“I’m sorry, professor,” I said, that pool of acid in my stomach evaporating, making me feel light enough to lift up off the polished hardwood floor of the lecture hall, “But I did set that date. I know there’s a way for me to improve my grades. We’ll discuss it later.”
Dr. Aretino’s already swarthy complexion darkened further. The broad expanse of his forehead kept crinkling and then pulling taut. Finally, he fixed a greasy smile to his face that never touched his eyes. “Of course. I understand.”
“Nice to see you again, Dr. Aretino,” Liam said, his hand slipping from my shoulder. His fingertips brushed against the small of my back, making the skin there tighten. He took hold of my hand in his and started leading me back up the stairs and to freedom.
Chapter 4
We walked hand-in-hand down the broad hallway. It was a beautiful building, with marble floors and tall, arched windows that let in the light to play across the frescoes and decorations. But right then I only had eyes for Liam.
Other people had eyes for him, too, I noted. I squeezed his hand tighter and pressed my side against his while we walked, basking in the jealous gazes I felt from the other female students we passed.
Yes, he’s holding my hand. Yes, he’s as good a kisser as he looks. No, you can’t have him!
I put my giddiness down to the adrenaline rush of nearly being groped by my professor and then saved by the handsomest man in Rome. We continued down the hall, taking a turn that would lead us to one of the visitor parking lots.
“So, not that I’m not grateful, which I am. Very grateful, that is,” Stop babbling! The rational part of my mind said. But he’s so good looking. You should kiss him again! The rest of me replied. Liam pretended not to notice. “But why are you here?”
His eyebrows knitted together and he glanced at me. “To take you to lunch.”
“We never had a lunch date.”
“Yes, we do,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a tiny, sly smile. I couldn’t help returning the expression.
“I think I would have known. Since when did we have this date?”
“Since you agreed to it in the lecture hall, of course.”
“Ah. Sneaky. Lunch does sound good, though,” I said. The crowd in the hall began thinning enough so that I could hear the sound of our footsteps off the polished floor.
“Yes, I’m quite sly like that, aren’t I?”
***
Ten minutes later, I again found myself sitting outside of a small Roman café. A large umbrella protected out bistro table from the noontime sun, which beat down hard enough that heat radiated in undulating waves off the patio stones.
Except there were several key differences. First, I’d never been to this place before (though the aged Italian waiter with the silver platter looked rather like Giancarlo, so much that I thought they might be brothers).
Second, instead of a beautiful woman sat across from me, it was a handsome man. When we sat down, he’d undone the buttons of his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up almost to his elbows. I had to keep myself from openly admiring his muscular forearms.
And when he smiled and turned that full wattage on me, it was like the afternoon sun dimmed in comparison.
It took every last straining inch of my willpower to retain something like a level head. Besides, I didn’t think Liam was the type who appreciated googly-eyed airheads. And I wanted to be the kind of girl that he appreciated.
Horns honked down the street, and two men climbed out of their tiny Italian cars and began waving at each other. Some children kicked a soccer ball around down the other way, stopping their game briefly each time a car drove through.
For probably the first time since I’d come to Rome, I felt like I was in a movie. The streets looked exotic. The food smelled delicious. I was Audrey Hepburn having an adventure with a handsome man I’d just met.
“So I don’t want this to come across the wrong way,” I said, “But are you stalking me?”
Liam blinked. Then he smiled again. My heart jumped and a sudden heat blossomed very low in my stomach. “No, I’m not.”
“Then how did you find me?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re a spy trying to escape from me. You had me drop you off at the campus. I already knew you were a student of Dr. Aretino’s from our introduction at the fundraiser. All I needed to do was ask a few people where the pretty blonde American girl was and they pointed me right to the lecture hall.”
For a few seconds, my brain went haywire. He thinks I’m pretty! I kept thinking. Schoolgirl giggles attempted to burble up my throat, and it was all I could do to keep myself from melting into a giddy little puddle right there in front of him.
I couldn’t believe what had happened. I’d spent the night with a guy Hollywood would probably love to put in front of a camera. A guy who knew how to kiss. Who knew how to... well, do other things women like, who could (possibly?) cook up a frittata, and who had a smile like that. And now he wanted to spend more time with me.
It was too good to be true. I heard Isabella’s voice joking that he had to be married. And he had to be, right? There was no way a man of this caliber was just walking around single. No way a guy like this could show interest in a Plain Jane from St. Louis despite all the dark-haired Italian hotties wandering around.
“Are you married?” I blurted out. I wanted to gobble the words back down right away. But I wanted to know the answer more.
Liam held out his hands and examined them, showing two bare ring fingers. “Not last I checked. Why? Are you?” One corner of his mouth ticked up in another small smile. I couldn’t tell if he was amused at me or with me.
I couldn’t blame him, if we switched places I’d definitely be wondering about the sanity of the mousy blonde sat across from me. And how to make a quick escape.
I couldn’t let him escape!
“No! Definitely not,” I said, holding up my own hands for proof.
“Why do you ask?” Liam said.
“Well, because you are hot. I mean really smoking. Like habanero pepper hot.” I couldn’t look at him anymore, so my eyes drifted down to the round bistro tabletop. I could see a silhouette of my reflection in it, as well as various white puddles of nondescript light.
Liam chuckled. It was a rich, throaty sound. It suited him, and I liked hearing it. “Habanero pepper hot? I’ve never heard that one. Thanks, I guess. What does my apparent hotness have to do with anything?”
“It’s just that I’m... I’m like mild salsa hot. Maybe medium on a good day.”
Liam sighed. I glanced up long enough to see that those eyebrows of his had knit together again. My heart plummeted into my stomach, which in turn fell down through my feet. This is it, I thought. He saw it now, too. Saw that my lukewarm mild salsa hotness did not compare at all to his.
“You’re wrong,” he said, followed by “Grazie,” when the Giancarlo-clone waiter came and set our drinks (Americanos for both of us) on the table. I barely looked up, worried that the heat in my cheeks had my face glowing cherry red.
“You’re definitely much hotter than mild salsa. You’re beautiful and funny and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since our night together. I want to get to know you, Emma. Now, how about some lunch?”