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“Yeah?”
Hopeful, boyish charm did her in the rest of the way. A sheepish smile lifted her lips. “Yeah.”
His hands returned to her hips as he waggled his brows. A tug brought her flush up against him. She gave a nervous laugh, putting a restraining hand against his chest. “I said fun, not sex.”
Trent’s eyebrows arched skyward. “Whoa-ho-ho. Who said anything about sex?”
Not her. No. God, please let me take it back. Her face flamed redder than an over-ripe tomato straight off the vine, and she didn’t need a mirror to know it.
He leaned back, which only served to put his hips in more intimate contact with hers.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart, I’m not that easy.”
She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. “I—”
“Who am I kidding? Yes I am.” He gave her a roguish wink. “And believe me, I can make sex fun.”
Of that she had no doubt. Sizzling heat had already zipped along her nerve endings, leaving a tingle of anticipation in its wake. But she was in way over her head here and nowhere near sophisticated enough to play this cool. She glanced around self-consciously. “Shut up.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk about sex.”
“I did not!” She prayed no one was actually listening to their conversation. And if they were, hopefully they didn’t understand English. Still, she lowered her voice and spoke through clenched teeth. “I didn’t mean I wanted to…I mean, I…oh, darn it. Just forget it.”
She shoved free of his grasp and lost herself in the crowd. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover how she felt. Mortified was closer. Combine the two and add some humiliation. She wandered past half a dozen stalls only to discover she’d separated from Trent and now what the hell was she supposed to do?
Her feet stopped moving. Someone bumped into her from behind, sending her pulse into overdrive. A quick spin brought her face to chest with Trent. Relief warred with the full force of her embarrassment.
Then he had the nerve to grin.
“Talk about fun. Was that as good for you as it was for me?”
She frowned in amazement. “My God, what are you on?”
“I’m a little dizzy from pain, lightheaded from hunger, and weak from—”
She smacked his good arm.
“Aw, come on, Halli, you make this way too easy.” He pulled her into a one armed hug and turned her around. “Breakfast is this way, along with your surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll like this one. In fact, I predict you’ll kiss me for it.”
Yeah, right. She had no plans to kiss him, what with trying to retain even a tiny scrap of common sense. Not to mention they came from completely different worlds, and they’d be saying goodbye in another three hours. At the most. Let’s
face it, her chances of never seeing him again beyond the silver screen were one hundred percent.
But then he bought her the most tantalizing, melt-in-your-mouth pastries she’d ever tasted. And a new shirt, thank God.
Died a rich royal blue, the silk, wrap-around blouse had short filmy sleeves and tied mid-point at her ribs before flaring just past her hips. First thing when they returned to the boat, she planned to change out of the Wet and Wild shirt.
Bag in hand, pastry in the other, she reconsidered kissing him.
Only he led her in the opposite direction of his boat as they left the market. She licked the remnants of a third pastry from her fingers, following him up a long set of stone steps. He knocked on the door of a quaint home tucked on a hill overlooking the lake and part of the town, then removed his ball cap as he turned to smile down at her.
What was he up to? Was this the surprise? Apprehension over the unknown rushed to the forefront.
When the door opened, a small, weathered Italian grandma straight out of the cliché beamed at Trent. He greeted her warmly in Italian, placing a kiss on each weathered, wrinkled cheek. After another brief exchange between the two, Halli found herself enfolded in the ample arms of the woman Trent introduced simply as Concetta.
