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“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“Yes, you absolutely should have.”
He might be out of practice, but she was still firmly in his arms, and a woman who hadn’t just had her world shaken to the foundation would have stepped away by now.
She inhaled sharply, her chest pushing against his and stroking the flame higher. “Not under false pretenses. I have to come clean. My ex is here, and that was a poor attempt to hide from him.”
“I beg to differ. As attempts go, I thought it was pretty good.”
A quavery laugh slipped out from her kiss-reddened lips and then she did step away, out of his embrace. But not too far.
“Just so you know, I don’t go around kissing random men.”
“There’s an easy way to fix that. I’d be happy to introduce myself and thus eliminate the randomness.”
“That would be awesome because I’m pretty sure I’m going to kiss you again.”
She had felt it.
The thrill swept all the way to the soles of his feet. Tonight, he was someone else, and as it seemed to be working out well so far, why screw around with it?
“Matt. My name is Matt.”
It flowed from his mouth effortlessly, though he’d never been Matt in his life. But right here, right now, he liked Matt a hell of lot. Matt wasn’t bogged down in inertia and terrified he’d never find his way out. Matt hadn’t walked away from all his responsibilities at home or lain awake at night, eaten with guilt over it. Matt hadn’t drifted around the world in search of something he suspected didn’t exist, only to land in Venice holed up in a cold, lonely palazzo.
Matt had fun and kissed costumed women at parties and maybe got to second base before the end of the night.
She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Matt. You can call me Angie.”
Angie. It was too harsh, too common for such a delicate and ethereal woman. The careful phrasing tipped him off that it wasn’t her real name, but since he’d similarly hedged, he couldn’t exactly complain.
“Which one is your ex? So we can steer clear.”
Since she’d been trying to hide, he assumed the breakup had been nasty and not Angie’s choice.
Surreptitiously, she glanced behind her, then faced him again. Her soft brown eyes bored into his, luminous with appreciation. “He’s over there, on the couch with the little blonde.”
Matthew located what had to be the couple she meant. They were locked in a torrid embrace, and the guy’s hands were down the blonde’s dress. Ouch. Not only was her ex at the same party but also not much for public decency.
“They didn’t get the memo? This is a masked ball.”
“I like you,” she said with a decisive nod.
He grinned. “I like you, too.”
“That’s good, because I intend to thoroughly use you. I hope you won’t be offended.”
Matthew’s eyebrow shot up. “That depends, I suppose, on what you plan to use me for. And I really hope it’s in the same vein as kissing me to hide from lover boy over there.”
Apparently Matt knew how to flirt, too. There was no other explanation for such blatant come-ons.
Her tongue wet her lips, and the way she did it—while eyeing his lips at the same time—clamped down hard on his lower half. “You just became my new boyfriend.”
“Excellent. I didn’t realize I’d applied, but I’m gratified to have survived the rigorous selection process.”
She laughed, and that gravelly timbre sliced through his gut anew. “Just for tonight. I can’t stand the thought of anyone feeling sorry for me because I’m here alone. Pretend we’re together, and I’ll buy you breakfast.”
Breakfast? He might be in for an evening with a little more action than he’d envisioned.
Was that what he wanted?
“I’m not the slightest bit offended. Unless I’m the backup choice. Is your real boyfriend otherwise engaged?”
“Very nicely done. But unnecessary. You don’t have to be all casual-like if you want to know whether I’m available. Just ask.”
Dang, he was out of practice. But dating had felt like such a betrayal. For so long, he couldn’t, and when he finally deemed himself ready, no one appealed to him. Even if he’d dated every one of the sophisticated, demure women in Dallas angling for an invitation to dinner, none of them had wings.
He swallowed and dived in. “Angie, are you seeing anyone?”
“Yeah, this guy named Matt.” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, like she’d done in the hall when they first met. It was becoming something he enjoyed thoroughly. “And he’s really hot, too.”
“Really?” No one had ever referred to him as hot. At least not to his face. The notion buzzed through his heightened senses and settled in nicely. “I must know more about this guy.”
“I’d like to, as well. Vincenzo’s got a great balcony on the second floor. Grab a couple of glasses of champagne and meet me there.”
She turned and threw a saucy glance over her shoulder as she swayed in the direction of the stone staircase beyond the roulette tables.
He couldn’t comply fast enough. Lucas would definitely see what this sexy little butterfly had in mind, and Matt was pretty curious, too. This was one night where anything might happen, and for once, he was looking forward to the possibilities.
* * *
The balcony overlooked a closed-off side courtyard that had fallen into disrepair. The small space above was poorly lit and cold, but had the bonus of being Rory and Sara free.
Evangeline was confident Matt wouldn’t recognize Rory, as her new friend didn’t seem the type to listen to punk rock, but her ex-fiancé’s picture did end up next to hers with alarming frequency, even six months later. She couldn’t be too careful.
Vincenzo’s entertainment system vibrated the stone below her feet. In the distance, the revelry at San Marco drifted along the streets, wrapping the city in festive noise. Singing, instruments, the pop of what might be fireworks, all of it blended into the mystique that was Carnevale. And, for a moment, she was by herself at the world’s largest party.
She didn’t have to wait long for Matt. Her masked companion came through the unlocked French door with two champagne flutes balanced expertly in one capable hand. It was February in Venice, but the shiver that twisted her back had nothing to do with the temperature.
Thank God she hadn’t ditched him. If she had, she’d have run smack into Rory and missed the single most perfect kiss in the history of time. As stand-in boyfriends went, Matt had it going on. And he’d kissed her headache away, too.
She could find worse company to stave off the perpetual loneliness. Especially among Vincenzo’s friends.
Matt handed her a glass and clinked the rims in an echo of their first toast. “This balcony is very difficult to find. How did you know it was here?”
Without the muddle of loud music, his voice was nice—clear, with a hint of the South running through it.
“I’m staying with Vincenzo. My room is down the hall.”
“Oh? How do you know Vincenzo, Angie?”
Only her mother called her Angie, so it had seemed safe enough to use the name, though she regretted the necessity. Matt was a genuinely nice human being, someone she’d probably never have connected with under normal circumstances.
“Friend of a friend. You?”
As he was well-spoken and had far more class than Vincenzo’s typical wealthy, spoiled buddies, she’d pegged him as a casual acquaintance.
“I’m staying next door.”
Well, that made sense. Here on business and renting for the duration, most likely.
“Will you be in Venice long?”
Below the mask, his mouth turned down. “I’m not sure.”
As she knew exactly the tone one used to say back off, she didn’t press him, though now she was curious what his business in Venice might be. Shipping, maybe. She’d never dated a businessman and rarely interacted with people in that realm unless it involved contracts.
Whatever his livelihood, it was to remain a secret for the time being, and since she had secrets of her own, that was fine. She tossed back some champagne, let the bubbles fizz across her tongue and contemplated this very intriguing stand-in boyfriend.
Of course, if they stayed on this balcony, she didn’t really need a companion, coerced or otherwise, as a shield from questions and ex-fiancés. So maybe she needed him for something else entirely.
She was alone in the most romantic city in the world, and Matt represented a golden opportunity to change that for one magical evening, then leave before he realized who she was. Loneliness went hand in hand with the fresh scars of rejection that kept reminding her not to let anyone get too close.
But an anonymous encounter—that was a horse of a different color. If he didn’t know who she was, he couldn’t reject her.
The direction of her thoughts heated her up fast despite the chill in the air. But who could blame her for going there when the man’s mouth made her blood boil?
There was this strange awareness between them, which she’d felt the moment he’d turned to face her in the foyer. It was almost a recognition, as if she’d seen him many times, but had never quite caught up with him to start a conversation.
Yet he’d never removed his mask. She knew he had a chiseled jaw to match his well-defined mouth and a solid chest under his lapels, but that was it. The rest of his face remained hidden, like his body, his hopes, his disappointments...the mystery of it whet her appetite for more.
“Ever been on a speed date?” she asked him.
He took a sip of champagne and shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
She doubted he’d ever have a need to resort to such a thing. Dating as a whole never worked for her. Men usually fell into three categories: starstruck, unavailable or opportunist.
Rory was firmly in the last category. His rejection had been crushing, especially after losing her voice. She’d thought of all people, he’d understand and would sympathize. That he’d be there for her during the worst crisis of her life. Instead, he couldn’t dump her fast enough. On the bright side, he’d cured her of any desire to have a man in her life permanently.
Which made her masked friend exactly what the doctor ordered.
“I haven’t either, but I always wanted to. It seems like fun.”
“I’m always up for fun. What does it entail?”
She loved the way he talked, like it never occurred to him that normal people’s vocabulary didn’t usually include words like entail. And like it never occurred to him that she hadn’t gone to college. He treated her as if she possessed intelligence. That was potent.
“Well, to the best of my knowledge, there’s a time limit. We have to get to know each other as quickly as possible before the bell rings. It’s designed so you can figure out if you’re compatible in a short period of time.”
He cocked his head, lips pursed. “I already know I like you. Why do we need to have a speed date to figure that out?”
She shook her head, gaze glued to his. A part of her wanted to take this instant attraction to its natural conclusion as fast as possible. But no smart girl jumped into the pool without at least some clue how deep it was.
“Consider it part of the application process. There’s a spark here, and I’m curious to see what happens if we fan it.”
His irises flared. “Just so I’m clear, how does the time limit factor in?”
“Ask as many questions as you want, as fast as you can, and when the timer on my phone goes off, you’re going to kiss me.”
His palm cupped her face, tilting it up to almost meet his. “What if we skip the timer and I kiss you right now?”
“That’s no fun.” She firmly removed his hand from her chin, only to lose it to her hair as he threaded his fingers through the loose curls not caught up in her feather headpiece.
His warm thumb rested in the hollow behind her ear, brushing it lightly. “Clearly you need a refresher on how good my lips feel on yours.”
The shiver went deeper this time, and a nice little hum zipped along her skin, tightening all her erogenous zones into an ache she’d not experienced in a long time. Apparently the speed date was unnecessary to fan the spark.
“Where’s your sense of adventure? Five minutes.”
She pulled her phone from the clutch tied to a string at her waist and tapped up the timer. She set it on the stone ledge behind Matt, then locked onto the ice-blue of his eyes. Anticipation was one of her favorite parts, and she’d happily drag it out as long as she could.
“I’ll go first,” he said. “How many times have you seduced a man on a balcony?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Was that what she was doing? “Never. I’m making all sorts of exceptions for you.”
“How many times have you seduced a man period?”
“Once or twice. I’m not one to apologize for having a healthy sex drive. Should I?”
“Not to me. Maybe to all the other men down there who are missing out. Your turn.”
“I’m naked. What do you do first?”
“Fall down on my knees and weep with joy. Did you really mean to ask what I’d do second?”
Oh, yeah, she really did like Matt. There was something to be said for a guy who could make her laugh with such regularity. “That is what I meant, and before you get all smart-alecky with me, go ahead and hit me with third, fourth and fifth.”
“Did I buy you dinner first?”
“Who cares? I’m naked or did you forget?”
“Oh, no, my gorgeous little butterfly, I did not forget. I asked because I’m trying to get a solid picture in my head of the scene.”
His hand pressed on her nape, oh-so-slightly, and her head fell back. His lips grazed the corner of her mouth, not quite touching, but close enough to send a frisson of sparkling heat all the way down to her core.
Well, she hadn’t intended for this speed date to descend into foreplay, but okay. It was sizzling. And personal information, like their secret professions, or lack thereof in her case, wasn’t likely to come up.
“Are you naked on a bed after I’ve undressed you?” he murmured against her jaw, breath fanning the uncovered part her of face and making her ache to turn into those lips to complete the connection. “Or naked in the shower and have no idea I’m about to join you? Naked, but asleep and I’m going to awaken you slowly?”
Her lungs hitched. “Cheater. You’ve played this game before.”
She felt his mouth turn up against her cheek. “Let’s assume I’m a quick study. Your answer? I believe that was three questions.”
“It was?”
Who was seducing whom here? And how far did she want this to go? Never had she contemplated such a dangerous liaison with a mysterious man she’d only just met but who touched her on so many levels.
“Bed, shower or asleep? I must know in order to tell you what I plan to do. Or perhaps you’d prefer I show you?”
Yes, yes she would. Except she couldn’t speak, as he slid an arm around her waist, drawing her taut against his warm body. She clutched his shoulders and they were amazing and strong underneath his jacket. “There’s no shower on this balcony.”
“So true,” he murmured. “The alarm’s going off.”
It wasn’t. She didn’t care.
He covered her mouth with his and turned her into liquid mercury for the second time. The man was a master, hot and forceful, and her lips fell open under the divine pressure. He plunged in, tongue skimming against hers, deliciously rough and tasting of champagne.
She moaned and changed the angle, inviting him deeper, urging him forward with small tugs of her hands against his shoulders. More, she needed more, needed to quench the thirst raging in her veins with this extremely arousing man.
Judging by the full-fledged blaze between them, he felt the same. About her, not Eva. How great was that, to be with a man who hadn’t already made a bunch of snap judgments?
“Touch me,” she commanded hoarsely, her damaged voice even more raw with desire.
Almost hesitantly, he palmed her breast through the thick bodice of the dress, and she nearly growled in frustration. Forget that. She reached down and gathered up the hem of the ridiculously full skirt and tucked it under the sash at her waist. She guided his hand through the opening, straight to her bottom.
It was his turn to groan as he flattened his palm against her bare cheek. “A thong? That is unbelievably sexy.”
“Not nearly as sexy as your hand on it while I’m still fully dressed.” He explored the uncovered flesh and traced the strings into her crevice and back out again. Her knees almost buckled. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
He took her mouth again, ravenous and greedy, as his fingers nudged underneath the silk. Just far enough to steal her breath for a long second. Blatantly, she circled her pelvis, silently begging him to go deeper.
Whether she’d planned to go this far or not, her body wasn’t holding back. She was about to come apart under his capable hands.
Instead, he withdrew entirely and blew out a heavy breath, smoothing her skirts down with a confusing finality. “Angie, I have to confess something.”
“You’re married.” Disappointment swamped her so quick and so fast she nearly convulsed. The ache, which had moments ago been a vortex of desire, cooled. She should have known.
“No.” He shook his head in vehement denial. “I’m completely unattached. It’s just...I don’t...”
“You’re not attracted to me.” But his impressive length had ground hard against her, evident even through the monstrosity of fabric at her waist.
He swallowed hard. “How could you possibly think that? I’ve never been so turned on in my life. There’s this one small problem. I’ve never seduced a woman on a balcony, so I’m ah...unprepared.”
Oh. “You don’t have a condom.”
The giggle slipped out before she could stop it. He was just so flustered and so cute, running a hand over his dark blond hair with evident frustration. It caught her quite unexpectedly in a soft, warm place inside. Talk about being unprepared.
Was he ever going to stop being so unexpected and amazing? God, she hoped not.
Three
“I’m glad you find my lack of preparation amusing.” Matthew certainly didn’t. He’d never been so mad at himself and so happy she wasn’t angry, all at the same time.
And he had never been in quite so much physical pain. Yes, the women in his social circle were sophisticated and demure, rightly so, but lukewarm in their approach to everything.
He never realized how truly hot it could be with someone so uninhibited.
“It’s not funny. Trust me, it’s not.” She pulled him down by the lapels and kissed him sweetly. “That’s for not having a condom.”
“What?”
She shrugged with a delicate one-shoulder move. “I’ve been around my share of dogs. It’s nice to find someone who isn’t always thinking with what’s in his pants. Besides, this isn’t the dark ages. You can easily be mad at me for not having one.”
“I take it that means you don’t.”
She shook her head. “And I can’t do birth control. Everything gives me headaches. But we’re in luck because it’s Carnevale. I bet we can score a boxful of very festive condoms from Vincenzo’s room.”
So now Matt had been reduced to stealing condoms. Brilliant. Condoms were not first and foremost on his mind, yet he’d gladly jumped into her wicked game without hesitation.
What was he doing on this balcony?
“Maybe it’s a sign.”
“A sign? Like what, we’re not supposed to hook up tonight?”
Hook up. Matthew Wheeler did not hook up. He’d been happily married to the perfect woman and would still be if an aneurism hadn’t killed her. Commitment made him tick.
Angie might discount the idea of signs, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t meant to happen and probably for a very good reason. Did he really want a one-night stand with some woman he’d met at a party? It just wasn’t his style.
The empty palazzo next door called his name, offering a place to retreat and lick his wounds. Where he would go to bed alone, dream about Amber and wake in a cold sweat. If he slept. Sometimes he lay awake, racked with remorse over leaving his family in the lurch.
That was his real life. This interlude with a winged woman at a masked ball was nothing but a fantasy born of desperation and loneliness. It wasn’t fair to use Angie to appease either.
But God Almighty, it was difficult to walk away from her. When she’d been in his arms, pliant and sizzling, he heard the distinct sound of his soul waking up.
Angie’s kiss-stung lips and luminous brown eyes nearly did him in. She’d asked him to be her fake boyfriend at this party, a role he’d stepped into with ease and enthusiasm, but without really considering what enormous pain must have driven her to ask.
He couldn’t abandon her.
Matthew might not hook up, but neither did he have to listen to Matt, who despite Angie’s belief, was very much thinking with the bulge in his pants. He needed to cool down and evaluate his goal here before he got carried away by the fantasy.
So he’d split the difference.
“Let’s dance.”
Wary surprise wrinkled her mouth. “At the party?”
“Sure. Why not? You haven’t had a chance to throw your new boyfriend in lover boy’s face yet.” Neither of them had done much spelling-it-out and some clarity might be in order. “And I’d like to take a step back. Make sure we’re both headed in the same direction.”
“I hear you. The balcony is cold and I do like to dance,” she mused. “How about this? I’ll dart into Vincenzo’s room and stuff my clutch with as many condoms as it’ll hold. We’ll dance. If you move to music like you do on a speed date, we’ll be headed in the same direction all right—back upstairs and into my bed.”
His pants grew tighter. Exactly how many times did she envision having sex? He shook his head to clear the erotic images she’d sprung loose in his brain. It didn’t work.
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
She smiled and it was a whole lot wicked.
Matthew took her hand and led her toward what promised to be a provocative round of dancing. At least in a room full of people, the temptation to dive under Angie’s skirt would be lessened.
If he did that again, he’d like to be much more clearheaded about it.
Unbelievably, more people had gathered in the rooms downstairs, filling the dance floor to overflowing. Couples swayed and dipped to the slow song. Matthew drew Angie into the sea of dancers, carefully navigating to protect her wings. He hadn’t danced in a long time but the ballroom classes he’d let Amber drag him to came back in a rush.
He positioned his arms and prepared to try some semblance of a modified waltz, or at least do the best he could in such a crowd. Angie melted against him, undulating her hips against his in a hypnotic, sensual rhythm. A hot lick of need coursed through his gut. She hadn’t attended the same classes. Obviously.
He held her close, mimicking her moves. All he could think about was the scrap of silk underneath her skirt. And the foil packets rounding the sides of her clutch. He wasn’t doing a very good job of splitting the difference.
Angie’s ear was right by his mouth, and he had the most insane urge to nibble on it. Instead, he cleared his throat to ease the knot of sexual tension that had stiffened everything in his body.
“What if we continue our speed date but take it down a notch?”
She repositioned her head so it was lying in the hollow of his shoulder. The feathers anchored in her hair brushed across his neck. “I’m listening.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“That’s more like forty-seven notches. I don’t have a favorite color. I like the rainbow.” Someone bumped into her, shoving them closer together, not that he minded. “What’s yours?”
The smell of her hair weakened his knees. Outside, it hadn’t been so noticeable, but in the close, heated confines of the room, the exotic scent curled through his nose. Even her shampoo was unearthly, as if he needed another reminder they came from different worlds.