“What I mean is, I’m your boss. It’s not strange that I’d be attracted to you—” God, I was about to put myself in lawsuit-land again. “My point is, if you are uncomfortable now or anytime, we can end this. I value you as my assistant and I don’t want to mess that up.”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s a little awkward, but I know this is all for business. I don’t think you’re trying to take advantage of me.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “That would be silly.”
I frowned. “What would?”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug and looked out the window again. “You taking advantage of me.”
I still didn’t get it. “I’m not the type of man who would do that.”
“No, you’re not. And I’m not the type of woman that men would be tempted to do that to.”
I might have been a bit slow, but I finally figured out she was saying she didn’t think she was the type of woman a man like me would be tempted by. The truth was, until recently, I hadn’t ever looked at her in a sexual way. But that was primarily because she worked for me and that would be inappropriate. If I was a man who dated and saw her in a bar or however men met women these days, I’d be attracted to her.
I gave a small uncomfortable laugh as I realized I was about to venture into inappropriate talk again. She flinched at my laugh, and I cursed myself for bruising her ego yet again.
“I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m trying to figure out a way to tell you that you are the type of woman to tempt a man, even a man like me, without coming off creepy or being completely inappropriate.”
Her expression relaxed. “Maybe we need to try and forget that I’m your assistant and you’re my boss.”
That seemed like a horrible idea. If I didn’t keep reminding myself that she was my assistant, I could possibly cross the line even more.
“We could be friends on this trip. Friends pretending to be engaged,” she offered.
Friends. Men didn’t think inappropriate thoughts about their friends, did they? I could try that.
“Friends,” I said in agreement.
We flew to New York, and then overnight to Rome, and finally caught our flight to Florence. It was nearly noon Italian time when we arrived in Florence, and who the hell knew what time it was back at home? Probably still the middle of the night. Fortunately, we were both able to get some sleep on the flight over the Atlantic, so we weren’t completely out of it.
A driver picked us up in Florence to take us to LaMont’s place out in the Tuscan countryside.
“I am Paolo. Do you require any stops before we head to Signor LaMont’s?” our driver said.
“I think we’re ready to reach our destination and get cleaned up,” I said.
“Very good.” Paolo led us out to a dark sedan and “Signor LaMont says to enjoy the wine, and bread and cheese,” Paolo said in his thick Italian accent. Then he shook his head, “The French and their bread and cheese.”
“Italians don’t like bread and cheese?” I opened the picnic basket in the backseat where I saw two bottles of wine along with assorted breads and cheeses. I wondered how long this drive was that we’d go through two bottles of wine.
“Well, yes we do. But it’s so French, isn’t it? In Italy we prefer a good antipasto. But don’t mind me. Mangiate.”
“Wine?” I asked Kellie.
“When in Rome…or in this case Florence,” she said with a smile. I poured us both a glass and handed her one.
“To Italy,” I said, clicking my glass with hers.
“Si,” she responded and then sipped the wine.
“Mr. LaMont says you two are getting married. There’s no better country than Italy to get married,” Paolo said affably from the front seat.
I remember then that I was supposed to be acting like I was in love with Kellie. “We’re very honored that Mr. LaMont is doing this for us, aren’t we honey?”
Kellie’s gaze shot to mine. “Yes…er…honey.”
I downed my wine, thinking maybe I’d get to that second bottle after all.
“It’s a good thing you’re here. All marriages ever held at Signor LaMont’s villa have lasted a lifetime, starting back in the sixteenth century. They say some homes are cursed, but Villa Amorino is blessed, some say by Cupido himself.”