Read Online The Broken Angel by Monica La Porta - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Monica La Porta
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bed this big for?” The moment the question was out of her mouth, she would have done anything to sink under the floor and disappear. “I’m sorry. It’s so completely inappropriate of me, and I shouldn’t even be here in the first place—”
“It’s okay.” Samuel shrugged and gave her a smile. “I move a lot when I sleep and I’m always worried I’ll fall out of the bed.”
“Really?” She followed him outside.
He led her back to the kitchen. “Yes. I fell once and I don’t want to fall ever again.” With a flourish of his hand, he showed her the feast on the counter. “I didn’t know what you normally have for breakfast.” He passed his hand over the stubble on his jaw, while he gestured with the other at the trays. “I should’ve asked.”
Martina’s stomach rumbled and she laughed. “You bought me some tramezzini. Thank you.”
He handed her one of the triangular white bread sandwiches piled on a small pyramid. “There wasn’t a lot to choose from. I hope you like the tomatoes and tuna kind.”
“Love them.” She took the soft sandwich from his hand and their fingers brushed. She felt a subtle current shoot through her. As she raised her eyes, she found his were riveted on her mouth, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She swayed and once again, he was ready to hold her.
“Let me fix some coffee for you. It might help.” He gently helped her to the couch in the living room, then walked back to the counter.
Martina wasn’t used to be fussed upon and found the experience strangely comforting. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, but she wiped them away before he could see them. Samuel brought her a plate filled with tramezzini and lay it on the white couch, then left her and went to the stove. She watched as he prepared espresso with a moka that resembled more a piece of Art Deco than a coffee maker. Then her eyes went to the kitchen back wall, all filled with transparent cabinets. The shelves were illuminated and showed a collection of fine China. For the majority, she could see tea sets, but there were also plates on display.
“You must be the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”
His back straightened and he stilled his hands for a moment. “Thank you, but why?” He put back the coffee beans grinder and other utensils he had just used, but didn’t look at her.
“Well, take those porcelain tea sets you have over there and the pictures you have on the wall. And the rest of this place… I mean, you truly are something else.”
Samuel turned, a frown marring his expression. “I don’t understand.”
“You simply amaze me. That’s all.” She had blurted out the words and blushed at her admission. “For example, what’s with your obsession with delicate teapots?”
****
“I lived in Asia for a while and I acquired a taste for teas and Chinese and Japanese antiques, especially their finest wares.” Samuel shrugged. “You know how that happens, you buy a small piece, then another, and soon you become a collector.” He tinkered with the moka, unable to give a name to the feelings Martina evoked in him.
“You must have one interesting job.” She took a small bite from a sandwich.
“It keeps me occupied.” He put the moka on the stove and turned it on low, then moved to the counter to prepare a plate for himself.
Seemingly lost in thought, Martina finished eating the first sandwich. She brought a second to her mouth before she tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. “Wait… Yesterday, were you in that alley for work?”
Samuel almost sputtered the big chunk of croissant he had just bitten.
“I mean, you said you are in law enforcement, and with this kind of dig, you could very well be a James Bond in disguise.” She lowered her plate to her lap. “Are you?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, finally decided to be honest. “I really can’t say.”
“Of course you would say that.” She laughed.
The hissing moka saved Samuel from having to
“It’s okay.” Samuel shrugged and gave her a smile. “I move a lot when I sleep and I’m always worried I’ll fall out of the bed.”
“Really?” She followed him outside.
He led her back to the kitchen. “Yes. I fell once and I don’t want to fall ever again.” With a flourish of his hand, he showed her the feast on the counter. “I didn’t know what you normally have for breakfast.” He passed his hand over the stubble on his jaw, while he gestured with the other at the trays. “I should’ve asked.”
Martina’s stomach rumbled and she laughed. “You bought me some tramezzini. Thank you.”
He handed her one of the triangular white bread sandwiches piled on a small pyramid. “There wasn’t a lot to choose from. I hope you like the tomatoes and tuna kind.”
“Love them.” She took the soft sandwich from his hand and their fingers brushed. She felt a subtle current shoot through her. As she raised her eyes, she found his were riveted on her mouth, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She swayed and once again, he was ready to hold her.
“Let me fix some coffee for you. It might help.” He gently helped her to the couch in the living room, then walked back to the counter.
Martina wasn’t used to be fussed upon and found the experience strangely comforting. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, but she wiped them away before he could see them. Samuel brought her a plate filled with tramezzini and lay it on the white couch, then left her and went to the stove. She watched as he prepared espresso with a moka that resembled more a piece of Art Deco than a coffee maker. Then her eyes went to the kitchen back wall, all filled with transparent cabinets. The shelves were illuminated and showed a collection of fine China. For the majority, she could see tea sets, but there were also plates on display.
“You must be the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”
His back straightened and he stilled his hands for a moment. “Thank you, but why?” He put back the coffee beans grinder and other utensils he had just used, but didn’t look at her.
“Well, take those porcelain tea sets you have over there and the pictures you have on the wall. And the rest of this place… I mean, you truly are something else.”
Samuel turned, a frown marring his expression. “I don’t understand.”
“You simply amaze me. That’s all.” She had blurted out the words and blushed at her admission. “For example, what’s with your obsession with delicate teapots?”
****
“I lived in Asia for a while and I acquired a taste for teas and Chinese and Japanese antiques, especially their finest wares.” Samuel shrugged. “You know how that happens, you buy a small piece, then another, and soon you become a collector.” He tinkered with the moka, unable to give a name to the feelings Martina evoked in him.
“You must have one interesting job.” She took a small bite from a sandwich.
“It keeps me occupied.” He put the moka on the stove and turned it on low, then moved to the counter to prepare a plate for himself.
Seemingly lost in thought, Martina finished eating the first sandwich. She brought a second to her mouth before she tilted her head and raised one eyebrow. “Wait… Yesterday, were you in that alley for work?”
Samuel almost sputtered the big chunk of croissant he had just bitten.
“I mean, you said you are in law enforcement, and with this kind of dig, you could very well be a James Bond in disguise.” She lowered her plate to her lap. “Are you?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, finally decided to be honest. “I really can’t say.”
“Of course you would say that.” She laughed.
The hissing moka saved Samuel from having to
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