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“A Miss Benton’s Academy trip to Five Famed Cities of Europe, if you please.” She touched the tip of her finger to his lips, smiling when he caught it between his teeth and took a mock ferocious bite. “Twelve very proper young women, three even more proper chaperones, five cities, fifteen days.” She rolled her eyes. “Truly memorable, but not in the way Miss Benton would have preferred. Evelyn got sick from too much onion soup in Paris, Louise sneaked ouzo into her room in Athens and got snockered—”
“Snockered?”
“The only slang word Miss Benton would have permitted as a descriptive,” Aimee said primly, laughter dancing in her eyes.
“And you, cara? Did you dine on too much soup? Did you get snickered—”
“Snockered.”
“Si. Did you get snockered on ouzo?”
“I behaved like the obedient little girl I was.” Aimee’s smile slipped a notch. “Not that it mattered.”
“You mean, your grandfather still paid you no attention,” Nicolo said, wrapping her in his arms as he rolled onto his side.
“I mean, obedient or not, I was still the wrong sex for a Black grandchild.”
Nicolo wanted to rise from the bed, fly to the States and grab the old man by the collar, hoist him to his toes and tell him what a selfish, stupid, coldhearted SOB he was….
Instead he did the next best thing.
“I think you’re the perfect sex,” he murmured, and ran his hand slowly down her body.
She smiled, as he’d hoped she would.
“Mmm. Right now, I think so, too.”
“So, aside from being a good girl, what were you like when you were a teenager?”
“Shy. Quiet. Skinny as a stick.”
He caressed her again. “Seems to me you’ve grown up since then.”
That won him another smile. “Grazie.”
“Would you like to learn more Italian?”
Aimee wound her arms around his neck. “For instance?”
“Sei molto bella.”
“Which means?”
“It means, you are very beautiful.” Nicolo’s voice grew husky. “Incredibly beautiful, cara.”
“Grazie.”
“Wrong answer.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Thank you is the wrong answer?” He nodded
. “Well, what should I have said in response?”
“You should have said, Baciami, Nico, per favore.”
Her lips curved. She’d caught on to the game.
“Baciami, Nico, per favore,” she said softly.
