Their willingness to chat with each other gives me time to mull over things. I shocked myself, reaching for Diego. For a moment, I had someone else care about my father as much as I did. It was nice. Mother cared in her way, I suppose.
But Diego is as outwardly impressed with him as I am. Common ground and shared experiences, I guess, are the magnetic forces drawing us together.
Even now, with his eyes glancing at me occasionally, they linger, curious and unwavering, as if he’s reading into what transpired between us as I am now. What I can’t deny is the spark between us. The annoyance I felt for him suddenly melted into something else entirely.
They say you can’t test the chemistry between people as you can elements in a lab. Now I understand. What I felt was a gravitational pull into him, and I enjoyed the feel of his body against mine. His steady and sure pulse was comforting in my ear as I pressed my cheek to his chest.
“You okay, Isabella?”
My name passing his lips does something to me. It has a rasp to it, deep and throaty. Maybe that’s why he has a fan club in the front row, that voice and those looks. Add in the oozing charm and charisma, and it’s a deadly combination.
I level my gaze at him, ignoring my Papà’s sudden musing over how they name the flavors.
“Just a little shaken up.”
“Understandable.”
His clipped response is cut off by melting ice cream dripping down the side of his cone. I go to get more napkins when I suddenly feel his presence behind me.
“I’m glad I was there for you, Isabella.”
My hand rests on the dispenser. The heat from his chest against my back causes my breath to hitch.
“Also, glad for what is happening between us.”
“Diego.”
His name drags out of me, groaning at how I’m going to have to eat crow when I walk back what I said earlier. I turn to face him, our bodies inches apart. It’s too close to be anything but personal.
“Listen . . .”
He’s still holding the cone that’s dripping even worse. I point to it, and he suddenly throws it in the trash bin beside us, slowly licking the ice cream from his fingers.
My breath stops when I see his thick tongue lick the remnants. My body is going haywire, thinking of other places he could use it. He notices immediately. A sly smile pulls at the corner of his lips, revealing beautiful, straight white teeth.
His head ducks, his lips almost touching my ear.
“You challenge me. I challenge you. It’s how we are.”
His warm breath sends chills down my skin. My thighs clench at how sexy that sounds. But my brain trips on one word.
We.
“There is no we, Diego.”
“But there could be.”
His tongue licks the shell of my ear, causing me to jolt and shove him out of the way to return to the table. Having finished his ice cream, I collect my purse from the seat beside mine and turn my attention to Papà.
“Are you ready? Diego needs to head home.”
“Of course, cara.”
He scoots his chair out, grips the table’s edge with one hand, and gets up when Diego is suddenly at his side. A hand under his elbow to help, which I’m suddenly thinking is all an act now that he’s made his intentions clear.
“Let me help you, Dr. Rossi.”
The two shuffle out of the parlor, leaving me and my morals still miffed, clutching my purse. When I catch up with them, Papà is secured in the front seat, and Diego is waiting at my open door.
