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“Who is”—the door swung open—“it?”
My breath stalled in my lungs, and Iwasan overeager schoolboy. A nervous thrill running from my tailbone to the base of my skull caused me to stutter, then shift from foot to foot.
“I am Alessio. A-A-lessio Ven-n-turi.”
Her brows dipped in bewilderment, then lifted as her lips curved into a delighted smile, wide brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Just Alessio!”
I must have worn a similar expression of confusion because she laughed. “When I referred to Flavio assignore, he told me it’s ‘just Flavio.’ He said the same applied to you, so…” She lifted a shoulder in a sweetly feminine shrug. “Just Alessio.”
“We’re pleased to host your stay at Terre del Venturi.” I lifted the bottle of wine in one hand and Eva’s basket in the other. “I apologize for not welcoming you last night.”
The pale color in her cheeks darkened, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very kind of you.”
An awkward pause lingered briefly, until she pressed the door wide. “Come in. I was just fixing lunch. Eva is supposed to come by—”
“Just Eva?” I grinned, more at ease. “May I ask for your name?”
“Oh. My goodness. Where are my manners?” She fluttered a hand as if cooling herself. “It’s not every day, a tall, dark, handsome Italian—” She stopped mid-speech, eyes rounding in mortification.
I lifted the wine and basket again, and she backed up so I could pass.
“Elle Madden,” she mumbled as I placed the items on her dining table. Nearby, on the small countertop area of the kitchenette, I saw a bowl of Eva’s chilled tomato soup and an open-face toasted cheese sandwich.
My stomach rumbled. Loudly.
We looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“This is probably my worst first impression.” She giggled, genuinely amused at the situation, charming me even further.
An Italian woman, one of the beauties in Rome, would have fled in humiliation or scorched my soul with an evil eye.
“Will you have lunch with me?” She gestured to the bowl of soup. “Just Eva left enough to feed an entire family. If you dish up the soup, I’ll toast another sandwich. Or would you like two?”
“One is plenty.” I was referring to her, not the food, but that was my secret—for the time being.
Unpretentious, and although not as uninhibited as she’d been in the pool, Elle immediately put me at ease. She’d unintentionally revealed some degree of attraction when she described me as tall, dark, and handsome, an admission that stroked my ego like Eva petting her favorite kitty.
“Is it too early for wine?” She took the bottle in her hands, one cradling the base while she curled the other around the neck, tilting it to examine the label. “What is this symbol? It looks like a red horn.”
“It is called a cornicello.” I took the bottle, retrieved a corkscrew, and deftly removed the cork as she assembled another sandwich and slid it under the broiler. “It is a symbol of hope and good fortune. The Venturi name meansbuona fortuna. Good luck.”
We moved around the room, setting food on the table and decanting wine, as if we’d been doing it for months instead of mere minutes. Without knowing a thing about her, Elle felt familiar. Comfortable in the way of longtime friends, but with an undertone of explosive sexual attraction.
I felt it as she watched me from the corner of her eye, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips. Saw it in the way she stilled when I barely brushed against her—not stiffening in alarm, but almost as if safeguarding the opportunity for us to touch. Sensed it as her chest rose and fell with faster, shorter breaths when we occupied the same space.
She need only glance down to see my reaction.
The conversation faltered as the tension thickened. The air in the room heated, became heavier. Elle fanned herself, self-consciously tugging at the cotton blouse she wore.
“I didn’t expect Italy to be so…hot,” she said.
Our eyes met—hers widening, mine narrowing.
I propped the door open with a heavy stone kept nearby for that exact purpose while she unlocked the hinged casement windows and pushed them outwards. Cool, fresh air swept into the farmhouse.
“Mangiare.” I waited until she was seated before taking the chair across from her. “When you’re finished eating, may I accompany you into town?”
“But Eva—”
