Ultimate Romance Collection. Rebecca Winters

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her if he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the reason she’d been a mess after he’d left the apartment the night before. Since then she’d been reliving that moment and wanted to repeat the experience. But this time she wouldn’t let him go.

      “They’re supposed to look like that.”

      “No, they’re not! What am I doing wrong?”

      “Nothing. When they’re fried, their centers will hollow out so you can fill them.”

      She shot him a glance. “You promise?”

      “I swear it. Have you put out the toweling?”

      “It’s right here on the counter next to the stove.”

      “Have you checked the temperature of the olive oil?”

      “Yes. The thermometer says it’s ready.”

      “Then get started. Remember not to let the ball plop, but don’t be afraid of it.”

      Tuccia began the laborious process of cooking and draining. They smelled good and everything was going fine until the last one. It fell off the spoon too fast and some drops of oil splashed on her wrist. She cried out in surprise.

      Cesare was there so fast he had her hand under the cold water before she could think. “Keep it there for a few minutes,” he said while he removed the oil and turned off the burner.

      “I tried to be careful, but I was clumsy.”

      “I defy anyone cooking with oil for the first time to escape with no burns.”

      While the water was still running he examined the three small welts on her skin. “These will hurt, but I have a remedy my mother used that works well.”

      She couldn’t feel the pain, not while their bodies were so close and he was touching her. “Thank you,” she said in a tremulous voice before lifting her head.

      His eyes searched hers before his free hand caressed the side of her face. “I’m sorry you got burned,” he whispered.

      Tuccia felt his breath on her lips. Her heart felt like it was going to pump right out of her chest. Driven by her love for him, she pressed her mouth to his, daring to let him know she wanted more. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, then quickly turned to put her hand under the water once more.

      He moved away from her. “I’ll run to the farmacia and be right back.” Cesare was out the door before she could think. It was just as well. If he’d stayed close to her a second longer, she would have made a complete fool of herself and thrown her arms around his neck.

      She’d never known the white-hot heat of desire for a man until now. To experience its power for herself was life-changing. The few guys at college she’d flirted with in class had meant nothing more than a little experimentation that couldn’t go anywhere.

      Though she’d always planned to run away before she had to marry Jean-Michel, she never expected to find loving fulfillment with one man. Tuccia hadn’t believed such a thing was possible. First she had to find the right man, and he had to find her.

      But when she heard the door open and Cesare walked back in the apartment with a small sack in his hand, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was looking at the right man. The only man for her. She felt it in the marrow of her bones.

      Tuccia turned off the water and waited. He walked over to the counter and pulled from a shelf the bottle of honey she’d used in one of the recipes. Next, he opened the sack and drew out some gauze pads and a small box of plasters.

      Without looking at her he covered the gauze with honey and said, “Put out your arm and we’ll get rid of that pain.”

      Tuccia did his bidding. Within a minute he’d covered the three welts with the gooey gauze pads and secured them with a plaster. She marveled at his dexterity. “I had no idea honey could be used like this.”

      “It has dozens of restorative elements.”

      “Thank you, Cesare. I’m very lucky to have a boss who’s a doctor, too.”

      He smiled a smile that sent her pulse off the charts. “You should be feeling relief soon.”

      “That’s good because I need to poke a hole in those balls and fill them with the ricotta cream I’ve made.”

      Cesare darted her a glance. “All of it will keep. Before you do any more cooking, I thought we’d pick up lunch and have a picnic. It will give those burns a chance to settle down.”

      “A picnic? I’d love it! When I think about it, I haven’t been on one of those since I was a little girl. My zia would take me to the park and we’d feed the birds. I’ll grab the things I need and meet you at the car.”

      She dashed into the bedroom for her scarf. When she’d put it on, she slid her sunglasses in place and hurried out of the apartment. Cesare, the striking, quintessential Sicilian male, was there to help her in and they drove off.

      For once in her life, what was happening to her wasn’t a dream her mind had concocted while she’d been asleep. She was wide awake. This was real. Her feelings were real and she wanted to shout to the world that she was madly in love with him.

      He stopped at a local deli for takeout and they headed toward Milan. Before long he turned onto the grounds of the Giardino Della Guastalla. “These gardens are five hundred years old,” he explained. “I know the perfect spot where we can be alone. Maybe we’ll be able to feed a few birds the remnants of our lunch. Do you mind sitting on the grass?”

      “To be out in nature is exactly what this warm day calls for.”

      He parked and they walked to a lush spot beneath a giant oak tree. The freedom to be out here alone with Cesare made her giddy. After removing her sunglasses, she lay down in the grass on her stomach and rested her head against her arms.

      “Careful of those burns,” he said, sitting down next to her.

      She squinted up at him. “Honestly? I forgot I was hurting. Your honey has worked miracles.”

      “I’m glad.” Cesare opened up the cartons. She turned on her side and leaned on one elbow while they ate shrimps and pasta salad with little forks. He opened a bottle of red wine and poured it into cups. She drank some and munched on a French bread roll.

      “I feel sinful lying here.”

      Blue eyes full of amusement roved over her. “Because you’re with me instead of your former fiancé?”

      “No.” She smiled. “Because I’m with someone I care about to the exclusion of anyone else,” she said before it was too late to stop her thoughts from becoming verbal.

      He drank the rest of his wine. “Surely there’ve been some men you’ve liked who have tried to have a secret relationship with you?”

      “I was always under surveillance, Cesare.” She looked at him through veiled eyes. “As you know, there are different levels of liking without much emotional involvement. I liked some of the guys in my classes, but didn’t have the freedom to do anything about it. But to actually

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