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Neither was being with such a gorgeous stranger.
He ordered for them both. Normally Anna would have bristled at a man assuming he could order for her, but tonight it seemed right.
Everything seemed right, she thought as they ate and talked. Conversation flowed easily, not about anything important, just about the weather they’d left behind in New York, how it would compare to the weather they’d find in Rome, about where he lived—in San Francisco, overlooking the bay, he said. And where she lived—in Manhattan, on the lower east side.
For all of that, they didn’t exchange names.
That seemed right, too.
There was something exciting about hurtling through the night at six hundred plus miles an hour, laughing and talking and having dinner with a man she didn’t know and would never see again.
Anything was possible, Anna thought after their dishes had been whisked away and the cabin lights were dimmed. Absolutely anything, she thought, looking at him, and a faint tremor went through her.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I’m fine.”
“Tired, then.”
“No. Really …”
“Of course you’re tired. I’m sure your day has been as long as mine. In fact, I’m going to put my seat back. You’ll do the same.”
That tone of easy command made Anna laugh. “Do you ever ask a woman what she wants, or do you simply tell her?”
Their eyes met. Her heart did a little stutter step.
“There are times when there is no need to ask,” he said softly.
Heat swept through her. Get up, she thought. Get up and go back to your own seat in the rear of the plane.
But she didn’t.
He reached out. Leaned across her. She caught her breath as he pressed the button that eased her seat all the way back.
“Close your eyes, bellissima,” he whispered. “Get some sleep.”
She nodded. Closing her eyes, pretending to sleep was probably a good plan. No reason to tell him that she never, ever was able to sleep on a plane ….
When she woke, the cabin was almost completely dark.
And she was cocooned in warmth.
Male warmth.
Somehow she was lying in the stranger’s arms, both of them covered by a soft blanket. Her head was on his shoulder, her face buried in the curve where his neck met his shoulder.
He was asleep. She could tell by the deep, slow exhalations of his breath.
Move, she told herself. Anna, for heaven’s sake, shift away from him.
Instead, she shifted closer. Closer. Drew his scent—masculine, musky, clean—deep into her lungs.
Her hand rose. By itself, surely. No way would she have deliberately lifted it, placed it against his jaw, rubbed her fingers lightly over the sexy stubble.
The sound of his breathing changed. Quickened. Her heartbeat quickened, too.
“Hello,” he whispered.
