Lost in Italy (19 page)

A light puff of air stirred her hair and tickled her ear.  When she hunched her shoulder, he gave another of his deep throated chuckles that made her stomach quiver.  Thank God he lowered his arm.  She scooted off his leg, the seat of her jeans wet from his.

Trent eased the boat forward.

Resisting the urge to peel the clinging denim away from her skin, she squatted down to gather up the supplies scattered on the floor of the boat and hoped her pants dried fast.  For just a moment it had been fun to make Mr. Hollywood lose his cool.  Until he turned the tables and proved she didn’t have a chance of playing in his league.  Nope, it was time to take care of business and get the heck away from him.

She’d given up hope of getting to the consulate tonight, so that meant a few hours on opposite sides of the boat, hopefully a few hours sleeping.  Then finally, tomorrow, he’d drop her off in Milan, and she’d never have to see him again.

That thought sent an unexpected ripple of melancholy across the relief she should’ve been swimming in.

Whoa, no, she
was
relieved.  He’d go his way, she’d go hers.  Back to Wisconsin and her reliable routine that kept her days sane and secure.  So what if they were totally predictable, and—dare she admit it?—a little boring.  But so what, if that’s the way she liked it?  Lord knew she didn’t need a sexy movie star kidnapping her every day.  Even if he was saving her life. 
Especially
if he was saving her life.  No one needed that much excitement on a daily basis.

With that in mind, she picked up a clean towel and held out the peroxide to finish the job and get to the other side of the boat.  Trent groaned in protest.

Halli rolled her eyes.  “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say.”  He craned his neck around to look at the table. “You got a shot of whiskey back there on your little nurse’s station?”

“Watch the water, would you?”  When he’d faced forward again, she placed the towel against his arm and lifted the bottle.  “Ready?”

He gave a sharp nod and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead.  With the advance warning, his only reaction to the bubbling antiseptic on his raw flesh was the clenching of his jaw and tightening of his lips.  His hands flexed on the steering wheel as he released a breath.

She dabbed gently at the wound, relieved to see the bleeding had pretty much stopped.  While his skin dried in the wind, she located some butterfly bandages in the first aid kit.  Three for sure, maybe four, and then she’d wrap an ace bandage around his bicep to soak up any blood that seeped out.

Increased lights along the shoreline up ahead on the left indicated the location of another small town.  They’d passed two already.  “Where are we going, anyway,” she asked Trent as she unwrapped the first bandage.

“Bellagio.”

A map of the lake materialized in her mind.  “Why that far?”

“Because it’s that far.”

“Oh.”

“The consulate’s closed by now anyway, so we’ll get some rest and head to Milan in the morning.”

“I figured that much.”  She lifted the first bandage while releasing a wistful sigh.  “Bellagio’s across the lake from Villa Carlotta.  I wish I could’ve seen the gardens there.”

“You’ll still get to see them.”

“I doubt it.”  She touched his arm to warn, “I have to pull the edges together to put the bandages on.”

He blew out another breath and nodded.  “What’s so special about the gardens at Villa Carlotta?”

She gave him a skeptical look. Like he cared about the rare and exotic plants they housed from all over the world.

“Halli, you can talk about the color of your wallpaper for all I care—just give me something to concentrate on, okay?”

She studied his pinched expression, nodded solemnly and launched into a monologue about the flowers at Villa Carlotta and her garden back home as she placed four butterfly bandages to act as adhesive stitches.  His jaw clenched tight, and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, but he handled the process stoically now that he wasn’t jumping at every move she made.

Still talking, she reached back for a package of sterile gauze pads and turned around to the see his chin against his chest while he made fake snoring sounds.  Gaze narrowed, she thumped him in the back.

He lifted his head, shrugging his injured shoulder in a defensive move that made him grimace as he laughed.  “Ouch.”

“Then stop making fun of me.  You asked.”

He slid her a downcast, sideways glance.  A grin revealed his heart-thumping smile.  “Something tells me you’d never get away with that shirt back home.”

Because her little gardening lecture confirmed what end of the boring scale she tipped.  Face it, she was the furthest thing from wet and wild he’d ever meet.  Halli gave an inward sigh and, while he was distracted by her breasts, reached up and gave him a slap upside the head this time.

“What?  That was a compliment.  You’ve totally pulled it off today.”  His voice lowered.  “Quite well, in fact.”

“You’re impossible.”  Her face burned as if she’d spent the whole day in the sun.  Men didn’t flirt with her for any good reason, much less someone like Trent Tomlin.  “Watch where you’re going so I can finish this.”

She tore open the gauze package and folded one of the pads to press against his wound before winding the ace bandage around his arm.  Twice she brushed his rib cage by accident; twice his skin twitched and his stomach muscles contracted.  Someone was ticklish?  Halli fought a smile and the urge to do it again.

“You’re not half bad at this bandaging gig,” he observed when she anchored the wrap with the little metal clips.

“I took a class at the Y.”

“They teach you how to treat gunshot victims at the Y these days?”

“Just basic first aid.  Really, anyone could do it.”

“Well, I appreciate your help.  Thank you.”

His serious tone brought her head up.  Sincerity lit his eyes; a look like that made her crave the kiss he’d intended earlier.

She quickly turned away to pack up the first aid kit.  “You’re welcome,” she murmured.

The higher pitched sound of a motor travelling at a fast speed caught her attention.  Glancing between them, Trent reached for the gun.  “Get down. 
Now
.”

She dropped to the floor of the boat as he steered with his left hand, gun palmed in his right, prepared for whatever trouble accelerated their way.

You’d think she’d get used to this; that after the third or fourth time of unexpected danger the instant surge of fear wouldn’t seize her lungs and make her heart thump in her chest.

But she wasn’t used to it at all.

The approaching boat never slowed.  It zoomed past, trailing laughter in its wake.  Trent stood in front of the captain’s chair, sweeping his gaze around their perimeter before staring in the direction of the fading boat engine.  His shoulders relaxed and he put the gun back in the drink holder.  “Just a bunch of kids out for a joyride.  Sorry I scared you.”

Halli wanted to collapse onto her back and let the overwhelming relief wash over her.  In the blink of an eye, exhaustion slammed into her consciousness.  She’d gotten maybe a half hour nap at Trent’s house and as the adrenaline drained from her muscles, her body emphatically told her a half hour wasn’t near enough.  But instead of succumbing to the weariness, she picked herself up and focused on something else.

“You’re pretty familiar with that gun.”

Ooh, there you go, distract yourself by asking about the
gun
.

Trent’s gaze shifted to the sleek black weapon.  “I’ve handled my share.”

“You said you didn’t do stuff like this on a regular basis.”

“At the shooting range, my dear, and on set.  You’ve seen my movies.”

Every single one.  More than twice.  Not that she’d tell him that.  She pretended to think about it before shrugging her shoulders.  “Maybe I do remember a gun or two in the trailers.”

“Trailers?”  He frowned over at her.  “Yeah, right.  You called me Shain when we first met.  You don’t pick up something like that from trailers.”

“They played them
a lot
.”  She headed for the cabin.

“Hey—where you going?  We’re not done—”

“There’s a boat.  Eleven o’clock.”

“Dammit.”  He jerked his attention back to the water and she went below deck with a grin tugging at her lips.

Out of nowhere, a particular page in his journal flashed through her thoughts.  The one that revealed his sensitivity to his father’s dissatisfaction in Trent’s work.  The choppy, nearly illegible writing and raw emotions on the page testified to how much his father’s lack of respect bothered him.

She cringed, sighed, and vowed not to tease him about it in the future.  Easy enough, considering their future together ended tomorrow.

Disappointment returned, sharper than before.  And what if something happened to him during his search for evidence that his brother had been murdered?

Something more jagged than disappointment grabbed hold of her heart.  Halli sank down on the bench seat near the half-stove and mini-sink.

Oh, no
.  She cared.

Not in the general sense that he was another human being and she wouldn’t want something bad to happen to another person, but in a far more personal sense.  Somewhere over the course of this crazy day, she’d come to specifically care what happened to
him
.

Darn it all.  What part of
movie star
and
unattainable
did her brain not understand?

She shot to her feet and paced four steps across the small cabin.  There was nothing to understand.  She wasn’t looking to attain anyone.  Geez.  What was wrong with her?

Maybe she could chalk it up to the day she’d had.  Or Stockholm Syndrome.  It was a proven fact some kidnap victims identified with and became attached to their kidnappers or they wouldn’t have named it, would they have?

A quick spin and four more steps returned her to the other side of the boat.  Okay, so she knew the real reason he’d tossed her in his car, and it was kind of heroic, and even a little romantic after the fact, but all of that was beside the point.  She’d still been kidnapped.  That’s the part she must be responding to.

Then again, so what if she cared?  Every once in awhile, between macho and jerk, she caught a glimpse of the good guy who’d written in the journal.  It wasn’t a bad thing for her to want that guy to remain safe on his quest to find justice for his brother.  After all, he was going to take her to Milan to be reunited with her own family.

She paused in front of the tiny kitchen area.  Might not hurt to make the man something to eat, either.  He’d been hungry before, now he was wounded, too.  He’d need to eat to keep up his strength.  Besides, it was the least she could do after he’d taken a bullet for her.  Well, not literally for her, but he’d been protecting her when he’d gotten shot.

You and the video
, a negative voice whispered in her mind.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered.

Chapter 11

Trent checked the GPS and figured they had maybe another half-hour before they reached Bellagio.  He gradually steered the boat toward the middle of the lake, so they wouldn’t pass too close to Lapaglia’s villa in Lenno.  Much as he’d love to cruise by and see what was going on at this hour of the evening, he was too tired to handle any more high-speed chases or gunfights.  A day or two to regroup was in order after the past twelve hours.

He was just thinking he should’ve taken the chance to eat back at home when Halli appeared at his side.

“I can’t believe you live in a country with some of the best food in the world, and you stock Spaghetti O’s.”

She held a bowl of said pasta and a glass of what looked like wine.  What a combo.  The pasta evoked a sad smile as he said, “My brother used to ship them in by the case.”

In the middle of taking a sip of the wine, she quickly set the glass next to the bowl on the table behind his chair.  “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”  His stomach rumbled at the thought of food, even though he didn’t particularly care for Sean’s favorite fare.

Halli stepped closer to the captain’s chair.  “How about I drive while you eat.”

He glanced back at the bowl and fought a grimace.  “Thanks, but you go ahead.  I’ll fix something after we stop.”

“I ate when you went to get the camera battery.”

Alarm filled her expression and her gaze did a frantic search of the front seats.
“Where
is
my camera?”

“Relax, it’s safe and sound under the seat here.”  He indicated the cushion he’d braced one knee on.

“Oh.”

Was that disappointment in her expression?  Before he could ponder the strange reaction, she took hold of the wheel with one hand, waiting for him to slide out of the way.  Like he could turn down the food now, knowing she’d prepared it just for him.  Prepared being a very generous definition for dumping a can of processed food in a bowl and using a microwave.