near the third slip, his grip resting on the handle of a small cart.
"That is Signore Anders," Franco said with a nod. "He is the...uh... maggiordomo ?"
"Butler," Benito offered, proving he knew at least one English word, even if it sounded like he had added more than one T in his pronunciation.
"I spoke with him on the phone," I volunteered. "He introduced himself as the estate manager."
"Butler," Benito repeated, sliding by me a little slower than necessary as he headed toward the back of the boat.
"Time to practice my knots, bella ," Franco sighed then took a graceful, almost gentlemanly, bow that contrasted comically with all the carnal looks he had given me on the short ride.
I stayed at the rails watching them work until the boat was tied off and they had handed my suitcases up to Mr. Anders. On my way to the stern, I stopped briefly at the wheelhouse.
" Grazie Capitano Bassani. " I dipped my head, hoping I hadn't mangled the pronunciation and that he wouldn't give a reply so complicated it exhausted my exceedingly minimal understanding of the language.
I needn't have worried. The old man waved his pipe in reply and smiled, his slightly crooked grin reminding me of his sons.
Turning, I found that Benito had climbed onto the pier, his massive, bull-like body bent at the waist and knees and his arms held out in my direction. Before I realized the men's intent, Franco wrapped his hands around my hips and heaved me up into his brother's embrace.
For several long seconds, my feet dangled as I stared straight at Benito's face. As tall as he was, I hadn't managed a really good look until then. I drank in the dark chocolate eyes and generously thick lips before a flicker of gold at the end of his nose captured my attention. My gaze trying to remain focused as the Italian giant spun me around, I saw a metal ring threaded through his columella, that narrow strip of flesh between each nostril.
"Miss Hopkins is not a suitcase," the estate manager clucked in a very British accent as my feet touched the dock.
" Scusami , Signore Anders," Franco murmured from where he remained on the boat. "The brow is broken. We only wanted to ensure Signorina Hopkins would not injure herself."
His posture already impossibly stiff, Anders stood a little taller and wagged a finger at Franco. "See that it is fixed before Miss Hopkins' departure on the morrow."
"Sì, signore ."
Franco's grin told me the gangplank would be just as broken when they returned to pick me up -- or the brothers would find another not-so-innocent excuse to place their hands on my body before the next ride was finished.
Deftly hopping from the dock back into the boat, Benito turned and smiled at me with a dark sparkle in his gaze that matched his brothers. My cheeks flushed hot. I wasn't sure whether I was pleased or angry. Certainly, their blatant appreciation wasn't helping my image as a serious businesswoman, even if it was only the finger wagging majordomo and not his boss bearing witness.
But their hot looks were also warming my thighs enough that dangerous thoughts stroked inside my head. I knew that, no matter the outcome of my trip, I would never act on my attraction. But I was equally certain that, as soon as I was back home, safely locked inside my apartment with the lights off and a blanket pulled up to my chin, I would bury two toys inside me and think of these beautiful men.
" A presto, bella ," Franco called.
" A presto, " I repeated, naively translating his good-bye to mean that he would see me tomorrow on the return to the airport.
********************
Anders escorted me to an opulent bedroom and bid me rest for a few hours. Too much was at stake for me to follow his advice. I paced the room for the first thirty minutes, my mind oblivious to the open curtains and magnificent view of the enclosed bay the locals quaintly referred to as a lagoon. When my legs started to feel like I had finished the first half of a marathon, I sat down and opened
"That is Signore Anders," Franco said with a nod. "He is the...uh... maggiordomo ?"
"Butler," Benito offered, proving he knew at least one English word, even if it sounded like he had added more than one T in his pronunciation.
"I spoke with him on the phone," I volunteered. "He introduced himself as the estate manager."
"Butler," Benito repeated, sliding by me a little slower than necessary as he headed toward the back of the boat.
"Time to practice my knots, bella ," Franco sighed then took a graceful, almost gentlemanly, bow that contrasted comically with all the carnal looks he had given me on the short ride.
I stayed at the rails watching them work until the boat was tied off and they had handed my suitcases up to Mr. Anders. On my way to the stern, I stopped briefly at the wheelhouse.
" Grazie Capitano Bassani. " I dipped my head, hoping I hadn't mangled the pronunciation and that he wouldn't give a reply so complicated it exhausted my exceedingly minimal understanding of the language.
I needn't have worried. The old man waved his pipe in reply and smiled, his slightly crooked grin reminding me of his sons.
Turning, I found that Benito had climbed onto the pier, his massive, bull-like body bent at the waist and knees and his arms held out in my direction. Before I realized the men's intent, Franco wrapped his hands around my hips and heaved me up into his brother's embrace.
For several long seconds, my feet dangled as I stared straight at Benito's face. As tall as he was, I hadn't managed a really good look until then. I drank in the dark chocolate eyes and generously thick lips before a flicker of gold at the end of his nose captured my attention. My gaze trying to remain focused as the Italian giant spun me around, I saw a metal ring threaded through his columella, that narrow strip of flesh between each nostril.
"Miss Hopkins is not a suitcase," the estate manager clucked in a very British accent as my feet touched the dock.
" Scusami , Signore Anders," Franco murmured from where he remained on the boat. "The brow is broken. We only wanted to ensure Signorina Hopkins would not injure herself."
His posture already impossibly stiff, Anders stood a little taller and wagged a finger at Franco. "See that it is fixed before Miss Hopkins' departure on the morrow."
"Sì, signore ."
Franco's grin told me the gangplank would be just as broken when they returned to pick me up -- or the brothers would find another not-so-innocent excuse to place their hands on my body before the next ride was finished.
Deftly hopping from the dock back into the boat, Benito turned and smiled at me with a dark sparkle in his gaze that matched his brothers. My cheeks flushed hot. I wasn't sure whether I was pleased or angry. Certainly, their blatant appreciation wasn't helping my image as a serious businesswoman, even if it was only the finger wagging majordomo and not his boss bearing witness.
But their hot looks were also warming my thighs enough that dangerous thoughts stroked inside my head. I knew that, no matter the outcome of my trip, I would never act on my attraction. But I was equally certain that, as soon as I was back home, safely locked inside my apartment with the lights off and a blanket pulled up to my chin, I would bury two toys inside me and think of these beautiful men.
" A presto, bella ," Franco called.
" A presto, " I repeated, naively translating his good-bye to mean that he would see me tomorrow on the return to the airport.
********************
Anders escorted me to an opulent bedroom and bid me rest for a few hours. Too much was at stake for me to follow his advice. I paced the room for the first thirty minutes, my mind oblivious to the open curtains and magnificent view of the enclosed bay the locals quaintly referred to as a lagoon. When my legs started to feel like I had finished the first half of a marathon, I sat down and opened
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