Page 26 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

Bianca had spent entirely too much time trying on outfits, finally settling on newly acquired leopard-print pointed flats and a flowy black dress that was as flattering as something could be right now.

Corrado was right on time, and he hadn’t changed much at all, still the same strapping guy who’d cast a spell on her a decade ago. Standing a few inches over six feet, he wore dark jeans and a tight white T-shirt that could easily set a girl’s mind to sizzle. He’d bulked up some, too, his biceps stretching his short sleeves. She also noticed a tattoo running down the length of one arm. A butcher’s knife maybe.

“Queen Bee,” he said in a thick Italian accent as he approached her. “È passato tropo tempo.” It’s been too long. His voice catapulted her back through the years.

Bianca held strong as he came in for two kisses, taking his time, possibly even sniffing her like a flower as their cheeks touched. An organic woody scent rose like a gift to her nose, and she had to take a moment to recalibrate and remind herself to be careful.

“You look angelic as always,” he said, staying close enough to kiss her again.

“Angelic?” she said skeptically, refusing to fall prey to his games. His charm required a shield, or a can of pepper spray.

His shaggy hair was all over the place. A faint scar ran north of his left eyebrow. Sharp cheekbones brought attention to his arresting cobalt-blue eyes. His shadow of a beard enhanced his ruggedness, a quality that Bianca had always loved. He wasn’t the kind of guy that shied away from a bar fight.

“I thought you were in Paris,” she said, inching backward.

“Yeah, well, I was, but it was time to come home. And you? You’re here for good?”

It was indeed a chef’s knife running up his toned arm. She met those daring blue eyes that had once captured her heart. They were warm and kind and dangerous—the eyes of a protector.

“I have no idea. I’m testing the waters.”

“I see.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

They stood at the bar and caught up as they shared a croissant with raisins and crème and drank cappuccinos that came with a small shot of sparkling water. Bianca couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk with him, as if those ten years of absence didn’t exist. They made trivial conversation for a while till he bored into what she’d done since they’d last seen each other—college and grad school, then her practice. She didn’t mention the book, and he didn’t ask. Apparently, he hadn’t been following her that closely.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he queried after a while, slipping the question in like a penknife into her belly.

“I’m not even done with my cappuccino yet, and you’re getting personal.”

He shrugged it off. “I’m sorry. Should we ease into it, as you Americans do? You know how the Romagnoli are; we cut to the chase.”

She remembered loving when he used American slang. Like so many over here, he’d perfected his English watching American television and movies.

“No, it’s okay. I like being real. And no, I’m not seeing anyone. Focusing on myself for a while.”

“Always so cerebral. I loved that about you. Trying to find yourself.” He pretended to look around, behind the counter, up on the ceiling, down to the floor. “Where is the lovely Queen Bee hiding? Has anyone seen her?”

Her laugh felt like first blood had been drawn. Damn him.

He stared and stared and stared, meanwhile she told herself, Don’t fucking do it, B. Hold strong. Don’t let him see how much of a mess you are.

“How about you? Married and kids and opening a restaurant?” Even as she asked it, she scolded herself for continuing the thread of personal entanglements.

His lips simmered into a smile. “Yes to the last. The restaurant is my child, you know. No girl. Not anymore. I’m . . .” He looked to the ceiling. “Still searching.” He went back to exaggerated looking around, over Bianca’s shoulder, out the window, to the display case of chocolates. “Where is this woman God has promised me? Hello, hello? Soulmate, where are you?”

Though she felt a flutter in her heart, she refused to laugh again, reminding herself of his extraordinary ability to make every girl feel that way. She used to fight them off back in the old days.

She broke a piece of the croissant off and stuck it in her mouth with a moan. “I missed this.”

He chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“You appear out of nowhere. I’ve thought about you a lot.”

“Yeah?”

He studied her mouth and only spoke after she’d finished chewing. “Yes, I admit it. Even thought of reaching out a few times, but what would be the point? It took me a long time to get over you, Bianca Briggs.”