The Playboy of Rome

“Look forward to what?”

“To you.”

“Really?” When he nodded, she added, “But the dinner was supposed to be special—for you.”

“For me?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “But why?”

“Because ever since that night when we...uhh...you know...”

“Made love.” It had been very special for him—for both of them. There was no way he could cheapen it by calling it sex. No matter what happened afterward.

“Uh, yes...well, after that you grew cold and distant. I was hoping that this dinner would change that.”

“But isn’t that what you wanted? Distance?”

Her fine brows rose. “Why would you think that?”

Now he had to admit what he’d done and he wasn’t any too proud of it. “I heard you.”

“Heard me say what?”

He kicked at a stone on the side of the desolate road. It skidded into the field. “When I found you gone that morning, I went searching for you. I knew that the night wasn’t anything either one of us planned and I was worried that maybe you’d regretted it.”

“But I didn’t...not like you’re thinking.”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Let me finish before I lose my nerve.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not proud of what I have to say.”

Her eyes implored him to get to the point.

“After I’d searched the whole apartment including your bedroom and found it empty, I panicked. I’d thought you’d left for good. But then I saw your suitcase. So I went down to the ristorante and that’s when I heard your voice. When I moved toward the office, I heard you on the phone. And when you said that what we had was a one-time thing—that it didn’t mean anything—I knew you regretted our lovemaking.”

“Oh, Dante. I’m so sorry you overheard that.”

Hope swelled in his chest. “Are you saying that all of this time I misunderstood?”

Her gaze dipped. “I wish I could tell you that, but I can’t.”

Piercing pain arrowed into his chest. His jaw tightened as he took a step back. He was standing here making a fool of himself for a lady who wanted nothing but to put thousands of miles between them.

“We should get back to the house and get your things.” He turned for the car feeling lower than he’d ever felt in his life.

“Wait! Please.” The pleading tone in her voice caused him to pause. She rushed to his side. “When I said those words, I was in the midst of a panic attack. That night had been so special. It had me reconsidering my future. I didn’t know what I was feeling for you. I just knew that I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“And then I turned around and hurt you by putting so much distance between us.”

She bit down on her lower lip and nodded.

Damn. What he knew about dealing with women and relationships couldn’t even fill up the thimble his father kept on his dresser as a reminder of his mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing in the world I wanted to do.”

“I never wanted to hurt you either. Is there any way we can go back to being friends?”

“I think we can do better than that.” His head dipped and caught her lips.

Not sure that he’d made the right move and not wanting to scare her off, he restrained himself, making the kiss brief. It was with great regret that he pulled away. But when she looked up at him and smiled, he knew that he’d made the right move. There was still something there. Something very special.

“See. Your dinner was very successful. It brought us back together. Thank you for not giving up on me and for going to all of the trouble to get through my thick skull.”

She lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. No way was he letting her get away twice. His arms quickly wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. It seemed like forever since he’d tasted her and held her. He didn’t ever want this moment to end. When she was in his arms, the world felt as if it had righted itself.