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  “Now!” she murmured. “Now, please. Now, now, now.”

  And despite her garbled mumblings, he heard. He listened. And within seconds she was shattering beneath his thrusts as he used every ounce of control to stop himself from collapsing on her. But then just as she was coming down from her high, his body tensed and with a loud hiss of pleasure, he relaxed his arms and gathered her tightly to him, bodies still joined, his legs stretched out on either side of hers. His weight, her breasts flattened by his torso, his face tucked into her neck – well, it felt like she’d come home.

  “Again?” she laughed softy in the darkness as Nick woke her from a gentle slumber with kisses along her thighs.

  She’d already taken one nap before their second bout and after that Nick had brought a warm facecloth from the bathroom to tend to her carefully. They’d slept some more.

  And now she could feel the rasp of his day-old beard as his lips traced a line from knee to hip. Her heartbeat kicked up as she felt him taste her, suck her, tease her . . . And with a delighted whimper of pleasure, she angled her body to give him better access. He was such a generous lover. Her release, her desires drove him.

  Caro’s experience was limited, but she knew there was no way she’d be encouraging the advances of any other man she’d been with, few though they were, saying aloud what she liked, how much pressure, how much friction or speed, or where he should touch her. Nick made it an essential part of their fun. He told her exactly what he liked, and the natural and complete expectation that she’d return the favour took all her inhibitions away. His satisfaction in what she got was incredible. But the trouble now was that all she wanted was more. Her body had never felt so thoroughly used and so thoroughly spent as it did right now. And nor had she ever felt such incredible peace.

  Well, not right this minute, she thought as her body began to tighten in response to his intimate kisses.

  “God, Nick! I won’t be able to walk,” she mumbled as he grabbed her ass and flipped her, smoothing her bare bottom with his large hand.

  He traced the crevice from the top, moving down and under – pausing, rubbing that tender nub and letting his fingers slide right back up again, bringing all her wetness with him.

  A different kind of pressure built within Caro’s belly and instinctively, she angled her hips upwards.

  “Christ, your ass is beautiful.” Nick’s voice was reverent as he positioned her, gripping her hips tight while angling her knees wider.

  Caro half turned her face on the mattress and she could see his tall, dark form looming over her from behind. Mother of God, what a turn-on – he was stunning.He looked fierce and powerful and wow! did she feel it as he rammed home, this new angle giving him an even greater depth and pressure.

  Good, so damn good.

  “Use your hand,” he urged her. “I want you to feel this one coming. I want you with me.”

  Now that was something no other man had ever asked her to do and Caro hesitated. Was it weird? Did women do this with their partners?

  “Please, Caroline, touch yourself for me.”

  Oh well, if I must . . .

  Caro’s last coherent thoughts were almost swamped by the power of her orgasm, one shared by both of them as she used her own fingers to reach places he couldn’t. Together, they shuddered and gasped as they fell back to earth.

  Chapter 20

  Coffee was an excellent way to be awoken from the sleep of the dead. Maybe I’m a zombie, Caro thought as she turned and tangled herself in the rich cotton sheets. A china cup filled with steaming dark liquid rested on the bedside table. She squinted in the dim light. Nick was prowling the room, gathering clothes. He must have sensed her movements and before she could even haul herself from the pillow, his body made a dent in the mattress as he sat next to her.

  “Good morning.”

  His voice was low and husky. He was unshaven and was wearing a pair of blue jeans unbuttoned at the waist. Had she ever seen him in casual gear? Crikey, there should be a public health warning on him. His hair was tousled and his flash of teeth sent shivers of desire straight through her. Oh, for God’s sake, surely not? Get a grip, Caro. Grown woman, remember?

  “Hey.”

  Her conversation wasn’t the best first thing, but then she’d never really done this before. Not the whole morning-after-the-night stuff. Protocol? Who knew? Nick did, obviously. He handed her the cup as she struggled to sit up, the sheet sliding down over the curve of her breast. Nick’s gaze fastened there for a beat, then his eyes raised slowly to meet hers. He cleared his throat, a hand reaching out to whisper softly over her skin even as he lifted the sheet a little higher.

  “Way too tempting,” he said with a wry grin, “and I need a shower. I’d ask you to join me, but we’d never get out of here and I believe there’s a family breakfast to attend.”

  Caro was so immersed in the visual of them in the shower, her soapy hands roaming his body, that it took her a moment . . .

  “Shit! Oh, crap, I totally forgot! What time is it?”

  She reached for her phone but of course it wasn’t there; her purse lay on the floor in the other room.

  “Relax, its only eight thirty-five. You’ve got time to drink this while I’m showering and then I’ll escort you to your room to change for breakfast. I’m inviting myself, but I figured since Francesca and I go way back and now Toby’s part of my family as well as yours, no one’ll give me grief.”

  He kissed her quickly, got up from the bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

  Oh yes. All that.

  Could it get more complicated?

  It could, indeed.

  And it did. But at least some of it was in a good way.

  Frankie and Dev joined them all for a big family meal about nine thirty, and every tiny detail of the wedding day was dissected and rehashed. Frankie glowed, simply glowed, like she was lit from within. Dev sat there, an adorable grin on his face, his eyes rarely leaving those of his new bride.

  If Caro hadn’t known just how long her brother had waited for this day, she’d have given him serious grief – but no, it wasn’t that so much as the trauma that they’d gone through the previous summer. That had really tested their love and commitment, and they totally deserved their happy ever after. Caro stole a glance at Nick. Ohhh, tummy-drop – he was staring straight at her, a slight smile on his face as he lifted a cup of coffee to his lips.

  Those lips . . . yup.

  He sure knew how to use them. Now, see, there I go again. Caro mentally slapped her head as she went off to sexy Nick land. It was just all so new to her and she wanted to savour every tiny moment.

  During the scramble of goodbyes to the happy couple, Nick took her arm and pulled her aside.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said, his voice for her ears only.

  Caro quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, I do hope so,” she murmured.

  Nick let out a laugh. “Don’t tempt me – I’m a mere mortal! No, I was wondering if you and Toby would accept an invitation to New York for New Year, to meet my family.”

  Caro gasped. “I can’t go to New York! I’ve promised my parents to stay with them for the holidays.”

  “Might they not understand that Toby has new relatives, more people who want to welcome him into their lives? I think your parents are savvy enough to know that Toby has a lot of catching up to do, on his father’s side.” He held up his hand in a conciliatory gesture at her dark look. “No fault of yours. That’s not what I meant.”

  Nick frowned as she stood there, biting her lip anxiously. He let go her arm and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you about Toni’s journal,” he said, “specifically those torn-out pages, which hopefully hold a clue as to why he never phoned you back or wrote to you.”

  “What do you mean, not honest?” Caro asked, facing him directly, the noise of goodbyes instantly fading as she focused on his words. “What do y
ou know?” she demanded.

  “I believe Toni may have sent them to my parents’ house, perhaps for safekeeping. Mom told me a few days ago that there’s a package belonging to Toni in safekeeping at our family’s home.”

  “How? I mean, since when?” Caro was utterly confused.

  “They’ve had it since several weeks before his death. Mom only mentioned it the other day when I told her how his journal was a trip down memory lane. She’d forgotten all about it. What I want to know is . . . ” He paused, his gaze intently on hers. “Is why he would address a padded envelope, addressed to himself, care of my parents? What reason could there be? It’s a puzzle and I for one would like to solve it. I think you might like to get some answers, too.”

  Caro closed her eyes briefly. Goddamn it. Would this Shakespearean tragedy of hers or indeed comedy of errors ever end? There was no reason to believe, not really, that those missing pages were in the envelope or even if they were, that they’d finish Toni’s and her story. But what else would be in it? It was a mystery, for sure. Should she and Toby go? She knew her son would adore a trip and the possibility of the American connection. She knew Nick’s family ran a restaurant and that was reason enough for her little chef.

  But for herself? What would it mean for her and Nick? Would they continue as a couple? Were they a couple? Oh! Jesus, the navigations of modern sex was a bloody minefield.

  “And just so you know,” Nick added, accurately reading her mind and taking her chin in a steady hand, “if you come, either with me tomorrow or in a few days, you and I are sharing a room and, more importantly, a bed. I’m not letting you go again.”

  Well, Caro’s heart did several rather speedy somersaults. That took care of that issue. She looked over to where Toby was hanging out with Flynn and Ali and knew New York would go a long way towards healing some of their leftover grievances. She locked her eyes back on the dark chocolate ones focused on hers.

  “New York it is.”

  Nick waited a beat, his eyes closing briefly as his fingers seemed to tremble against her skin. He bent and placed a kiss at the side of her mouth.

  “Thank you.”

  Dublin hosted many fine bistros and cafés and Naomi Byrne sat anxiously in one, centrally located just off Grafton Street in the heart of the city. She tried her best to keep her hands still but found them shifting and twisting, picking up a menu and replacing it, stacking sugar packets and rearranging them again.

  She sighed. This is stupid, she told herself crossly. It’s broad daylight in a well-lit café and there are many patrons. Pull yourself together, she tried bossing herself, an old trick that helped her to see the situation from the outside so she could monitor her own reactions.

  Her shoulders tensed as the door opened and a draft of frosty air gushed in. She was seated with her back to the wall, the whole café visible before her, but she refused to swivel her head to the door every single time it opened.

  She was early. There was no need. And it showed constraint, command, control. And she was determined to be proud of this – even just agreeing to meet, followed by actually waiting. She’d come a long way. No more shitty “victim” behaviour for her. God, her therapist would be proud.

  Because she was working so hard at ignoring the frequent blasts of cold air, Naomi reached for her book, her staple escape route in case anyone wanted to sit and talk.

  She even read a few pages. But my goodness, her stomach was jittery. Maybe a mint tea would be . . .

  “Naomi.”

  Her name on his lips made her stomach drop and she jerked her head upright to stare into his intense eyes. The silvery hair was combed neatly but he looked different. No suit. A black turtle-neck, dark blue jeans and what looked like a new tweed jacket. Someone had been shopping. The normality and sweetness of that made her smile.

  “Vito,” she answered and gestured to the empty chair across from hers. “May I order you a coffee? Or a tea?”

  Naomi gave herself a virtual high-five as she smoothly took over the situation. She beckoned the passing waitress.

  “A double espresso,” Vito requested.

  “And a mint tea, please,” Naomi added.

  The waitress left to fill their orders and Naomi sat back, doing her best to look the epitome of cool, calm, collected. Vito, it seemed, knew her a little better than she realised.

  “Is the mint tea to settle your nerves?” he asked quietly in that odd accent of his. “I know the double espresso won’t help my rapid heartbeat, but it’s probably not real Italian, so I’ll live.”

  “Oh.” Naomi was dumbstruck.

  He understood she might be nervous and was he just admitting he was, too? How odd. Vito was always the strong, silent type, always in command of everything – that’s why Nick had him on permanent staff. Naomi had only recently discovered Vito was also a computer whiz and a pretty amazing mathematician. With both of them in and out of the palazzo since Caro and her son had moved in, the more formal constraints of the office had relaxed a little in the more homey atmosphere.

  “A little, I guess,” she admitted now, “for settling my stomach, anyway,” she added at his puzzled look.

  She’d been silent, contemplating him, and seconds had ticked by.

  “May I ask you something? Something personal?” Vito hesitated as he spoke, his normally tanned skin flushing a light pink.

  Oh, here we go, thought Naomi, he’s going to ask about my ex and want all the gory details of the life of a prison wife. That’s what most people wanted to hear when they knew about her past. She brushed away the surprising sense of disappointment that overwhelmed her rather suddenly.

  “It depends. I might just direct you to Google and a Web search.”

  Vito’s brows arched as he tilted his head to one side. “Excuse me?”

  “Google him. His name is—”

  He raised a hand to stop her mid-sentence, his flush more pronounced.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding. Perhaps I should go.” His voice lowered and he moved his chair back.

  “Wait. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, ask me what it is you wanted to ask.”

  Naomi could see he was uncomfortable and troubled. And angry. That was an emotion she recognised all too well. But she was all grown-up, all therapied-out, and she could, she would deal with anger maturely. He remained seated.

  “I wanted to ask if you’d consider this meeting a first date. If I add some cake or pie, of course.”

  He stopped. Snapped his mouth shut. But a slight tic worked in his left jaw as he waited for her answer.

  Well, blow me down with a feather. This huge hulk of a man was asking her on a date. Wanted this to be a date.

  Naomi stared at him and he met her eyes squarely, his skin still rosy, but he wasn’t backing down and he was daring her, yes, daring her, to agree. Oh, she liked a bit of cheek in a man. How had she forgotten that? A little burst of happiness bloomed inside a rather withered heart as Naomi allowed a small smile to appear.

  “The apple tart is delicious here, Vito, as are the raspberry and coconut macaroons. May I suggest we get both and share?”

  Oh, now who’s being daring?

  Naomi congratulated herself and was unbelievably relieved when Vito smiled back, a charming dimple appearing in his left cheek where just a moment ago tension had simmered. Her stomach jolted, altogether differently than it had moments before.

  “An excellent idea. That’s exactly what we’ll do.” And he raised his hand to signal the waiting staff once more.

  Naomi relaxed into her chair, an odd mixture of peace and excitement settling over her. Maybe she’d show him the photo of her girl, forever trapped in time at age eleven, and maybe he’d talk about his dead wife. Maybe. Maybe they’d slowly, slowly share their pain and learn to laugh a little. This was, after all, only their first date.

  “You’re going where? With whom?” Jo listened to her eldest daughter as she scalded the teapot next to the sink. “I’m lost. I th
ought you didn’t like or even get on with this Nick Sullivan. What changed?”

  Caro threw her eyes heavenwards behind her mother’s back. It wasn’t an action one would ever do to her face. “It’s okay, Mum. I really do know what I’m doing. Nick and I, well, we’ve come to an understanding, I suppose. He knows that Toby is Toni’s son and he now also understands, or at least I’m pretty sure he does, that we’ve no designs on the Paradiso chain of hotels or the wealth they bring.”

  She collected china mugs from the dresser, took milk from the fridge and filled a small jug. Nick was in the drawing room with her father, Flynn and Toby, and she and Jo were taking a moment to catch up. She took down a tray and arranged a plate of Christmas cake to her satisfaction. It probably wasn’t “correct” and Toby would call her on it, but hey, he wasn’t here.

  “But, not that I’m suggesting it should happen, but shouldn’t Toby get something from his father’s estate? He got off very lightly, all things considered.”

  Jo added tea leaves to the pot and poured the boiling water over. She turned at the sudden silence and looked horrified to see Caro’s face crumbling.

  “He’s dead, Mum, that’s not getting off lightly.”

  And once more, the tears fell.

  “Oh, darling! I’m so terribly sorry. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say. Come here.” Jo rushed to meet her girl, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Ah, sweetheart, you’re grieving. Not just because he’s dead but for all the loss you’ve stored up. There, there, my pet, cry it out.”

  “It’s so dumb,” Caro sobbed. “I didn’t miss him for thirteen years, not really, and certainly not after the first year or two. And now, having just read his diary, knowing he felt the same, I just miss that Toni so much.” She reached for a tissue, blew her nose rather inelegantly and tucked it up her sleeve. “The funny thing is,” she sniffed, “I probably wouldn’t even get on with him now. I’ve changed so much and so would he. Plus, the deceiving me part is kind of hard to ignore.” She gave her mum a watery smile. “I’m daft in the head, aren’t I?”