Run To Rome
Her shy smile came a little easier, and his heart beat faster. He picked up his fork and twirled pasta onto the tines. Time to stop acting like a virgin teenager; he hadn’t played that part in years. Maybe he should channel Shain.
Shain West appreciated and enjoyed the women in his scripted life, but he never actually fell for them. Trent straightened, shoved that last thought as far away as possible, and concentrated on his plate.
His first forkful brought forth an involuntary moan of approval. “Tastes even better.”
“It’s just spaghetti.”
Savory flavors of basil, tomato and just the right amount of garlic lingered on his tongue. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s really good.”
“Thank you.”
Heightened color in her cheeks told him she was pleased with the compliment.
Pavarotti’s Italian opera combined with the seemingly distant sounds of the town behind them, and the serenity of the lake in front of them. The night closed in, wrapping them in a sultry blanket of intimacy lit by candlelight, the quarter moon, and the stars in the clear sky above. Unattainable romance from the night before suddenly seemed attainable, and Trent fought not to take advantage of the unbearably sensuous situation he’d unintentionally created.
“Tell me about your last movie,” Halli prompted after a minute or two.
Safe subject. Thank God. Between bites, Trent gave her the DVD back cover blurb. Her revealing comment in the car after Rachel had been shot echoed in his memory—the scene with Shain West and the sheriff discussing Emma’s rescue had never appeared in any trailer. As the star and a producer on the film, he’d have known.
Lifting his wine glass, he watched her carefully as he said, “Hopefully they don’t give away the entire plot in the trailer like High Lonesome did.”
Her hand stilled, and then her guilty gaze met his. “Okay, fine, I watch your movies.”
“Why lie about it?”
“Your ego’s big enough, what do you care if I like you—r movies?”
His heart did a little flip at her slip up, but he covered with a mock-scowl. “Is there a compliment somewhere under that insult?”
She only laughed softly and took a sip of her own wine.
More than halfway through the meal, she’d finished most of the glass she’d earlier protested and had visibly mellowed. Either she’d taken his advice to heart, or the alcohol completely lowered her guard. His first inclination was to refill her glass, and she didn’t object.
While topping off his own, Trent’s hypocrisy slammed home with a jolt. Noble intentions? Unintentional seduction? The woman enticed him like crazy, and he’d plied her with wine, music and candles in the most romantic country in the world. Who the hell was he kidding? One crook of her finger and he’d be all over her.
In his head, Shain laughed his ass off at him and told him to go for it.
Trent set the bottle down and sat back, his appetite for food or drink gone, his mood equally demolished. She’d been right to call him a jerk all along.
Halli pushed her plate aside as if she were also done. “I’d like to make a toast.”
His fingers curled around the stem of his glass as she lifted hers. Her blue gaze found his in the candlelight and the warmth in her eyes
told him he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“First of all, thank you. For all you’ve done so far, and…this.” Her hand made an all-encompassing sweep of the table, boat and lake, though her voice wavered, as if she were uncertain. He felt worse than ever and hoped that was it, but she suddenly sat forward. Soft light shimmered in her hair, framing her earnest expression.
“I really am sorry about earlier…at Simone’s. I want to trust you, Trent. I do trust you, it’s just… so much has happened, so fast, and without any warning…it…takes me a little time to regroup each time, you know? Does that make sense?”
Unfortunately, it did. And unfortunately, understanding how she ticked did him no good. He needed to hold tight to his resentment over her mistrust, not sympathize with her emotions. Resentment would help him keep his distance much more effectively than sympathy.
“You were right about the quiet dinner clearing my mind. Maybe a little too much.”
A soft laugh and her embarrassed smile socked him in the gut.
“I feel like a complete idiot for doubting your intentions when you were only trying to be nice.”
Yep. Jerk with a capitol J. His grip tightened on the glass. “You were going to make a toast?”