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Now that was surprising. By the looks of her, Vito would guess she wasn’t often lacking for male companionship. “I see.”
She dabbed a wet, trembling finger against his chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” she supplied. Vito guessed it had to be the alcohol that had her talking so freely to the stranger who’d just pulled her out of the canal. “I was supposed to be here with my fiancé,” she continued.
“Uh-huh.”
“But the...what do you call it? Bastardo? Yes, that’s it. He was a bastardo. I learned that word from the hotel housekeeper who brought a complimentary bottle of valpolicella to my room earlier.” She smiled at him.
Well, that explained the early drinking. Maya Talbot was a jilted bride. Or almost bride, as the case might be. But had she had the whole bottle? Still, he felt a twinge of admiration at the fact that she’d decided to come solo on a trip that had obviously been planned to include a romantic partner.
She twirled her fingers at him. “Well. Ta-ta. I should be going.”
Vito reached for her arm before she could take a step. “Un momento.” He couldn’t just let her walk away. The woman was in no condition to be by herself in an unfamiliar city.
She blinked at him in surprise. “Yes?”
“Do you actually know where you’re going?”
She blinked yet again before looking off into the distance to her left. Scratching her forehead, she turned to look the opposite way. It was blatantly clear she had no idea where she was. Let alone where she was going. “Well, I’m sure I can figure it out.”
Vito weighed his options. Leaving her to her own devices was out of the question under the circumstances. For all he knew, she might actually trip and fall into the water again. He could offer to buy her a cappuccino at the café; clearly she could use the caffeine. But she was soaked to the skin. He doubted she’d be comfortable for long sitting in a wooden chair as wet fabric clung to her skin. Not to mention the attention the sight of her would attract from passersby. He could always load her into a vaporetto and send her on her way, but the likelihood that she’d get seasick was all too real.
Based on some past benders he’d been on himself, he figured the thing she needed the most was just to be able to lie down until the effects of the alcohol passed.
“Perhaps I can be of help.”
Her eyebrows lifted over those dazzling amber eyes. “How?”
“My place is just over the bridge.” He pointed in that direction. “We can go get you dried off and cleaned up.”
She narrowed her gaze on him, suspicion clouding her features immediately. Not that he could blame her. She didn’t know him from the street vendor selling gelato a few feet away.
“You expect me to accompany you, a man I’ve never laid eyes on before, to your apartment? Thanks, but no thanks.”
He should have explained better. Fluency only got a person so far, it appeared.
Shaking his head, he tried to explain. “Scusa. First of all, it’s not an apartment. I own an art studio near Le Mercerie. A public studio. Open for business. There’s a comfortable sitting area complete with a sofa for browsing patrons. I might even have some dry clothing for you.”
She looked him up and down. “I doubt we’re the same size.”
“I meant ladies’ clothing.”
Relief and understanding washed over her features. “Your wife’s clothing, you mean.”
Vito cringed inwardly at the word. Even after all this time, he hadn’t quite adjusted to the new reality that he no longer had a wife. And he never would again.
He shook his head. “I don’t have a wife. But my models have been known to leave things behind.” Not that any kind of model had graced his space in the past several months.
“Your models? What kind of studio are we talking about exactly? Are you a photographer? Or some kind of artist?”
That was one way to put it, Vito supposed. Though, truth be told, he hadn’t been any kind of artist in quite a while.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE’D CLEARLY BEEN dining on cotton. Maya tried to swallow past the dry ash that seemed to be coating her mouth and tongue. All she managed was a squeaky croak.
