If You Stay

  “Well, that’s understandable,” Luca answers. “Jet lag is miserable. But do be more careful. You are in a strange place.”

  “So you’ve said,” I nod, slightly impatient with the safety lecture. I’m a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself. “Now will you kill the spider or do I need to call my landlord?”

  Luca smiles and the room brightens once again.

  Interesting, both that this man’s mood can change the atmosphere in my entire bedroom and that his mood changes so quickly. Should I add mercurial to the list?

  I hold off on that one as he raises an eyebrow at me.

  “You’d really call your landlord this late after business hours for an insect?”

  I eye the spider. “That is not an insect,” I tell him. “That’s a monster. I’ve been told that I’m always welcome to call him in an emergency. I’d say this qualifies.”

  Luca chuckles and shakes his head.

  “I hate to kill something that isn’t hurting us,” he tells me. “Let’s find a jar. A large jar.”

  I shake my head and slip out to the kitchen, bringing him back a large canning jar that I found beneath the sink. I hand it to him and he quickly scoops the large spider into the jar, then covers it with his hand, unafraid.

  I shudder on his behalf as I watch the long hairy legs twitching against his palm.

  “How do you stand that?” I demand as I trail him to the back door. He walks a few feet into the night and releases the spider into the grass. It quickly scurries away into the darkness although I’m sure it will find its way back into my house soon enough.

  “It wasn’t going to hurt me,” he told me. “Because I wasn’t hurting it. That’s usually how nature works.”

  “Not so,” I counter. “Not always. I’m sure that a gazelle hunted by a lion would beg to differ with you.”

  Luca’s lip twitches. “Lucky for us, this isn’t the Serengeti. If you don’t provoke something here, you will generally be left alone.”

  I smile. “Well, good. I’m not in the habit of provoking people. Unless they are lying on my couch, anyway.”

  Luca’s eyebrows raise again. “Pardon?”

  I laugh when I realize what I must have sounded like. “I’m a psychiatrist. Almost. I’m here for the summer to finish my dissertation. People pay me to probe at their secrets.”

  Luca seems interested now. I add unafraid to his list. People are generally a little put off when I tell them what I do which is why I like to get it out of the way right off the bat. It’s like they are afraid that I will dissect their brains during casual conversation. And in all honesty, I sort of do. It’s an occupational hazard. I can’t turn it on and off.

  “You’re a psychiatrist?”

  I nod. “Are you afraid?”

  It was a joke. But he pauses for a moment before he smiles.

  “Very, very afraid.”

  There is electricity between us. And I’m not sure if it is because he’s so very handsome or if it is simply because he is a strange man standing in my bedroom. Either way, I can feel it and I smile.

  “You should be.”

  He smiles back, a guarded smile. “Noted.”

  Luca hands me the jar back and when he does, his hand brushes mine. His touch is feather light but I can feel exactly where our skin comes into contact and it feels as though I will have a permanent impression of his fingers on my own. My eyes dart up and meet his, which are a turbulent black, full of charged energy.

  Our gazes lock and I am speechless, utterly engrossed in the power of this moment. I’ve never been so instantly attracted to a man. I don’t know if it is simply a by-product of my jetlag or if it is real.

  However, I don’t get a chance to ponder it. Out of my periphery, I notice a movement out of the corner of my eye and glancing down, I find that the spider, probably disoriented from this whole ordeal, is scurrying back across the lawn and is aimed directly at my feet.

  It is moving fast and I barely have time to gasp or scream before Luca’s foot slams down upon it with a sickening crunch.

  Its long broken legs stick out from under the sole of his running shoe as I stare at him uncertainly.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t going to hurt me? That we shouldn’t kill it because it meant no harm?”

  Luca shrugs. “I changed my mind.”

  And something about this moment and his words and his nonchalant attitude sends goose bumps forming up and down my arms, although I don’t know why. I’m shocked that he killed it, but it was just a spider. An insect. But it somehow seems strange. Five minutes ago, he was dead set against hurting it and then he turned around and killed it without a second thought.

  I think I should add mercurial after all.

  I glance at his face and now it seems as though shadows have passed over it, thunderous and dark. I inhale sharply as I watch him gracefully wipe his shoe off in the grass. He’s lithe and muscular, like a lion, and I suddenly realize that a jungle cat is exactly what he reminds me of. He is sleek and powerful and masculine.

  Dangerous.

  The word pops unbidden into my mind and I try to shake it off.

  He killed a spider, not a person or a puppy. I have no basis for thinking that he is dangerous. But as he turns his eyes toward me, there is something there, something in the dark depths that I can’t define, something dangerous.

  And so I reluctantly add it to his list. This is just my first impression after all. It remains to be seen if my instinct has any validity whatsoever. I can just as easily take it off the list as I put it on. I look up to find him staring at me with his dark and fathomless eyes. Those are eyes that a person could lose themselves in.

  Why does it seem like everything has turned tense? I didn’t mean for that at all. I was just surprised by the turn of events. So I tell him that. And then I hold out my hand.

  “It was really nice to meet you, Luca. Thank you so much for taking care of the spawn of Satan. I really appreciate it.”

  He nods, relaxed once again. “Anytime. I’m a spawn of Satan specialist. I’m just happy that I was nearby and heard you scream.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “That was very lucky for me.”

  “Hmm,” Luca says, drawing out the sound. “Let’s leave that verdict out for now, shall we?”

  I stare at him, wondering what that means and why he seems so mysterious when he suddenly turns and walks out. I trail weakly behind him, trying to figure out what I had missed.

  And then he is gone.

  He is such a commanding presence that his absence is noticed immediately. The air around me lightens and the charged atmosphere is gone, like a thunderstorm that has abruptly moved on. I stand at the front door, watching him jog lightly down to the beach where he continues running in the wet sand. I watch his broad shoulders ripple as he moves until he is gone from my sight.

  And I’m holding my breath. I realize it in an instant and inhale deeply.

  Luca Minaldi, whoever he is, is intense.

  I add that to the list and then examine it in my head.

  Rich

  Formal

  Gentleman

  Jaded

  Unafraid

  Intense

  Mercurial

  Dangerous

  I have no way of telling at this point if these descriptors are accurate. In order to know for sure, I’ll have to interact with Luca Minaldi again. Luckily, as part of my research, I have vowed that if I have meaningful interaction with anyone this summer, I must follow-up with them in a second or third meeting so that I can ascertain if my initial theory on his or her character was correct. It’s the only way I can test my hypothesis in a practical sense.

  But something deep inside of me tells me that my hypothesis should be damned in relation to Luca. I shouldn’t pursue another meeting with him. There’s something about him, something secretive and troubling, that I know I should steer clear of. My trained intuition is shouting at me.

  And although I don’t have any
basis other than my own intuition for it, I add secretive to the list. Because one thing is clear. Luca Minaldi is an enigma. I shake my head and lock my door before going back to bed.

  To read continue Eva and Luca’s story, you can find it here on Amazon.

  Or, if you are in the mood for something lighter (funny and wildly inappropriate), please continue reading to see an excerpt from Confessions of an Alli Cat.

  Confessions of an Alli Cat (Book One, The Cougar Chronicles)

  Genre: Women’s Contemporary Fiction

  By: Courtney Cole

  Chapter One

  (Or: Why God invented BFF’s)

  “Allison, I’m telling you, you need to try this. Honest to God, it’s been the best decision I’ve ever made for my hormones.”

  “Which is exactly why I shouldn’t even consider it. I’m too old to be listening to my hormones.”

  Sara stops in the middle of the frozen food section of our very local grocery store and puts her hands on her hips, glaring at me with her big brown eyes.

  “And if you don’t take care of your hormones, who will? Rick the Dick?”

  “Shhh, Sara!” I look around to make sure no one is listening to our conversation. I’m glad to see that, for the moment, we are alone.

  “Well? Is he?”

  “You know he’s not.”

  “And we know why he’s not, too. Because his dick has been in service to at least four other women that we know of. At this point, I’d be afraid it might fall off inside you if you went back for some.”

  “Oh my god, Sara, hush! Someone’s gonna hear you!”

  I look around frantically, but thank God no one has appeared around us. Sara stares at me, half imperiously and half with pity.

  “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either! I’m tired of women acting like having sexual needs is a bad thing. I’m all about embracing it. Girl, I wasted twenty years of my life thinking vibrators were evil. I still can’t figure out why the hell I listened to my mother.”

  I’m the one who stares imperiously now.

  “Sara, a vibrator and a young hot guy are two totally different kinds of toys. If you were trying to talk me into getting a vibrator, I’d be all for it. But this is totally out of the question.”

  I watch Sara’s ruby stained lips fall open.

  “Holy shit, you don’t have a vibrator? Allison, what the hell? Aren’t you afraid that thing is gonna get cobwebs and shrivel up from lack of use?”

  I feel myself blush when I look up and see a little old lady sitting in a motorized cart frowning at us. Holy shit. How did I miss her purple hair when I looked around a minute ago?

  Please God, let her have forgotten her hearing aid today!

  “All right. That’s it,” Sara says suddenly, reaching for the few items in my buggy and dumping them onto a shelf in one big heap. “We are going to the naughty store. Today starts the liberation of Allison. Or at least your hoo-hah. I’m making it my mission in life to help you let your inner cougar out of the cage. That bitch has been in captivity for far too long.”

  She takes my hand and whirls me around, abandoning my cart and dragging me toward the exit. Our heels click loudly on the scuffed floor, attracting the attention of everyone in our direct vicinity.

  And so, of course, this is when Sara chooses to be even more obscene.

  “I’m gonna find you the biggest plastic cock on the market and you’re gonna use it if I have to tie you down and do it for you.”

  I want to effing die.

  I am horrified to see the head of every bag boy turn in our direction, even more so when I recognize two of them. They go to school with Sophie, my 15-year old daughter.

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! Sara, shut up!” I hiss at her.

  “I will if you’ll move your ass. This needs to be fixed. Today. And there’s no time like the present. Sophie won’t be home for another two hours. That’s just long enough for me to change your mind.”

  “Like that’s gonna happen,” I murmur. “Don’t hold your breath, Sara.”

  “We’ll see, Miss Sexually Repressed. We’ll see.”

  ********

  One humiliating hour later, Sara and I are pressed together in front of my computer, flipping through an online catalog of men. Well, I say “men” lightly. These males are somewhere between guydom and manhood, with guydom being that place in which the masculine form of our species gets stuck for the several years after high school and surrounding college.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  “It just feels wrong to be looking at these kids in any kind of sexual way.” I look uncertainly at my insane friend. She stares back unapologetically.

  “Trust me, Allison. They want you to look at them that way. And they’re not kids. They’re legal.”

  I scroll past one that doesn’t look a day over sixteen. “Cheese and crackers, Sara! This is somebody’s kid! I guarantee you his mother doesn’t know he’s a gigolo.”

  “Cheese and crackers? Really?" She looks at me skeptically. "Besides, he’s not a gigolo, you prude! He’s an escort. Big difference.”

  “An escort who, at the end of the night for a little more cash, will have sex with people. What do you call that?”

  Sara’s laugh has a wicked edge to it. “I call it my good fortune.”

  “Sara, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. But look, this is how I see it. I’m helping Chaz live out his dreams, too. He’s getting to do things and experience things that most men twice his age will never know.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, but you’re never going to convince me that a twenty-year old would normally have any interest in someone our age. For God’s sake, Sara, I got out of the shower this morning and scared the shit out of myself when I passed the mirror. I actually wondered for a second whose body it was. I’ve got bags and bulges in places that should never be lumpy and there’s some weird excess skin on the backs of my arms that makes me look like a flying squirrel. A flying freaking squirrel! What twenty-year old in his right mind would wanna have sex with a flying squirrel?”

  “Damn it, Allison, would you stop being so down on yourself? Men don’t see us that way. Thank God! They see these warm, soft, beautiful, sensual creatures that smell fantastic and fuck like wild cats. We know what we want and how we want it. They don’t care that our arms look like Dumbo’s ears. They care that we can suck a golf ball through a garden hose and make them come in two point two seconds flat.”

  “Sara!” My ears turn red.

  “And you need to stop doing that, too. Loosen up a little. You know, it’s not the end of the world to drop an F bomb or talk openly about a blow job. Don’t you remember high school at all?”

  “Of course I do. I remember falling in love with the guy I thought was my soul mate, getting pregnant with our beautiful daughter and having what I thought was exclusive sex with him for fifteen more years before finding out he was cheating on me.”

  “Damn, how long were you in high school?”

  I sigh in exasperation. “Sara, I want to move on, but I need to do it slowly.”

  “That’s exactly what you don’t need, Allison. You need to reach down deep and find that wild, courageous girl you used to be before Rick the Dick put an arrow through your heart. And your vagina. You need to find the real you. The one he doesn’t control anymore. And I’m here to help you. You like penis! No, you fucking love penis. You just need to remind your vagina of that. Girl, you’ve got this. You’re totally going to own it.”

  I say nothing. Instead, I just stare at my best friend in the world. I know she has my best interests at heart. And I know she’s the one person on the planet I can trust completely and utterly. So why am I balking? What do I have to lose? My life as I knew it before is over anyway.

  “Fine. I’ll give it one shot, but I’m not promising that I’ll sleep with some random kid that’s only a few years older than my child.”