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I steal the last piece of pepperoni from his plate. "I'll put it in writing if you like."

He pulls me into his lap and kisses me until we miss the best part of the movie. It's my favorite date. Apparently, being comfortable enough to steal a man's pizza is dangerously romantic.

Saturday, Enzo takes me to a family member's horse ranch in the Hollywood Hills. Rocco drives past white fences and immaculate paddocks, where the thoroughbreds look expensive enough to buy my apartment building.

"This belongs to your family?" I ask.

"Dario Moretti. He's my boss, and this place is his pride and joy. He breeds and trains racehorses."

"Another Moretti? Should I be worried about how many handsome Italian men your family produces?"

"Only one of them is taking you home," Enzo says, looking pleased with himself.

Dario meets us near the stables. He's handsome and carries quiet authority. Enzo greets him as "Boss," familiar but unmistakably respectful.

"And this must be Bridget," Dario says.

"Guilty. Although depending on what Enzo's told you, I might need a lawyer."

Dario chuckles. "Now I understand why Lorenzo's been smiling like an idiot."

"Oh, I like you already."

Enzo gives us both a long-suffering look. A man murmurs something to Dario, who excuses himself; two others fall into step behind him. Rich people really do take security seriously.

Enzo leads me to a calm chestnut mare beside a stable hand. I'm happy to admire horses from behind a fence, but up close this one is enormous, all sleek muscle and long legs.

"Does she bite?" I ask.

"Not unless you insult her. Come here." Enzo stays close while I offer my hand for her to smell, then guides me as I stroke the warm velvet of her neck. The mare lowers her head, and before long I'm scratching behind her ears like we've known each other for years.

"Look at you," he murmurs, resting his hand at my waist.

"Covered in horse slobber?"

"Happy."

There's such tenderness in his eyes that I forget the enormous animal breathing against my shoulder. I wish I could make the moment last.

Early in our third week, Enzo talks me into taking a day off for a visit to his beach house in Malibu. I spend the first hour watching the waves while he watches me.

"Do you ever look at the ocean?" I ask, setting my wineglass down on the terrace table.

"When the view's worth it."

"Oh, good Lord. Do you practice these lines in front of a mirror?"

"Never had much reason to before."

He comes up behind me, arms circling my waist. I've stopped being nervous whenever he looks at me. I turn, kiss his jaw, and start undoing the top button of his shirt.

"You're wearing too many clothes, Lorenzo."

His eyebrows rise. "Getting demanding, sweetheart."

"Learned from the best."

I love that I can surprise him now, that he sometimes forgets what he's saying when I kiss him. We make it inside barefoot, sand clinging to my feet. At the bedroom door, he draws my fingers to his lips.