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  He kissed the life out of her lips the moment they crossed the threshold.

  “Luca, did Carlo say anything to you about cast relationships?” She thought back to the first meeting of the Tosca company, during which Carlo had vetoed any extra-curricular activity among the players.

  “Oh.” Luca dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand. “He say that for Gianfranco, I think. He has a reputation.”

  Hmm, and I know for a fact that it isn’t undeserved, thought Julia, mentally raising an eyebrow. “Do you think so?”

  “I think so. As long as we don’t make love in the dressing room, I don’t think he care too much.”

  “Okay. Just when we saw Enrico…it made me think of that.”

  “Ah, Enrico saw nothing, Julia. He saw two friends, professionals, taking a walk.”

  “More like a run.”

  Luca shrugged. “We are taking exercise for the good of our lungs. Who can deny that?”

  Julia laughed. “My lungs feel wonderful tonight.”

  “Mmm, mine also. You want to know what else I can make to feel wonderful? Hey?” He picked her up and carried her over to the disarranged bed, letting her fall with a squeal on to its rumpled sheets. She lay looking up at him, drinking him in while he knelt over her, travelling her length and breadth with his eyes.

  “Bella,” he said. “I am so lucky. I want to be worthy of you. I want to be your man.”

  “Be my man,” said Julia.

  Luca’s fingers went to the top button of his shirt, which he unfastened and slipped off with powerful grace until his upper body was exposed. His shoulders, broad and muscular, presided over a big operatic chest that tapered down to slim hips belted into tight jeans. Curls and coils of hair lurked beneath the pectorals, joining to form a light trail down to his navel and beyond. Julia put out a hand, touching it with her fingertips, enjoying the small electric shock that contact sent buzzing through her. And his arms, oh, how she loved a strong pair of arms, and these looked as if they were on loan from a sculpture of Hercules.

  The hands that proceeded from these superhuman arms descended on to Julia’s shoulders, bare but for the straps of her summer dress, and worked their way to her neck, kneading and stroking, while his face lowered and his lips murmured sweet Italian words that she could not catch or translate.

  Bars of setting sunlight illuminated Luca’s dark head before they were blotted out by its descent to her skin, where light feathery kisses were distributed about her collarbone and shoulders, releasing a million shivers through her body.

  They barely knew each other, but they seemed to speak a common language of sensuality. Julia’s fingers knew where to go, and Luca’s lips homed in on her most sensitive places as if they were outlined in fluorescent marker. She pulled him down beside her and they tumbled together, all arms, legs and mouths, causing the ancient bedstead to creak beneath them.

  Julia lost her dress just as she finished unbuckling Luca’s belt. She pressed herself enthusiastically against his warm skin, sheltering within its protective expanse. He buried his face between her breasts and feasted upon them, lowering her bra cups with avid white teeth and teasing her nipples to unendurable stiffness.

  His hair was just long enough to clutch between her spasming fingers and she wrapped a leg around his, holding him against her, enjoying his weight and size as it imprinted her shape into the mattress.

  They spilled and surged around each other until they found perfect harmony, skin on skin, lips against lips, arms and legs in pleasurable configurations. It all seemed so easy to Julia, and sex had never been this easy in the past. There had been clashes, elbows, cramps, sour breath. But Luca could read her just as she could read him, just as she read the bars of music on the page of the musical score. Their interaction flowed effortlessly, until, just at the point where breaking apart would have been impossible, Luca produced a condom from beneath the pillow and breathed, “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Julia did not think twice, but held her legs apart for him, grinding her pubis upwards against his groin.

  He sheathed his upright cock, then moved a hand to Julia’s sex. It was ready for him, hot and wet, its widespread lips providing a welcome. No mistaking how much I want him, thought Julia, slightly ashamed, turning her face away.

  “Hey, Julia,” he crooned lightly. “Why don’t you look at me? Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  The lure of his voice brought her gaze back to him. Looking into his eyes, she saw infinite light, infinite depth, a place where she could both lose and find herself.

  “I want you,” she said, her voice low, managing to contain the extremes of emotion that threatened to surge in and break up her speech.

  “Take me,” he said. He cupped her face in his hands and lowered himself so that the tip of his cock rested shallowly at her entrance, ready to make its move.

  Julia kept her eyes wide open, wanting to take this moment and remember it always. She noted and filed in her memory the way the net curtain fluttered in the evening air, the dying quality of the light, the places where the shadows lay, and at their epicentre, his face, hoping for her, waiting for her.

  She tilted her face up to receive his tender kiss, then sighed as he placed his hands on her shoulders and eased inside her that first time. She unfurled for him, let all her tight and secret places open and accept this new experience of passion.

  “Julia,” he whispered. “Mi amore.”

  Part of her—the hardened part—wanted to close down, to mock and belittle the emotion that was rising inside her. It was so alien, so overwhelming and so very frightening. But his touch also reassured her, and she allowed it to override the doubts and carry her away on its wave.

  When in Rome, she kept thinking, letting him in, further and further. He was gentle and skilled, knowing the right way to build up a rhythm and where her most pleasurable spots were located. When in Rome, I do what the Romans do.

  Trusting to Luca’s erotic instincts turned out to be a good decision. They were finely tuned, just like his voice. He linked his fingers with hers, holding her arms out to the sides so that, viewed from above, they would have made a cruciform shape. She wrapped her legs around his upper thighs, bringing him deeper inside, and felt the first stirrings of orgasm as he kissed her face all over.

  “Take me,” she echoed his words to her. He speeded up, his kisses lengthened and found her mouth and then it was happening.

  When in Rome, I come like the Romans do.

  Into his throat her voice poured, its force unrestrained. Julia fought to raise her hands but he held her, strong and unyielding, and somehow this made everything feel bigger and wilder as the climax coursed through her. She had no option but to let it have its way with her until it subsided, at which point Luca powered into his release.

  Lying in Luca’s arms in the moonlit room, Julia struggled to stay awake, sapped by the strength of the lovemaking and the surprising depth of her newfound connection. It seemed to Julia they were locked into each other now.

  “To me, that was very special,” said Luca, turning sleepy eyes to Julia.

  “To me as well. I’m not sure why, but you seem to…have quite an effect on me. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I don’t usually…fall into things like this.”

  “You are cautious?”

  “As a rule. Not tonight though.”

  Luca chuckled. “There is a time to be cautious. And a time to follow your heart. Tonight is a night like that.”

  “What about tomorrow night?” She propped herself on an arm, suddenly terrified that this was all a game to him.

  “Every night,” he said, bringing her back down to his level.

  When in Rome I love as the Romans do.

  Chapter Two

  Julia replayed the answerphone message, frowning as the rich baritone of Gianfranco Corelli filled her tiny flat. It wasn’t the first time he had invited her out for dinner, and everyone knew he wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. All th
e same, there was something different about it this time, a kind of suppressed triumph behind the formal and flowery romantic language. Corelli had reason to believe that she would accept this time. But why?

  At the rehearsal the next day, she made it her business to get to her dressing room as swiftly as possible, avoiding both Gianfranco and Luca. She had to keep her wits about her if people were not to suspect her involvement with the handsome tenor. They would all be guessing and making assumptions of course—that was in the nature of operatic company life—but they must not be able to form a sound conclusion from any of the gossip.

  She made her way to the stalls and sat down on the red velvet tip-seat next to Liddy. She kept her distance from Gianfranco on the other side of the aisle, although she could see that he was trying to catch her eye.

  “Wow, you’re looking good this morning,” Liddy said.

  Julia was aghast. She looked different! Could anybody else tell? “Am I? I haven’t done anything different.” Except make mad, passionate love with Italy’s Hottest Tenor.

  “Haven’t you? You’re all sort of glowy. I thought you must be using a new foundation. Or…” She turned fascinated eyes to Julia, leaving the question unspoken.

  “Nope,” said Julia, hastily changing the subject. “Gianfranco asked me out again. Can you believe that man’s persistence?”

  “Yes, I can. I’ve seen him in action. He’s like a hawk that just hovers above his prey for ages, waiting for the moment of weakness, so he can swoop down.”

  “That’s just what he’s like.” Julia laughed. The chuckle caught in her throat and her heart hammered so loudly she feared everyone in the auditorium must be able to hear it. Luca had entered the building. She worked hard at pretending not to have seen him. “I wonder if he ever gives up,” she said hurriedly.

  “Not until he nails his victim,” said Liddy. “God, Luca is looking fine today. Again. Oh, can’t I swap places with you? Can’t I be Tosca today?”

  Julia shook her head, feeling all those fizzy, swoony sensations swirl about inside it. “I don’t think Carlo would buy it.”

  “I guess not. Besides, you’re so good together. In role, I mean.”

  “Thanks,” said Julia, never more grateful to see Carlo appear from the orchestra pit to give his customary pre-rehearsal pep talk.

  Julia’s nerves at seeing Luca again soon dissipated, chased away by his effortlessly professional stage persona. He did not fall into the easy trap of being deliberately distant with her or making an effort to distract attention from them. If anything, he behaved even more like a lover than he had the day before and if anything, this seemed to dispel any suspicions that might have been circulating amongst the chorus. It was acting, and he was certainly a convincing actor.

  Another convincing actor was Gianfranco, who played the forced seduction scene with chilling realism, using his impressive physical presence to literally cow Julia’s Tosca into submission.

  “You got my message?” he muttered, walking with her into the wings after an emotionally draining half hour.

  “Yes, I did. Thanks but—”

  “No, I don’t think you understand, Julia. There is no ‘thanks but’ this time.”

  “Gianfranco! Don’t be so overbearing. It’s not attractive.” She tried to elude him, slipping her arm out of his, but he slapped a large hand on hers, keeping her firmly linked.

  “Not attractive, eh? You wouldn’t say that to our celebrated new tenor.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Julia felt hot and cross and defensive now, hating herself for letting Gianfranco rattle her like this. She was making it even more obvious that there was something between Luca and her.

  “A little bird saw you together last night,” whispered Gianfranco into her ear. “A little shepherd bird.”

  She swallowed, unsure whether confirmation or denial would be the best option for damage limitation.

  “So perhaps you would like to reconsider that dinner invitation. The new boy needs to, how do you say, keep a clean nose, I think.”

  “Luca and I are colleagues, nothing more,” said Julia. “All the same, I suppose one dinner…”

  “Sensible decision.” Gianfranco lifted the previously trapped hand to his lips and kissed the fingers. “Taleggio at eight o’clock. I will see you there.”

  He strutted off and Julia stood at the bottom of the dressing room stairs, lost in silent confusion for a moment or two. Footsteps hastened towards her before she felt a hand at the small of her back and hot breath upon her neck.

  “Luca, don’t,” she said, already able to automatically detect his touch. “We’ll be seen.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, seizing the opportunity to give her ear a swift kiss. “Nobody is here. I will see you later, yes?”

  “Oh.” She turned to him, her eyes troubled. “Much later perhaps. I have to meet a friend.”

  “A Roman friend?”

  “Liddy,” she lied, mentally promising that she wouldn’t make a habit of telling Luca untruths. She just needed to throw Gianfranco off the scent first. “But I should be away by ten or so. I’ll come to the apartment.”

  “You’ll come in the apartment,” joked Luca with a cheeky lopsided grin. “As many times as I can make you.”

  “Promises, promises.” She giggled like a schoolgirl and watched him wheel away up the stairs, two at a time, long legs flying.

  Taleggio was one of the smartest restaurants in the city, close to the opera house and popular with sleek, stylish young Romans. Gianfranco Corelli was neither sleek nor stylish, but he certainly cut a fine figure, standing at the bar nursing his aperitif, accepting and absorbing every deferential remark that his courtiers made. Here in his home city, he was lionised and adored, considered one of Italy’s top exports.

  Julia felt a little daunted as she approached the king and his retinue, but he flapped the fans away with a wave of his broad hand before extending it to her, sensual lips stretched in smile of triumph.

  “So you are here! Thank you for coming. Shall we sit?”

  A waiter showed them to the best table in the room, offering them a fine view of the piazza outside.

  “Gianfranco, I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” Julia opened without preamble.

  “Drink?”

  The waiter hovered, menus in hand.

  “Oh, er, yes, I’ll have a mineral water.”

  Gianfranco said something to the waiter that certainly didn’t sound like the Italian for mineral water. Her suspicions were confirmed when he returned with a glass of sparkling wine.

  “I…oh, never mind. Listen. Gianfranco. I am not involved with Luca, if that’s what you’ve heard.”

  “I am delighted to hear it. I have been feeling so jealous today. I have been wanting to perform that torture scene for real. I want to drag him into a cell and then take my Tosca and show her what she is missing.”

  “I see.”

  Gianfranco’s hand moved closer to hers across the white lawn tablecloth.

  “You don’t see, Julia. You don’t see what is in my heart. I burn for you. My passion is too much. It hurts me. If you don’t give in to me soon…”

  Julia looked away out of the window. Gianfranco was forceful, and a handsome man too. She could understand how so few women seemed able to resist him.

  “I’m not seeing Luca,” she repeated. “That’s all I came here to say.”

  “Ah, you are cruel. You want to tease me? You want to make me have to take you? Is that what you want? I know some women like that. Are you one of those women, Julia?”

  “No,” she said quietly.

  He feigned obliviousness and continued, his voice descending until it came out of the deepest recesses of his chest, meant for Julia’s ears only.

  “Yes, I think you are one of those women who wants to be taken. You want me to capture you and tie you to my bed. You want to fight me and make me fight for you. You want to be overpowered and brought to your knees in fro
nt of me. You want to lie there, unable to move, while I enjoy every part of your body. You want to be touched by a man, a real man. You cannot give yourself to me because that would not test my hunger for you enough. But when you are there, underneath me, full of me, belonging to me, you will find yourself as a woman.”

  “For God’s sake, Gianfranco, don’t talk such nonsense.” But Julia, uncomfortable, found that his words aroused her more than she knew they should.

  “If you don’t want that, Julia, then say so.” He put his hand over hers, finding the underside of her wrist with his thumb, stroking the sensitive skin there.

  She shivered. “I don’t want that.”

  “Say it like you mean it.” Gianfranco laughed. “You are trembling like a little bird.”

  His intense magnetism threatened to engulf her resolve. He was so tall and broad and deep-voiced and powerful. What a lover he would be. But it would not be love, and Luca was waiting.

  “I don’t want that!” She found her confidence and pulled her hand away from him. “I’m going to go home now. I think you should find somebody else to obsess over.”

  She pushed back her chair and flitted through the shiny, beautifully-dressed crowds. Behind her, she heard Gianfranco bellowing, “I’ll destroy him! I won’t let him have you!”

  It seemed that her mission had failed. He was still convinced that Luca stood between him and his seduction of Julia. But there was nothing she could do about that now. Nothing except find Luca and warn him of the baritone’s passionate jealousy.

  He was waiting for her, and he threw his keys down to the street, beaming at her from between the shutters.

  “You are earlier than I expected,” he told her, pulling her inside the apartment and expending every ounce of the day’s pent-up longing on her lips.

  By the time the kiss ended, Julia and Luca were horizontal on his bed, their hands dancing a mad tarantella across each other’s bodies.

  “Something happened,” she gasped, finally breaking free. “Gianfranco was in the restaurant.”