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One of his eyebrows goes up. “Savor and enjoy,” he repeats, his blue eyes lighting up with a teasing glint.
Images burst into my head in living color. Images that have nothing to do with art, or history, or historic sights.
I know exactly what I’d like to savor and enjoy, and the knowledge makes me warm all over.
Now, I’m second guessing my decision to spend the day with him. Mostly because I’ve never felt so attracted to anyone before. I feel as if whatever used to keep me steady on my feet has weakened, leaving me wobbly and confused.
“Cora?”
“Hmm.” I realize I’ve been staring at his lips, and hastily, I draw my gaze to his eyes, hoping he can’t read my thoughts on my face.
He holds out a hand to me. Of course, his hand is beautiful too. Masculine, with long tapered fingers and well-trimmed nails.“Will you show me your side of Florence?”
Without giving myself time to think, I reach out and place my hand in his. Something sizzles sharply inside me as we make contact. I see his eyes flare. He can feel it too.
“Yeah,” I murmur, a little lightheaded. I pull in a steadying breath. “I will.”
CHAPTER9
TRISTAN
Cora is mesmerizing.
She leads the way as we walk through the city and I tuck my phone away, unwilling to search for information when it sounds so much better coming from her lips.
We walk all the way to the gallery. She has a membership card, which allows one guest, so we skip the lines. Inside, I follow her through the exhibition spaces, enjoying the rapture that suffuses her face and voice, even though by her own admission, she’s been here many times before.
I know people who can talk for hours about software, computers, gaming, physics, engineering, physical fitness, and Star Trek, but I’ve never heard someone talk about art, artists and their stories like Cora does.
“…she depicted her mentor, who’d raped her, as Holofernes, and herself as Judith,” she’s saying now, her eyes animated as she gives me the gist of the renaissance rape scandal. We are standing in front of Artemisia Gentileschi’s graphically violent Judith and Holofernes.
“The revenge she’d have loved to get in real life,” I say, unable to look away from the rage depicted on the canvas. “The revenge she should have gotten.”
“Exactly,” Cora agrees. “He was only sentenced to two years in jail and ended up not serving all of that.” She scowls, then her expression changes as a new idea bursts into her head. “Did you know, in the actual story of Judith, the biblical one, she prayed for strength to hold Holofernes in contempt? Like…she was afraid she would fall in love with him.”
We’re walking over to the next painting. “Seems fair. She was a lonely widow. He was a powerful, commanding warrior. Sounds like a romance made for TV.”
Cora makes a face. “Ew. He was her enemy. He was going to destroy her people. There’s no way she would have fallen for him.”
“Who knows?” I’m enjoying the conversation. When I woke up in Nick’s bungalow hours before, I’d no way of knowing that in a few hours I’d be deep in conversation with the most intriguing girl in Florence. “It wasn’t personal, was it? He was doing what warriors did. Conquest and empire. Maybe she considered the possibility that he would spare her people if he liked her enough.”
“Considered.” Cora scoffs. “It’s not even possible. She had every reason to hate him.”
“Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, I’ve heard.
Cora waves a dismissive hand. “Love is a strong word. She only knew him for one night.”
“Sometimes one night is enough,” I reply.
She inhales sharply, then turns back to the painting in front of her.
For the next hour, she keeps the conversation focused on the art. I don’t mind. I enjoy listening to her. I probably shouldn’t be flirting. I don’t want her to get the idea that all I want is to get into her panties.
Not that I wouldn’t love to get into her panties.
And everywhere else.
Pushing all thoughts of her panties out of my head, I focus my attention on her, the way she moves from item to item, talking and at the same time typing quick notes on her phone.
