The Husband Hunt (25 page)

Christian frowned. “Why?”

Gia arched her eyebrows as if that should be obvious. “She’s forty-two.”

Christian’s eyes widened. He would have placed Carolyn in her mid to late thirties. She carried her age well. Still, he didn’t get Giacinta’s point. “So? She’s forty-two?”

“Well, you look about twenty-five or twenty-six,” she pointed out gently.

“I haven’t been that young for a very long time,” Christian said dryly.

“But you
look
that young,” Gia pointed out and when he stared at her blankly, she added, “She is mortal. She thinks you are young enough to be her child and is upset to have sexual feelings for someone she thinks is so young.”

“She had sexual feelings for me already?” he asked with a grin.

Gia threw up her hands in exasperation. “
Uomini! Idiota, non essere cosi stupido!
”

Christian blinked at the explosive rant of “Men! You idiot, don’t be so stupid!” and then cleared his throat. “I gather this is a problem?”

“
Si cugino, è un problema
,” Gia said dryly. “She is not the type of woman who would be comfortable having an affair with a younger man. She will now avoid you to avoid those uncomfortable feelings.”

Christian frowned. It wasn’t a problem he’d considered when he’d contemplated the possibility that his mother had found him a life mate.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you with her. And I am sure Aunt Marguerite will help too,” Raffaele rumbled and then slapped a hand on his shoulder and urged him into the building. “Now let’s go find our equipment and get set up. When you called Bellina, she said Genie had our instruments kept in her office until we arrived,
si
?”

“
Si
, all but the drums and keyboard. She had those set up on the stage.” The words were said absently. Christian’s mind was on the problem of Carolyn and the disturbing assurance that his mother and cousins would help him woo her. Cripes, he thought with dismay, as he imagined that scenario.

“W
ell I hope your friend Bethany feels better soon,” Marguerite said with a sympathetic smile.

“So do I,” Carolyn assured her. They were seated at one of the tables on the edge of the lower deck, the sandy beach close enough to touch if she just slid her foot over the slightest bit, which she’d done several times already, digging her bare toes into the cool sand and allowing it to slide around and between her toes. “And I’m sure she will.”

Marguerite nodded. “Well, we’re here to keep you company tonight, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to recuperate.”

Carolyn smiled, but shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You two are on your honeymoon. You don’t need me hanging around. Besides, I have Genie. As soon as she gets here we’ll move to another table so you two can be alone.”

“Cara,” Marguerite said with amusement. “We like having you here, dear.”

Carolyn smiled wryly, finding it odd that Marguerite always managed to make her feel like a child when she was probably twenty years older than the woman. It was quite bizarre, really, she thought. Her gaze slid to Julius then, to note the solemn expression on his face as he eyed her, and Carolyn found herself wondering if he or Christian were older. The brothers looked like they could be about the same age, but her instincts told her Julius was probably the older one, though she couldn’t say why for sure except that it was something about the eyes.

“Oh, here they are,” Marguerite said happily, and Carolyn followed her gaze to the stage, where drums and a keyboard had been set up. Genie was now leading the band members onto the low stage and taking up the microphone to introduce them as they moved to their spots. Santo settled behind the drums, Raffaele stepped behind the keyboards and began to check things, Zanipolo and Giacinta both carried guitars and Christian was holding a . . .

“Violin?” Carolyn said with surprise.

“Yes!” Marguerite beamed. “Isn’t he clever?”

“Er . . .” Carolyn stared blankly. The men all wore black T-shirts and either black jeans or leather pants, making Gia stand out in her red and white. And their hairstyles were all kind of rock punky. Gia’s hair was now gelled and wild around her head, while Raffaele’s hair stood up in shiny spikes all over like a porcupine. Then there was Santo’s bald head, and Zanipolo and Christian’s long hair, although Zanipolo had let his out of its ponytail while Christian had pulled his back into one. All in all they looked like a rock band . . . except for the violin.

“Christian was trained in classical violin, but he prefers hard rock,” Marguerite said, sounding more like a proud momma than a new sister-in-law.

“Hard rock violin,” Carolyn murmured, a bit befuddled. She’d never heard of such a thing. She liked modern music; pop, hip-hop, alternative and some hard rock, but she’d never heard of hard rock done with a violin. This should be interesting, she thought dubiously.

“Just wait till you hear them.” Marguerite grinned.

Carolyn forced a smile and nod as Genie finished introducing them and stepped off the stage to hurry to their table.

“Oh, my God, they are so hot, Marguerite,” Genie gushed as she fell into the chair next to Carolyn’s. “You didn’t mention that they were all gorgeous.”

“I showed you the video,” Marguerite said with a laugh.

“It was very small, and didn’t do them justice at all,” Genie assured her and then glanced back to the stage. Heaving a sigh, she muttered, “If only I were twenty years younger. I don’t suppose any of them would be interested in a fling with an older woman?”

Marguerite chuckled. “Oh, Christian happens to like older women. But he generally prefers blondes.”

“That leaves me out then,” Genie said with a sigh and then elbowed Carolyn. “But it means you might have a chance.”

Carolyn nearly spat out the wine she’d just taken into her mouth. Swallowing it quickly and managing not to choke, she glanced to Marguerite to find the woman smiling at her encouragingly. Carolyn could feel the blood rushing to her face with embarrassment. She shook her head and turned quickly to the stage as Gia stepped up to the center mic.

The young woman stood there for a full minute, garnering the attention of everyone in the room, and then she opened her mouth and released a high pure note that pierced the silence. Her hand crashed down across the strings of the electric guitar she held and the band suddenly kicked to life, all movement and sound. Santo’s body vibrated as he appeared to try to beat his drums to death. Zanipolo was working his electric guitar like a cross between a lover and a submachine gun. Raffaele was pounding on his keyboards, his head bobbing to the music. Gia was alternately making love to her own electric guitar with long riffs and singing into the microphone with a clarity that Carolyn had never encountered before, and Christian . . .

Carolyn stared, watching the muscles in his arms and chest ripple under his black T-shirt as his bow scraped so quickly over the strings of his violin that she expected to see sparks flying and smoke rising. His eyes were closed, his face transported as the music moved through him. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from him as he played song after song . . . and then his eyes suddenly opened and met hers. Carolyn felt like someone had jammed an adrenaline shot into her heart. She was sure it skipped a beat when his eyes opened, but when he caught her gaze and didn’t release it, her heart started thumping again, charging ahead at a frightening rate that left her breathless and almost dizzy.

The music ended as abruptly as it had started. At least it seemed that way to her. Surely it hadn’t been an hour and a half already, she thought faintly as the band suddenly began to set their instruments aside and move off the stage.

“Break time,” Genie announced over the microphone and Carolyn blinked. She hadn’t even been aware of the woman leaving the table.

“Weren’t they great?” Genie asked. “They’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I can’t wait. How about you?”

The bar erupted in claps and cheers, but Carolyn’s eyes were still locked with Christian’s as he led the band toward their table. He hadn’t even looked away while setting down his violin, and the intensity of his stare made her feel like a gazelle being stalked by a tiger. What remained of her intelligence pointed out that she was being ridiculous, but her instincts were screeching at her to run. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Carolyn stood, tore her gaze free of Christian’s, mumbled something about the ladies’ room and fled in that general direction at little short of a dead run.

“I
told you she’d avoid you,” Gia said as Christian watched Carolyn flee. His instincts were telling him to give chase, run her to ground like a panther with prey. The problem was what to do with her once he caught her. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was entirely inappropriate behavior in a public place.

Christian shook his head as that last thought registered. He already wanted her, he realized on a sigh. The moment in the van when he’d realized he couldn’t read her, he’d immediately been curious. And he’d felt a strange flutter and tingle as he’d touched her to lift her out of the van, which had grown as he’d carried her to the bench. It was what had urged him to deliberately let her body slide along his as he’d set her down, which had only increased those sensations. But when he’d felt her watching him while he was on stage and opened his eyes . . . he’d been captivated by the emotions flitting across her face. He’d recognized awe, appreciation, loneliness and raw need and it had called up similar responses in himself. By the time the set had ended all he’d been thinking was to get to the table to claim her.

Christian hadn’t been clear on how he intended to do that. Actually, he hadn’t been thinking clearly at all, his blood was up after performing and he suspected it might be a good thing she’d fled.

“I’ll go get her and bring her back,” Gia offered as they reached the table.

“No, it’s better she doesn’t return until he’s back onstage,” Marguerite said at once, and when Christian glanced at her with surprise, she smiled apologetically. “Your passions are too hot right now. If you carry her off as you were thinking while playing, you’ll scare her off. It’s why I didn’t stop her from going.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Christian said at once.

“Darling, that was the most G-rated thing you were thinking,” Marguerite said gently.

Christian flushed as his cousins chuckled, but couldn’t deny it. He hadn’t really been thinking of doing that, but images of that and much more had been running through his mind. Grimacing, he dropped into a chair at the table.

Marguerite patted his hand, then glanced to Gia and said, “You could go talk to her. Calm her and make sure she returns to the table once you’re all back onstage. I think you’ll like her, Gia.”

“Okay,” Gia started to turn, but paused when Santo caught her arm.

“You need water,” he said, spotting a waiter nearby and concentrating on him briefly.

“I don’t drink water,” Gia said with a scowl.

“But we don’t have what you do drink here and there is no time for any of us to make a run back up to the villa to get it. Water will deal with the dehydration from the performance for now.”

Gia clucked impatiently, but when the waiter suddenly appeared with several bottles of cold water dripping with condensation, she accepted one and moved off in the direction of the ladies’ room.

“So . . .” Christian accepted the bottle Santo passed to him. “How am I supposed to woo her if I can’t go near her?”

“I don’t think you should . . . for tonight at least. I think you should let us work on her first,” Marguerite said thoughtfully.

Christian stiffened at the suggestion. “Mother, don’t confuse me with Father. Unlike him, I know how to woo a woman.”

“Excuse me, I know how to woo a woman.” Julius slid his arm around Marguerite, pulling her close as he added, “And here’s the proof.”

Christian nodded. “Which wooing technique do you think did it? When you attacked her and Tiny in that hotel? Or when you threw her over your shoulder and carted her back to that townhouse in York like a caveman dragging his woman back to a cave?”

“What? He did that?” Raffaele asked with surprise as Julius’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just asking so I don’t use the wrong technique on Caro,” Christian said, holding his father’s gaze and ignoring Raffaele for now. Lips twitching, he added, “Maybe you could school me on how to talk to her. Should I practice in my head?”

“Oh man, I’m so missing something here,” Zanipolo muttered.

Julius suddenly relaxed. “Go ahead and laugh, son. But it’s you in the hot seat now.” Expression solemn, he added, “And Carolyn isn’t immortal, with an immortal’s understanding of life mates. She’s also been hurt and has a natural resistance to getting involved with men at the moment, not to mention an utter horror at the idea of even being attracted to someone she thinks is as young as you. She will be difficult. Accept your mother’s help.”

Christian frowned, but glanced to his mother. “What do you suggest?”

Marguerite relaxed, though he suspected it was the brief verbal exchange between her son and husband that had made her tense to begin with. Now she said, “Well, I think we should see how Gia’s talk with her goes. Then Genie can help.”

“Genie? The entertainment coordinator?” he asked with bewilderment.

Marguerite nodded. “They are friends and Genie seems open to the idea of a vacation romance for Carolyn. As is her other friend Bethany.”

“I’m not interested in a vacation romance,” Christian growled.

“Yes, dear, I know,” Marguerite said patiently. “But it’s a start. You have to work your way up to this.”

He shifted impatiently, but knew she was right. “Okay, so how can Genie help?”

“With the right prodding, I’m quite sure she’ll help convince her,” Marguerite assured him. “But, in the meantime, I don’t think you should even talk to Caro again until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Christian sat up abruptly. Cripes, he wanted her now. Waiting till tomorrow was—

“You have waited five hundred years. One day won’t kill you,” Marguerite said, patting his hand soothingly. “Besides, it won’t really be tomorrow.”