The Playboy of Rome

She smiled.

“That’s what I want.” The director’s voice drew her attention. “I want that spark and easy interaction on the camera.”

Lizzie inwardly groaned. The man didn’t know what he was asking of her. She chanced a glance at Dante as he returned the pot to a shelf. She wasn’t the only one who’d reverted back behind a wall. He had been keeping his distance around her, too. She wondered if he regretted their kissing? Or was it something deeper? Did it have something to do with the reason Dante lived all alone in that spacious apartment that was far too big for just one person?

“Okay, let’s try this shot again.”

Lizzie took her position at the counter, trying her best to act relaxed and forget about the camera facing her. But as Dante began his lines and moved around her, showing her how to prepare the pasta alla gricia, she could smell his spicy aftershave. It’d be so easy to give in to her desires. But where would that leave her? Brokenhearted and alone. Her muscles stiffened.

“Cut.” The director walked up to her. “I don’t understand. We’ve worked together before and you did wonderfully. What’s the problem now?”

The problem was Dante looked irresistibly sexy in his pressed white jacket. She swallowed hard. As she took a deep calming breath, she recalled his fresh, soapy scent. Mmm...he smelled divine. What was she supposed to do? When he got close enough to assist her with the food prep, she panicked— worried she’d end up caring about him. That she’d end up falling for him. And that just couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it.

“Nothing is wrong.” She hoped her voice sounded more assured than she felt at the moment. “I’ll do better.”

The director frowned at her. “Maybe you should take a break. We’ll shoot the next segment with just Dante.”

Lizzie felt like a kid in school that had just gotten a stern warning from the principal before being dismissed to go contemplate her actions. Keeping her gaze straight ahead and well away from Dante, she headed for the coffeepot, where she filled up a cup. After a couple of dashes of sugar and topping it off with cream, she headed for the office. It was her only refuge from prying eyes.

She resisted the urge to close the door. She didn’t need them speculating that she’d dissolved into a puddle of tears. It would take a lot more than messing up a shot to start the waterworks.

More than anything, she was frustrated. She grabbed for her cell phone, wanting to hear Jules’s voice. Her foster sister always had a way of talking her off ledges. But just as she was about to press the last digit, she realized that with the time difference, Jules would still be sound asleep.

Lizzie slid the phone back in her pocket. What was she going to do now? Dante was totally showing her up in there. The thought did not sit well with her at all.

Since when did she let a man get to her? She could be a professional. She wasn’t some teenager with a crush. She was a grown woman with responsibilities. It was time she started acting that way before this whole spotlight series went up in flames.

“Are you all right?” Dante’s voice came from behind her.

“I’m fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you haven’t been acting like yourself.” Concern reflected in his eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I’ll help if I can.”

“Don’t do that.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“Act like we’re something we’re not.” If he continued to treat her this way, her resolve would crack. And she didn’t want to rely on him. She knew what would happen then. He’d pull back just like her ex had done. Men were only into women for an uncomplicated good time.

And she was anything but uncomplicated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dante’s voice took on a deeper tone. “All I wanted to do was help.” He held up his hands innocently. “But I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

He stormed back out the door.

Good. Not that she was happy that he was upset. But she could deal with his agitation much easier than she could his niceness. Each kind word he spoke to her was one more chip at the wall she’d carefully built over the years to protect herself. And she wasn’t ready to take it down for him or anyone.

At last, feeling as though she had her head screwed on straight, she returned to the kitchen. The director looked at her as though studying her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

The director had them take their places as Lizzie sensed Dante’s agitation and distance. She was sorry that it had to be this way, but she could at last think straight. And when the director called a halt to the filming, it was Dante who fouled up the shot. They redid it a few times until the director was satisfied.

This arrangement may have been her idea, but at the time she hadn’t a clue how hard it was going to b

e to work so closely with Dante. Still, she had to do this. She didn’t have a choice. There were bills to meet and grad school to pay.

She just had to pretend that Dante was no one special. But was that possible in the long run? How was she supposed to ignore these growing feelings when she found Dante fascinating in every way?