Her Roman Holiday

by Jamie Anderson

  She sighed. After all, such speculations didn’t necessarily mean that getting involved with someone like Gio was in any way a good idea.

  Calia frowned, and her reluctance must have shown in her expression, because Gio sat forward and took one of her hands in his, sending shivers through her, even as she held herself stiffly back from increasing the contact. He met her gaze and she wanted to lose herself in the hypnotic beauty of his eyes. “Calia. It will only be a pretense. A charade. You need not worry that anything more will come of it.” He smiled. “Tonight, it would be useful if I did not have to worry about Antonia’s machinations. If you do this for me, I will pay you.”

  Those final words broke the spell. She pulled her hand from his, her face heating with a combination of shame and anger. “No. You will not. If I agree to this, then it’ll be because I want to. Because you’ve done me the kindness of offering your hospitality and have asked me for a favour in return. Not for money.”

  “I am sorry,” he said smoothly. “I have offended you once again, and that was not my intention. Please forget I ever mentioned money.”

  Calia nodded.

  “So you’ll do it then? As a favour to me?”

  “I guess it serves me right for putting it in those terms.” She gave him a rueful smile. “How can I refuse, under the circumstances?”

  “Excellent.” He finished the last of his coffee. “And remember, not a word to Paolo about what was discussed earlier.” He impaled her with that disconcertingly sensual gaze.

  “As if I would.” To Calia’s relief, the rejoinder came out sounding composed, with a tart undertone. No hint at all of the jangling excitement that suffused her—of the stretched tension that had settled, like a second skin, all over her body, making her want to touch him and feel the brush of his lips against hers. “What do you take me for anyway?”

  He shrugged. “Indiscretions come naturally to women.”

  Calia blinked, wondering, at first, if she had misheard him. He had spoken in such a casual tone, as if his observation were a well-known fact. “I can’t believe I heard you say that. Just because Antonia’s giving you a hard time doesn’t mean you can tar me with the same brush.”

  He raised cool eyebrows at her. “You think I would reach such conclusions based on a single example?” He shook his head. “No. I have seen enough to know that putting your trust in a woman is folly at best and stupidity at worst. Antonia only reinforces that conclusion, I will add.”

  “You don’t look like a throwback or dress like a throwback, but boy, do you ever talk like one,” she snapped.

  “Because I do not trust like a fool? Because I have not allowed myself to be ensnared by the wiles of some woman?”

  “Aren’t you taking the ‘once bitten, twice shy’ mentality to extremes? One or two untrustworthy women…”

  “Every woman I have known has betrayed me in one way or another.”

  “Now who has the penchant for hyperbole? So what about Larissa?”

  “She is a good woman—she has been like a mother to me. What is the saying in English? The exception that proves the rule?”

  Calia opened her mouth to continue the argument, then stopped herself. After all, it wasn’t her job to try to convince him that his views were foolish, antiquated and perhaps even self-destructive, if they prevented him from trusting enough to enjoy the companionship of female friends and lovers. She released a slow breath. “So what’s this reception for, anyway?”

  He sat back, watching her, but the hint of a smile that touched his mouth was his only acknowledgment of the abrupt shift in topic. “I am in the midst of some important negotiations for the purchase of a holding in France. The reception is being held by one of the selling company’s subsidiaries. Several of the key figures who will be involved in the upcoming meetings arrived in Rome today.”

  “So this is your chance to hobnob.” Calia nodded, a grin creeping across her face. “Well, I suppose I’d be an idiot to pass on a chance to watch the master at work.”

  They left for the reception not long after. Calia spent most of the drive trying to distract herself from the acute awareness of Gio’s presence beside her. Staring out the window at the passing scenery helped a little and so she forced herself to concentrate on how their journey took them from golden rural beauty to the bustling vibrancy of the city.

  But, despite her attempts at diversion, by the time they had pulled into a parking space and Gio was walking around to her door, Calia felt wrung out from the taut sexual tension that lay, unacknowledged, between them.

  The touch of his hand against hers sent heated tendrils of excitement through her as he helped her out of the car. Calia prayed that her expression didn’t betray the intensity of her response to him.

  He released her hand and slammed the car door shut while he checked his watch. “We still have some time before the reception. Shall we get dinner? Or would you rather wait till afterwards?”

  “Won’t Larissa be expecting us?”

  He shook his head. “I told her we would get something in the city. And I know an excellent restaurant not far from here.”

  Calia hesitated. After all, it was bad enough that she was taking advantage of this man’s hospitality, staying at his house, eating his food, invading his privacy. She didn’t like the idea of compounding that by also expecting him to feed her when they were out. “I don’t actually have any money right now, Gio. I feel wrong about this—”

  “Nonsense. You are my guest. Even if you had money, I would not allow you to pay while you are under my hospitality.”

  “But you’ve already helped me more than I can repay—”

  “Why is it always about money, for you?” he said, his voice edged with irritation. “I did not offer you my hospitality with the expectation of remuneration.”

  “I know you didn’t, and I do appreciate it.”

  “Well then, you can reciprocate the courtesy by not bringing up the cost of things at every turn. Perhaps it is time for you to learn that sometimes, it is better to just accept help gracefully when you are in need of it.”

  Calia sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’ve always had trouble admitting when I need help. If you hadn’t forced it down my throat earlier, I’d probably be wandering around Rome right now, trying to figure out where I was going to sleep.”

  They had turned down a quiet side street, and now, Gio paused in front of a modest awning. The front window was simple, bearing the scripted words “Il Fornello”.

  He flashed a grin that made her catch her breath. “Instead of which, you are about to enjoy a meal at one of my city’s best restaurants. Not the finest, perhaps, nor the most expensive. But the food is par none. One of Rome’s best kept secrets.”

  He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. With her awareness of his presence, she felt as much as heard his movements behind her, as he allowed the door to close and followed her into the front foyer of the restaurant. How utterly frustrating, that a man like Gio could trigger her senses into overdrive, while spouting views from the dark ages, that had her temper rocketing even higher.

  Calia watched as Gio entered into a murmured discussion with the maitre d’. He was, without a doubt, the sexiest man she had ever known. And she had seen the dark flare of attraction in his eyes when he looked at her.

  So fine—they’d never succeed in a relationship. But she wasn’t interested in a relationship right now, anyway. She wanted to enjoy her freedom, not tie herself down with obligations and commitments.

  A smile curled her lips as she and Gio followed the maitre d’ to a quiet corner. Maybe a flirtation with someone like Gio was exactly what she needed right now—to play off of their explosive chemistry.

  She’d give him the signals and see where that took them. She found herself watching him covertly as she wondered if the sex would be as mindblowing as she suspected. With any luck, she’d have the opportunity to find out. How perfect would that be: spicy sex with one of the hotte
st men she’d ever encountered. And not even the faintest shadow of a chance that it might develop into something more serious than a liaison.

  As she settled herself at the table and perused the menu, she chuckled.

  “What amuses you?”

  She glanced up at him, her grin growing wider. “I guess I’ve got more of an appetite than I realized.”

  “You have the look of … what is it you say? The cat who has been eating the cream.”

  “I was thinking about dessert.”

  “You have a sweet tooth?”

  Her gaze lingered on him. “Oh, absolutely.”

  Gio’s eyes darkened, as one corner of his mouth lifted. “Why is it that I get the impression we are no longer talking about food?”

  “Oh.” She gave him a look of mock innocence. “We were supposed to be talking about food?”

  * * *

  The meal began with the antipasti—paper-thin slices of prosciutto served with mozzarella and fresh fruit. The contrasting tastes mingled on Calia’s tongue, bursting with full, succulent flavour. She sighed with pleasure and let her eyelids drift shut as she savoured her first bite.

  She opened her eyes to find Gio watching her, apparently riveted by the sensuality of her enjoyment.

  “You really take delight in your food,” he said, a smile touching his lips.

  She took a tiny sip of wine and gave him a languid grin, resolving right then to display every bit of voluptuous enjoyment she derived from this meal. If it drove him wild, all the better. “Food is one of the great pleasures in life.”

  “One of them, yes.”

  Calia raised a brow. “Care to elaborate on that?”

  “You may be young, but I should think you are old enough to fill in the blanks.”

  She tilted her head. “How old do you think I am, anyway?”

  She began to regret asking when he took his time formulating a response, his gaze sweeping over her in calculating appraisal. “It is difficult to say. This morning, I would have said you were no more than… a college sophomore… that is what you North Americans say, isn’t it? But this evening…” he shook his head. “I think you may be older than I first thought.”

  “Well, I can’t be anything except flattered, if you thought I was still in college. What’s different about me now, that made you change your mind?”

  “I’d be straying into dangerous territory if I answered that.”

  “Ah, but you’re a man who takes risks, aren’t you?”

  He inclined his head, that same hint of a smile touching his mouth. “It would be a bigger fool than I who’d take on the female of the species over the subject of her age. Even I know the difference between calculated risk and blind stupidity. But, suffice to say that this morning, you were all youthful, fresh-faced beauty. Tonight, you have an air of self-contained sophistication that makes you seem more worldly.”

  “Ah, bravo.” She smiled as she tried not to feel absurdly pleased that he thought her beautiful. “A tidy escape if ever I heard one. And to allay any concerns you might have, I’m twenty-six.”

  “You do not feel that a woman should preserve her mystique?”

  Calia laughed. “If the only mystique I can cultivate has to do with speculation about my age, I can just as easily do without, thanks.”

  The pasta course consisted of a primavera dish whose tossed vegetables and farfalle were tantalizingly enhanced by hints of zesty citrus and roasted garlic. Again, Calia closed her eyes as she allowed the flavours to burst onto her tastebuds.

  “Exquisite,” she murmured, glancing up to meet his gaze. The sensuality of her enjoyment shifted in tone as they watched each other in electric silence. Then, she deliberately broke the connection. With languid movements, she speared a vegetable. As she raised it to her mouth, she allowed herself to look at him once again. She let her teeth scrape against the tines of the fork as she slid it from between her lips. He watched as if mesmerized, his nostrils flaring, his eyes intense.

  “Vixen. You are fixing to drive me mad, yes?”

  “Is it working?”

  “What do you think?”

  She licked her lips, allowing her teeth to rake lightly over her lower lip as she watched him. “Excellent.”

  His brows drew together in the faintest of frowns, but his gaze did not waver from her mouth. “What I am wondering, however, is why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Why you have decided to seduce me.”

  “Must there be a motive?”

  His mouth lifted cynically. “I find that a woman usually has a motive for seducing a man.”

  The mood shattered. Calia gave him a hard smile. “Unlike men, of course, who are as guileless as the morning sky.”

  “I did not say that.”

  “You implied it by omission.”

  He set down his fork and looked at her. The ardour in his eyes had receded, replaced by a cool look of assessment. “Men generally seduce women with a certain simplicity of motive. Desire.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Lust. Call it what you will. Women, however, usually want something more than that.”

  “How utterly fascinating. You’re obviously quite the connoisseur of human nature.”

  “Spare me your sarcasm. I am merely suggesting that we save ourselves unnecessary grief later by setting down our terms at the outset.”

  “You want terms?” With an effort, she kept her voice controlled. “All right, I’ll give you terms. No strings. No implication of anything beyond the act itself.” She straightened, feeling more incensed by the moment. “And I’ll go one better on you by also outlining my expectation. All I would want from you is a really good screw,” she said, enunciating clearly.

  “There is no need to be crude.” He sighed. “I suppose this is your way of getting back at me for spoiling the mood.”

  “Awww. And here I was, trying so hard to phrase this in terms you’d understand.”

  He took a bite of pasta and chewed it with deliberation. “So, you say you are interested in nothing more than a temporary arrangement. That lust is your primary motivation?”

  “What other motive would I have?”

  He shrugged. “Under similar circumstances, some women might be moved to make such advances out of gratitude; others, in the hopes of securing some form of compensation in return.”

  “Don’t even go there.” She spoke from between clenched teeth.

  He inclined his head, maddeningly unfazed. “So, where does that leave us, then?” he asked, watching her with a look of polite inquiry. As if they were discussing a business deal. And perhaps, as far as he was concerned, they were.

  Over her dead body.

  She gave him a cursory smile. “Having dinner together, I think.”

  “And then…?”

  “And then, we go to the reception, where I pretend to be your latest lover.”

  “Pretend?”

  She nodded, suppressing the spark of anger that his bland manner kept trying to ignite. “Yes. Pretend. Call me crazy, but being asked if I expect remuneration in return for sexual favours somehow has a way of killing my desire.”

  “You do not consider it a reasonable question for someone in my position?”

  She prayed for patience, even as she felt her temper fraying. “I don’t know your life or the kinds of circles you frequent. Maybe it is a reasonable question for you to ask, given that you’ve got gobs of money. But here’s the thing: reasonable or otherwise, it’s the kind of question that totally extinguishes any urges I might be experiencing. Candle snuffed and gone. I don’t think about making love in those kinds of terms.”

  “I see.”

  “And, difficult though it may be to believe, I had absolutely no bigger agenda when I started flirting. Somehow, relinquishing even an iota of my independence to a Neanderthal-minded chauvinist just isn’t on my life’s agenda—strange though that may seem to you.” So much for staying calm.

  “Charmingly put, as always. But, I am delighted to hea
r it, nonetheless. And you may be likewise assured that I would have no designs on that vaunted independence of yours. You are certainly far from what I would have in mind as an ideal wife.”

  Calia gave a hard laugh. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Given your views on women, I’d actually be quite alarmed if you felt anything other than disapproval for someone like me.”

  He snorted. “I do not hate women.”

  “No, of course not,” she said dryly. “Let me guess: some of your best friends are women, right?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but—”

  “Oh, come on Gio! You’re a total misogynist. Why not just admit it?” Calia grinned as she spoke, amused, in spite of herself, by his blatant denials.

  “I prefer the term ‘realist’. You are a flawed gender, that is all. I love women.” At Calia’s disbelieving look, he relented, a smile tugging at his lips. “But perhaps I do not like them very much.”

  “And at last we have the truth of it!” But, notwithstanding her indignation on behalf of all womankind, Calia decided to let it go. She reminded herself that she was just passing through, anyway. The most she could do, during whatever brief acquaintance they shared, was avoid giving Gio cause to reinforce his low opinion of women—and let him take that as he would.

  “The truth perhaps—in the eyes of a rabid feminist.”

  She gave him her best empty-headed look. “You say the sweetest things, Gio.” She pretended to look puzzled. “But somehow, you manage to make them sound like insults.”

  He shook his head, his expression caught between amusement and irritation.

  Calia was surprised to find, on the heels of her annoyance, a feeling of potent exhilaration. It buoyed her up, making her feel flushed and powerful in the wake of their discussion.

  She frowned. She couldn’t possibly enjoy sparring with a Paleolithic carryover like him, could she?

  “Look,” she said, after a few moments. “Why don’t we just play it by ear? We can see how it goes. I find you very attractive, but I have to say, your pickup lines need some work.” She leaned forward, as if imparting an intimate secret. “Here’s a tip: asking a woman ‘how much?’ is a really bad idea, unless she’s in a very specific line of work.”