Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(64)

“No,” she hissed on a whisper. “You cannot tell her of these things, Sam. Never. And I think you see that you must stop doing them.”

“I’ve told you more than once, girl, this was the last job.”

“Yes, you have, Sam, and you also told me that before this job,” she returned.

“This was for a buddy,” Sam replied.

“There will always be another buddy,” she shot back, her voice on the last word pure acid.

“Luci, girl –” Sam started on a growl but I turned, tiptoeing away and then not knowing where I was going. I couldn’t go back, interrupting an intense and private conversation I clearly was not meant to be hearing. But I didn’t know where to go.

So, even though I had half an Amaretto at the table, I went to the bar inside and ordered another one.

Fortunately, I could do this considering Amaretto was an Italian word.

Unfortunately, after I did it, I realized that I didn’t have my purse with me.

Damn.

I tried to figure out how to smile and sign language my way through telling the bartender I needed to run and get my purse when the bartender put the snifter on the bar, started pouring and I saw a bill slide across the bar to him.

I turned to see the man who had smiled at me standing beside me.

Uh-oh.

“You’re American,” he stated and I stared up at him, vaguely noting he was Italian, also vaguely noting he was very good-looking and not-so-vaguely noting I somehow had to get out of this but not knowing how.

“Uh, yes, –”

“The hair,” he explained, his head tipping toward mine. “I can tell by your hair.”

“Oh, right, well then –”

“And you are quite tall. American women are often quite tall.”

“Oh, okay, listen, I should –”

“And shapely,” he went on.

Oh man.

“Right. Thanks, I think, but –”

“I am Angelo.”

“Uh, hi, um –”

He leaned into me as the bartender swept his bill away and left my snifter where it sat.

Shit!

“And you are?”

“Well, I’m Kia, but –”

He leaned in further, I leaned a little back, hopefully making a point and failing when his eyes dropped to my chest and he murmured, “Kia, that is very pretty.”

“Uh –”

His eyes lifted back to mine then they went over my shoulder and higher then he paled and he leaned back right before an arm closed around my chest and a pair of lips brushed my shoulder before coming to my ear and I heard Sam whisper, “There you are.”

Oh man!

Then his lips went away from my ear and I heard him ask, “Somethin’ you need?” and my neck twisted and my head moved back to see his eyes locked on Angelo and not in a friendly, “I’m an American on vacation and thus will at all times act like a diplomat for my country” kind of way.

Oh man!

“Uh, Sam, honey, this is Angelo and he bought my drink because I forgot my purse,” I lied as I threw a hand out to Angelo then I looked to him and said, “Um, Angelo this is Sam, my, uh… special friend.”

Ohmigod!

Did I just call Sam my “special friend”?

Before I could spontaneously combust with mortification, Angelo, eyes on Sam, spoke. “I see.” His eyes came to me. “The lovely Kia, I will leave you to your friend. Enjoy your drink.”

Then he inclined his head at me, turned away and melted into the people around the bar.

Well, that was well done.

Sam turned me so we were front to front then his arms locked around me.

Uh-oh.

I was beginning to learn the feel of the different ways he could hold me and this felt like danger!

I took my time looking up at him.

Then my eyes made it to his face.

I was right.

Oh man.

“Sam –”

“He bought you a drink?”

“Sam, listen –”

“And you gave him your name?”

Shit.

“Sam –”

“You’ve got a drink at the table,” Sam pointed out, again talking over me.

“Sam!” I snapped.

“What?” he asked.

“I, well… I forgot my drink at the table.” This was a lie. “And the farewell with Celeste was kind of emotional.” This was not a lie. “So I needed one, like, STAT.” This was also not a lie but what he didn’t know was that he was talking to Luci about stuff I couldn’t hear, but I heard, so I couldn’t get to the one I already had. “And I was thinking about stuff so I wasn’t thinking I didn’t have my purse when I ordered it and before I could figure out how to sign language that to the bartender, Angelo stepped in and he let me say less than you normally let me say when you’ve got something to say and you keep interrupting me.”

“So you let him buy you a drink,” Sam stated.

“I’m not sure it was a ‘let’ situation since it all happened so quickly but, strictly speaking, yes.”

“The word for ‘no’ in Italian, baby, is no,” Sam leaned into me on the last word and I glared at him.

“I know that.”