The Playboy of Rome. Jennifer Faye
doing, she jerked her gaze upward. But that wasn’t any better as she ended up staring into his bottomless eyes. Her heart thudded against her ribs. This was not good. Not good at all.
She glanced down at the gleaming black-and-white floor tiles. She could still feel him staring at her. With great effort, she ignored him. Her trip to Rome was meant to be a learning experience, not to partake in a holiday romance.
Putting herself out there and getting involved with Dante was foolish. She had the scars on her heart to prove that romance could come with a high price tag. Besides, she was certain she wouldn’t live up to his expectations—she never did.
It was much easier to wear a smile and keep people at arm’s length. It was safer. And that was exactly how she planned to handle this situation.
Dante cleared his throat. “Well, since you’re a couple of days early, I’m sure you’ll want to tour the city. There’s lots to see and experience.” He led her to the front door. “Make sure you visit the Colosseum and the catacombs.”
“I’m looking forward to sightseeing. This is my first trip to Italy. Actually, it’s my first trip anywhere.” She pressed her lips together to keep from spilling details of her pitiful life. She didn’t want his sympathy. She was just so excited about this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Years ago in those foster homes, she never would have imagined that a trip like this would be a possibility—let alone a reality.
“I’d start with the Vatican Museums.”
“Thanks. I will.”
He smiled as he pulled open the door. The tired lines on his face smoothed and his eyes warmed. She was struck by how truly handsome he was when he let his guard down. She’d have to be careful and not fall for this mysterious Italian.
She glanced out into the dark night. “Is this the way to the apartment?”
His brow puckered. “Excuse me.”
“The apartment. Massimo told me that he had a place for me to stay?”
“He did?” Dante uttered the words as though they were part of his thought process and not a question for her.
She nodded and reached into her purse. She fumbled around until her fingers stumbled across some folded papers. Her fingers clasped them and pulled them out.
“I have the email correspondence.” She held out the evidence. “It’s all right here.”
Dante waved away the pages. “Are you this prepared for everything?”
She nodded. She’d learned a long time ago that people rarely keep their word. Just like her mother, who’d promised she’d do whatever it took to get Lizzie back from social services. In the beginning, Lizzie had gone to bed each night crying for the only parent she’d ever known—the mother who was big on neglect and sparing on kindness. At the time, Lizzie hadn’t known any other way. In the end, that mother-daughter reunion was not to be. Her mother had been all talk and no follow-through, unable to move past the drugs and alcohol. Lizzie languished in the system.
She’d grown up knowing one simple truth: people rarely lived up to their word. There was only one person to count on—herself.
However, in Massimo’s case, breaking his word was totally understandable. It was beyond his control. Her heart squeezed when she thought of that outgoing man being forced into retirement. She truly hoped while she was here that she’d get the opportunity to meet him and thank him for having such faith in her. It was as though he could see through her brave front to her quivering insides. During moments of doubt, he’d calmed her and assured her that all would be fine with the television segments.
She glanced at Dante. He definitely wasn’t a calming force like his grandfather. If anything, Dante’s presence filled her with nervous energy.
He leaned against the door. “There’s no apartment available.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Does everything with you have to be a struggle?”
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I simply don’t have any place for you to stay.”
“Why is it your grandfather seemed confident that I would be comfortable here?”
“Probably because there was a remodeled apartment available, but since I wasn’t privy to your arrangement with my grandfather, I just leased it. But I’m sure you won’t have a problem finding a hotel room nearby.”
Oh, yes, there would be a big problem. She didn’t have money to rent a hotel room. She could only imagine how expensive that would be and she needed every penny to pay down her debts and to pay tuition for Jules’s grad school. Every penny from the contract was already accounted for. There was nothing to spare.
“It was agreed that I would have free room and board.” Pride dictated that she keep it to herself that she didn’t have the money to get a hotel room.
He crossed his arms and stared at her as though debating his options. “What do you want me to do? Give you my bed?”
The words sparked a rush of tempting images to dance through her mind. Dante leaning in and pressing his very tempting lips to hers. His long, lean fingers grazing her cheek before resting against the beating pulse in her throat. Her leaning into him as he swept her up in his arms.
“Lizzie, are you okay?” Dante’s eyes filled with concern.
She swallowed hard, realizing that she’d let her imagination get the best of her. “Umm, yes. I’m just a little jet-lagged. And things were busy tonight, keeping me on my toes.”
His eyes probed her. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
She nodded.
Where in the world had those distracting images of Dante come from? It wasn’t as though she was looking for a boyfriend. The last man in her life had believed they should each have their own space until one day he dropped by to let her know that he was moving to California to chase his dream of acting. No I’ll miss you. Or Will you come with me?
He’d tossed her aside like the old worn-out couch and the back issues of his rocker magazines. He hadn’t wanted her except for a little fun here and there. She’d foolishly let herself believe that they were building something special. In the end, she hadn’t been enough for him—she always came up lacking.
“I’d really like to get some rest.” And some distance from Dante so she could think clearly. “It’s been a long evening and my feet are killing me.”
Was that a hint of color rising in his cheeks? Did he feel bad about putting her to work? Maybe he should, but she honestly didn’t mind. She liked meeting some of the people she’d hopefully be cooking for in the near future. That was if she ever convinced Dante that this arrangement could work.
“Putting you to work was a total mix-up. My apologies.” He glanced down at the floor. “I owe you.”
“Apology accepted.” She loved that he had manners. “Now, does this mean you’ll find me a bed?”
THE QUESTION CONJURED up all sorts of scintillating scenarios.
Dante squelched his overactive, overeager imagination. Something told him that there was a whole lot more to this beautiful woman than her desire to be on television and to brush up on her skills in the kitchen. He saw in her eyes a guardedness. He recognized the look because it was something he’d witnessed with his older brother after his young wife had tragically died. It was a look one got when life had double-crossed them.
Lizzie had traveled to the other side of the globe from her home without knowing a single soul, and from the determined set of her mouth, she wasn’t about to turn tail and run. She was willing to stand her ground. And he couldn’t help but admire her strength.
He just hoped