plan. Was there a side effect she’d missed when she’d determined the way to break the curse on their families was by getting pregnant with Marco’s child?
“The sky is different here,” Marco said. “In the Northern Hemisphere, where we both live, you can never see the Southern Cross.”
She stopped worrying about seduction and relaxed against him. “I had heard that. Where is the Southern Cross?”
He pointed at the sky. “Right there…do you see it?”
Her gaze followed the line of his arm, and she saw four stars in a diamond shape in the sky. The Southern Cross. “Does it have a legend with it, like Orion or Sirius?”
“Not really. Because it is visible only from the Southern Hemisphere, we have no Greek or Roman legends associated with it.”
“What is that constellation?” she asked pointing to another one.
“That is Leo. Egyptian priests used to be able to predict when the Nile would flood based on its position in the sky.”
He talked about other constellations and she began to see beyond the international celebrity race car driver to the man beneath. He was used to moving in a world of privilege and wealth, yet tonight he was just a man.
“How did you become interested in stars?”
“My father. He isn’t into racing or cars…not the way a Moretti should be.” He turned on the lounge chair so that he was leaning over her. “But he loves legends and the past…he has spent a lot of his life reading about stories of old.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“In San Giuliano Milanese. It’s where our family home is.”
“Are you close to your parents?” she asked.
“In some ways. I’ve always shared a love of the night sky with my father. When I was younger, most of my time alone with him was spent outside at night, looking through the lens of his telescope.”
Being an only child, she’d had too much time alone with her mother, who had been very sad most of the time.
“Why didn’t your father like cars?” she asked. She knew that Giovanni Moretti was rumored to have been too easygoing to run the big automotive company. That he wasn’t interested in business…only in making love to his wife.
“He liked them, he just loved my mother more. So business didn’t hold his interest.”
“Yet, it does hold yours,” she said.
“Tonight I can see why my father was distracted,” Marco said.
She thought she saw surprise in his eyes as he revealed that, but he recovered quickly, leaning in close to kiss her. His kiss was soft and slow, one of seduction rather than full-out passion.
He swept his hand down the side of her body, unerringly finding the zipper in the side of her dress. Instead of unfastening it, he simply traced his finger over the seam.
His mouth moved along her jawline with small, nibbling kisses, then dipped lower to caress the length of her neck. She shifted in his arms, trying to bring her body into full contact with his as he continued to tease her.
Her breasts felt sensitive and the skin of her arm beaded with goose bumps as he continued to move his hand over her body. She wanted more.
Marco had always had an innate gift for seducing women. Dom had suggested it was because he was Italian and wooing women had been bred into him, but Marco thought it was more than that. He’d never been callous in his seductions and he’d walked away from women who he knew would regret having made love to him when they woke in the morning.
But he couldn’t walk away from Virginia. He surprised himself with the depth of the need he had for her. Still, if he made this about the physical, then his emotions would recede and she would be nothing more than a passionate memory for him to look back on, years from now.
The rich darkness of her hair contrasted with the creamy whiteness of her skin. He drew down the zipper at the side of her body and watched as the sky-blue material gaped open. He slipped his hand under the fabric and touched her skin.
Her breath caught and she shifted in his arms, turning on her side so they were now facing each other. He reached between them and drew her hands up to the first button on his shirt.
Staring into her wide, chocolate-colored eyes, he saw the shyness that was so much a part of her melt away as her fingers brushed against his chest.
Blood rushed through his veins, pooling in his groin and hardening him as she started unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers were cool against his skin as she worked her way down his body. When she finished unbuttoning the shirt she pushed it open and he shrugged out of it.
He growled when she leaned forward to brush kisses against his chest. Her lips were soft and not shy as she explored his torso, and he felt the edge of her teeth graze his pecs.
He watched her, his eyes narrowing and his pants feeling damned uncomfortable. Her tongue darted out and brushed his nipple. He canted his hips forward and put his hand on the back of her head, urging her to stay where she was.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, one finger tracing over the scar under his left nipple.
“Tony pushed me out of the fig tree in the backyard when I was eight and I landed on a hoe that the gardener had left lying on the ground.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked. She braced one hand on his chest as she leaned over him.
He shifted under her and lifted her in his arms so that she straddled him. He leaned up and kissed her lips. “At the time it hurt very much.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning down to lave the spot with her tongue. “I have a scar, too.”
“Where?” he asked.
She blushed and then shrugged her shoulders, pulling her right arm out of the dress. The bodice loosened and the other sleeve slid down her left arm until the dress pooled at her waist. She wore those strapless bra cups that were clear in color. He could see all of her breasts and yet as he reached up to touch them, he felt only fabric and not the sweetness of her flesh.
“The scar isn’t on my boobs,”