Travis scanned the park. “Funny, I don’t see any hippos anywhere.” He lowered his voice to an intimate hush. “I see you, Lily, and you are incredibly beautiful to me.”
This time, Lily let herself be held by him. A soft wind blew over them as time stood still.
Lily didn’t get it. The Travis she had been with all day was straight from her fantasies. Even when she’d had her little hissy fit at Nonna’s, which she was still awfully embarrassed about, Travis had been gallant, charming, and, amazingly enough, impressed with her creative ideas for his client’s house.
He had been, simply, the perfect man to share Tuscany with.
Which meant, of course, that all day Lily was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She couldn’t help but wonder at his abrupt transformation. After so many years of being treated like a second-class citizen—
none of which had stopped her lustful dreams about him, sadly enough—the new-and-improved Travis was almost too much to take in.
Lily needed some time alone to process things. It was all happening so fast. She felt perilously close to overload. They parked their rental car at the hotel and walked into the square.
When Travis got engrossed in a conversation with a master woodcarver, Lily took it as her chance to escape for a little while.
“Travis, I’m going to go down to the corner cafe to jot down some notes.” He made a move to wrap up his conversation, but she insisted, “Please don’t rush on my account. Take all the time you need.”
His eyes flashed something unreadable. Lily actually thought that she might have hurt his feelings for a minute, but that was laughable. How could she, Lily Ellis, actually make the king of all players upset?
Her head spinning with an odd mixture of hope and confusion, Lily made her way down the sun-filled lane to the cafe they had passed a few minutes ago. She stopped at a postcard display on the sidewalk and thumbed through them, wishing that Janica could be there. How her sister would love the natural, overwhelming beauty of Italy.
Lily could only imagine the kind of designs Janica would come up with after seeing the way the locals dressed. Tuscan women had a natural sexuality to them, whether they were big or small, and Lily noticed that they made a special point to show off their br**sts and hips. Lily wished she had the guts to dress like that on more than just special occasions. But she would feel so naked without her layers of clothes to cover her flaws. Maybe Americans didn’t have that special brand of European confidence, she mused.
But Janica did, and Lily was certain that her sister would understand how to tap into the Italian flair for sensuality and beauty.
But then again, Lily thought with a naughty grin, if Janica had been there, everything would have been different. No shared baths with Travis, no trysts in an olive grove.
Lily clasped the postcards tighter as the realization hit her that this was the first time she’d ever been on her own without someone to take care of.
Taking care of Travis? That was laughable. He could be thrown into a fast-moving stream with no paddle, and he’d somehow manage to not only come out of the ordeal alive, but with the white water wrapped around his little finger, obeying his every command.
But Lily had always taken care of Janica. Even before their parents died Lily had felt responsible for her baby sister and her happiness. This really was the first week she could ever remember truly being on her own. Until the trip to Italy there had been no time for pampering herself.
Had she given too much of herself away in the raising of her baby sister?
No, that was crazy. Everything she had done for her sister she had done for love. And that made it all worthwhile. Not to mention the fact that Janica had grown up to be a brilliant designer and Lily’s best girlfriend in the whole world.
She was so lost in her thoughts that when a gorgeous Italian man slipped the postcards from her fingers, and said, “I will buy these for you,” she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh my,” she said, her hand clutching her rapidly beating pulse, “I didn’t see you standing there.”
The tall, dark man smiled, and something warm fluttered through her. He wasn’t Travis, nonetheless, he was very yummy-looking. He placed some coins on the counter and took her arm, leading her down the sidewalk.
“Oh no,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the storefront. “I can’t let you pay for my postcards.”
“I am Raffaele,” he said, ignoring her protests, “but my friends call me Rafe.”
Lily blushed under the heat of his gaze and the special meaning he had attached to the word “friends.”
She wished she had more practice at this sort of thing. What did one say to a gorgeous man when he was picking you up in a foreign country?
“And your name?”
Ah yes. Her name. Too bad she was too flustered to think of the simple things. “Lily,” she said. “My name is Lily.”
Rafe gave her another penetratingly beautiful smile and guided her into one of the outdoor wicker seats at the cafe. He snapped his fingers in the waiter’s direction. Seconds later, two steaming cups of espresso were placed in front of them.
“American?”
Lily nodded.
“Beautiful,” he said.
Rafe’s accent licked around Lily like a warm blanket on a cold night. It seemed that being with Travis had opened her up on so many levels. While she didn’t want to go to bed with Rafe—as gorgeous as he was, there was only one man she had eyes for—she didn’t mind the impromptu flirting lesson.
Conjuring up her latent inner-flirt, she pretended to misinterpret his compliment. “Yes, America is beautiful. But Italy is stunning.”
“No,” he said, as he boldly ran one finger down her cheekbone, “you are beautiful, Lily.”
Trying not to flinch from his overly forward touch, Lily raised an eyebrow, and said, “Tell me, Rafe, do you hit on every American woman who comes through town?”
It took her new friend a long moment to answer her question. His gaze barely wavering from her br**sts, he said, “You are special, Lily.”
Had she not been interested in learning the finer points of flirting to use on Travis later that night, Lily would have snorted her disbelief.
She might have been an inexperienced, but even so it was perfectly clear to Lily that Rafe was playing the part of an obviously well endowed Italian (she would have been blind not to have noticed the huge bulge between his legs) who rescued lonely American female tourists. Which wasn’t that bad a thing, really, considering how potent and sensual Rafe looked to be fully clothed. For the briefest of moments Lily let herself indulge in a little daydream about what it would be like to sleep with this anonymous Italian, trying not to feel guilty about Travis as she indulged her imagination.
This time, Lily let herself be held by him. A soft wind blew over them as time stood still.
Lily didn’t get it. The Travis she had been with all day was straight from her fantasies. Even when she’d had her little hissy fit at Nonna’s, which she was still awfully embarrassed about, Travis had been gallant, charming, and, amazingly enough, impressed with her creative ideas for his client’s house.
He had been, simply, the perfect man to share Tuscany with.
Which meant, of course, that all day Lily was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She couldn’t help but wonder at his abrupt transformation. After so many years of being treated like a second-class citizen—
none of which had stopped her lustful dreams about him, sadly enough—the new-and-improved Travis was almost too much to take in.
Lily needed some time alone to process things. It was all happening so fast. She felt perilously close to overload. They parked their rental car at the hotel and walked into the square.
When Travis got engrossed in a conversation with a master woodcarver, Lily took it as her chance to escape for a little while.
“Travis, I’m going to go down to the corner cafe to jot down some notes.” He made a move to wrap up his conversation, but she insisted, “Please don’t rush on my account. Take all the time you need.”
His eyes flashed something unreadable. Lily actually thought that she might have hurt his feelings for a minute, but that was laughable. How could she, Lily Ellis, actually make the king of all players upset?
Her head spinning with an odd mixture of hope and confusion, Lily made her way down the sun-filled lane to the cafe they had passed a few minutes ago. She stopped at a postcard display on the sidewalk and thumbed through them, wishing that Janica could be there. How her sister would love the natural, overwhelming beauty of Italy.
Lily could only imagine the kind of designs Janica would come up with after seeing the way the locals dressed. Tuscan women had a natural sexuality to them, whether they were big or small, and Lily noticed that they made a special point to show off their br**sts and hips. Lily wished she had the guts to dress like that on more than just special occasions. But she would feel so naked without her layers of clothes to cover her flaws. Maybe Americans didn’t have that special brand of European confidence, she mused.
But Janica did, and Lily was certain that her sister would understand how to tap into the Italian flair for sensuality and beauty.
But then again, Lily thought with a naughty grin, if Janica had been there, everything would have been different. No shared baths with Travis, no trysts in an olive grove.
Lily clasped the postcards tighter as the realization hit her that this was the first time she’d ever been on her own without someone to take care of.
Taking care of Travis? That was laughable. He could be thrown into a fast-moving stream with no paddle, and he’d somehow manage to not only come out of the ordeal alive, but with the white water wrapped around his little finger, obeying his every command.
But Lily had always taken care of Janica. Even before their parents died Lily had felt responsible for her baby sister and her happiness. This really was the first week she could ever remember truly being on her own. Until the trip to Italy there had been no time for pampering herself.
Had she given too much of herself away in the raising of her baby sister?
No, that was crazy. Everything she had done for her sister she had done for love. And that made it all worthwhile. Not to mention the fact that Janica had grown up to be a brilliant designer and Lily’s best girlfriend in the whole world.
She was so lost in her thoughts that when a gorgeous Italian man slipped the postcards from her fingers, and said, “I will buy these for you,” she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh my,” she said, her hand clutching her rapidly beating pulse, “I didn’t see you standing there.”
The tall, dark man smiled, and something warm fluttered through her. He wasn’t Travis, nonetheless, he was very yummy-looking. He placed some coins on the counter and took her arm, leading her down the sidewalk.
“Oh no,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the storefront. “I can’t let you pay for my postcards.”
“I am Raffaele,” he said, ignoring her protests, “but my friends call me Rafe.”
Lily blushed under the heat of his gaze and the special meaning he had attached to the word “friends.”
She wished she had more practice at this sort of thing. What did one say to a gorgeous man when he was picking you up in a foreign country?
“And your name?”
Ah yes. Her name. Too bad she was too flustered to think of the simple things. “Lily,” she said. “My name is Lily.”
Rafe gave her another penetratingly beautiful smile and guided her into one of the outdoor wicker seats at the cafe. He snapped his fingers in the waiter’s direction. Seconds later, two steaming cups of espresso were placed in front of them.
“American?”
Lily nodded.
“Beautiful,” he said.
Rafe’s accent licked around Lily like a warm blanket on a cold night. It seemed that being with Travis had opened her up on so many levels. While she didn’t want to go to bed with Rafe—as gorgeous as he was, there was only one man she had eyes for—she didn’t mind the impromptu flirting lesson.
Conjuring up her latent inner-flirt, she pretended to misinterpret his compliment. “Yes, America is beautiful. But Italy is stunning.”
“No,” he said, as he boldly ran one finger down her cheekbone, “you are beautiful, Lily.”
Trying not to flinch from his overly forward touch, Lily raised an eyebrow, and said, “Tell me, Rafe, do you hit on every American woman who comes through town?”
It took her new friend a long moment to answer her question. His gaze barely wavering from her br**sts, he said, “You are special, Lily.”
Had she not been interested in learning the finer points of flirting to use on Travis later that night, Lily would have snorted her disbelief.
She might have been an inexperienced, but even so it was perfectly clear to Lily that Rafe was playing the part of an obviously well endowed Italian (she would have been blind not to have noticed the huge bulge between his legs) who rescued lonely American female tourists. Which wasn’t that bad a thing, really, considering how potent and sensual Rafe looked to be fully clothed. For the briefest of moments Lily let herself indulge in a little daydream about what it would be like to sleep with this anonymous Italian, trying not to feel guilty about Travis as she indulged her imagination.
