closing her eyes.
Francesca took the picture. A man in his late twenties stared back at her. She saw the likeness immediately, the blending of Irish and Italian features. He favored his father’s side more than his mother’s. He was good-looking. A stranger who was her brother.
Brenna stared over her shoulder. “He’s really one of us,” she said quietly.
“Was there any doubt?” Francesca asked.
“I was hoping for some,” her sister admitted.
“You’ll want to confirm the relationship with a DNA test,” Sam said, “but it wasn’t a difficult trail to follow. He’s the missing Marcelli.”
“We’ll need to get in touch with him right away,” Grandpa Lorenzo said as he took the picture. “Tell him who he is. He has a history here. A heritage.”
“An inheritance,” Brenna muttered.
The old man nodded.
“I don’t know,” her mother murmured. “It’s been so long. He must hate us.”
“He won’t,” her husband told her.
“Whatever he’s feeling, this is going to be a shock,” Francesca said, unable to imagine finding out she had an entire family somewhere. “Joe Larson has lived his life for thirty years without knowing about us. He’ll need time to absorb everything. You can’t just spring it on him. This needs to be planned out.”
“There’s no time,” Grandpa Lorenzo said. “He’s family. That’s what matters.”
Brenna stood and left without saying anything. Francesca watched her go. For Brenna, the arrival of a long-lost son was the death of a dream.
“Francesca is right,” her mother said. “When I was sixteen I listened to all of you and did what you said. What I should have done was listened to my heart. This time Marco and I decide.”
“He’s not just your son,” Grandpa Lorenzo said. “He’s my grandson. He could be my heir.”
“No.”
Colleen and Marco rose to their feet.
“You’ll stay out of it,” Colleen said firmly. “We’ll decide what we want to do.”
She brushed away her tears and turned to Sam. “Thank you for finding him.”
“I was happy to help. I’ll leave the contact information here,” he said as he dropped a card into the folder and handed it to her.
Kelly shifted next to her father. Francesca turned her attention to the girl and gave her a smile. “You okay?” she asked as her parents left the room.
Grandpa Lorenzo was still muttering. The Grands alternately hugged each other and wiped away tears.
“It’s really weird,” Kelly said. “I feel bad for everybody.”
“Families are complicated,” Francesca agreed.
“Do you think he’s going to like finding out he has a family?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Are you happy about all this?”
“I think this information is going to change a lot of lives,” Francesca said.
Kelly nodded. “Like when Tanya sent me to live with my dad.” She glanced at Sam, who had risen and was talking with Lorenzo. “It was weird at first, but it’s better now.”
“I’m glad,” Francesca said and meant it more than the girl could know. If Sam could adjust to life with Kelly, maybe he wouldn’t freak out at the thought of having a second child. Or was that just wishful thinking?
Sam touched Kelly’s shoulder. “Ready to head home?”
Kelly nodded and rose. “I want to say good-bye to the Grands and Katie.”
As Kelly crossed to be with the rest of the family, Sam moved close to Francesca.
“How’re you doing?” he asked.
“Fine. We’re all in shock.” She looked at him. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know my entire family went crazy with the matchmaking thing.”
“I survived.” He lowered his voice. “At the risk of facing a shotgun wedding, what are your plans for this weekend? I thought we could spend some quality time together.” He leaned close. “Kelly and I are going to the beach Saturday afternoon, then she’s staying at a friend’s house for the night. I thought we could have a sleepover, too.”
Francesca studied his face, the crinkles by his tawny eyes, his easy smile. She was still trying to recover from his “shotgun wedding” remark. He had no idea how close he had skated to the truth.
A few more days, she thought. She would be with him a few more days. Next week she was watching Kelly, and that Friday, just over a week from now, she would tell Sam about the baby. It was past time.
“I’d like to spend the night,” she told him with a smile, even as she knew it might be their last time together. “But only if I get to sleep on top.”
The night was warm and they’d left the balcony doors open. Night creatures serenaded them with soft music, while their rapid breathing provided counterpoint and rhythm.
She stood with Sam in his bedroom. They’d made it that far without ravishing each other, but she had a feeling they couldn’t hold out much longer.
The hand cupping her cheek moved slightly as long fingers stroked her skin. She wrapped her arms around his waist. His hard back muscles rippled at her touch. She moved her hands up and down, feeling his strength, the hard planes of his body.
She returned her attention to the still-chaste kiss. He’d kept the contact light, so it was up to her to entice him. She licked his lower lip. Instantly he groaned. She licked his lip again. He groaned. When he opened for her, she swept inside, eager to explore, to play, to excite. Anticipation swelled. Heat ignited in her belly before spiraling out and settling between her legs. When her tongue touched his, sparks flared. His taste, his warmth, the way he moved with her, the way they moved together. The opening moves of their sensual dance left her trembling and hungry.
He raised his other hand to her face and cupped her jaw. Suddenly he was back in charge. He deepened the kiss before closing his lips around her tongue and sucking gently. Pressure started between her legs, and her breasts began to ache.
She arched against him, wanting to be closer. She could feel the dampness of her swelling, the heat of her rising passion. Sam broke their kiss only to nibble his way along her jaw toward her ear. He licked the outside curve before sucking on the sensitive skin just below her lobe. His hands moved to her breasts.
“We’re both way too dressed,” he breathed.
“I agree. We should do something about that.”
He kissed her collarbone just as his thumbs brushed over her tight nipples. She gasped. He cupped her breasts, squeezing gently. Her head fell back.
“In a second,” he whispered. “I don’t want to stop kissing you just yet.”
His fingers circled her curves, then his thumbs flicked against her nipples again, and fire shot through her.
“Hell,” he muttered.
With one swift, fluid move, he pulled his polo shirt free of his jeans and tugged it over his head. “Touch me,” he said, taking her hands in his and placing them on his skin.
He was warm. The light dusting of hair tickled her palms and made her fingers tingle. While she explored hard, male contours, he went to work on the buttons down the front of her dress. Just as she had discovered the pleasure of stroking him from shoulder to waist, he pulled her dress over her arms. She straightened and the garment fell to the floor.
She stood there in bra and panties, along with her sandals, which she quickly kicked away. Sam skimmed his hands down to her breasts and cupped them. She sought out his erection. He was hard, long, and he flexed into her touch. She explored the length of him, then rubbed her thumb over the tip. He groaned, then kissed her deeply.
“Bed,” Sam mumbled against her mouth.
He started urging her to step backward. As she complied, he moved his hands around to her back and expertly unfastened her bra. The garment fell away.
He broke their kiss and lowered his head to take her nipple in his mouth. Warm, damp heat surrounded her.
