SEALed With A Kiss: Heroes With Heart Read online

  His purely Italian shrug sloughed off her praise. “Nah, it’s a choice,” he stated. “Everybody has a choice.”

  His words echoed in her head as he set the parking brake and punched the button that killed her engine. A frown of worry furrowed his forehead as he took in his former neighborhood. “We should’a brought my car. Someone’s gonna key your car for bein’ so new.”

  “Well, that’s why I hit Penny’s mailbox. Now the dent in the fender makes it look like all the other cars.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that’s why you ran into the mailbox.”

  “Yep.” Truth was, she thought she might just need her car to keep her appointment with the lieutenant governor, and she hadn’t learned to drive Vinny’s stick shift—or rather, he didn’t trust her to drive his stick shift.

  “And here I thought you wanted your car so you could leave if Mama hurt your feelings,” he replied.

  “That, too.”

  Vinny squeezed her hand. “She’ll behave herself, I promise. Besides, Bella’s here to distract her.” He gestured toward his little sister’s lime green Escort as he pushed out of the driver’s seat. Ophelia followed suit, rounding the back of the car to help with their luggage. Isabella, now a student at Drexel University, was home for the holiday.

  A chilly breeze redolent with the smells of garlic wafted from a nearby restaurant. As they climbed the home’s front stoop, the door popped open. There stood Mama Rose, her doughy arms outstretched to greet them.

  “Figlio mio,” she exclaimed, drawing Vinny against her apron-clad bosom as he stepped up to greet her. If his shoulders weren’t as wide as the door itself, the embrace might have swallowed him whole. “Welcome, welcome,” she crooned. Kissing him soundly on both cheeks, she then regarded Ophelia through eyes identical to Vinny’s. The thread of tension between them snapped as she shoved Vinny aside to embrace Ophelia with equal warmth. “Thank you for coming. I cook all day!” she exclaimed, her English as elementary as it had been since Ophelia first met her five years ago. “Come in, come! S’cold outside.”

  They hadn’t moved beyond the foyer before the old staircase shuddered and Isabella DeInnocentis, as dark-haired and athletic as her brother, blew down from the upper level, colliding into Vinny at a full run. But he was ready for her, swinging her around to keep from staggering backwards. “Hey, sis! How’s it goin’?”

  “Better now that you’re home,” she said breathlessly.

  He frowned at her, then looked at his mother. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” his sister said airily. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”

  “Humph.” Their mother pursed her lips into a disapproving knot. “Your sister has a boyfriend,” she said on a note of disgust.

  “Mama!” Isabella rounded on her. “I told you not to tell.”

  “Boyfriend,” Vinny repeated, scowling harder. “What the hell do you need a boyfriend for? You’re a student. It’s your job to study, not waste your time on some schmuck.”

  “Vinny!” Ophelia elbowed her way forward and threw an arm around her sister-in-law in a show of solidarity. “You can’t tell her when she can or cannot fall in love.” She turned her head to look at Isabella. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “His name is Robert and he’s a philosophy major.”

  “Philosophy, hah.” Vinny rolled his eyes. “What’s he gonna do with that degree?”

  Bella arched her eyebrows at him. “Go to law school,” she said coolly.

  “Oh.” And suddenly Vinny had no more to say on the subject.

  “Enough talk,” Mama Rose declared. “Take your suitcase up and come to the kitchen for food.”

  “We just had subs on the way up, Mama,” Vinny protested, hefting their shared suitcase and climbing the stairs to his old bedroom. Last Easter was the first time his mother had even let them share a bed. Considering they were finally married—even though she hadn’t been invited—she hadn’t had much choice.

  Trailing Vinny into the tiny front room, Ophelia deposited her purse and cosmetics bag. She hadn’t dared to bring her laptop or Vinny would have guessed that she was working on a story. She didn’t need her laptop in any case. All the facts of the case were tucked away in her head. If Vinny had the slightest notion that she was on a deep-sea fishing expedition, angling for a really big prize, he’d have refused his mother’s invitation to Philly and swept her off to some remote island somewhere.

  Two hours later, they sat in the narrow kitchen with the sky growing dark outside and Mama Rose stuffing an eight-pound turkey in preparation for tomorrow’s feast. Listening to Bella regale them with stories of campus life, Ophelia waited for the opportunity to finagle time away from Vinny the next morning. She estimated that she would need at least two hours to get downtown, conduct her interview with Lieutenant Governor Rawlings, and get back to the house.

  “Let’s watch the Thanksgiving parade tomorrow,” she suggested when Bella’s stories came to an end. The parade was the only good excuse she could think of; unfortunately, it meant involving Bella in her plans. “You know it’s the oldest ongoing parade in the country, right? I’ve never seen it.”

  Vinny shot her a considering look. “I’m gonna fix Mama’s washing machine,” he reminded her. They’d discussed it on the way up. He needed time alone with Mama to prod her about her health. She’d been complaining of fatigue and, having battled cancer a decade earlier, he wanted to find out what the doctors were saying.

  “Bella and I can go by ourselves. No biggie,” she assured him.

  “Yeah, but a parade,” he said reminding her that he deplored large gatherings for the fact that terrorists loved them. “Why don’t you just go to a movie or something?”

  “On Thanksgiving morning? The theaters aren’t even open. Besides, a parade will get us in the holiday spirit with the floats, and the drums, and the bands. I can’t wait!”

  “Fine,” Vinny conceded. “Just don’t stand by any trash cans or planters.”

  Regretting the need to mislead him, she patted his hand consolingly. As much as she hated keeping secrets from her husband, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He was too protective, too prone to imagine bad things happening to her. This way, she’d conduct her interview and he’d never have to worry.

  Later, when she managed to expose Jay Rawlings for the liar that he was, Vinny would realize what she’d done and when she’d done it, only by then it would be too late.

  Better to ask forgiveness than permission. That’d been Ophelia’s motto all of her life, and she didn’t see any reason to change things up at this late date.

  Vinny stretched out on the length of his childhood bed, his toes hitting the footboard. The double bed felt tiny compared to the king-sized monstrosity they had at home, but he positively loved the coziness of having Ophelia snuggled up against him. Now that they were married, his mother had finally relented and let them share a bed. No more having to sneak Ophelia in after midnight and then get her back into Bella’s room by dawn. “This is so nice,” he purred, sliding his hand up under his wife’s nightshirt and down inside of her panties.

  To his confusion, she seemed to stiffen slightly. What was that about? He backed off, smoothing the hourglass outline of her body from her hip to her shoulder. “You doin’ okay, Lia?” he asked calling her by her nickname. Maybe his mama had made some comment that he hadn’t overheard and Lia was gnawing on it, hurting on the inside.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said with forced brightness.

  He turned his head, seeking her turquoise eyes in the dark. There they were, lit by the glow of the city and the beams of the street lamp slicing through the cracks in the curtains. “My mother didn’t say somethin’ to hurt your feelings, did she?”

  “No, not at all. I’m just thinking about the parade tomorrow, looking forward to it.”

  “Yeah? Ready to gorge yourself and put some meat on those skinny hips?” he quipped.

  The sound she mad
e in her throat told him that his joke sucked.

  Besides, her hips weren’t skinny. They were smooth and curvy, and the cool globe of her ass cheek filled his palm to perfection. He fitted his pelvis to hers as he kneaded her backside, letting her feel her effect on him. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he rasped, sliding his hand up the delicate vertebrae of her spine and rejoicing inwardly as she arched and relaxed into his embrace.

  She needed warming up was all. He knew how to do that. Matter of fact, getting Lia all hot and bothered was pretty much what he lived for ever since the day he dragged her to the top of the old lighthouse at Cape Henry. Remembering her astonishment when he’d made her come twice in mere minutes, he applied himself to the challenge of doing it again.

  Lia’s hum of pleasure was all the encouragement he needed to toss back the covers, strip off her drawers and replace his hand with his mouth. He nibbled his way to the juncture of her thighs, licking and nipping until she sighed in surrender and spread her legs in a silent plea. Sneaking a peek up the length of her luminous body, he was rewarded by the vision of her nightshirt pulled to her shoulders and her own hands on her breasts. Now that was sexy. He loved her taste, her scent, and her responsiveness. Not a day went by that he didn’t thank God she was his.

  Sure, she could be a handful. Sure, she got herself regularly into trouble by butting heads with people in positions of authority and upending the status quo. But, with Lia, there was never a dull moment.

  His confidence grew as her skin grew heated. She trembled with excitement under his dancing tongue, her breath coming faster. He backed off intentionally, stoking the embers of her desire by degrees until he finally gave her what she wanted.

  He knew the exact moment that her orgasm seized her, and he could only pray that she would stifle her cry of pleasure so his mama and sister couldn’t overhear. She did, biting her lower lip as she rode the storm, then stretching languorously beneath him as he covered her body with his and filled her to the hilt.

  Ah, yes. This was home. In her snug, silken warmth, he found his refuge, a place where he could return again and again to encounter bone-deep satisfaction. Wrapping her slim thighs around him, Lia pulled him closer, sought his mouth, and kissed him until he floated in a sea of sensation, their limbs entwined, their bodies merging.

  “I love you so much, Vinny,” she confessed between kisses.

  She’d been saying that a lot lately. And while he could never hear it enough, the words were beginning to take on a portentous quality. She couldn’t know if something bad was going to happen to either of them, could she? Nah, it was just his paranoid mind playing tricks on him. He pushed the unpleasant thought to the periphery and concentrated on the bliss that was taking his body by storm.

  Oh, yeah. Oh, baby. It was like this every time—just too damn good to make holding off a viable option. He let ecstasy geyser through him. Groaning his surcease against her sweet-smelling neck, he acknowledged that he was the luckiest man alive, and nothing was going to change that fact anytime soon, not if he could help it.

  “I love you, too, cara mia. Christ, I love you,” he murmured into her ear. And then he promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Ophelia rubbed her hands together briskly, wishing she’d thought to bring gloves. The beat of a bass drum filled her ears, overlaid by the blare of trumpets as a marching band tramped closer. She and Bella had arrived late and still managed to insinuate themselves among the crowd. They stood on the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum, right where the parade ended. As float after float passed them, each one more colorful than the last, Ophelia’s excitement about the upcoming holiday rose. Christmas motifs abounded, lifting her spirits. I’ll tell Vinny about the baby at Christmas, she decided. Wouldn’t that make a nice present!

  Now she had a good reason for keeping her secret.

  When at last the city council float came into view, marking the end of the parade and decorated with a massive Christmas tree that spired twenty feet into the air, the crowd roared with appreciation. Most of the people in attendance recognized the mayor of Philadelphia, a swarthy Italian whose expressive gestures made him enormously popular. The mayor blew kisses back at the crowd as he accepted their accolades, taking credit for the event that was in its 94th year.

  His appearance was Ophelia’s cue to rendezvous with Lt. Governor Jay Rawlings in the office complex adjacent to the museum. They’d arranged for the interview to take place just as the parade disbanded. Rawlings wanted to keep it short. He’d scheduled lunch with the mayor right afterward.

  Ophelia leaned toward Bella, who was snapping off pictures with her Nikon camera, and shouted in her ear. “Hey, I forgot to tell you that I’m supposed to interview someone right after this. It’ll take me twenty minutes. Stay right here, and I’ll find you when I’m done.”

  Bella’s cherry-colored eyes widened with alarm. “Why can’t I come with you?” she asked. “The parade’s almost over.”

  Figuring Bella wouldn’t take no for an answer—those DeInnocentis were so damned stubborn—Ophelia conceded with a shrug and led the way down the museum steps and across the street to an office complex leased by the environmental advocacy group that Rawlings chaired.

  As they approached the building number Ophelia was looking for, a man wearing a wool trench coat, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, studied her approach with a hopeful look. “Ophelia Price?” he asked. She had kept her maiden name for the sake of simplicity.

  “Yes.” Adopting the demeanor of a top-notch reporter, Ophelia extended a hand. “And you are?”

  “Dave Collum. I’m Jay Rawlings’ assistant. He’s expecting you.” His tepid smile faded as his dark eyes shifted toward Bella. “I understood it would only be you.”

  “Oh, this is my camera woman,” Ophelia asserted, thinking fast. “With the lieutenant governor’s permission, we’d like to film the interview.”

  Collum’s gaze fell to the Nikon camera hanging on a strap around Bella’s neck and he shrugged. “It’s up to him,” he decided, pulling open the door behind him. “Follow me.”

  They stepped into a wide, echoing stairwell blessedly warmer than it was outside. Chatting about the weather and the magnificent parade, they climbed marble steps to the second level and stepped into a dark, deserted hallway and through a set of double doors. Ophelia’s gaze lit immediately upon Jay Rawlings, who rolled out of the chair he was lounging in, fixed a plastic-looking smile on his face, and said, “Ah, here she is.”

  “I hope I didn’t keep you,” Ophelia apologized, taking a mental snapshot of his overall physique. The lieutenant governor was built like Vinny, only taller. The former Marine claimed the body of a much younger man, with broad shoulders and hewn thighs. While he admitted in his bio to having served in the CIA after his stint in the Marines, he’d never been forthcoming about the type of work he’d done for the Agency.

  “Not at all. I just sat down. That was quite a parade, huh?” His astute gray eyes swiveled in Bella’s direction.

  Ophelia made introductions. “This is my camera woman, Bella. She’s an intern.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d be filming me.” Jay Rawlings smoothed his thinning hair. “I thought this was just a write up for a Virginia paper.”

  She’d misled his secretary intentionally. And while Ophelia meant for this interview to be little more than a fishing expedition, filming Rawlings’ reactions to her questions might be just what she needed to convince her boss to grant her exposé extra air time. “Well, no, I work for a news station—WTKR. We’re located in Norfolk with a large military population.”

  “I see.” His plastic smile returned as he gestured to the seats behind them. “Should we have a seat or do this standing up?”

  “Let’s sit,” Ophelia said, shimmying out of her coat to reveal her striking outfit, one that Vinny hadn’t noticed her leaving in as he’d already been hard at work on the washer in the basement. She tossed her coat over
a chair. “Bella, you can stand over there and wait for my cue to start filming.”

  Playing right along, Bella moved wordlessly against the wall and fiddled with her camera settings. Ophelia applied herself to putting Jay Rawlings at ease. “Did you bring your family with you?” she inquired. Rawlings’ offices were in Harrisburg, the state capital, an hour away.

  “No, they had to stay at home. My son has a bit of a cold.”

  “Oh, what a shame,” she lamented. “I bet your little boy would have loved the parade. That Santa Claus was very convincing.”

  They chatted for another minute before Ophelia cued Bella with a nod to start filming. “Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet me,” she began, crossing her legs and shifting her body to display her cleavage to its best advantage.

  “My pleasure,” the lieutenant governor replied, brandishing his false smile. His gaze dipped automatically downward.

  She’d worn her sexiest Jones of New York, java-colored wool suit. Tailored to show off her curves, it buttoned just below her breasts, which buoyed over the plunging neckline of her crème silk blouse. Tucking a curl behind one pearl-studded earlobe, she launched into introductions for the viewer and offered up standard questions, which the lieutenant governor answered with practiced ease. He was just beginning to look more confident when she brought up his service in the CIA. “Is it true that you worked for the CIA right after 9/11?”

  The split-second pause on his part bespoke of his surprise. “Well, yes. After my service in the Marines, I still wanted to serve my country. 9/11 was a shock to all of us,” he replied.

  Another practiced answer, she decided, narrowing in for the kill. “Whatever made you leave the CIA?” she queried.