That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [82]
All that coiled masculinity combined with that wickedly potent sensuality had brought out every feminine instinct she possessed. This was desire flowing through her. Want. Immediately recognizable, even though it was almost unfamiliar.
It had been a long time since she'd truly wanted to touch a man. To suck the salty flavor of his skin. To kiss the line of his jaw. To encircle a hard erection in her hand. To stroke and taste and have and take.
Take. That's what she wanted to do. This wasn't simple awareness of him as an attractive man, like last night. Something about tonight had made her cross the line from interest to desire.
And she knew what it was: that touch. That one deliberate, sensuous, evocative touch of his hand on the silk.
She wanted his hand. She wanted to be the silk. "Rachel?"
Giving her head a hard shake to clear it—and seeing Luke do the same thing a few feet away—she turned her attention to his sister-in-law. Meg was watching her curiously and she wondered if the other woman had noticed how hard she'd been staring at Luke. She almost lifted her fingertips to her mouth to make sure there wasn't any drool there, as Lottie had teased. Because, God help her, she'd sure been doing some mental drooling. Not to mention fantasizing.
She forced a small laugh. "I haven't met Mark and Nick yet, but I imagine the five of them together could stop all the traffic on Taylor Avenue if they just walked outside and took their shirts off."
Lottie made a sound of disgust. "Ewww. Those are my obnoxious, bossy, arrogant brothers you're talking about."
"I still can't imagine what it was like growing up the youngest girl with all five of them," Rachel said, giving Lottie a pitying look. "Did you ever have a boyfriend brave enough to come to your house?"
Lottie stuck out her bottom lip in a disgusted pout. "Not after Mark and Nick got all the guys at St. Raphael's believing Papa had been Mario Puzo's inspiration for The Godfather." She shot Luke a glare. "And that Luke's wicked temper had inspired the character of Sonny."
Luke snorted a laugh. "Haven't you heard? I'm the lover of the family, not the fighter."
"That'd be Nick," Meg murmured. The Marine.
"Nah," Tony said, obviously listening as intently as Luke had been. He gave them a salacious grin, wagging his brows. "I'm the lover. Just ask Gloria."
"Not listening," Lottie snapped, sticking her fingers into her ears and humming a loud tune.
Then Joe piped in. "As for the Godfather? I think we're talking about Rudy Martinelli. Luke's new Daddy-in-law."
Oh, great. Perfect. Like she needed a reminder that the Nazi bride was the daughter of a mafia don. And Rachel had just been making twenty-nine kinds of love to the woman's fiancé in her head.
Luke stiffened, nearly imperceptibly, at the mention of his future father-in-law. So did Rachel. Because as easy as it had been to sit here feeling like a part of this big, loud, loveable family, she had absolutely no right to feel that way. Maria was the one who should have been here, laughing over the brothers, lusting over Luke, getting friendly with her future sisters-in-law.
This was all wrong. Especially the lusting part.
Which she intended to stop. Now. Right now.
Just as soon as she could put the mental picture of Luke running his hand over that piece of flesh-colored silk out of her mind.
Which might happen around about … never.
CHAPTER FIVE
"DID YOU EVER WONDER if you were doing the right thing by getting married?" Luke sipped at his beer, as if the question was a casual one, rather than one of vital importance to his sanity right now.
His brother Joe, who sat across from him at a table at the restaurant, immediately shook his head. "Never. Why?"
"Just wondering. You and Meg were such a whirlwind, I guess we never really talked about it."
Joe didn't even pause to think about it. "I knew she was the one the first time I laid eyes on her." Then a half-grin crossed his mouth. "Well, at least