Are You Lonesome Tonight? by Wendy Etherington

Author:Wendy Etherington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

TONY RUBBED his cheek against Francesca’s shoulder. “That’ll hold me for the next twenty minutes or so.”

Her breath whooshed out. “Twenty minutes?”

He kissed the top of her breast. “Or so.”

She giggled, and the delightful sound echoed off the walls, making him smile widely.

He lifted his head, staring down at her. What a beauty she is.

Still laughing, she gazed up at him and trailed her fingers through the hair at his temples. The brush of her nails against his scalp sent a tingle rolling down his spine.

A beauty. A friend. Now, a lover.

He waited for panic to intrude on this moment of bliss. He waited for regret to snake its way through his body. But he felt only satisfied. Lucky. Happy.

Shouldn’t that scare him? Didn’t he need to find a way to keep up the light, easy mood?

The trouble was, he didn’t feel light or easy.

He wanted to hold her to him, to ask her for promises and futures. He didn’t understand the feelings crowding his chest. They weren’t part of Tony-the-charming-playboy’s makeup. But he knew they were serious, and he knew he’d have to address them.

But later.

He slid his hand across her flat, warm stomach. “One night means the whole night, right?”

Her gaze searched his for a moment before she responded. “Yes.”

He sensed her hesitancy and wasn’t about to let her feelings go without comment. They’d always been honest before, and he had no intention of letting that part of their relationship change. “Is that what you want?”

“If you do.”

“I do.”

“Me, too.”

His heart settled back into place. He didn’t want her to go.

Brushing her hair back from her face, he kissed her lightly. “Good. But first, we need a snack.” He jumped off the bed, then pulled on his pants.

Bleary-eyed, she raised up on her elbows. “Food? You want food?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “For starters.”

After slipping on his shirt, he kissed her forehead, then strode from the room. Downstairs, he headed straight for the kitchen, where he searched for champagne, fruit, crackers and cheese. He carried the spread on a silver platter, the champagne in a bucket of ice and the glasses between his fingers.

When he entered the room, he found Francesca wrapped in her robe, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She glanced up as he approached her. Her eyes weren’t smoky, but uncertain. “What are we doing?”

He set the food and drinks on the dresser, then sat next to her. He needed to move slowly here, not scare her off, not make too much of anything. Francesca didn’t impulsively sleep with men. Actually, she didn’t do anything impulsively. She was the very definition of cautious and planned.

Not to mention she’d been searching for The One Wednesday night, and he certainly couldn’t be him. He had a great bachelor life. Women he wanted wanted him. Settling on just one wasn’t in his genes—just ask his father.

So he found his well of charm—deep as it was—and tapped it ruthlessly. He slid his thumb along her jaw. “We’re enjoying each other.”

“And

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