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‘I’ve decided to start this evening the way it should continue.’ He was smiling and his voice was steady. She could swear the orange-bathed canal was almost shimmering behind him. It made the whole evening just seem a little magical.
She glanced down at her towering stilettos as the gondolier held out his hand towards her. Her footsteps were slightly tottery as she stepped over the dark water of the Grand Canal. While it could seem terribly romantic, she didn’t want to land in it and re-emerge like a creature of the black lagoon.
Logan jumped over easily, catching hold of her waist and steering her towards the red velvet love seat on the gondola. She laughed as they plonked down onto the seat under a black canopy and the gondola started gliding along the canal.
It was the first time in her life she’d felt like a tourist in Venice. Logan’s arm slid easily behind her back. The love seat was unsurprisingly small, making sure they sat snugly together, his leg touching the length of hers.
It had been years and years since she’d done anything like this.
There was something magical about Venice in the early evening. Voices were hushed, music floated through the air, and quiet had fallen over the city.
‘This is lovely,’ Lucia murmured. Logan gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
As she watched the world go by she started to relax into his hold. He’d promised her there would be no pressure, no tension tonight. A tiny part of her coiled-up stomach didn’t exactly believe him. It was hard to be around Logan and not think about Ariella Rose at all—and she was sure he must feel the same way.
But for tonight it might be nice not to focus on the hurts of the past. It hadn’t been Logan who had hurt her. She’d never felt let down by him, or felt animosity towards him.
He was just the biggest reminder of Ariella Rose, and until her head could get around that...
The gondolier moved smoothly through the traffic. She had no idea where they were going but it was obvious he was going the picturesque route, winding their way through lesser canals and under bridges. She could see tourists pointing and taking pictures. Thank goodness for the canopy as it gave some ounce of privacy without spoiling their view.
There was something nice about the sound of the water lapping gently at the side of the gondola. Logan took his arm from her shoulder and bent forward, bringing out a bottle of chilled Prosecco and two glasses. He popped the cork and filled them up, handing hers over and holding his towards her. ‘Here’s to a fabulous night in Venice.’
She clinked her glass against his and sipped, letting the bubbles explode across her tongue and tickle her nose. ‘Here’s to an unusual night in Venice,’ she said.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you don’t travel by gondola every night?’
She shook her head. ‘I mean I haven’t travelled in a gondola ever since I got here.’
‘Really?’ He seemed surprised.
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Think of it this way. If you lived in Pisa, how many times would you actually climb the tower?’
He wrinkled his brow. ‘I get where you’re coming from but this is me—remember?’ He turned a little more to face her. She could see the faint shadow on his jawline. He’d probably only shaved a few hours ago but that didn’t quell the rapid growth of his potential beard. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch.
Logan wasn’t finished. ‘Remember when we stayed in Florence? How many times did we keep visiting the baptistery at the Duomo or stand underneath the Renaissance dome?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s because you’re an architect junkie and those things were right on our doorstep.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I do remember you found a way to charm guards at every attraction and skip the queues.’
He gave a wave of his hand and glanced at her mischievously. ‘There’s a reason Italian men were born with charm. Anyway, we were natives. The guards knew that.’
‘Only because you slipped some money in their hands.’
He gave a deep laugh. ‘I don’t know what you’re taking about.’ There were crinkles around his green eyes and her heart gave a little lurch.
Logan Cascini was really every woman’s dream guy. She’d forgotten just how much fun they used to have together. It was unusual to meet a guy who shared her passion for the arts as much as he did.
From what most of her girlfriends told her, it was unusual to feel so connected, so in tune with a guy as she had with Logan. Most of her friends went for tempestuous and volatile relationships with plates smashing and clothes being tossed out of windows.
