“The way you look at me. Intense. Searching. As if you’re trying to figure out who I am from a few minutes of conversation. A journalist’s eye.”
Her breath caught, just slightly. She hadn’t realized she had been studying him so openly. “How astute of you.”
A faint smile curved his mouth, warm and unsettling at once.
“Admit it. A part of you is thrilled we share something in common.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks, a response she refused to acknowledge. “Are you saying you’re skilled in observation too?”
“I could be a spy,” he drawled. “I am that skilled.”
She lifted her chin, softly amused despite herself. “How many people are in this café?”
“Nine,” he replied.
Sofia nodded, curiosity stirring. She knew why she guarded herself so carefully… but why did he? Not that she would ever ask a stranger such an intimate question.
He smiled at her, a subtle challenge. “And how many women?”
“Six,” she replied.
The barista leaned over and handed them their drinks. Sofia guided him to a small table in the corner, the one that allowed her a clear view of the door. If Tonio noticed, he gave no sign. She took a generous sip of her vanilla latte, and the first warm rush instantly settled her nerves. “You are finally forgiven.”
“How diabolical,” he said dryly, “to let me believe you’d forgiven me the moment you agreed to let me buy you a cup, while secretly plotting my downfall if that first sip failed to impress.”
A startled laugh escaped her, soft and unexpected. Her breath caught as she realized it was the first time she had laughed since her mother’s death.
“You’re staring,” he said lightly.
A small thrill ran through her—warning or temptation, she couldn’t tell. Her gaze stayed locked with his, and for a moment she couldn’t look away. “I was just… never mind.”
“The suspense of not knowing will now torture me for weeks. No, go on.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. “No. It was a private thought.”
“Those are the thoughts I most enjoy hearing.”
She exhaled, the truth slipping free before she could stop it. “I was trying to figure out why I find you interesting. Logically, I shouldn’t.”
“And why is that?”
“Because men like you…” She hesitated. “I don’t know men like you.”
Something flickered in his eyes—there and gone too quickly for her to name.
“I don’t mean that badly,” she added quickly. “I just don’t usually talk to guys who look like mob movie extras.”
“Mob movie extras?” A grin tugged at his mouth. “And yet… here you are. Allow me to express that appreciation by having dinner with me tonight.”
Her pulse stumbled. This… this was moving far too fast. “I… I have other commitments.”
“Ever wonder what it’d be like?”
Her breath hitched. “What would it be like?”
“Being with a man who looks like a mob movie extra.”
She should’ve laughed. Walked away. But she didn’t. There was something in his dry humor that she liked, even as the piercing steadiness of his gaze unsettled her.
