That Time in Venice

“Anika, honey,” Laura said in her husky Southern drawl. “I’m so glad you’re here. Have a seat.” She waved Anika into the chair opposite the desk. “Judge Evers has once again sung our praises and sent us a referral, but I haven’t had time to get much information. Her secretary called late yesterday and set everything up. The judge didn’t ask for you by name, but she did mention she wanted the same designer who’d done such a wonderful job on Representative Johnson’s surprise birthday gift for his daughter. You really did do a marvelous job. You breathed new life into that place.”

“Thank you.” Laura did not hand out compliments often, so Anika knew the words were not only sincere, but she must have really done one hell of a job.

“Obviously, this new client takes priority. You know we want to keep the judge happy.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here’s what I know.” Laura spoke with her hands a lot, gesturing, pointing, and spreading her fingers. “He’s a manager with the accounting firm Continuum, and they transferred him to the Atlanta area. He hasn’t lived here long but bought his house a few months ago and wants to redo the interior.”

“Sounds easy enough. Only redecorating?” The firm offered redecorating and remodeling services.

“That’s what I understand, but of course once you get over there, you’ll be better able to make an assessment.” Laura leaned forward. “If you do a good job on this, Anika, we’ll work something out on the ownership front. I’d love to take some time off. My husband is retiring soon and I’m not getting any younger.” She laughed.

A long time ago Laura had embraced the decision to not have children. Refusing to use the word childless, she extolled the positives of being childfree—freedom to do whatever she wanted when she wanted with more disposable income. On more than one occasion she’d said she didn’t think her business would have grown the way it did if she and her husband had had children. And soon she’d be using that disposable income to do more traveling and engage in more leisure activities.

Laura’s voice dropped. “I trust you, and if you’re interested, I’m willing to give you a leadership role.”

This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Laura was no longer hinting. That was the second time in the conversation she’d flat out made her intentions known. “I’m very interested, and I would be honored.”

As Laura prepared to reply, a knock sounded on the door and Jasmine poked her head in. “Mr. Stewart is here. Should I bring him in or wait a few minutes?”

“Oh my, he’s early.” Laura glanced at her watch. “Go ahead and bring him in, darling. We’re ready.”

Jasmine disappeared, and only moments later the door was reopened.

Laura came to her feet and extended her hand.

Anika stood as well and faced the newcomer, freezing when her gaze landed on the man who’d entered, her eyes widening fractionally when they connected with blue ones.

“Good morning, Mr. Stewart. I’m Laura Davenport, and this is—”

“Reed?” Anika said in quiet shock.

He stared back, the expression of surprise on his face undoubtedly reflected on hers.

What were the chances? She hadn’t seen him in seven years. She’d been twenty-one and had completed her junior year in college. He’d just graduated.

Anika had worked with him in the dining hall, and hadn’t known him well, but had known of him. Popular on campus, Reed had a reputation for having a laid back attitude and carefree demeanor. But behind the lazy smile and casual clothes had lurked a well-honed body of firm muscle. She’d seen for herself when he played Frisbee on the quad or rolled up his sleeves to empty heavy containers at the dining hall. He played baseball, had been the president of his fraternity, and garnered quite a reputation with the coeds.

By chance, she’d gotten to know him very well, far away from everything and everyone they were familiar with. Even as her heart clenched at the memory of what they’d shared, Anika catalogued his appearance. Time had been good to him. His black curly hair was cut shorter than in the past but was just as thick and lustrous, and his eyes remained on her with the same intense, assessing stare.

He seemed taller, but she knew that couldn’t be right. Perhaps because years ago he’d been comfortable wearing jeans and T-shirts, while today he oozed style and polish and appeared a little imposing in all black—black jacket, black shirt, black slacks.

Damn. He looked so…good.

Hair covered his chin and jaw, enough scruff to tickle and tease, but not enough to bother or annoy. She knew the sensation well—across the tips of her breasts as he sucked her nipples, and down her spine to the small of her back. His hands and lips had been everywhere on her body. For months after they’d parted ways, she’d woken up at odd times of the night, aching for him.

“Anika.”

Her body reacted to the warm sound of his voice, the low, sexy sound echoing inside of her. Her nipples tightened. Her pulse jumped. Her entire being quivered, recognizing the voice of the man who’d given her exquisite memories one summer a long time ago.

“Y-you live here now?” Anika asked.

He nodded. “I moved from New York six months ago.”

Laura glanced from one to the other. “So the two of you know each other?” she asked slowly.

Anika swallowed. “We—we haven’t seen each other in a long time. Years. Not since…”

Reed’s jaw tightened at the unspoken words left dangling in the air. His jaw had often tightened under the weight of intense emotion—anger, sadness, ecstasy. Suddenly, the memories of fierce passion, inexhaustible and relentless, evoked heat in her insides.

Her mind flashed back to heated whispers, her back pressed against a hard wall, and his hands beneath her skirt. His driving thrusts as he pinned her beneath him in bed, their hearts beating rapidly in synch, and their sweat-sprinkled bodies wrapped around each other during what had been, without a doubt, the best week of her life. An unbelievable, breathtaking six days in Italy.

Seven years, and she’d never forgotten that trip—or him.

“That time in Venice,” he finished for her.

Anika swallowed again, forcing back the constriction in her throat. What they’d shared had been so unexpected, starting out innocently enough before snowballing into an avalanche of emotion that almost broke her.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Not since Venice.”