and pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear him as he walked away. Her heart pounded in her chest.
What if he didn’t go? What if he knocked on her door instead? What if she opened it and he took her in his arms and said he needed her?
What would she do?
Maybe she should open the door. Just yank it open and confront him. Ask him why he’d kissed her like that earlier. Why he’d mentioned altering the arrangement and then acted like it never happened.
Her fingers tightened on the knob. She would do it. She would jerk it open. She would demand an answer and she wouldn’t fear rejection—
Footsteps moved away down the hall. A door opened and closed.
Lia wanted to cry out in frustration. She’d waited too long.
The moment was gone.
IT WAS STILL DARK when Lia woke. She lay in bed, uncertain for the first few moments where she was. And then she remembered. She was in Zach’s house, in a guest room. She reached for her phone to check the time—2:00 a.m.
Lia yawned and pressed the button to open her mail. Four new messages popped into her inbox, but only one caught her attention.
From: Rosa Corretti
To: Lia Corretti
Subject: Hi
Lia’s pulse thrummed as she clicked on the message. She read through it quickly, and then went back to the beginning to make sure she’d read it right the first time. Rosa was actually writing to her. There wasn’t a snarky word or single insult in the entire missive. In fact, there was a word Lia had never expected to see: Sorry.
Rosa was sorry for snapping at her after Carmela’s outburst. Not only that, but her half sister said she’d been thinking about many things and that she realized how rotten it must have been for Lia to live with Teresa and Salvatore once her father remarried and had a new family.
Rosa wouldn’t know that Lia had actually been sent away long before Benito remarried. Why would she? Until just now, Lia was pretty sure Rosa barely remembered her existence, much less thought about her in any capacity.
Still, it was nice to hear from her. Surprising, but nice.
Lia would answer her, most definitely, but she wasn’t about to get her hopes up for what their relationship could be. She’d spent her entire life mostly forgotten, and she wasn’t planning to stick her neck out now. She didn’t really know Rosa, but she knew what kind of woman Carmela was. Hopefully her daughter was nothing like her, but Lia intended to proceed with caution.
She got out of bed and slipped on her robe. Even thinking about Carmela had the power to make her feel badly about herself. When she remembered the way Zach had left her at her door tonight, the feeling intensified. It had taken her some time, but she’d figured out what he’d been doing at the museum when he’d kissed her.
He’d been getting her under control after she’d broken out of the box he’d put her in for the night. She’d dared to show temper, and he’d managed to smooth it over and make her forget for a while. He’d tugged her into the corner he wanted her in and tied her up neatly with a bow.
She’d sat there like a good girl, smiling and applauding and worrying over him. It infuriated her to remember how compliant she’d been, and all because he’d pressed her against that wall and made her remember what it had been like between them.
Heat crawled up her spine, settled between her legs and in her core. In spite of it all, her body still wanted his. It angered her to be so out of control of her own reactions, to feel so needy around a man who clearly didn’t need her.
Lia went to the French doors and pulled them open, hoping the night air would help to cool her down.
A mistake, because it was summer in Virginia and the night air wasn’t precisely cool. Oh, it was far cooler than it had been in the heat of the day, but it was still quite warm.
There was a breeze, however. Lia stepped outside and walked barefooted across the stone terrace to the railing. The strong scent of lavender rose from the pots set along the wall. She ran her fingers over the blooms, brought them to her nose. It made her think of home.
If she could add lemon to the mix, she’d be transported to Sicily. Except that Sicily didn’t quite feel like home any longer, she had to admit. Since the moment she’d fallen into Zach’s arms at the wedding, she’d felt a restlessness that hadn’t gone away. Sicily had seemed too small to contain her, too lonely.
But coming to the States was no better. She was still alone.
She could hear the river gurgling over boulders in the distance. The moon was full, its pale light picking out trees and grass and the foaming water where it rolled over rocks.
It was peaceful. Quiet, other than the river and the sound of a distant—very distant—dog barking. She leaned against the railing and tried to empty her mind of everything but sleep.
It was difficult, considering her body was on another time zone. Not only that, but she also had a lot on her mind. She’d fled Sicily because she’d been scared of what her family would do, but she’d never considered what Zach would do. Or what her life would become once she was with him.
Was it only yesterday that she’d stood in a hotel and told him their arrangement would be in name only? And now here she was, aching for his touch, and simply because he’d kissed her tonight with enough heat to incinerate her will.
She was weak and she despised herself for it. She didn’t fit in, not anywhere, and she wanted to. Zach had held out the promise of belonging on that night in Palermo—and she’d leaped on it, not realizing it had been a Pandora’s box of endless heartache and trouble.
There was a noise and a crash from somewhere behind her. Lia jumped and spun around to see where it had come from. It seemed to be from farther down the terrace, from another room. Her heart was in her throat as she stood frozen, undecided whether to run into her room and close the door or go see what had happened. What if it were Zach? What if he needed her?
But then a door burst open and a man rushed through and Lia gasped. He was naked, except for a pair of dark boxer shorts. He went over to the railing and leaned on it, gulping in air. He dropped his head in his hands. His skin glistened in the night, as if he’d just gotten out of a sauna.
The moonlight illuminated the shiny round scar tissue of the bullet wound in the man’s side. Zach.
As if it could be anyone else. Her heart went out to him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.
He spun toward her, his body alert with tension. Briefly, she wondered if she should run. And then she shook herself. No, she would not run.
Zach wasn’t dangerous, no matter that he’d told her he was in Palermo.
“You’re okay, Zach,” she said, moving cautiously, uncertain if he was still caught in the
