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“Why?” She angled her face to his.
He did the same. Their eyes met and something hummed between them. “Because I want to make you dinner.”
The answer surprised her. She smiled.
“And because I want you to spend the night in my bed, with me.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Danger lights flared.
“I’ll bring you back here first thing in the morning. Yaya won’t notice you’re missing.”
“Missing?” She smiled again, despite the blade of fear that was moving through her. “Are you planning on abducting me or something, Rafaello Montebello?”
His smile made her feel as though she was floating.
“No, Lauren Monroe.” He reached over and traced the outline of her lips. “I’m planning on making you something delicious to eat before spending the night driving you crazy.”
Her heart slammed into her. “Are you?” The question emerged breathless, husky.
“Unless you have any objections?”
She had hundreds. Or dozens. Some. But she couldn’t clarify them in her mind. Somewhere there was a darkness, a need to finish the conversation they’d started earlier. She frowned, wriggling closer and pressing her head against his naked chest. “Please don’t take stupid risks with your life, Raf.” She didn’t ask him to promise her; she wouldn’t do that. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t change, and she wouldn’t ask him to. She simply had to harden the part of herself that was inclined to care a little too much.
In response, his fingertips trailed her arm, making it hard to focus again.
For a moment they stayed like that, the night perfect, nothing needed to change. But a noise a moment later heralded that it had reached nine o’clock and the automatic sprinkler system burst to life, spraying water over the citrus grove – and all over Raf and Lauren. She squawked and laughed as she jumped to her feet. Raf moved quickly, snatching up their clothes piece by piece, bundling them to his chest as he held a hand out to her. He was laughing too, his eyes crinkled at the corners. She put her hand in his and followed him willingly, running naked through the trees, panting with laughter now.
“When did you learn to cook?”
His smile transformed his face. She lifted her feet to the edge of the stool, so her knees sat right beneath her chin. She pressed her cheek to them, her still-wet hair straggled down her shins.
“Yaya taught me. Taught all of us, actually.”
“Really?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“You’re just not someone I can imagine in the kitchen, really.”
“You see me now?” He queried, gesturing to his chest and where he stood, behind the enormous marble bench top in his state of the art kitchen. The ocean was just beyond his window, the roar of the waves coming towards them sparking Lauren’s senses to life.
“I do,” she agreed, taking a sip of wine to bring moisture back to her mouth.
“Yaya was adamant we’d all learn to cook, do our own laundry.”
Lauren lifted a brow in silent inquiry.
“She wasn’t born into money. Her parents were dirt poor, her childhood extremely difficult. She never really spoke about it but I gather her memories of that time were marked by a sense of hunger and loss. She told me once that she spoiled her children dreadfully and I think it was because she’d done without for so much of her life that she wanted them to have everything.”
“That seems like a wholly relatable impulse.”
He nodded. “It backfired. My dad and uncle are the most selfish bastards you can imagine.” He grimaced. “She seemed determined not to make that mistake again. The housekeepers at Villa Fortune were given very specific instructions not to do a single thing to tidy our rooms, nor help with our laundry. We were responsible for all of it. As for cooking, you’ve probably gathered that Yaya values the importance of family meals above almost all else.”
“Yes,” Lauren’s voice pricked with loneliness. She had been captivated by Yaya’s tale of the shared family meals long before she’d seen examples of them for herself.
Raf reached for a bunch of basil and rinsed it under the sink, tapping it a few times before transferring it to the board. He chopped it roughly then tossed it into a white ceramic bowl.
“Teaching us to cook was another way she made sure we’d contribute, but now I’m older, I think there was more to it.”
