"You didn't have to dress up, you know. It's just a bridge game at my parents' house between Gemma, Alessandro, you, and me."

Maisie flushed as she glanced down at her outfit. She'd tucked her fitted, dark blue jeans into a pair of saddle-brown boots, and thrown a short jacket over a sleeveless blouse. Carolina was right; she was completely overdressed for an evening with friends in rural Maine, no matter how much she hoped one of those friends would be more by the evening's end.

"Gemma was right about making a statement. I'm not doing any more farm work this weekend; this is my way of starting my real vacation." Maisie grimaced as Carolina's eyebrow quirked. She had a feeling her response wasn't terribly convincing. "Besides, it's nice to dress up once in a while," she added, forcing a smile.

Carolina's eyebrow went higher still before her lips curled into a smile.

"I'm just raggin' on you, Maisie. I wouldn't have cared if you'd shown up in a lime green tutu and snakeskin cowboy boots. I'm just psyched you finally have some free time to hang out with us." She stepped away from the door to the mudroom at the rear of her parents' house. "Come on in. It's humid as hell out there, and we're letting all that nastiness in."

"Thanks." Maisie stepped onto the gray slate floor of the mudroom. "Hold on a sec."

She sat on a long wooden bench to unzip her boots as Carolina locked the door. The puddles from the morning's storm had yet to evaporate, and she didn't want to track mud all over the house.

Besides, as Carolina had pointed out, her boots were ridiculous.

"Is that the jacket you got last spring when we went shopping together at Century 21?" Carolina asked, passing an appraising eye over the fitted leather.

"Yup." Maisie looked up and grinned at Carolina. "Do you know everything in my wardrobe?"

"Pretty much. We don't exactly live far away from each other, you know." Carolina winked. "Besides, you're one of the few friends who puts up with my obsession with that Financial District discount clothing madhouse. I always remember what you buy there."

"It's a madhouse all right." Maisie chuckled as she placed her boots in a neat line in the corner and hung her jacket on an iron peg.

"Come on." Carolina turned towards the main house and linked arms with Maisie. "It's finally time to play on this vacation of yours."

Maisie laughed as she and Carolina trooped, side by side, into the house that had been her second home as a child.

She'd visited the twins here a fair bit over the past several years, but as she and Carolina moved through the kitchen, it occurred to her that she'd separated the house into two distinct places in her mind: the one from her youth that featured childhood memories of Alessandro, and the one she'd visited infrequently in her college years and beyond that had borne no sign of her childhood friend, save for the occasional photograph.

The mental wall fell as they walked from room to room. The furniture and paintings on the walls fit with her memories of the twins' home, but small signs of Alessandro—an adult Alessandro, not the youthful Alessandro she always placed in this house whenever she thought of him—jumped out at her in every room. His running shoes lay haphazardly in the corner of the kitchen nearest the mudroom and a small pile of Euros he must have pulled from a pocket lay on the kitchen island, while a book on Japanese cinema sat on a small table in the hallway.

It was unnerving, but in a comforting sort of way, she thought as they passed a study featuring a navy hoodie draped across the back of a sofa. A warm, pleasant feeling settled over her as her imagination supplied a vision of Alessandro reading his book on the sofa while she curled against him, wrapped in his sweatshirt.

Her lips twitched and the warm feeling increased as she thought of other things they could do on that sofa.

Maisie stumbled as Carolina stopped without warning in the doorway of a small sitting room at the back of the house. Maisie glanced up; Alessandro sat sprawled across a worn leather couch, engrossed in his phone, while Gemma had curled herself against an embroidered pillow in the remaining space at the other end.

"I thought you said you were going to set up for the game, Gem. What gives?" Carolina said, sounding annoyed.

"Sorry." Gemma looked up and shrugged. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Too busy dropping stitches?" Carolina nodded towards the knitting on Gemma's lap. "Never mind. I'll go and get us some food if you help with drinks, OK? Less, mind getting the cards and everything set up? Maisie's here as our pampered guest tonight; she's informed me she's not doing any more work this week."

Carolina grinned as she brushed past her to return to the kitchen, and Maisie gave Gemma and Alessandro an awkward smile. She knew Carolina was just teasing her about being a "pampered guest," but relaxing while others worked around her was strange for someone so accustomed to helping out.

"I didn't know you were coming over tonight, Maisie," Alessandro said as he stood and put his phone in his pocket.

"Yeah." She glanced at Gemma. "You said you guys needed a fourth for bridge."

"Seeing as there're only three of us, we do." Gemma placed her needles and a large ball of yarn on the battered old trunk that served as a coffee table before turning to Alessandro. "Carolina and I decided it would be fun to play. Sorry. I've been having some trouble with my shawl, and must've forgotten to mention it to you."

"No problem." He strode to the side cabinet where the cards were kept, and after rummaging around for a few seconds, emerged with a set.

"Good. Well, what do you two want to drink? Wine, beer, soda, water? Something harder?"

"Water's fine," Maisie answered. Alcohol was the last thing she needed; it would either put her to sleep or make her stupid.

"I'll have a beer, Gem. Thanks."

A heavy silence settled in the room as Gemma left. Maisie fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as Alessandro reached out a hand and began to trace the carvings on the back of one of the card table's wooden chairs.

Her palms began to sweat and her stomach clenched. It had been easy to stand in her bedroom earlier this evening, promising herself that she'd ask him what kind of relationship he wanted. That confidence had fled the moment she found herself standing alone with him.

He cleared his throat. "I'd been thinking about coming over in a few minutes. You know, to see if you wanted to do something tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah." His fingers continued to trace the wood, moving up and down along a ridged line in slow, lazy movements before curving around a small circle. "My mom wanted to go through a bunch of boxes, though, so I got stuck here."

"Boxes?"

"Yeah." His fingers stilled, and he shoved both hands in his pockets. "You wouldn't believe some of the crap I saved as a kid. There were something like ten boxes just from middle school."

"Right."

He nodded and looked away.

Maisie grimaced and dropped her gaze to the floor. Way to keep the conversation flowing, she scolded herself. It should have been easy to move the conversation along; all she had to do was ask about the boxes or tease him about being a packrat.

But his fingers . . . on the carvings . . . those fingers had given her sinful thoughts as they'd traced the lines of the wood, making her mind and body feel both heated and filled with a sultry languor as she imagined herself in the chair's place, its hard curves her soft flesh under his palms as he teased and toyed with her.

When combined with her inexplicable onset of nervousness, his erotic moves had been murder on her thought process.

She swallowed hard. Ask about the damn boxes and get your mind out of the gutter. Minutes before a bridge game is not the time to think about him that way.

Summoning her courage, Maisie glanced up. She'd been prepared to find him bored and looking at his phone again, but was surprised to find him staring at her. Or rather, at her cleavage.

She stood, shell-shocked, for what felt like several long minutes. His mouth was parted slightly, his eyelids were low over his eyes, and his chest rose and fell faster than it had moments before when they'd been talking.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Her nervousness melted at the realization. Her earlier confidence had been based on her afternoon dream, and on feelings and emotions from years ago; though she had hoped for the best and dressed for success, she'd had no idea how he would react.

Seeing him stare at her was enough to eradicate her anxiety. She'd never understood the cliché of how feeling desired could make a woman feel confident and powerful, but now she did.

Her skin tingled as she envisioned his hands reaching out to caress her, pushing the material of her shirt below her breasts, forcing the cups of her bra down and suckling her nipples into his mouth. Her sex began to throb and she clenched her legs together, trying to stop her arousal from escalating as she imagined his hands moving lower and lower, his fingers exploring her just as they had the chair just moments ago. Her head began to spin as she imagined his fingers trailing down her navel, dipping into her wetness.

She realized she'd stopped breathing, and she sucked in a deep breath. Alessandro's eyes snapped up to her face, and their gazes caught. His eyes widened; it was as if he hadn't known he'd been staring at her, or hadn't expected to be caught. After the briefest of pauses, his lips curved into a smile and he tilted his head to the side. He winked, and her heart felt like it stopped and then raced to push the missing blood through her system.

"Geary's OK, Less?" Gemma's voice cut through their silent conversation. "Looks like we ran out of Shipyard."

Maisie jerked her head towards Gemma. She took her glass of water and lifted it, hands shaking, to her lips. That smile and wink were not the type of thing to experience when other people were around; she hoped the liquid would cool the heat rushing through her body.

"Geary's is fine, Gem. Thanks," Alessandro said, taking his beer.

The three of them stood in silence for several moments before Gemma sighed.

"What in the world is keeping Carolina?" she grumbled. "We won't be starting until midnight at this rate."

She turned and marched out of the room. Maisie stared after her, watching as she rounded the corner in the hallway before glancing towards the card table.

She'd expected to find Alessandro next to the wooden chair, but he wasn't there.

She gasped as she felt him brush her arm. He'd moved to stand only inches from her, just shy of shoulder-to-shoulder, as if admiring a painting that hung on the wall above the card table.

She turned towards the wall, searching for what had grabbed his attention, but had an impossible time concentrating when the warmth of his body was so close. So much for the water cooling me down, she thought.

"I'm glad you're here tonight."

His voice was low and smooth, and the confidence he'd built with his earlier admiration soared higher at his words. He was like a drug, she realized, washing over her senses, pulling her away from her incessant over-thinking and into a world with just the two of them.

She liked it. Especially when she thought of the two of them naked in that world.

"I'm glad to be here, too." She was surprised at how breathless she sounded.

"Good." Out of the corner of her eye she watched as his chest expanded in a long, slow inhale. "I should tell you, though: that's a very naughty shirt you're wearing, Margaret Barnes."

She replayed his words in her head, making sure she'd heard them correctly. "It is?" she asked, her heart racing.

"Mmmm. That ribbon, tied in a bow at the back? It begs to be tugged open."

His chest rose again before he let out a long, slow breath, and she found herself doing the same as she imagined him bending her over the card table and tugging at the offending ribbon with his teeth before divesting her of the garment, gripping her hips with his olive-skinned hands—

"I've seen you in it before, Maisie. You wore that shirt up from Boston."

Startled from her pornographic thoughts, she glanced up at him.

"You remember?"

"Are you kidding?" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at her, an incredulous smile forming on his lips. "Good thing you don't have those boots on right now. Lord knows I've thought about those a time or twelve this week."

She stared, mouth agape. He'd fantasized about her? All week?

Her heart jumped with joy as she stared into the brown depths of his eyes. They were searching her face, and she realized he was waiting not just for an answer, but for her reaction.

"Why do you think my feet are bare?" She winked and lifted her face to his, her voice just above a whisper, trying to send the images playing in her brain telepathically into his.

His eyes flared as he shifted towards her, his fingers brushing hers as he lowered his head. She tilted her face up, desperate to feel his lips on hers, desperate to take the first step towards making the images in her head a reality.

"OK," Carolina called from the hallway, and like schoolchildren caught misbehaving, they jumped apart. "We've got carrots, celery, zucchini, red peppers, and cherry tomatoes to go with some hummus. And I have some of my mom's famous mystery bars." Carolina placed the platters of food on the table as Gemma took a seat. "Would have been here sooner, but someone," she shot Gemma a dirty look, "said my zucchini and pepper slices were too big."

Gemma shrugged. "What can I say? I didn't want to interrupt our game with the Heimlich maneuver."

Maisie glanced at Alessandro and found him trying to catch her eye. His clean-shaven face was flushed, and she had a feeling her own matched the tomatoes and peppers. His lips quirked; "Wish she'd cut them even smaller," he mouthed.

She looked away and tried to hide her laughter behind her hand. Yes, she wished his sisters had stayed in the kitchen longer, too.

"Oh, no you don't." Alessandro jumped forward and nudged Carolina, who had just taken a seat across from Gemma. "Nice try, but you know the family rules: no playing with your twin as your partner."

Carolina gave him a mutinous glare as she moved to a seat next to Gemma. "Those rules are unfair."

"Unfair?" Alessandro spluttered. "It's unfair to the rest of us when you two play together. You have that . . . that . . . ." He waved his hand in the air as he sat down across from Carolina.

"That super-secret twin communication thing?" Maisie supplied with a grin.

"Exactly!" Alessandro slapped his hand down on the table. "And just for trying that sneaky move, Leena, you get stuck with me as your partner."

Carolina grumbled something unintelligible as Maisie sat in the remaining seat.

"So," Alessandro said as he took a card from the deck. "You've caught on to their mysterious telepathic powers, too?"

"Yup." Maisie reached for the deck. "Though they crushed everyone in our bridge group for three whole weeks before we did."

Alessandro chuckled as Gemma and Carolina picked cards. Carolina picked highest; she would deal after Gemma cut the deck.

They each returned their card to Carolina. Maisie's eyes drifted to Alessandro as the twins began to chat about the family members that would arrive tomorrow for their graduation party. Heavy-lidded eyes met hers, and she bit her lip as a slow, lazy sort of grin lifted the corner of his mouth.

She tried to smile back, but couldn't; all she could do was stare at his brown eyes, which seemed to twinkle under the lights.

She reached for her glass of water, nearly spilling it on the pile of cards accumulating on the table before her as she pulled it towards her mouth, desperate once again to cool her overheating body. She couldn't tear her eyes from his as she drank. His gaze lowered to watch her lips cradle the glass, and then lowered again to watch her throat work to swallow the liquid.

She placed the water back down on the table with a wobble. Her throat felt too tight to drink anymore, and the thought of him watching her throat . . . well, that just made her think of swallowing something other than water.

The seating arrangement and small table left them close. His eyes seemed to pull her closer, again making her feel like they were the only two people in the room. He was gorgeous, his broad shoulders stretching the t-shirt he wore, brown hair curling around his ears and shining under the room's chandelier, and eyes glinting with thoughts she wanted shown to her.

She took a deep breath, hoping no one else noticed as she leaned towards him a bit. He smelled good, like soap and aftershave, and she wondered if he'd showered after helping his mother go through his boxes in the hot, dusty barn.

"Maisie?" Gemma's voice seemed faint, as if she were speaking from across a foggy field, or at the very least, through a steamy bathroom featuring a hot and soapy Alessandro. "Maisie? You gonna pick up your cards?"

"Mmmm?"

"Cards, Maisie." Carolina's sharp voice reached her brain, and Maisie turned to find her friend pointing at the pile on the table. "Your cards."

"Right." She picked up her cards, but, just as it had earlier in the evening, Carolina's raised eyebrow seemed to require an explanation. "Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She flushed and took another quick sip of water before sorting her cards. She tried not to look at Alessandro, but gave in and peeked over her cards at him. He wore a strained expression on his face, as if he were trying not to laugh.

She kicked him under the table, and, feeling satisfied when her revenge wiped the smirk off his face, she returned to her cards.

The bidding began, and before long Maisie found herself engrossed in the game. She'd met players who were able to play and carry on conversations simultaneously, but she'd never been able to; instead, she listened as Alessandro joked with his sisters, only saying something when someone—usually Gemma—drew her into the conversation.

She'd never played bridge with Alessandro; she hadn't learned how to play until college. As they played, it struck her that the two of them hadn't done anything social in years, since before they'd gone to high school. It was fun, listening to him laugh at his sisters, hearing their memories of events she'd never known.

Maisie was surprised to discover that Alessandro was one of the least competitive people she'd ever played with; she only now understood why he'd told Carolina it was a punishment to play with him.

"Alessandro!"

Maisie looked up as Carolina's annoyed voice cut across her musing. She and Gemma had just crushed Carolina and Alessandro in yet another hand; they'd won the first game in just two hands, and after these last two, they were within single digits of winning the second and final game.

"Huh?" Alessandro blinked as he looked across the table at his sister.

"Does Maisie have a piece of food in her hair?"

"What?" He pushed the cards across the table to Carolina to shuffle; they were beginning their fifth hand, so the deal fell back to her.

"I said, does Maisie have a piece of food in her hair?"

"Um." He glanced at Maisie before giving his sister a chagrined look. "No."

"Good. Then please stop staring at her hair when we're playing, and pay attention!" Carolina shook her head as she began to shuffle. "Alessandro, I swear to God, I'm going to toilet paper your room later tonight if you don't start paying attention."

"Empty threat, Leena." He laughed. "We both know I always won the practical joke wars in this house."

"Well, yeah, but that's because you always had Maisie on your side. Gemma and I always knew she was the brains of the operation. What are you going to do, force her to spend the night here so you two can sneak in at three in the morning?"
"Don't worry, Leens." He turned to face Maisie and winked as Carolina turned her attention to her shuffling. "We won't be sneaking into your room tonight."

Carolina humphed as she handed the cards to Gemma to cut. Maisie was happy for the noise; she'd reached for her water again after the hand had finished, and nearly spat it out at Alessandro's last comment.

Carolina took the cards back from Gemma and began to deal. "I wish Isabella was here instead of Maisie," she grumbled. "Ouch!" She turned to face her twin. "What the hell was that for?"

"That was because you have no tact, Carolina," Gemma ground out through clenched teeth.

Carolina looked confused for several seconds before realization dawned across her face.

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that." Carolina turned to Maisie and shook her head. "No matter how much I like Isabella, I prefer hanging out with you, any day of the week. You know that, right, Maisie?" Carolina turned back to her sister. "All I meant was that even Alessandro could beat Isabella at bridge. She's terrible. Alessandro and I wouldn't be getting slaughtered."

"She was that bad?" Maisie plastered on what she hoped was a convincing smile. Given the mood around the table, it seemed important to show that Carolina's comment hadn't bothered her; Carolina looked like she felt horrible about what she'd said, Gemma was still glaring, and Alessandro had turned stony-faced at the mention of Isabella.

"Yeah, she was," Carolina gave her a small smile, and mouthed the word, "sorry," to Maisie.

"I taught her to play." Alessandro gave Maisie a wry grin. "She tried, but she only played when we were with these two. It's hard to learn something and then not practice for months at a time, especially when your teacher isn't the best player."

"So Alessandro," Gemma said after giving Carolina a final glare. "What kind of stuff did you find in those boxes in the barn?"

Maisie let their conversation wash over her as Carolina dealt.

Isabella, the ex, she thought with a grimace. No, she corrected herself. Isabella, the model ex.

She knew the conversation shouldn't have bothered her. If anything, it should have made her feel better; Carolina had, in her own roundabout way, expressed how Maisie fit in much better with her family than Isabella ever had.

Instead, it seemed to underscore their different roles: one was a good friend for a card game, while the other was . . . well, a model.

Had she been crazy earlier in the evening to think that Alessandro would be interested in her? She'd never thought she was hideous in the looks department, but she wasn't God's gift to men, some sort of angel sent down to grace the earth and stun all of mankind with her beauty.

But Alessandro's ex? She was that sort of woman.

Literally, Maisie thought with a suppressed snort.

For years, images of Isabella's pouty smile, lingerie-clad body, and fake wings had stared at her from storefront windows and catalogs. While Maisie had never considered herself the sort who needed boyfriends to assure her she was beautiful, her confidence had always waned when she'd seen Isabella's pictures. How could it not?

Not that it should have been surprising. Alessandro had always been the blight in her otherwise-steely confidence; he was the best friend who'd abandoned her with no warning in high school, and the lover who'd kicked her out of his room after sleeping with her. How many times had a voice in her head whispered, "See? Why would he want you when he could have her?" when she'd passed Isabella's larger-than-life form? It hadn't mattered that the timeline was off, that he hadn't even met Isabella that night in the motel.

Had she really thought she'd be able to saunter over for a serious talk without a single worry? That, after the argument in the strawberry field on Monday morning, she'd completely gotten over the rejection of that night?

Listen to you, she scolded. He stared at your body, flirted with you, admitted to fantasizing about you all week, and even made a reference to you spending the night. Stop doubting yourself.

She chuckled and gave her head a little shake. Leave it to Alessandro Conti to send her on an emotional rollercoaster.

She glanced up when she noticed the talking around her had ceased. "Sorry. I was . . . thinking about something else." Maisie offered a small smile. "I didn't channel Carolina and laugh at a totally inappropriate moment, did I?"

"No." Alessandro gave her a hesitant smile. "I was just telling them about finding our old time capsule in one of the boxes I saved."

"Time capsule?" She furrowed her brow. "I don't remember making a time capsule. Sure you made it with me?"

"Who else would I have made a time capsule with?" Alessandro gave her an incredulous look. "You have one hell of a selective memory, Maisie. You don't remember insisting we make one and bury it on old Mr. Harrison's land one spring, right next to that crumbling old cemetery? And making me carry a shovel clear across town? Only to be surprised when I couldn't dig since the ground was still frozen—as I'd told you it would be?"

"Not really, no." She screwed her face up as she tried to remember the incident, then grinned at the memory of her dictatorial childhood-self ordering a shovel-wielding Alessandro around town, time capsule in hand. "How the hell did you put up with me?" she asked with a chuckle.

Alessandro shook his head, laughing along with her. "You know, I just don't know. I always thought of you as having these grand, adventurous plans, but now that I think about it, I don't think that's quite right. You really just had these crazy, impulsive ideas that you wouldn't let go until I went along with them. I think you had to convince yourself to go along with them half the time. Hang on." He leaned over and pulled out his phone, which had begun to ring. "I can't believe you don't remember telling me we should . . . ."

The words faded as he stared at the ringing phone in his hand. After a few blinks and a shake of his head, he held the phone to his ear.

"Izzy? Izzy is that you?" He grinned, and Maisie felt her stomach plummet at the bright smile on his face. "Ciao, Izzy . . . what? Hold on, my reception is crap here. Give me a minute."

He stood and walked out of the room without sparing a glance for any of them.

Gemma cleared her throat in the silence. "What do you say, Maisie. Why don't we institute some sort of mercy rule; Alessandro and Carolina will never catch us at the rate we're going. Let's clean up and have a glass of wine in the kitchen."

"No. I'm getting kind of tired, and . . . ."

Maisie trailed off. She wanted to go home and think. Or go home and watch a movie with her mother. Anything to get her mind off the brilliant smile she'd seen Alessandro flash when Isabella had called. She wasn't sure if a stupid insecurity was popping up again or if this was fate's way of showing her the door before she made a terrible mistake; either way, she was ready to climb off this rollercoaster.

"Come on, Maisie. Sit down in the kitchen with us." Gemma's voice sounded kind, and almost apologetic.

When Maisie didn't respond, Gemma's warm hand reached out and squeezed hers. It was only then Maisie realized her own was trembling.

"OK," she replied. Gemma was too comforting to resist.

Maisie followed the twins into the kitchen. Carolina busied herself washing the pile of dishes in the sink while Gemma wiped the cleaned dishes and put them away. Maisie perched on a stool at the island, feeling useless. She'd put away the remaining veggies and hummus and put the leftover mystery bars in her belly, but had been banished to the island after that, reminded by Carolina of her pledge to do no more work. Her doubts from earlier returned, and she fought to maintain her confidence as she sat.

"Can you believe Isabella called, Gem?" Carolina asked, her hands still buried in the sink.

Gemma shrugged. "Do you think Mom and Dad will be home soon?"

"I doubt it. They said something about seeing some friends in Bath after dinner and being out pretty late." Carolina grabbed the now-empty vegetable platter—the last of the dirty dishes—and placed it into the sink. "Do you think Alessandro and Isabella will ever get back together? I hope so. You never met her, did you, Maisie? I hope you get to meet her; you'd really like her."

Gemma sighed. "I doubt they'll get back together, Carolina. From what little he's said, it's pretty clear that he broke up with her. He's never said anything to indicate he wants to get back with her. They're probably just catching up, like friends do from time to time." Gemma took the clean platter and dried it as Carolina turned the water off. "So what are you going to do about that phone call you got from your new super? The one where he told you about parking restrictions the weekend you're supposed to move in?"

"Dunno. Like I said earlier today, I'll figure something out. Maybe I can leave my stuff at Aunt Aggie's for a while or something." Carolina dried her hands on a towel near the sink and moved to lean on the kitchen island. "So he definitely broke up with her? Huh. I can't believe he still won't tell us more about what happened, but I guess that makes sense. They'd been dating since he was what, nineteen? I know they took a couple breaks and all, but he never really had much time to play around, you know? I bet that's what he wants to do now."

"Or maybe he realized she wasn't what he wanted long-term, and he's ready to move on to someone who is," Gemma ground out, throwing the dishtowel at the oven handle. "Maisie, are there any more of those bars my mom made? I could really use one. Can you believe that she still won't give me the recipe?"

"Um, no. I kinda ate the last ones." Maisie flushed as she continued to play with the hem of her blouse.

"Oh please," Carolina said, ignoring the conversation about food. "You don't end a six-year relationship and then enter a new one within months."

"For goodness sake, Carolina! I've tried and tried to move this conversation along, but you just don't get it. Would you stop talking about Isabella!" Gemma put her hands on her hips as she turned to face her sister. "Open your eyes. For someone who likes to be in on the family gossip, you're completely clueless when it comes to what's going on between your own brother and your best friend."

Maisie's hand stilled, and she felt her face flush as Carolina turned to give her a confused look.

"What do you mean, my own brother and my—"

"What do you think happened all those years ago, when Maisie came back from that weekend reunion and made us swear not to tell him anything?"

"What?" Carolina turned to face her sister. "I don't know. I figured they had another stupid argument or something, or—" Carolina stilled, and then turned to face Maisie. "Alessandro? You mean to tell me that when you came back all miserable, it was because you'd had sex with my brother?" she asked, sounding both confused and horrified.

Maisie nodded. Could her face burn any hotter? she wondered.

"But then . . . ." Carolina stopped and gave her a critical once-over. "All this time you've been spending together this week . . . are you sleeping with each other now?"

Maisie let out a harsh laugh. "No."

"But you want to?" Carolina looked baffled.

"Caught on, have you Carolina?" Gemma quipped. "Go on upstairs, Maisie, and talk to him. We'll finish up down here."

"What? No, I should be getting home."

"Home?" Carolina stared at Maisie as if she were crazy. "It's not even nine."

"But it's been a long week, and—"

"No more buts." Gemma crossed her arms and glared at her sister, who shrugged and gave Maisie a look that said she was siding with Gemma on this matter. "I refuse to be a go-between for another seven years. Go upstairs and talk to him. Neither of you is fooling me; you aren't just friends. He's been moping all week, and you've been acting like a nervous teenager all night."

"No I haven't," Maisie protested, pulling her hand away from her hem and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her jeans. "I can just talk to him tomorrow at your graduation party. It's not like there's something important we need to talk about or anything."

"Nothing important?" Gemma's eyes narrowed. "Have you talked about that night?"

Maisie shifted in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question, Maisie."

"Then yeah, we've talked."

Gemma didn't reply, but her eyes narrowed even more.

"Well, yelled. Screamed, really. Last Monday morning, when we ran into each other in the fields," Maisie mumbled.

"I see. And is everything from years ago out in the open now? Did this screaming provide . . . closure?"

Maisie opened her mouth to say yes, but then closed it. She wasn't angry with him anymore, but was she satisfied with what she knew? Was forgiveness the same as closure?

"I see. You know what, Leena?" Gemma linked her arm through her sister's. "I'm in the mood for some bowling."

"What?" Carolina glanced between her snagged arm and Gemma's face.

"Oh, come on," Gemma said with a cheeky grin. "You know how much you love bowling, especially candle pin. It's hard to find in New York, and there's a great old place in the harbor."

"I hate bowling, and you've already dragged me three times this week. Ouch!" Carolina exclaimed as Gemma stepped on her foot. "Fine. We'll go bowling, and I'll put disgusting shoes on my feet. Just stop with the physical abuse, OK?" She glared at Gemma. "You so owe me," she muttered as she turned to Maisie.

"Don't be ridiculous, Gemma." Maisie rolled her eyes. "I'll go upstairs and talk with him; you don't have to leave the house."

"Talking?" Gemma grinned. "Is that all you think you're going to do? How naïve are you, Maisie?"

"Very funny." She looked from twin to twin. "I mean it. I came over here to talk. That's all."

"Right." Carolina snorted. "You're convincing no one in this room about that, including yourself, if the look on your face is any indication of what's going through that mind of yours."

Maisie opened her mouth to protest, but Carolina held up a hand to stop her.

"I really don't want to imagine you and Alessandro doing anything more than talking, so I'm going now. I'll see you later." She and Gemma exchanged a long, pointed look before she turned and headed for the mudroom. "And by the way, you look great, so stop fussing with your shirt!" she called over her shoulder.

Maisie turned to Gemma. "Come on. There's no need to leave and make a big deal out of this. Just stay here, I'll go talk to him, and then maybe we can all watch a movie or something."

"Bye, Maisie."

Maisie felt her frustration rise as Gemma grinned and left the house with a wave, the keys to her mother's car dangling in from her fingers. She sat on a stool at the island and let out a long sigh, only to look up at the sound of footsteps on the tile.

"Changed your mind?" she asked as Carolina walked back into the kitchen.

"I wish. I hate bowling." Carolina grabbed a jacket that Maisie hadn't noticed on the stool next to her.

"You can stay here, you know. I'm just going to talk to him."

Carolina grinned. "If by talking you mean dirty talk as foreplay, then yes, I have a feeling that's going to happen."

Maisie opened her mouth to argue, but Carolina cut her off.

"Gemma's right. Go and finish this ridiculous conversation you've put off for years. And then let things lead where they lead." Carolina cocked her head to the side. "What are you so worried about? Why is it that you suddenly don't want to be alone with him, when it's clear you came over with intentions along those lines? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah, you do. Out with it."

Carolina's eyebrow rose. Damn that demanding eyebrow, Maisie thought with an inward groan before taking a deep breath.

"I just . . . I felt so confident earlier, like everything would fall into place. But that call from Isabella made me feel like I'm playing dress-up in some stupid competition over a boy. I hate feeling like that; it makes me feel like I'm back in high school, trying to get his attention, trying to get him to talk to me again."

"You're jealous of an ex, Maisie, and you're annoyed with yourself for feeling jealous. That's normal."

"What? No, it's not quite that." Maisie bit her lip. "Well, maybe a little."

"Like I said, normal, but not something you should let paralyze you. No matter how clueless I was earlier, Gemma was right: she's an ex." Carolina took a seat on the now-empty stool next to Maisie. "You haven't said what you're afraid of, though. Rejection? If so, how is this any different from relationships you've plunged into in the past? This lack of confidence . . . it isn't like you."

"Not exactly rejection, no." Maisie chewed on her lip before answering again. "The stakes are much higher than a simple insult to my pride."

"You're going to have to explain, Maisie," Carolina said with a wry smile. "As Gemma said, I can be a bit blind when it comes to these sorts of things."

"Luckily for you, we love you anyway." Maisie let out a harsh laugh. "But what if, by bringing up the prospect of something more than friendship, I ruin whatever we've managed to salvage over the past week? I lost my friend—my best friend, someone who was more than a best friend for one night—for years. And now that I've finally found him, I'm thinking about doing something that might ruin it. That's terrifying. I don't want to repeat the same mistake I made seven years ago and think we can be more than friends, only to have it backfire and leave me miserable."

Maisie turned to face her friend. "I want more. I know I do. But maybe I should just stick with what I have and be happy about it, you know?"

She took a deep breath, unsure if her babbling had made any sense.

"You won't ruin anything, Maisie. Talk about what happened that weekend. Get it all out in the open, and say everything you need to say. And when you're sure you've dealt with everything, and you still think you want more from him, then tell him how you feel. You can't ruin things with honesty."

"Yes, I can! You don't understand—"

"On this, I understand more than you think," Carolina interjected, giving Maisie a warning look when she opened her mouth to argue. "You know, I remember how upset you were when you got back. But I talked to him before he left for Italy. Something was off. I remember you saying you were a one-night stand for some guy—and God, I still can't believe I didn't know it was him—but you know, I don't know if that's true. He was upset, too."

Maisie bit her lip but didn't answer.

"He never said anything about what was bothering him, Maisie, just like you never told us."

Maisie stared at the kitchen tiles, mulling over Carolina's words. Could her friend possibly be right?

"What happened?" Carolina asked, her voice soft and gentle.

"What?" Maisie snapped her head up to look at her friend.

"I asked what happened. That weekend you two went back."

Carolina cocked her head to the side and waited. Maisie stared at her for ages, hoping her friend would grow bored in the silence and run out the door with a wave. She sighed when she realized that wouldn't be happening.

"We slept together."

"Yeah, I got that." Carolina smiled. "I meant, what happened that made you so miserable." Her face turned serious. "Was he too rough? Did he pressure you? Force you, or—"

"God, no! No, he was . . . it was fine."

"Fine?"

Maisie closed her eyes and took a couple of long, slow breaths. "Wonderful," she whispered.

Carolina nodded. "So if it was so wonderful, why all the not talking?"

Maisie opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry.
"I spent the night in his room. I woke up the next morning to feel him nudging me. I thought he wanted to . . . well, you know, again." She let out a short, harsh laugh. "But he didn't. He told me to get out. He told me he didn't want to see me again." She shuddered. "It was so awful. We'd spent four years not talking to each other, and then I went to his room and gave myself to him, and he was so wonderful, and then he . . . he . . . ."

She choked back a sob, frustrated that she couldn't talk about this without crying. How was she ever going to talk about it with Alessandro without becoming a whiny, sniffling mess? Hadn't she convinced herself on Monday morning that she was over this?

"So you left?"

"So I left." Maisie let out a harsh laugh. "He got what he wanted; I was gone before he got out of the shower."

Carolina was silent for a long time. Maisie took several deep breaths before turning to find Carolina watching her.

"Look, I don't want you to think I'm picking sides or anything—"

"No, no I've never wanted that either—"

"But I know my brother," Carolina said, raising her voice above Maisie's. "And I think you should talk about what you remember. It just doesn't sound right. You need to talk to him."

Maisie nodded. She didn't quite agree with Carolina, but she was coming to the realization that talking about the future wasn't possible without talking about that morning; she'd forgiven him, but that didn't mean she was over it. And while talking about that morning with him didn't seem like fun, the alternative—saying nothing about the past or future and feeling miserable—wasn't an appealing option, either.

Carolina stood and fetched Maisie a glass of water, which Maisie gulped down.

"Thanks," she said as she handed the glass back to Carolina.

"No problem."

Maisie watched as Carolina placed the glass in the sink.

"Was this all planned?" Maisie asked as Carolina turned from the sink.

"Was what all planned?" Carolina batted her eyelashes and smothered most of a smile as she leaned back against the sink.

"Forgetting your coat. Coming back to talk with me." Maisie narrowed her eyes. "I saw that look you and Gemma exchanged. Were you using your twin super-powers?"

Carolina mimicked drawing a halo around her head.

Maisie snorted. "You haven't been an angel since you were fourteen."

Carolina feigned shock, then grinned. "Bitch."

"Shrew."

"Hussy."

"Strumpet."

Carolina raised an eyebrow. "By instituting a mercy rule in our game of bridge, I believe you were the one who, as they say, 'won the rubber.' Pretty sure that makes you the strumpet."

Maisie groaned at her friend's pun, then laughed. "Touché, my friend. Touché."

"Lord knows I don't need one with all the winners at the bowling lanes." Carolina laughed as she threw on her jacket. "Oh, and Maisie?"

"Mmmm?"

"You know how I usually pepper you for details about the men you sleep with? I don't want to know anything. Ever," Carolina said, looking disgusted as she emphasized the last word, but still smiling.

Maisie chuckled as she nodded.

"And whatever you do," Carolina continued, "just promise me that you won't refuse to speak to him for another seven years. It kind of sucked for everyone involved."

"I promise," Maisie said as she stood and gave Carolina a hug.

"What was that for?" Carolina asked as she pulled away, looking wary. "That wasn't a preemptive apology for toilet papering my room tonight, was it?" she said with a wink.

"Funny, but no, I just wanted to say thanks." Maisie winked in return. "Don't you think I know which twin is the real softie?"

"Am not," Carolina mumbled as she threw her coat on. "And I'll sleep in Gemma's room tonight so that you two can be neighbor-free," she called over her shoulder as she closed the mudroom door behind her.

--------------------------------

Maisie stood in the kitchen for a long time after waving goodbye to Carolina until, with a deep breath, she turned and left the room. Whatever tonight's outcome, it wasn't going to happen if she spent the evening alone in an empty kitchen. It was time to summon her courage, face her fears, and talk with him.

Worn Oriental rugs muffled her footsteps as she walked down the wainscoted hallway towards the staircase, and eyes from centuries of family portraits stared down at her. She gripped the wide, varnished banister as she turned to head up the stairs, marveling as always at the intricate, hand-carved spindles that lined both sides of the home's grand, central staircase. She was thankful for the distraction from the glaring eyes, which seemed to accuse her of trespassing.

"Maisie?"

"Hi." She bit her lip, cursing the carpets for muffling the other set of footsteps on the stairs. "I was just coming to say hi, see how things were going."

"Fine. Sorry I walked out like that without a word; it was rude. But reception around here is terrible, and given the time difference . . . well, I thought she was in Italy where it's the middle of the night, so I thought it might be an emergency, and her call was such a surprise, and . . . ."

"It's all right."

They stared at each other in silence for several long moments. He stood a few steps above her with his hands in his pockets, while her hand still clung to the banister.

"It's nice out," he ventured. "A bit humid, but there's a nice breeze."

She furrowed her brows. "Outside?"

He chuckled. "We have a sleeping porch, remember?" He pointed over her head in the direction of the porch in the front of the house.

"Oh, right."

"Come on." He turned and headed back up the stairs.

Maisie glanced up as she followed him. God, he has a nice ass, she thought before reminding herself that they were supposed to talk first.

"Won't we wake your grandparents up?" she whispered.

Alessandro laughed as he turned the corner at the back of the house. "They take their hearing aids out at night. They make us promise to get them if the fire alarm goes off."

A wide hallway ran through the center of the house, surrounding the central staircase. Alessandro and his parents' bedrooms sat in the front corners of the house, separated by a large sleeping porch, where his ancestors had gone to sleep on hot nights. It was built into the house, fully protected from the sun and rain, with shingles creating a circular opening to the sea on the lone side without walls.

With the advent of air conditioning it had become less of a necessity and more of a lounging and napping area; Maisie smiled as she remembered playing board games and cards on summer afternoons on the porch.

Alessandro opened the creaky door and stepped out onto the porch. Maisie followed, and her nostrils were assaulted by the briny smell of low tide.

The layout was exactly as she remembered. Two hammocks hung across the back of the porch closest to the house and two wicker chairs sat near the front facing the ocean, separated by a small, square table. She headed for one of the chairs only to feel his hand reach out and snag her wrist.

"Come on. You know you want to sit here." Alessandro sat in the rear hammock and patted the wide expanse of fabric next to him. His eyes glinted as the corner of his mouth turned up.

Her lips twitched as she remembered the game they'd always played as kids. She stepped away from him and took a running jump onto the hammock, trying to bounce him off.

Alessandro laughed as she landed with a thud next to him.

"Nice try, Maisie."

"It used to work," she grumbled.

"I used to be smaller than you," he said as he draped his arm behind her shoulders, giving her something to lean her head against.

Maisie turned to him and opened her mouth, thinking about making some comment about his size, but closed it with a snap of teeth. His eyes twinkled, reflecting the pale light that reached them from across the distant harbor, and he laughed as he propped his bare feet up on the canvas of the other hammock. She had a feeling he'd known she'd be tempted to retort, and had probably set her up to make a lewd comment.

Turning to face the ocean, she reclined against his arm and propped her feet up next to his. She fought not to squirm against his closeness or play footsies with him, and eventually relaxed as they listened to the muted sounds of low tide.

The warmth of his body infected her with a quiet calm. It was nice, sitting with him like this. It occurred to her that this was probably the first time all week that she'd felt truly relaxed and happy.

At that thought, though, her mind began to replay the day's earlier events. The awkward quiet between them in the orchard, the conversation with her mother, her dream and the courage it had given her to talk to him, flirting with him in the sitting room before their game of bridge . . . .

"So was it an emergency?" Maisie blurted out, unable to stop the thought from leaving her mouth.

"What?" He turned to face her, his brows knitted in confusion. "Oh! Isabella. Not an emergency, no. Well, not really." He took a deep breath and turned back towards the ocean. "She called to tell me she's pregnant. I think she wanted to tell me before I read about it in the paper or something."

"Pregnant?" Maisie whispered. Of all the things he could have said, that had not been what she expected. Her relaxation was replaced by numbness, and her mind ground to a halt, unable to process his words.

"Yeah." He shook his head as if in disbelief, but then smiled. "She's so happy. I don't know when I last heard her that happy. Years ago, maybe? She's wanted a baby for . . . well, months if not years."

Maisie felt sick as she faced forward, unable to answer.

"There's going to be a wedding next week in New York. I was supposed to fly back to London on Monday for an audition, but that will have to wait."

"Yeah," she managed to croak out. She was having a difficult time comprehending his words. "Wow. A baby. A wedding." The ill feeling intensified at the thought of him getting married in less than a week.

"I know. It's crazy, but . . . good, you know?"

"Yeah." She thought about turning and facing him, but found she couldn't. "And congratulations. You'll make a great father, Less."

"Congratulations?" She felt his eyes on the side of her face. "What do you . . . oh!"

He laughed. It was a deep, rich laugh, and she turned just in time to see him cover his mouth with his spare hand.

"What?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"

"Not mine, Maisie." He laughed again as he pulled his hand away from his mouth and gave her an apologetic look. "The baby, the wedding . . . none of it is mine. Izzy . . . well, she apparently hooked up with her accountant—my accountant, too, now that I think about it—a week or so after we broke up, and I guess some sort of relationship grew from there. She's only a couple of months along, but they're both thrilled and in love and getting married. We hadn't talked in months so we did some catching up, and she invited me to the wedding as a guest."

"Oh." A torrent of emotions swept over her, first relief, and then . . . "Oh God, how embarrassing."

"No, don't. I should have been clearer." He kept laughing, so she punched him in the arm. "Ow! No, it's just . . . me, a father? I mean, it's just so—"

"But don't you want kids?" Maisie groaned as soon as the words left her mouth. "Never mind. You don't have to answer that. That was way too personal a question. Forget I asked."

"It wasn't personal. I mean, it was, but I kinda asked you the same thing in the truck the other day."

"You did?" Maisie screwed up her face. "You mean, when you asked if this would be a nice place to raise kids?"

Alessandro nodded. "It's not exactly the same, but close enough. We're friends, right? And friends can, you know, ask stuff like that, right?"

Maisie stared, unmoving, at the harbor lights shining through the night. Without any effort on her part, they'd arrived at the conversation she'd intended to have tonight. Or at least, one part of the conversation, the present-time part.

"Yeah. We're friends."

"Are we . . . are we more than friends, Maisie?"

She could feel his eyes on her face. The waves were growing louder, much louder than they should be at this point in the tide. The moon had slipped behind the clouds, and the air felt far muggier than it usually did at night.

The storm the weatherman had promised was on its way in.

She shivered, though whether it was from the breeze that had picked up or from his fingers playing with her hair, she didn't know.

"More than friends?" she repeated.

"Yeah."

This is it, Maisie thought. The point of her entire evening here. She should say something: shout yes, turn the question around on him, ask for clarification . . . anything.

Instead, she stared at the water, as if waiting for the waves to give her a signal.

You need to talk about that weekend first, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Carolina whispered in her head.

Then again, Carolina had shown time and time again that she could be pretty clueless. And what were those U2 lyrics? "It's too late, tonight, to drag the past out into the light?"

Yes, that seemed about right. After all, she had two options: talk about the past and then move forward, or move forward, and then, when they were on firm footing together, talk about the past. Surely, there was nothing wrong with the latter option, right? There was no law that said their conversations had to take place in chronological order, and there was no need to disrupt the flow of the conversation.

Alessandro's voice roused her from her thoughts.

"We were once. More than friends, I mean. It was . . . wonderful—" He broke off and took a deep breath. "For me, at least. I loved that night. All at once, you were my best friend again, and this amazing woman I never knew existed. I don't know if you felt what I did that night, before we messed things up. I don't know if that connection would still be there if we tried again—it's been so long, and we've missed so much of each other's lives—but if there's something there to build on, then maybe we could try, and—"

Maisie pushed up against the hammock and brushed her lips across his, breaking his words off.

They'd talk about the past later. Tonight was for that firm footing, and she intended to enjoy every moment of it.

She looked up into his eyes as she pulled away, her hand feeling the heartbeat in his chest. He stared down at her, speechless. A memory of the same situation—when she'd kissed him on the bed, taking him by surprise in the motel—entered her mind.

She smiled at the memory, and was about to ask if he remembered when he pushed her sideways into the hammock and kissed her, hard. He wove his fingers in her hair as she sunk into the hammock, and she ran her hands down his arms and back, desperate to feel him above her.

They were a tangle of shifting limbs and heavy breaths, with Alessandro shifting from sitting next to her to lying on top of her, when a jumble of events happened at once. She shrieked, he swore, and in an instant, their positions were reversed. The hammock had thrown them both off, but she hadn't hit the floor; she'd landed on Alessandro.

"Are you OK?" she gasped, unsure whether she should laugh or run for help.

"It looks like you finally succeeded and flipped me off." He groaned. "Holy hell, I forgot how much that hurts. And I don't think I've ever had a woman fall on me like that."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Maisie scrambled to get up, embarrassed that she was still sprawled on top of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her. "You're the one who got a cushioned landing; the least you can do is ease my pain."

It took Maisie a few moments to realize what he'd meant, but she threw back her head and laughed when she did.

"Oh? You want me to be your personal Florence Nightingale tonight?"

"Florence? A woman in a heavy black dress and a white cap? That's not what I was I thinking, no. I was thinking more along the lines of naughty nurse Maisie." He pulled her body hard against his and grinned.

"I don't have the outfit or toys for that." She gave him a coy smile. "Well, not here at least."

His chest shook beneath her as he laughed. He relaxed his arms around her and she sat up, straddling his hips.

"No need for toys or outfits, Maisie. Not tonight at any rate." He cocked his head to the side, a teasing smile playing around his lips as he traced his hands up and down her thighs, leaving what felt like streaks of heat in his wake.

"Then you'll have to tell me where it hurts," she whispered, tracing her finger down his chest, hoping to have the same effect on him.

"It hurts here."

Alessandro grabbed her hips and thrust his hips up, grinding against her. Maisie closed her eyes, unable to speak as her body began to respond to the feeling of him between her legs.

"You're sure about that?" she asked, opening her eyes and looking down at him.

"Mmmm. That part of me needs your ministrations."

"My ministrations?" She laughed.

"Isn't that what nurses do? Minister to their poor, sick, and feeble patients?"

"I wouldn't know. But you don't seem very feeble." Maisie moved her body against his in a slow rhythm. She was rewarded with the sound of him sucking in air between his teeth and then letting out a groan as his erection hardened against her. "Besides, I wasn't aware that part of you hit the cement."

"But you fell on it." He gave her a pained expression. "And it hurts real bad right now, with you laying on top of me wearing that damn shirt."

Maisie laughed. "Well, I can go get my boots, if you'd like. Then your fantasies will be complete."

She made to stand up, only to feel his arm around her waist, pulling her back down to him.

"Don't you dare." He sat up and kissed her. "The last time you left it was seven years before I saw you again. No way in hell I'm letting you out of my sight until you're so good and fucked and exhausted that you can't even think about running."

She opened her mouth to laugh, but stopped when she looked into his eyes, inches from her own. He wasn't joking. Maybe Carolina had been right; there was a hurt, a vulnerability in his voice and in his eyes. All this time, she'd thought she'd been the one who'd been hurt, but maybe she had misremembered. Or misinterpreted. Or been just plain wrong.

It didn't matter now. She wanted him as much as he wanted her; they could talk about whatever had happened after enjoying each other, after getting rid of the tension that had existed between them all week.

"No," she whispered, her hands trembling as she cupped his face and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "No running this time. I promise."

She pushed both hands through his hair and kissed him as hard as she could, trying to put as much passion into this touch of their lips as possible. Seven years of dreams and fantasies and desires, all rolled into one moment.

It didn't take him long to respond.

One of his hands grabbed onto her ass as she straddled him on the floor, pulling her body hard against him.

"Mmmm," she moaned, tipping her head back as she began to move with him once again.

He was hard, harder than he'd been minutes earlier. She ached for him as they humped and pressed against each other, fully clothed, only to unexpectedly feel herself being pushed upwards and backwards as he stood.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand and yanked her up from the floorboards. "We're not doing this on the porch floor."

Alessandro slammed the door to the hallway open and pulled her around the corner, into his room. She was on the bed on her back beneath him before she had time to look around, but that was fine with her.
His hands fumbled at her shirt, trying remove it but failing because of the bow behind her back.

"Hold on."

Maisie pushed him off and sat upright. Alessandro sat back on his haunches, his hands digging into his thighs as if to stop himself from reaching out.

"When I saw you that first day, after we got off the train," he ground out as she reached behind her to untie the ribbon, "all I wanted to do was throw you on the hood of that car and fuck you senseless."

Her hands stilled at the zipper that ran down the side of the shirt. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well that next morning, I wanted you to fuck me senseless in the strawberry field." She unzipped her shirt and pulled it over her head, smiling as his eyes widened at the sight of her lacy bra. "So I think we're even."

"Then I think it's time we both get what we want," he whispered, moving his body on top of hers before the shirt had even left her fingers.

He pushed the cups of her bra down and suckled her into his mouth. The lace from her bra dug into her sides, but the feeling only heightened the sensations from his lips, tongue, and teeth on her breasts.

She knew she was sopping between her legs, under her jeans and panties as her body demanded that he be inside her, filling her. She fisted and tugged at the soft fabric of his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his skin against her own.

"Alessandro."

She felt rather than heard his "Mmmm?" against her breast.

"Shirt. Off. Now. Please."

Maisie groaned as his hot skin pressed against hers. She wanted to say more, but couldn't form the words as they they moved together on the bed, filling his bedroom with moans and pants and the sounds of half-clothed bodies rubbing against each other.

Alessandro reached for the button of her jeans. His hands shook as she pushed her pelvis up to him, wordlessly begging him to strip her.

"God damned skinny jeans." He fumbled at her waist before managing, with much effort, to yank the jeans down to her ankles.

She hadn't made much headway getting his pants off, either, but stopped caring and cried out when he shoved two fingers inside her.

"Oh God," she heard him mumble as he kissed her, but she couldn't say anything back.

Maisie was dimly aware of the sounds of pounding rain and thunder beyond the windows, but the noise paled in comparison to the blood rushing through her ears. Her world had shrunk to the two places their bodies met.

His wet fingers were relentless as they moved in and out, pushing her pleasure higher and higher as she writhed beneath him, whimpering and begging him for more. The fullness she craved wasn't satisfied, but intensified as he kissed her in time with his movements.

"Maisie," he whispered, kissing a spot behind her ear. "I wanna feel you come. Around my hand as I fuck you with my fingers."

"Yes," she groaned. She pressed against him, desperate for the release his fingers promised to give her.

"And then I'll be inside you." His breath was hot against her ear, sending shivers down her body. "Before you even come down from your high, I'll be inside, fucking you, pushing you on until you come again."

"Oh God yes." She started to shake as a blissful anticipation coursed through her.

"But you gotta come first, Maisie." He reached his spare hand down to play with her nipple, forcing a barely-smothered yell from her mouth as he tweaked her sore flesh. "You gonna come for me?"

She tried to nod and answer, but only moaned as she squirmed beneath him, spreading her knees wide for him.

"Then come." He ground his palm against her clit as he twisted and pinched her nipple. "Don't make me wait any longer. Come so I can fuck you."

And with a wail she did, writhing against his hands, panting and straining for more even as she felt herself crest into completion.

She could only discern his outline as he climbed on top of her, so dazed was she from her orgasm. His breath was short and heavy, and his eyes were wide but dark in the dim light from the windows; she knew, as he put his weight on one arm and reached down with the other to quickly find her throbbing opening, that he would be true to his word and be inside her before she recovered.

"Maisie," he groaned as he pressed inside.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he sheathed himself in her swollen sex. That torturous conundrum of sex—wanting him to stay inside, filling her forever, while wanting to feel the friction as he pushed in and out—made her moan and grab for him.

The sharp sensation of his hand squeezing her hip and tilting her pelvis up, further opening her for him, brought her attention back to reality as he went deeper within her.

"You feel. So good. Inside me." Everything—her words, her breaths, her heartbeat, her movements—everything in her body matched his rhythm.

"You're incredible." He squeezed her hip harder in his hand. "Just incredible."

He grinned and kissed her, and she felt herself smile back. They moved together, panting and sweating, grunting and occasionally swearing, but smiling. She knew it, even if she couldn't see it.

He rested his forehead against hers and slowed his movements until he stilled.

"Maisie." His hoarse voice sounded desperate.

"Yes." She kissed him on the side of his neck.

"Maisie, I'm so close. You feel too good." He groaned when she kissed his neck again. "What do you need?"

"What?" she asked in between kisses.

"What do you need? To come again. With me." His hands were sweaty and sticky as they threaded through her hair, pulling her away from his neck."Tell me what you need, Maisie. Please."

She stared up into his eyes, savoring the feeling of having body insider her.

"Harder. Faster. Closer," she begged, grabbing at his arms to pull his sweaty body towards her.

She felt on fire as he picked up the tempo and pushed into her harder still, each thrust driving the rhythm of his movements through her body. She was unbearably close, but needed more.

"And my breasts," she begged, pressing herself up to him, moaning as his chest brushed against her nipples. "Touch me."

His hand left her hip and moved up her body before rolling her nipple between his fingers and squeezing her breast in his hand. When combined with his ever-increasing, driving pace . . . .

"Alessandro, oh God!"

She lost coherency with her words, and exploded in pleasure as she felt him swell and come inside her.

Alessandro collapsed on top of her, dropping his face into the side of her neck. His hair felt soft and damp skin, and the smells of sex, soap, and sweat washed over them, relaxing her as she felt his breathing slow and his cock twitch its final throbs inside her.

He picked his head up and looked down at her, and grinned.

"What?" she asked, surprised to hear her voice was hoarse.

His eyes traveled her face, and she wondered if, like her, he was trying to burn this moment into his memory.

"It's just . . . when I saw you in the orchard this afternoon, I didn't think we'd end up in bed together," he whispered as he resumed playing with her hair.

"Oh." She shifted under him.

"But I'm glad we did."

"Me too," she said, raising her head off the pillow to kiss him.

Alessandro rolled off of her, pulling her with him. After divesting herself of her remaining clothing, Maisie dropped her head down to his chest, feeling both satisfied and full of a weird, giddy relaxation.

She drifted off, listening to his breathing and the pounding rain outside, happy to be in a warm bed with this man.

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Alessandro rubbed his eyes and frowned. The first rays of dawn stretched into his room through the large glass panes of the room's eastern-facing windows. Hadn't the weatherman predicted that last night's terrible storm would last all day?

And had he forgotten to open his windows to let the cool night air in? He felt much warmer than he had all week.

He jolted as the reason for his warmth shifted beside him, beneath his hand.

Maisie.

Maisie Barnes was in his bed, curled up against him, pressing her ass up against his hardening cock.

He pressed his face into the back of her hair, letting the softness tickle his nose, wishing for nothing more than to sink inside her once more.

He couldn't believe the memories surfacing in his mind. Sex. Here, in his childhood bed, the bed they'd bounced and played on as children.

He pulled her closer, grinning at the thought that it was now the bed they'd bounced and played on as adults.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he heard the sound of rumbling diesel engines carry across the water from the harbor. It was past dawn, and time to wake her up, though not in the way he wanted.

They needed to clear up some loose ends from all those years ago, ends that still nagged at the edges of his memory. He didn't want to let her go, but it would be better if they had that conversation alone, not at the island in his mother's kitchen with his early-rising household. The last thing he wanted was for Maisie to stumble downstairs—clothing rumpled, hair tangled, cheeks flushed, and lips bruised—to a kitchen with six people staring at her. He didn't want to subject her to breakfast with his grandparents that way, not when they hadn't yet had the opportunity to talk, and not when it was an understatement to say she wasn't a morning person.

"Maisie."

He nuzzled his face deeper into her hair. She didn't respond, but he could tell from the slight shift under his hand that she was awake.

"Come on, sunshine. Up and at 'em."

"Mmmph."

He chuckled as he pulled back and nipped her ear. "Come on, you little tart. You need to get up and out of this house before my parents and grandparents wake up. I don't want them seeing you leave."

She didn't say anything, but he knew she was listening.

"I'm going to take a shower. I'm sure that, like you, I smell like hot, sweaty sex. Go home and shower, Maisie. I'd better not see that cute little ass of yours in this bed when I get back."

He gave her hip a final squeeze, kissed her on the forehead, and threw open his windows before heading into the bathroom that connected to his room.

He was still grinning as he turned on the water, and was about to get in the shower when he paused.

"Shit."

He turned off the water. He had a nagging feeling that he'd done something wrong, and a strange sense of déjà vu settled over him as he ran the morning over in his mind. He wracked his brain as he opened the door. Something didn't feel right, something with Maisie.

"Maisie!"

For the third time in less than a day, he was surprised to see her. Her attire momentarily distracted him, as she wore nothing but the t-shirt he'd worn the day before; her nipples poked out in the morning breeze coming through the window, and her long, lean legs stuck out from beneath the shirt. There was something appealing about seeing his shirt on her, in seeing how it fell in different ways on her curves than it did on his frame.

A smile tugged at his lips as he drew his eyes back up her body, but fell from his face when he saw her eyes, spitting with fury.

"Um, Maisie? Is everything OK? I—"

"You, Alessandro Conti, are a cruel, lying, seducing, ass-hole!"

Her finger poked at his chest with every word, and his mouth dropped open. His pulse raced, though whether from anger at her accusation or panic that he'd done something terrible, he didn't know.

"What, not going to own up to it?" Maisie let out a short, angry laugh. "Tough. You made me promise not to run last night. Well, you're in luck. I'm keeping that promise. I'm not going anywhere until I tell you exactly what I think of you."

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Thanks to PennLady for her beta reading skills and estragon for his copy editing. The chapter is better thanks to their efforts, though if there are mistakes, they are probably because I made changes after they read the text.

The next—and last—chapter is in the works. Thank you all for your patience, and as always, I appreciate your feedback.