Love Letters Volume 4: Travel to Temptation Read online

  A wicked smile lit his face when he laced his fingers together and leaned in to speak. “So, you came to kiss me. I’m happy you did.”

  Sam closed her eyes, hoping the glow of the sunset might mask her fiery cheeks. “I didn’t—”

  He brushed off her protest with a wave then reached across the table to close the laptop. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your message. My mobile was on the charger in my office, but I was not there. I had a new lady to meet.”

  A lance of pain pierced her heart. “Oh! No. No. I didn’t want you to… What I mean is…I know you have a life and I don’t expect anything—”

  Luca cut her off with a brisk nod. Leaning back in his chair, he fixed her with a gleeful smile and rubbed his palms together. “I’m going to strip her down then dress her with my own two hands.”

  A shock of envy shivered down her spine, but the laughter lighting his dark eyes chased it away. Unsure how she was supposed to respond to his blatant bragging, she eyed him warily. “Lucky lady.” She squinted through the waning light, trying to catch the thread she was missing as their waiter deposited their drinks. Suspicion rippled the hairs on the back of her neck. “Does she know what you have planned for her?”

  Excitement vibrated off him as he wrapped his fingers around his glass. “Not at all.” He held her gaze as he took a sip, but a boyish grin broke free the second he lowered the drink. “Oh, Sam, you should see her. She’s long and sleek and breathtakingly powerful.”

  He pushed his glass aside and reached across the table to take her hand. Biting the insides of her cheeks, she resisted the urge to pull away. After all, it wasn’t his fault a crazy American pen pal was at loose ends.

  “Almost as powerful as you.”

  His statement prised a bitter laugh from her tense lips. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Eyes locked on hers, he drew her hand across the table, and like the fool she was, she let him. “You are the only woman powerful enough to pull me away from her.”

  He brushed a soft kiss to her knuckles, but she refused to crumble. Much. “What’s her name?”

  “Peregrine.”

  “Peregrine? As in falcon?” Despite his claims to the contrary, a smirk twitched her lips. “Is this my cue to make Maltese Falcon jokes?”

  “Peregrine is also a word that means traveler or someone from a faraway place.” He kissed her knuckles again then released her hand to settle back in his seat. “Fitting, because she was built in Viareggio in Italia but is registered to the Cayman Islands.”

  The Italian rolled off his tongue, smooth and cool as gelato on a hot summer day, but the sparks of laughter in his eyes set her off like a firecracker. He was mocking her. She pushed her chair back from the table, indignation burning hot in her cheeks. “Listen, I know it was crazy to come all the way here to—”

  “—kiss me.”

  He supplied the reason too helpfully, and Sam shot from her seat. “Yes, well. It was nice to meet you after all these years, Luca, but I think the travel is catching up to me, and I—”

  “She’s a sixty-meter motor yacht that has been in service since before I received the first letter you ever sent to me, Samantha.” He rose to meet her head-on. His hand closed around her elbow. “I apologize. I should not have teased you after you’ve traveled all this way. You’re tired and nervous, in a strange place with a strange man, and I have made you…” he paused, searching for the right words, “…ill at ease. For that, I am very sorry.”

  “A boat.”

  “A ship,” he corrected, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “Please accept my apology.” A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “I swear to you I left her without another glance the moment I received your message.”

  “You’re very good at this.” The thought escaped her in a whisper. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she marveled at the puzzled frown that creased his brow.

  “Good at what?”

  “At making me believe you,” she answered slowly.

  Luca released her arm. “Why wouldn’t you believe me? Everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

  “I just…” She turned away. Beyond the terrace wall, marina lights blurred and swayed. “I feel like an idiot.”

  He tilted his head as if taking her measure. “You are too lovely to be an idiot. Perhaps what you’re feeling is hunger and sleepiness.”

  Her startled laugh cued a low grumble in her stomach.

  “See?” Guiding her back to her chair, he raised a hand to garner the waiter’s attention. “I speak only in truths, Samantha. As my American girlfriend, you should know that about me already.”

  She offered him a sheepish smile as he reclaimed the chair across from her. Even on the internet, where it was easy to hide behind a façade, Luca Camilleri was a straightforward, uncomplicated man. His forthright manner a startling contrast to the American men she knew, with their misplaced pride and love of subterfuge. “I do. I do know that.”

  “Very good then.” He took the leather-bound menus the waiter produced then handed one to her. “I must make sure you are fed before I kiss you goodnight at your door.” Her head popped up, but her protest died on her lips when he met her startled gaze evenly. “I assume you are here for a few days. Correct?”

  She nodded. “I planned to stay about a week.”

  He grabbed her hand, pulled it to his lips, and placed a loud, exuberant kiss on the back of it. “Excellent.” He flashed his pirate grin again then opened the menu. “Tonight, we will eat hotel restaurant pasta and pretend it is good. Tomorrow, I will show you my Malta, and there will be more time for the kissing you came for.”

  *

  “I can’t believe you get to do this any time you want.”

  Sam pried heavy eyelids open long enough to sneak another peek at Luca. He sat perched on teak decking, his feet bare and a pair of coffee-colored board shorts hanging low on his hips. The wind ruffled his dark hair, fashioning it into a modified Mohawk as they turned into the wind. They’d barely made it out of the marina before she decided that closed eyes were the best course of action. If there was one thing she’d discovered in the previous two days, it was that Luca Camilleri was mesmerizing.

  And that was when he was wearing a shirt.

  At the moment, he was shirtless, windblown, and utterly in command of the sleek little sailboat. In other words, irresistible. True to his word, Luca launched her introduction to life on Malta the day after she’d landed on his island unannounced. He seemed to be genuinely happy to have her there, and she was happy to allow him to whisk her away.

  His laugh rippled across the water. “Life here is like life anywhere else, my American girlfriend. Sometimes we can become too busy to do the things we enjoy.” He smiled as he shifted his attention from the approaching shoreline to her. “That’s why it’s nice to have you here. I can’t remember the last time I sailed to Gozo just for the pleasure of it.”

  She didn’t want to think about life or the loneliness awaiting her at home. She wanted to focus on the crazy bubbles of excitement he stirred each time he savored a word like pleasure. The accompanying gleam in his dark eyes played havoc with her nerves. Sam closed her eyes. Wouldn’t do to let him see every synapse in her brain firing like a machine gun.

  The sun beat down on her. The sides of the boat were low enough for her to trail her fingertips over the tops of the waves as she lay basking in the sun. She hadn’t quite worked up the courage to reach out and touch. Yet. Warm water slapped and sloshed against the hull, occasionally splattering her sun-baked skin. Birds circled overhead and the ferry blew its horn in the distance. Hiding behind closed eyelids, she soaked it all in. It would be so easy to grow accustomed to the sounds and sights of Malta. One in particular.

  Cracking one eye, she stole another glimpse and tried to distract herself by recalling the inane facts about the island of Gozo she’d mined from the internet. But she knew before she started that it was no use. Luca was just too damn compelling.

  He carried a
bred-in-the-bone confidence that left her weak-kneed. His open, expressive manner of speaking his mind and heart was so thoroughly un-American it threw her completely off her stride. Luca in action was a sight to behold. Tailored suit pants clinging to slim hips, broad shoulders encased in crisp cotton, and strong wrists exposed by rolled sleeves topped the highlight reel. Even so, his businesslike manner barely masked the unabashed passion that drove him. She’d seen flashes of it when he negotiated with a particularly troublesome sub-contractor. She’d tasted it on his lips moments after he sealed the deal.

  The man seemed to be the embodiment of his dazzling country. The sea was in his blood. Any fool could see that from the surefooted swagger in his walk. He was as relentless and ambitious as life on the frantic, overcrowded island and as solid and down-to-earth as its rocky foundation.

  His contrasts surprised her. The warmth of his depths left her feeling breathless. One moment, he pointed to a starkly modern high-rise apartment building and called it home. The next, he lured her into a hole-in-the-wall restaurant housed in a crumbling old building where he was greeted like family. Because he was.

  Camilleri’s was owned by his great-aunt Cecilia and run by his cousin Emile. She was a wizened little woman with laughing black eyes, and he was a handsome rogue of a man with steel-gray hair and a wicked grin that matched Luca’s. Her escort was clearly a family favorite. He was received as if he were the prodigal son returned. Amidst a flurry of kissing and back slapping, he introduced her to a whirlwind of cousins, uncles and miscellaneous relatives by marriage or choice. Each one greeted her with hugs, kisses and a boatload of jokes and warnings about Luca delivered in accented English.

  Waving them off, Luca draped a possessive arm over her shoulders and led her to a table where two women sat immobile. Her heart leaped into her throat when he introduced them as his older sisters. Thankfully, the two women had only managed to maintain their cool façade for thirty seconds before launching themselves into Luca’s waiting arms.

  “I liked your sisters.”

  His smile came slow and easy. “They both rang me this morning. They thought you were, and I quote, ‘Too charming, too lovely and too good’ for the likes of me.” Tipping his chin up, he steered them into an isolated cove just below a rocky cliff. “They’re convinced that I must have slipped something into your drink to entice you into coming to dinner with me.”

  “They’re crazy about you.”

  “They treat me as if I was still fifteen. There are nearly ten years between me and Desdemona. My mother called me her happy surprise, but Des and Emilia prefer to tell me I was a grave mistake.”

  Sam chuckled. The obvious affection between the siblings stirred more than a twinge of envy, but their sharp-tongued banter didn’t allow much time for wallowing. Gracious hosts that they were, Luca and his sisters spoke English for her sake, but the fast-flying conversation was littered with dribs and drabs of rich, raspy Maltese and softly melodious Italian. Two courses passed before she felt confident enough to wade into the fray, but when she did, Luca rewarded her with a smile that rivaled the brilliant Mediterranean sun.

  “I’m sorry I can’t meet your parents.”

  “I’ve already had a call from them too. Did I mention that Des has a big mouth?”

  He had parents, sisters, great aunts and cousins galore, and only an inkling of an idea how lucky he was. Only the fact that he shared them with her with the open-handed generosity of a man who knew he’d never be without saved her from turning green with envy. “Are they enjoying their time in England?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” Luca lifted his shoulder and let it fall in a negligent shrug. “My mother says she looks forward to meeting you the next time.”

  His philosophical outlook on life didn’t allow much room for unpleasantness. This was a man who’d never been alone in the world and never would be. She bit her lip, fighting back the urge to chastise him for his cavalier attitude toward the family he clearly adored but also took for granted.

  Instead, she watched him set the rudder then adjust the sails. He moved about the small sailboat with the ease and grace of a dancer, but the rippling strength harnessed in the long, lean muscles of his shoulders, arms and back held her captivated.

  “My great-grandfather on my mother’s side came from Sicily to Gozo.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder. “I’ll set the anchor and we’ll have our lunch. Zija Cecilia packed it. I believe she’s afraid I’m not feeding you properly.”

  Sam groaned, pressing her palm to the slight curve of her belly. She’d still been full from the previous night’s dinner when Luca appeared at her hotel, but he insisted they needed a good breakfast before sailing. Thank goodness she hadn’t felt ballsy enough to ditch her one-piece tank suit for a bikini. By the time she left Malta, they’d have to roll her to the plane on a luggage cart.

  “If I lived here, I’d weigh a thousand pounds.”

  “If you lived here, you would know how to work the sails, and therefore, work up an appetite.”

  The casual observation made her stomach jump the twist into a tight knot of envy, admiration and wistfulness. She watched him, drinking in every detail in great, greedy gulps, knowing she’d need the memories to fill the nights to come. She had to do something to burn off some of the restless energy he stoked in her. Eying the turquoise water speculatively, she sat up straight on the narrow bench. “Can we swim?”

  “Of course.” A boyish grin lit his face. “Why do you think I lured you out here?”

  Her heart took a stutter step then rushed to catch up with her imagination as it ran wild. Trying to feign indifference, she mapped the jagged coastline with her eyes. She didn’t dare look directly at him. “I thought you were being a good tour guide.”

  “I am happy to show you anything you would like to see.” A shiver raced down her spine when he sat beside her. “But before we do anything, I think I should help you reapply your sunscreen.” She gasped when he popped the cap with his thumb. The memory of his sure, steady hands smoothing the cream into her skin made her nipples tighten. She almost moaned when she felt the tickle of his breath on her neck. “You’re very fair.”

  On impulse, she turned to face him, hoping to catch him unaware just once. But the small smile that curved his lips told her he knew exactly what she wanted. “Kiss me.”

  The whispered command was all but swallowed by the sound of waves lapping at the sides of the boat, but Luca smiled as he obliged. He kissed her slow and sweet, exerting only enough pressure to let her know his feelings toward her were anything but gentlemanly, but proving he was the perfect specimen nonetheless when he broke the kiss seconds later.

  “Do you like kissing me as much as you hoped?” He corralled a wayward strand of hair that clung to her damp lips and tucked it behind her ear. “Was it worth the trip, my Samantha?”

  “Yes.” She blinked twice as he pulled away. “Do you like kissing me?” The lift of his eyebrows told her he was both startled and amused by her question. Emboldened, she pushed a tad harder. “Is it as good as you dreamed it would be?”

  Framing her face in his hands, Luca favored her with a smile so wicked it stole her breath. “So good I dreamed about it last night. And the night before.”

  He gave his head a rueful shake as he squirted sunscreen into his palm. He worked the lotion between his hands, gesturing with his chin for her to turn. Warm hands caressed her shoulders. The scent of SPF-enhanced coconuts drifted on the sea breeze. His lips touched the pulse pounding in her throat. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she tilted her head to grant him better access.

  “I’ll dream about it again tonight, Samantha.”

  He whispered the promise into her ear before drawing away again. His hands smoothed over her body, slathering her pale skin with sure, swift strokes. Tension ebbed from her sun-warmed muscles even as arousal set her blood to boil. She leaned back, instinctively certain that he’d catch her. And he did. His big hands closed around her waist, his fing
ertips notching her ribcage and his thumbs bracketing her spine. She sighed when his lips grazed the shell of her ear. Arching her back, she willed his hands higher, aching for him to claim her breasts and take so much more than the kiss she came to Malta to taste.

  “You don’t have to dream about it.”

  “Oh, but I will.” Luca’s laugh washed over her, warm and husky, but his hands remained locked at her waist. Better still, they tightened. He turned her to face him. The boat rocked beneath her feet, providing the perfect excuse to grasp his sun-kissed shoulders.

  “I’ll dream about you tonight,” he rasped. “But today we’ll swim.”

  With that, he plucked her from the bench and tossed her overboard.

  The first thing she heard when she broke the surface was his laughter. Seconds later, a large splash made her sputter and flail. His dark head popped up beside her. Strong arms banded around her waist, lifting her out of the water and allowing her to catch her breath. The wicked delight in his smile made it impossible to be angry with him. The smacking kiss he pecked to her lips coaxed a laugh from her.

  Shaking her head, she wound her arms around his neck and held on, trusting him to keep her afloat. “You’re a child.”

  “I’m a man who needed to cool off,” he replied with an eloquent arch of dark eyebrows. “You forget that I must go back to work this afternoon. But later, my Sam.” The rough rasp of his voice held the promise of something too hot to handle. “Later.”

  Her eyes widened as he slicked her hair back from her face. He kissed her again, a light brush of his lips that should have been chaste but wasn’t. Sliding his hands down to cradle her bottom, he held her tight against him as he captured her lips again, plundering her mouth until the kiss dragged them both under.

  *

  Luca was as good as his word, but his sense of timing was definitely European. His definition of “later” and hers varied greatly. Each day, he showed her bits and pieces of his island as time allowed. Every night, he kissed her senseless then left her at her hotel room door. The previous night, she stood on the balcony long after he left, mesmerized by the lights of Valletta’s waterfront and hoping the sea breeze might cool her blood.