Page 54 of Seasons of Sin

“That won’t be necessary. I’m in Rome.”

“Oh.” Her heart began to hammer hard against her ribcage. He was? Where?

“I can do tonight.”

“Tonight?” She shook her head and her legs shook beneath the desk. “I’d prefer to meet in business hours.”

“You must know there is no such thing for me.”

Chastised, as he’d intended, she nodded awkwardly. “Fine. Where?”

“I have a villa …”

“No.” She shook her head forcefully. “Somewhere else. Somewhere … public.”

“In case I cannot resist an urge to take you into my arms?” He drawled with apparent cynicism.

“Something like that,” she clipped back, her pride suffering almost as much as it had that night a month earlier. “There’s a restaurant calledCasaGrande, on the Via Dottore.”

He frowned. “I have not heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised,” she murmured. “I doubt it’s your usual sort of place.”

“Fine. Eight o’clock.”

She nodded and then realized belatedly that he couldn’t see her. “That’s good, yes.”

He disconnected the call without a further attempt at niceties.

Saphire couldn’t have said how she got through the day. By eight fifteen, sitting and still waiting for him, her nerves were shot to pieces. The restaurant was buzzing; if he didn’t hurry she’d lose the table. A couple was eyeing it off rather obviously from the queue that started at the door and stretched around the corner.

Her phone trembled suddenly, an unknown number displaying on the screen.

“Hello?”

“What is this place?” His voice instantly shot lava firing through her veins. “I cannot see the door for the line of people.”

“Just come to the front,” she intoned breathlessly. “Tell the hostess you’re meeting me.”

Again, he disconnected the call, but only a moment later he appeared at the entrance to the restaurant.

It was not a romantic venue, but it was charming and intimate. It also happened to make the best pasta in town. At least, so Saphire had been told by locals and her experience had not disappointed.

Her eyes were completely magnetized to his frame the instant he appeared. Standing just inside the door, he looked impossibly good. She stared at him, incapable of standing or even moving.

He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. His arms looked perfect. His tan was deep, like he’d been out in the sun a lot lately. His hair was cropped close to his head as it had been the night they’d met on the flight to Athens.

She stifled a moan.

His eyes met hers and an invisible electric force barbed between them. It seemed to arc and splutter; how did no one else hear it?

Belatedly, she stood. Saphire had taken extra care with her appearance that night. It might have been business but she still had her pride. The dress was black, cut in a sweetheart neckline and fitted to her waist, where it flared into a small A to her knees. At her neck she wore a simple gold chain.

“Saphire,” the word seemed to form a bubble around her and she could have delighted in the sound alone.

She refused to weaken in the face of her body’s needs. “Hello.” The word was dismissive. A rebuke to any thoughts he might have had that she still wanted him.

It had been a month.