All Wrapped Up in You Page 3

  No? The voice needled. She bashed it far and away into the domed ceiling.

  “Hmm.” He stroked his cheek in deep thought, giving her the once over. He spotlighted her eyes, her mouth…a pause at her cleavage, and then his blade-thin focus shot back up clashing with her raised eyebrows.

  Heat spread across her body, and she was thankful it was winter and her body was hidden beneath a beige turtleneck sweater, matching mid-length skirt and black boots. She was sure though her face flamed. She twisted away from him and set the books on the trolley, her hair shielding her cheeks.

  Where had she gotten the nerve to flirt with him in this brazen way?

  The long hours on her feet being bored out of her wits, must’ve been the catalyst.

  “I-I was only kidding,” she backtracked. His silence made her uncomfortable, but she turned back his way, hoping the flush on her face receded. “If you wait a sec, I’ll help you.”

  “No waiting,” he demanded. “I have to get back to class for an exam.” He heaved a sigh, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Pizza and a movie this weekend.”

  “But I don’t like pizza.” Oh, she was bad … She loved pizza.

  But he wasn’t having any of it. “Get the book.”

  Okay, the fun had gone far enough. He had the look of a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. She would not be his next target. “No, thank you to your offer.”

  “I don’t like to owe anybody.” He rubbed his hand across his jaw.

  “You don’t owe—”

  “Find the book.”

  At her elevated brows, he added, “Please.”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course, sir.”

  His commanding tone had her prickling, but she found the book.

  He had come back the next day for another journal…the pizza and movie date advanced to dinner and dancing, kissing and romancing, and she’d married him…

  A heavy sigh burst from deep inside her, and she dragged herself off the couch, her muscles straining against the cold. She had to get something to eat, get her life in order…find work. But all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the longest time, then wake up from this bad dream.

  How far could her dollar and ninety cents go?

  Desperation clouded her mind, and she fell back on the cushions.

  Lying there, she remembered how the first time with Peter had been magical, and the second and…

  The melody of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” interrupted her musings, lulling her, and she felt herself letting go. Giving in she closed her eyes…she’d sleep just for a few minutes…

  “Wake up, principessa.” He’d stretched out on the king-size bed beside her and blown in her ear, his fingers flirting with the string of beads draped on her back. Playfully, she swatted him with her hand. “Go ‘way.” She turned over and cuddled in the covers. “I want to sleep.”

  Chuckling, he flicked the satin sheets off her, hauled her into his arms, and she melted into his heat. His expert lovemaking heightened her senses, her body strumming beneath his. He captured her mouth with his, his tongue slipping inside; gliding over hers in an erotic waltz…exquisite sensations erupting through her. Her moan of pleasure tickled his mouth, and he blazed a trail downward, flicking his tongue over one nipple then nibbling his way to the other before taking it fully into his mouth.

  She arched into him; with every cell in her body aroused, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair. “Peter.” His name was a whisper from her lips.

  Holding her so tenderly yet possessively, he’d branded her forever with his touch, his kisses, and his body. He lifted his head from the curve of her neck and captured her lips with his, his words a soft caress. “I love you, Ellie.”

  “Peter, my love.” She breathed against his mouth, her hands stroking the muscles of his back.

  “I don’t ever want to lose you.” He groaned from deep in his

  throat. “You’re mine.

  “I am.” She held onto him like a lifeline, thinking she’d die without him…

  Ellie fluttered her eyelashes open and looked around the dingy room, realizing that here she was, the one that pulled the plug on their marriage. A tear oozed between her lashes, and she let it trickle down her cheek, soaking into her scarf. Maybe it was because she loved him so deeply; intensely… she had to get away…to breathe. She shifted on the couch, and drawing her coat closer about her to ward off the shivers, felt her eyelids relax again…

  She heard relief explode from somewhere deep inside him, and then he crushed her mouth beneath his to camouflage his vulnerable moment. He blazed a path of fierce passion down to her navel, circled with his tongue, dipped into the crevice, and she pressed into him.

  Delight shimmered through her, and he trailed his fingers lower, fondling her…she bucked into his hand…he stroked her more. Raising his head, he caught her cry of pleasure with his mouth, and then he entered her, penetrating deep and high. Taken over by him, she dug her nails into his shoulders, holding him, fusing with him…one with him. He drove into her, and she hung on for the ride. Acute sensations spiraled, locked and shattered inside her. Then, he shuddered against her with his release, and together they floated from heaven to earth.

  Wind slammed the branches of the maple tree against the window, and startled her. A moan eased from her mouth, and she reached for him, but clutched only empty air. Goosebumps sprang upon her flesh. She opened her eyes and blinked to adjust her vision to the shadows shrouding the room.

  She made to get up, but her limbs resisted. Gritting her teeth against the cold, she dragged herself up from the cushions, now warm from her body heat, and trudged across the room. She switched on the light by the door, but it flickered and went out.

  A shudder clawed its way up her spine, but she suppressed it by sheer will. When a gust blew the branches away from the window, a glow from the Christmas lights outside filtered through, illuminating the room with muted colors. If she timed it well, she could search for a candle and matches in one of the drawers.

  She stood in the center of the floor, clutching the string of beads twisted at her collar; the necklace Peter had bought for her from a sidewalk craftsman on their first date. Even when she’d donned diamonds for some glitzy affair, she’d worn it always. Somehow, that memory gave her a fleeting sense of comfort until jitters darted through her, her breathing loud. Without Peter, she realized how truly alone she was…defenseless in the dark.

  A bolt of lightning, and then, a roll of thunder invaded. She jumped, slapping her hands over her ears. “No!” Her scream was suffocated by the raging elements, and then the storm stilled…just for a heartbeat.

  Thunder exploded, wind-swept rain smacked the window, and lightning flashed, spotlighting her destitute figure. “Stop, stop!”

  The door burst open. “Ellie, what’s wrong?”

  She spun around, blood draining from her face. “What are you—”

  But she was falling, falling…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Peter dropped the packages he was carrying, baubles crashing to the floor as he leaped to catch her.

  “Shh, I’ve got you now.” He brushed moist bangs off her forehead, his tone soothing. “It’s all right.”

  She curled into his arms and closed her eyes; his body heat a welcome gift. “The light didn’t work and—” she tried to explain but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Power lines down all across L.A.,” he said, stroking her shoulders. “It’s a heck of a mess out there.”

  She nodded, wondering if his words held a double meaning about what was happening between the two of them. Reluctantly, she made to pull away, but he held her steady in his embrace. “Okay now, mmm?”

  She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Would she ever feel okay or carefree again, with him or without him?

  “You must be starving,” he said, his words seeming to come from a distance. “When did you last eat?”

  “I-I don’t remember.” She tre
mbled, her teeth beginning to chatter. “Ye-esterday, I think.”

  “Oh, Ellie…” he murmured, an edginess in his voice.

  A tremor shot through her, and she locked her hands around his neck. He pried them loose. “You’ve got to eat something…”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “…to think clearly.”

  “I am think—”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “I don’t think I can cook…too tired.”

  He swept a wisp of hair off her brow, and scooping her up in his arms, strode across the room and laid her on the couch. “You leave that to me, principessa.”

  “You don’t know how to boil water, let alone cook.” She tried to prop herself up on one elbow, but he nudged her to stay put.

  “Wrong.” He laughed. “Goes to show how little you know the man you married.”

  “You can boil water?” she queried, attempting a joke.

  “That…” He winked. “And so much more.” The glow from outside filtered in, casting light and shadow upon his features…a familiar sight, a welcome sight.

  “Self-reliance is the Italian’s motto, especially being skilled in the culinary arts.”

  “Is that so?” She grabbed her cap from the sofa and hid a smile.

  “Oh yeah.” He lifted his mouth in that half smile that had her pulse prancing every which way. “Among other things.”

  “You’re expertise knows no bounds,” she said tongue-in-cheek.

  “Hey, I make a mean Italiano pasta-nasta sauce, enough for the whole famiglia.” He collected baubles and trinkets off the floor and set them in the corner of the room. Chuckling, he added, “Even got wrangled into doing dishes too.”

  Ellie shifted into a sitting position and tucked her legs under her. “I met your family in their palazzo—”

  “Hardly.”

  “Mansion then—”

  “We didn’t always live like that, Ellie.”

  “I assumed—”

  “I wanted to impress you.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.”

  “Mmm.”

  “But at the start of med school, I had to be creative with money matters…” he said in earnest, but amusement glinted in his eyes.

  “Ahuh,” she said, suppressing a grin.

  “…to pay my own way through med.”

  “This I gotta hear.” She shifted to a more comfortable sitting on the couch in rapt attention. “I’m listening.”

  “Uh, uh.” He winked. “Guess what I did to make money.”

  She allowed her eyes to strobe over him, a smile playing on her mouth. “Pinup boy, numero uno?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  She tilted her head, appreciating his broad torso and biceps, then her eyes lit up. “Aha! Bouncer at the local nightclub.”

  “Wrong again.” The twinkle in his eye had her twitching her lips in amusement.

  “Do tell.”

  “I boiled water.”

  She cracked up laughing.

  “Seriously,” he said in a mock confidential tone. “I put my culinary skills to work.”

  Her laugh morphed to a snicker. “Among other things.”

  Just then, the light flickered back on, and she blinked, adjusting to the brightness. He had his arms full of multi-colored baubles.

  “Are they chocolate covered?” She pointed to the ornaments in his arms and the collection in the corner. “Can we eat them?”

  “Nope, but close your eyes.”

  She did, and she heard the creaking of the door as he stepped outside.

  “But you can munch on this.” A thump, then as he came back in and closed the door, he said “Open up.”

  “Oh my!” she said in awe, her eyes misting. “It’s a vision of chocolatey heaven.”

  “It’s all that to you?” He laughed, not thinking he had to compete with a chocolate Christmas tree to get that same amount of excitement in her voice.

  “Mmm, yes,” she said with a smirk. “Where did you get it?”

  “Ordered and made especially for you.” Could he hope to get some points in her favor for that?

  “It looks so real.” Then she realized he must’ve ordered it before she went rogue on him…and it made her feel inches high. A thought snagged her mind. Could he be using it to cajole her into submission for the same reason? A ripple of disappointment nicked her. But she’d wait and see how the evening played out.

  “It is real.” He grinned. “Real chocolate, global style.”

  “Oh, yum.” She giggled. “Is that dinner?”

  “No.” He set the Christmas tree in all its glory, decked with edible ornaments and lights of different flavors and colors, on the stand in the corner. “You cannot take a bite until after midnight.”

  Fittingly, “Oh Christmas Tree…” rang out on the radio, not for the first time in the twenty-four hour run of Christmas carols.

  “It’s too beautiful to eat,” she murmured, a glint of merriment in her eyes. “But I’ll force myself.”

  He chuckled. “No Christmas pudding, but this’ll do?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said enthralled. “Peter, it’s huge.”

  “A six-footer, but it’s hollow inside so it’s light.”

  She scrambled from the sofa and dashed over to touch the branches. “Gosh, even the branches look like real pine needles.”

  “Uh, uh,” he admonished in fun. “Enjoy the view for a couple more hours.” He snatched a glass bauble from the stack in the corner and tossed it to her. She caught it, and he threw another. “You can decorate the place with these.”

  She missed the second one, but it landed intact on the sofa cushions.

  “While you’re adding ambiance to this place—”

  She mocked a snort.

  He ignored her reaction. “I’ll whip up something for us to eat.”

  “Real food?”

  “Yep.” He pointed to the two bags of groceries he brought in earlier. “Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Ellie strung the baubles about the apartment, joy zinging through her. Tilting her head, she examined the décor and wrinkled her nose. “Gaudy looking.”

  He grunted a smile.

  Her eyes strayed back towards him. She didn’t mind ‘gaudy’ because he was here with her. And this was different…somehow…very nice. Warm ’n fluffy.

  He must’ve sensed her looking at him, for he wiggled his brows and flashed her a sexy smile.

  Her pulse shot into high gear and her breath snagged in her throat.

  Warm ‘n fluffy, and exciting. Because he was exciting!

  Peter held a knife poised to slice a tomato.

  “You were saying something about…your… umm…other skills.”

  “Reserved only for you, my brown-eyed spitfire.” He lowered the blade and cut an incision through the tomato. Blood-red juice squeezed from the flesh.

  “Really, Peter?” she said, a hint of seriousness in her tone.

  He rolled his eyes in mock disdain. “The woman doubts me even after five years of matrimony.”

  “Do not.”

  “Good.” He paused for effect. “Because I have another secret.”

  “This better be good.” She weighed a bauble in each hand, gauging

  the distance between them with a squint, and he got the message.

  “Finally, I’ve got your undivided attention, have I?”

  He always had, but she cast him a wide-eyed look, not voicing the thought. She’d let him stew for a bit.

  “How do you think I paid for all those dinners at Cucina Italiano?” He slapped Romano cheese slices on rye bread and topped them with tomato rounds. A dash of salt and pepper, and another bread slice to cover.

  “I dunno.” She angled her head from side to side, admiring her creative genius with the décor. “I thought you could afford them.”

  He tilted his mouth in a half smile.

  “Another stunt to impress—”

  “Y
ou.” He cut the sandwiches in half and set them on paper plates. “I worked overtime, and called in some favors the bus boys owed me.” He took a couple of Coca-Cola cans from one of the bags and set them on the counter.

  “You bussed tables, Peter?”

  “Among other…”

  “…things,” she murmured. “I know.”

  He grinned. “Payback came in comp’ dinners for us.”

  A soft smile curved her mouth as she tried to take in this new side of her husband. Was this a dream? He was actually here spending Christmas with her. They were together this one day. No double duty in the ER this time?

  Peter had such a grueling schedule at the hospital, and then flew out to high profile events or global symposiums that she’d barely caught a glimpse of him. When he returned home in the wee hours of the morning he was so exhausted, he hadn’t wanted to talk. Just dropped into bed and hauled her to him.

  While he globe-trotted, expostulating the wonders of medical science, she stayed home, dallying away her days in the garden, watching television, reading, showing up at social events, charity functions or luncheons. Keeping up appearances. But as time crawled by, Ellie had turned into a robot of herself; lifeless, yet still behaving like the good doctor’s wife.

  She licked her dry lips. “Why are you here, Peter?”

  He focused on her mouth, and was silent for so long, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. “I..uh…” He opened the refrigerator and set groceries on the shelves. “I…uh…thought you might be hungry.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  He squinted at her. “You wanted it to be more?”

  It was her turn to take her time answering. She studied him, drinking him in. Rain had dampened his hair, and his coat, and then she glimpsed something else…strain on his features.

  He shut the fridge door, scrunched the paper bags between his fingers and tossed them in the sink in such a nonchalant manner that she thought she must’ve imagined the tension on his face.

  “You’re wet.”

  “That’s your answer?”

  She blinked at him, not ready to give in to him again so easily, still raw from coming second to his job. “For the time being.”