wouldn’t if I were you,” he murmured, reaching out to take her hand again.
She nearly pulled away, then followed his gaze upward to the windows of the offices above. Rows of faces stared down at them.
“Do you want your friends to know that you’ve…what is the expression? Got chicken feet?”
She laughed, all the tension draining from her face. “You mean, I’ve chickened out…or I’ve gotten cold feet. No, I certainly don’t want to give them that satisfaction.” She shot one final grim look above them, then allowed Antonio to help her into the rear seat. Sliding across the smooth leather to give him room, she called out to the driver, “I live in Bethesda, Maryland, 755 Mullen Street. If you’ll drop me off, I’ll be most grateful.”
He closed the door behind them, then walked around the car.
“Your driver does know where Bethesda is?” Maria asked.
“I’m sure he does. I hope it’s a long ride. I have a lot to explain, Miss McPherson.” Antonio smiled. He watched as her glance followed the motion of his lips.
She sighed then shook her head as if denying herself a particularly fattening dessert. “Oh my, you’re awfully good. Listen, you’re a very nice looking man, handsome really. And you play your role well. But I’m just not interested in your kind of…service.”
She gave an almost imperceptible shiver of pleasure as she slipped the card Tamara had given her, unread, into her coat pocket. Her upper lip had become lightly beaded with perspiration, and her eyes were too bright. He was pretty sure she didn’t even realize the signals her body was giving off.
“Maybe it would be best if we just pulled around the block and you let me off there. I can take the bus home like I usually do.”
“No,” he said bluntly.
“No?” She looked alarmed now.
“On second thought,” he said slowly, “I believe you deserve a real celebration. Do you have friends you’d like to invite to come along?” He could explain all about Marco, Immigration and his real identity after she’d calmed down a bit.
“Friends? No, not really. I mean, I have college friends, but they’re back in Connecticut where I grew up. And the people I work with—” She shrugged as if unable to put her thoughts into words.
“They aren’t like you,” he supplied softly.
“No,” she murmured, “they aren’t like me. Take today, for instance. They get a kick out of singling out a person on their birthday and finding the most effective way to embarrass them. Tailored humiliation, I call it. I tried to take the day off, like I did last year when I’d just started working for the company, but my boss insisted she needed me.” She sighed. “It’s all in good fun, I suppose. But I’ve never liked being the center of attention.”
He nodded, intrigued by her lack of ego. So unlike the women he’d known.
“So we shall celebrate quietly, just the two of us. Si?” His flight didn’t leave until the next morning. He rarely allowed himself time away from the groves or the mill and factory. Spending an afternoon with an attractive American woman wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Besides, after handling the Marco catastrophe, he deserved a little vacanza.
She laughed and rolled her pretty gray eyes dramatically at him. “The two of us? Alone? Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? A pretty woman like you deserves at least to be treated to a delicious meal in a gracious setting on her special day. Why wouldn’t you allow yourself this simple pleasure?”
She gave a little growl of frustration from deep within her throat. To him it sounded delightfully sexy. “It does sound awfully tempting. I can’t remember the last meal I ate out that wasn’t fast food.” Good, she was at least debating her decision. “This is already paid for, right? I mean, you’re not going to hand me the check at the end of the meal, are you?”
He laughed. How fresh, how entertaining she was!
He had fully intended to explain about Marco, then leave her at her door. Just spiriting her off in the limo might have been enough to satisfy her work friends. But he sensed that if he took her home now, when she was questioned the next day she wouldn’t lie. She would admit that she’d let her hired prince leave, then they would all feel gratified that they had sufficiently shamed her.
However, if he actually romanced her for the day, in the most innocent of ways, of course, she’d at least have a great story to tell. She’d come out the winner.
He liked that idea. She seemed such a nice person. He wanted to give her as much armor as possible against their obnoxious teasing.
Maria wrapped her arms around her body and pressed tense shoulder blades into the buttery leather cushions of the limousine. Beyond the tinted windows, the Washington cityscape passed. The famous cherry trees hadn’t yet blossomed, but they were heavy with pink buds in the late morning light.
She felt awkward, out of her element. Her stomach was doing flip-flops because of her excitement. She didn’t know where to put her hands, where to look…or not look. One minute her glance settled on her companion’s sensuous mouth as he spoke, the next her eyes drifted to his wide, strong hands, resting on the elegant gray wool encasing his thighs.
She didn’t even know his real name, and here she was ogling his thighs! She more than half suspected he was ready to sleep with her, might even have been paid to do so. Did she dare look at the services listed on her gift card?
Her throat and cheeks flamed at the thought. When she tried to focus on the passing Washington sights, all she saw was his reflection in the smoky side window of the limo. He was watching her, thinking she didn’t know. The realization sent a provocative ripple of warmth down her spine where it settled in a tingling pool inside her.
“I should go home to change first,” she said, glancing down at her conservative black wool dress, “if we’re going anywhere fancy for lunch.”
“Prego. Wear something that makes you feel feminine and happy,” he suggested in a rich baritone.
She tried to ignore the way his words resonated pleasantly along her nerves. Sort of tickling. Sort of nice. What would she wear?
Nearly everything she owned was black or shades of neutral. Work clothes, chosen not to attract attention, to give her a professional appearance and avoid feminine vulnerability. Or else jeans and sweatshirts—those were for weekends. There had never been a reason to buy anything else, even if she could have afforded more. Maybe Sarah, her neighbor, would lend her one of her scores of dresses. Something at least with a little color in it.
“You’d look good in—” he seemed to be considering options “—perhaps an Ungaro, or a Dolce frock. Or one of the newer styles I’ve seen from Positano.”
“Positano?” She laughed, remembering a recent article in Vogue that she’d drooled over. “As in Italy and ultra-high couture? Listen, you don’t have to keep up the act for my benefit.”
“I don’t?” He lifted heavy, dark brows. There was a hint of amusement on his full lips.
“Of course not. I know you’re from around here,
