Page 47 of Sasha’s Secret

Rocco winked. “Promises, promises. Be good, and I’ll bring you back something nice.”

That woke her up. “What?”

He straightened up, hands held out at his sides in a gesture that clearly indicated he was the “something nice” he had in mind.

“Ah, okay, you’ve convinced me. After you’ve finished with Scott, are you coming back for breakfast? It’s Geri’s day off, so you’ll have to take your chances with me.”

For an instant, he looked aghast, and then grinned. “You know how to make a man an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Good. Now go. Don’t work too hard.” She crooked her finger, and when he bent toward her, she pressed a swift kiss to his mouth. “I’ll see you later.”

“And tonight?” He nuzzled her cheek.

The husky directness of the question thrilled her. “Unless something happens, I think I’ll go to bed early—say, by nine?”

God, that smile of his made her toes curl. Being with Rocco was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

“Sounds good. Now get some sleep and I’ll see you later.”

She watched him finish dressing. Seconds later, he melted into the darkness. Two doors clicked closed, and it was as if he’d never been there.

Sasha settled beneath the cool, cotton sheet and grabbed the pillow Rocco had used. She hugged it close, and when she inhaled, the scent of him wove its magic around her senses. With a couple of hours before her day was due to start, she could allow herself a little extra dream time.

Or at least, she could have, had she not been assaulted by an insistent voice asking silent questions about what was happening between her and Rocco, and the accusation that it was all happening way too fast.

Not only that—where did she expect it to go?

It was a question for which she had no answer, but worrying about it was pointless. She closed her eyes, and eventually she drifted off to a parallel world where her relationship with Rocco wasn’t limited by the length of his assignment.

Chapter 11

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Rocco pulled the door closed behind him. A few long strides covered the distance from Sasha’s apartment to his. In spite of his fears, there was no one around at this ungodly hour, so he remained unseen.

He’d hated leaving her. He could still smell her wildflower scent on him, and though the last thing he wanted was to wash it off, he didn't want to give Scott any reason to suspect what was going on between him and Sasha.

After all, she’d still have to work here when he was long gone to his next assignment.

The thought of leaving her didn’t settle well in his belly. As he ran the shower, Rocco considered his options, and none of them were a good fit. If he stayed in Texas, there was no guarantee he’d be working close enough to Casa Millefiori to see Sasha on a regular basis—he could end up anywhere from Alaska to Florida. Or even Hawaii. Even if his next assignment were in Texas, he could still be hundreds of miles from her. The damn state was three times bigger than the entire country he called home.

Home. That was an option, too, but if he chose it, he’d be thousands of miles away from her and thousands of miles closer to his father.

Rocco stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower enclosure. He braced his arms against the wall and let the spray pound down on his neck and shoulders. So far, since he’d arrived in the US, his father hadn’t called, but it was only a matter of time. The old man was as stubborn as they came—he refused to accept that Rocco had no intention of returning to Sicily to be shackled to the family business until the day he died. He lived his own life, and that included the ability to make decisions for himself.

One of those decisions was that running a vineyard and winery wasn’t for him. When he’d moved into close protection, he’d known it wouldn’t be forever, but giving it up was always some vague, indefinable point in the future. Now he wondered if his conversation with Sasha would be instrumental in bringing it a lot closer.

What his immediate future held, however, was the first training session with Scott Monroe. For this one, Rocco wanted to focus on assessing the other man’s existing skills against what might be required when Linzi attended the Diamond ACE Music Awards in Austin in a little over a week from now. Rocco wanted at least one man there on whom he could rely without question.

Half a cup of strong, black coffee later, Rocco was making his way to the gym located in the guest house. The facility was rarely used, but that didn't mean it had been mothballed. When he arrived, Scott was ready and waiting.

“Good morning, sir.”

“It’s Rocco, remember?” He smiled. “Thanks for coming in today and giving up part of your day off. I hope it hasn’t caused any problems at home.”

“It’s no problem, s—no problem at all. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“You might not be quite so grateful by the time we’re done.” Rocco rolled his shoulders. “We’ll warm up with some stretches, and then start off with a look at your unarmed combat skills. That okay?”

One brutally demanding session later, when they were both on their knees and panting with exertion, Rocco had a pretty good idea of Scott’s ability to defend himself when he didn’t have a weapon to hand. It was easily on a par with his impressive scores on the shooting range, which were recorded on his personnel file. It would be interesting to see how current those scores were.