The Playboy of Rome

“I’m just staying out of the way. Is all of that stuff necessary?”

“There’s not much. You should see what they have in the studio.”

“I don’t remember all of those things when they filmed here before.”

She shrugged. “Are you ready for this?”

He wasn’t. He really didn’t want to be a television star, but he’d given his word and he wouldn’t go back on that—he wouldn’t disappoint Lizzie. She’d been disappointed too many times in her life.

“Yes, I am. We need to get this done before the employees show up to get everything started for the lunch crowd. What do we need to do first?”

“You need makeup.”

“What?” He shook his head and waved off the idea. “I don’t think so.”

His thoughts filled with images of some lady applying black eyeliner and lipstick to him. His nose turned up at the idea. No way. Wasn’t happening. Not in his lifetime.

“Is it really that bad?” Lizzie’s sweet laugh grated on his taut nerves.

“I agreed to teach you to cook in front of the cameras, but I never agreed to eyeliner.”

Lizzie stepped closer. “What? You don’t think you need a little cover stick and maybe a little blush.”

His gaze narrowed on her as she stopped right in front of him. The amusement danced in her eyes. He truly believed, next to her visit with his grandfather, this was the happiest he’d seen her. He didn’t want it to end, but he had to draw a line when it came to makeup.

“I’m not doing it. And you can keep smiling at me, but it isn’t going to change my mind.”

Her fingertip stroked along his jaw. “Mmm, nice. Someone just shaved.”

Yes, he had. Twice. “That doesn’t have anything to do with makeup.”

Her light touch did the craziest things to his pulse. And was that the sweet scent of her perfume? Or was it the lingering trace of her shampoo? He inhaled deeper. Whatever it was, he could definitely get used to it.

Her fingertip moved to his bottom lip, which triggered nerve endings that shot straight through to his core. Her every touch was agonizing as he struggled not to pull her close and replace her finger with her lips. But he’d once again given his word to be on his best behavior.

He caught her arm and pulled it away from his mouth. “You might want to stop doing that or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Her baby blues opened wide and her pink frosty lips formed an O.

She withdrew her arm and stepped back. He regretted putting an end to her fun as she seemed to regress back into her shell. He wished she’d let that side of her personality out more often. But obviously he’d have to get a better grip on himself so that next time he didn’t chase her away.

She was so beautiful. So amazing. So very tempting. And he’d been the biggest fool in the world to promise to be a gentleman. But he had no one to blame for this agonizing torture except himself.

* * *

“You need to loosen up. Act natural.”

Lizzie glanced up at the director, thinking he was talking to Dante. After all, she’d done this sort of thing before—acting in front of the cameras. But instead of the young guy giving Dante a pointed look, the man was staring directly at her. Her chest tightened.

“I...I am.”

The man shook his head and turned to his cameraman to say something.

Dante moved to her side. “What’s the matter, Lizzie? Where’s the woman who just a little bit ago was teasing me about makeup?”

She refused to let him get the best of her. “Speaking of which, I see that you’re wearing some. Looks good. Except you might want a little more eyeliner.”

“What?” He grabbed a stainless-steel pot and held it up so he could see his reflection. His dark brows drew together. “I’m not wearing eyeliner.”