Secrets Of Bella Terra by Christina Dodd Page A

subtle about it. Cocking his head, he studied her. “You know, I was lousy in calculus.”
    She giggled. “Maybe
I
tutored
you
?”
    “Maybe you did.” He took a step away. “I imagine I’ll be too busy with my family to have time for any spa treatments, but thank you for the offer.” Looking across the lobby, he saw Brooke making her way toward him. “Excuse me,” he said, and walked away, forgetting all about Jenna, her spa services, and her readily available ass.
    Her ass, after all, might have been good for a grope in high school, but he wasn’t a desperate, horny kid anymore. At least, not when he looked at Jenna Campbell.
    He saved all his desperation for Brooke.

    Rafe Di Luca didn’t remember her.
    Jenna Campbell stared at him as he walked to the check-in desk with Brooke Petersson.
    Rafe Di Luca didn’t remember her.
    Jenna recalled that conversation in the library, their laughter together, the way he’d looked, the way she’d bent over him, thrusting her cleavage in his face. . . . Like a starving man, he’d grabbed her, drove her against the wall, fondled her tits, thrust his tongue in her mouth over and over, as if he were desperate for a good piece of hot ass instead of his cold bitch of a girlfriend. Then he broke off and fled, as if he were too scared to do Jenna in the library.
    And now Rafe Di Luca didn’t remember her at all. He had barely tried to pretend.
    Humiliation curled through her.
    She recalled luring him to the library with the promise of help in calculus—not that she’d had to lure very hard. She recalled every detail of the kiss, of the groping. He had been the best she’d ever had, wild, forceful, out of control. At night, she’d imagined what it would be like, a man like that, his cock big and hot, his hips pumping. He’d be able to do it more than once a night. He’d be in her all the time.
    She bit her lower lip hard enough to hurt.
    All her life, she’d expected Rafe would come back and finish what he started.
    But he didn’t remember her.
    He remembered that bitch Brooke Petersson.
    Brooke Petersson.
    Jenna’s boss.
    Right now, he was looking at Brooke as if he were ice cream and she was hot fudge with a cherry on top.
    In high school, Jenna had despised Brooke for being so droopy, so hurt by life, such a wimp. But right from the first moment, Brooke had snagged the best-looking Di Luca, becoming his boon companion. Everyone had known nothing was going on between them, because little Brookie was a virgin and too scared to do him.
    Then, all of a sudden, they were an item, so hot the air around them scorched the skin. The kids all whispered about them: They were so absorbed in each other they held each other’s hands, breathed each other’s air, had eyes for only each other.
    It was nauseating, and Jenna couldn’t stand it. She had convinced her daddy she needed to leave early for college so she could get to know the campus.
    And when she found out Rafe and Brooke had broken up almost as soon as she left town, and she hadn’t been there to pick up the pieces, she was pissed.
    After that, Jenna had waited for years for her chance to convince Rafe he wanted to fuck a real woman.
    And he didn’t remember her.
    Jenna’s pager went off. She checked it, expecting it would be the spa with some stupid towel-folding emergency.
    Instead . . . it was
him
. Not some stupid teenage fantasy like Rafe.
    Sure,
he
wasn’t rich. Yeah, he scared her sometimes. Okay, he had a mean streak that could get them both in trouble.
    But he was a man, an honest-to-God man.
    She stared at the number, angry that he’d contacted her here, where the danger was so great . . . and thrilled that he couldn’t keep away from her. That first night, she had been alone in the spa cleaning up after one of the stupid masseuses threw a tantrum and a bottle of oil and quit. Jenna should have had housekeeping handle it, but that housekeeping supervisor had an attitude, and while nobody much scared