“Of course,” Raffaele said. “I’ll call Zanipolo and tell him we’ll be down soon and he needn’t order the food to go.”
Jess merely nodded, and closed the bathroom door. Spotting the hook on the back of the door, she hung the hanger there and then quickly stripped off her T-shirt. Dropping it on the floor, she considered her damp bikini bottoms, but then left them on. She had no underwear. Wet bikini bottoms were better than nothing, Jess decided, and removed the shirt from the hanger to pulled it on over her head. It was big enough for her to get into it that way, and much easier than undoing and redoing the buttons.
Of course, the sleeves were too long. She would definitely have to roll them up, but it did reach two-thirds of the way down her upper legs.
“How is it?” Raffaele asked through the door, and Jess tugged one sleeve up to open the door.
“Good, I think. Or it will be once I put the luggage strap on,” she assured him.
Raffaele held it up at once.
Jess reached for it, but paused when the sleeve flapped around like a flipper.
“Allow me,” Raffaele said with amusement. Resting the luggage strap over his shoulder, he set to work on the sleeves, quickly rolling up first one, and then the other. Jess stood completely still while he worked, her nose twitching as his scent wafted around her. He smelled quite nice, she noted. Delicious even, and she realized that she hadn’t really noticed how Vasco smelled. Just that his hair was greasy. She shifted her gaze to Raffaele’s bent head and noted that his hair was dry now, and a lovely silky-looking black that wasn’t greasy.
“There we go,” Raffaele said, straightening as he finished with his efforts.
“Thank you,” Jess said softly.
“Now the belt,” he announced, and removed it from his shoulder to wrap it around her waist twice, explaining as he did, “I adjusted it to the size I thought might work, but—Oh, look, it’s perfect.”
Jess glanced down with relief when he finished and stepped back. She’d felt odd having him wrapping the belt around her waist. He’d had to bend forward slightly to do it, his head nearly on her shoulder and his arms going around her waist and back, and it had made her stomach jump and quiver a bit. Now, she took a couple of deep breaths to settle herself and turned to peer at her reflection in the vanity mirror that ran the length of the counter that held the double sinks.
Jess considered her reflection with surprise. Actually, it didn’t look half-bad. Belting it had raised it an inch or so, but it wasn’t too too short.
“Nice,” she decided, and then lifted her gaze and groaned as she saw her face and hair.
Raffaele chuckled at her expression. “My hairbrush is the brown one. Feel free to use it. I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”
Jess didn’t bother to close the door behind him. She was dressed. Or as dressed as she could be at that moment. It felt a little odd to be without a bra. She hadn’t gone braless since she was eleven or twelve. But the shirt was big and blousy enough that you couldn’t really tell, so she picked up Raffaele’s brush and began to run it through her hair. That felt odd too. Not the brush itself, but that she was using his brush. She had no idea why. It wasn’t like it was his toothbrush or something, but it still felt strange and somewhat intimate when she finished and saw the long chestnut-brown hairs caught in the brush along with his shorter, black ones. Jess stared at it briefly, and then quickly pulled all of the hair from the bristles before setting it down.
Jess bent to toss the ball of hair into the little garbage can under the sink and then straightened to look at herself again. Her hair looked much better. A quick brushing had done a world of good and her hair now fell around her face in soft waves.
Her attention shifted to her face. She was a little pale and had dark smudges under her eyes. The result of exhaustion, Jess supposed. And probably dehydration caused by too much sun and too little water. Not having eaten since lunch probably didn’t help either, she guessed. A little concealer to remove the dark shadows, and a touch of blush to add color would have done wonders, but she didn’t have either.
Shrugging, Jess pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to draw out some natural color and then turned to leave the room, telling herself that food would help.
Six
Raffaele wiped away a circle of the condensation filming the sliding glass doors and shook his head. The entire room had a film of moisture on it and had since they’d arrived—the walls, the floor, the tabletops—and every item of cloth felt limp and damp, from the sheets to the clothes they’d hung in the closet. It was like the room was crying. He’d never seen anything like it, and hoped never to again. Even at this hour it was crazy hot and humid.
Having cleared a spot on the glass door, Raffaele peered out at the night and thought about what Jess had said. She wanted to leave, and the hell of it was, he couldn’t tell her not to go. Not only did he not have the right, but if he talked her into staying and something happened, like the rogues getting their hands on her again . . . Well, he’d never forgive himself. It seemed to him it might be better to let her leave. The question then became, did he follow her at once, or wait until this trip was done to follow her? Because follow her he would. She was his life mate. He fully intended on wooing, seducing, and claiming her.
Raffaele’s instinct was to follow her at once, get on the same damned plane, hell, even take the same taxi from the resort to the airport. He’d waited too long for her not to want to follow her like a dog following a nice juicy steak on a string. However, he was here to help Santo, and didn’t feel he could leave right away.
“Well, this is the best I can do, so we may as well head down now.”
Raffaele turned and smiled when he saw her. She looked lovely to him, but then she had before she’d brushed her hair and done whatever she had to put color into her cheeks.
“You look perfect,” he assured her, starting across the room.
Jess snorted rudely at the claim and turned to lead the way to the door. “Yeah, sure, and you’ve got vision probl—Ah!”
Raffaele reached out quickly and caught her arm as she slipped on the wet floor and nearly fell.
“Thanks,” Jess breathed once she’d regained her balance and he’d released her arm. She took a couple of deep breaths as if to steady herself and then smiled weakly, and said, “This doesn’t mean you can go telling your friends that I’ve fallen for you.”
Raffaele chuckled at her teasing, but said, “Actually, they are my cousins, not my friends. Well, friends and cousins, I suppose.”
“Really? Cousins?” she asked with surprise as he escorted her to the door.
“Yes, really,” he assured her, keeping a firm grip on her elbow in case of another slip. Raffaele had donned his shoes while waiting for her, but she was barefoot and that, combined with the slippery condensation, was dangerous.
Fortunately, Santo’s shirt acted as a buffer between his hand and her arm. The tingle of excitement and awareness from where he gripped her was more muted this time, and that was for the best. He knew Jess had experienced it too; he’d heard her heart rate pick up and the way she caught her breath the previous times it had happened. Her body was definitely responding to his. Unfortunately, Raffaele was thinking they should avoid any physical exchange until she was safely back in Montana and he had followed. Raffaele suspected it would be hard to let her go otherwise, and he wanted her to be safe. Her leaving was the best way to ascertain that.
“But you all look so different,” Jess said, drawing him from his thoughts as they stepped out into the hall.
Raffaele glanced to her with surprise as they started to walk. “Do you think so? Most people think we are similar in looks.”
“Hmm.” She considered that as he ushered her toward the elevator. “I guess you all have similar eyes, but . . .” She shrugged. “I’ll have to take a closer look once we’re at the restaurant.”
Raffaele nodded and pressed the call button for the elevator. “I shall look forward to your decision.”
“Where are you guys from?” Jess asked now.
“Italy,” he answered promptly, and then added, “Although we flew here from Canada. We were visiting family there.”
“Ah,” she murmured. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. As the door closed again, she asked, “Are you here for a wedding?”
“Vacation,” Raffaele said, and smiled with amusement at her dubious expression.
“Whose idea was it to come here? At this time of year?” she asked, her tone suggesting that whoever it was couldn’t be very bright.
“Zanipolo’s,” he admitted with amusement. “I gave him a hard time about it when we first arrived, but now I think I was wrong and this was the perfect spot to vacation.”
“Why?” she asked with obvious surprise.
Because you are here, Raffaele thought, but merely shrugged, and said, “I presume you are here for a wedding?”
Jess hesitated, seeming reluctant to move the conversation along without getting an answer to her question, but when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, she nodded and said, “Yes,” before leading the way out.
“Family or friend?” Raffaele asked as they started walking in the direction of the beach.
“Both,” she said at once. “My cousin Krista, who is also a friend as your cousins are to you.”
“And Allison is your cousin too?”
Jess nodded.
“But not a friend?” Raffaele guessed, recalling the woman’s treatment of Jess earlier.
Jess’s mouth twitched, and then she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think Allison has friends. She is Krista’s older sister and . . . a bit difficult,” she finished in what he suspected was a vast understatement. While he couldn’t read Jess, he had been able to read Allison when Jess had rushed to embrace her, and he’d found little of merit in the woman’s mind. It had been filled with I and me and sly cruelty.