The Sicilian Marriage

He could see he’d made some errors about the woman. They were unimportant, given the circumstances, but he was a man who liked to get the details straight. Her hair wasn’t blond, it was half a dozen shades of palest gold. And she wasn’t skinny. Slender, yes, but with rounded hips and a nicely defined backside.

And when, still laughing, she hoisted the baby high in the air, her breasts lifted and only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed that they were round and full…

And not confined by a bra.

The pale green silk dress clung to her body just enough so he could see the outline of her nipples.

What were they like? Small? Large? What color would they be? Rosebud-pink, he imagined, like her mouth. Soft to the touch, silken and responsive. They’d tighten under his caress, bloom under the laving of his tongue…

Hell, what was he doing?

This was a christening, not a stag party. And wasn’t it a good thing he was on the terrace so he could turn his back to the room, because his wandering thoughts were having an all-too-predictable effect on his anatomy.

Gianni concentrated on the Manhattan skyline, bathed now in the variegated orange hues of the setting sun, but thinking about the colors of things wasn’t a good idea right now. It took him straight back to the blonde’s breasts.

Green was a better color. The green of the boxwood, growing in some of the terrace’s many planters.

The green silk of the woman’s dress and the way it molded to her…

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Stefano had come up beside him, grinning, holding out a bottle of wine. Gianni nodded and held out his glass for a refill.

“Was it that obvious?” he said with a rueful smile.

“Are you kidding? Of course.”

Gianni sighed. “Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, I’m only speaking the truth.”

“Easy for you to say, Lucchesi.”

“Well, sure, but who wouldn’t react to such beauty?”

“Let’s not go overboard here,” Gianni said. “She’s attractive, assuming you like the type.”

“Attractive?”

“Yes. You know, she’s got all the right equipment in all the right places.” Stefano was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. He thought back to how the blonde had greeted his old friend, married or not. “But that doesn’t make her gorgeous.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Why would I joke? I’m dead serious. Plus, she’s got all the charm of a tarantula.”

Stefano’s expression turned grim. “You’d better be glad you and I’ve been friends since P.S. 26, Firelli, or I’d pin your ears back.”

“What wrong with you, man? You’d take me on because I don’t agree a woman’s gorgeous?”

“Damned right I would. This particular woman is—this woman is…” Stefano’s eyebrows rose again. “What woman?”

Was this what happened to a man when he married and had a child? Did he lose his sanity as well as his freedom?

“The blonde, of course,” Gianni said impatiently. “The one who greeted you with such, uh, warmth…and, by the way, doesn’t Fallon object to that kind of thing?”

Stefano’s eyes widened. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“Wonderful,” Gianni said coldly. “I’m glad you think this is—”

“The blonde,” Stefano gasped. “Oh my God, the blonde!”

“That’s it.” Gianni slapped his glass on a nearby table and started toward the doors.

Stefano grabbed his arm. “Where are you going, you idiot?”

“Lucchesi,” Gianni said through his teeth, “I’d hate to wipe up the floor with you while your guests watch, but so help me—”

“I was talking about my daughter!”

“Yes. And I told you…” Gianni blinked. “Your daughter?” He felt the color rise in his face. “You were talking about—about—”

“About Cristina. Of course. And you thought I was talking about a woman.”

“Hell.” Gianni turned away, leaned his arms on the terrace railing and stared blindly into the gathering dusk. Things were going from bad to worse. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “I’m an idiot.”

Stefano chuckled. “I’m happy we agree.” The men fell silent for a minute. Then Stefano cleared his throat. “So, which blonde are we talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gianni said, waving his hand in dismissal. A couple of seconds went by. “The one who damned near threw herself into your arms when she got here.”

“Not a very good description, Firelli. All women throw themselves into my arms.”

Gianni chuckled. “Better not let your wife hear you say that.”

“Better not let his wife hear what?” Fallon said, smiling as she joined the men. “Gianni, it’s good to see you again.”

Gianni smiled and kissed her cheek. “And you, Fallon. Motherhood has made you even lovelier. I wouldn’t have thought that possible.”

Fallon batted her lashes. “You Sicilians! You always know how to make a woman feel good.”

“Some women,” Stefano said. Fallon raised her eyebrows. “It seems one of our guests turned down the chance to have her name added to Gianni’s little black book.”

“Stefano,” Gianni said warningly.

Stefano slipped his arm around his wife. “Come on, don’t be shy. If you’re interested in one of our guests—”

“I’m not,” Gianni said quickly. “I only said—”

“Point her out,” Fallon said. “I’ll introduce you.”