ceilings and silk-covered walls. A large living-room window offered views of a well-landscaped park and beyond that the sparkling city lights of Rome. A large marble fireplace anchored one wall, while a formal dining room occupied the other end of the rectangular space. The velvet couch and love seat, upholstered in a rich sienna, was soft and inviting—the perfect contrast to the ivory-colored carpeting that anchored the living and dining room area. Beyond that, a deep cherry wood adorned the cabinetry as well as the appliances. Tiffany could only imagine what the bedrooms and bathrooms looked like. She began to feel as if spending twenty-four hours in the lap of luxury might not be such a bad experience after all.
“Do you like it?” Nick asked, basking in the joyful wonder that shone on Tiffany’s face. It pleased him that she was as appreciative of beauty as he was.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I fell in love with it the first time I stayed here. Especially this.” Nick stood at the large picture window and swept his hand to indicate the view of Rome, with the ancient ruins of the Colosseum outlined against a near-dark sky.
“You come here often?” Tiffany walked over and stood by the window.
“Not as often as I’d like. But when I do, I stay here.”
They were silent a moment, taking in the greenery of the landscape, the water spouting from a fountain, a full moon overhead, and the city center’s beckoning lights.
“What brought you here in the first place, to Italy?”
Nick hesitated before answering. The memory of his first visit to Rome, ten years ago, brought with it subtle heartache. That trip was a thirtieth birthday present to himself, one that Angelica had encouraged. They’d been just friends then when she, along with eight of Nick’s good friends, had swept into the Eternal City like a cyclone, partied like it was 1999, took the tours, ate the food, and promptly fell in love with all things Italy.
But as he stared out the window, watching the moon rise higher in the sky, Nick was all too aware that the woman beside him now was not Angelica. She was an exquisite woman-child, vulnerable yet independent, fearful yet determined, with skin the color of rich dark chocolate, the kind that even doctors agreed was good for you. Don’t go there, Nick cautioned himself, even as the thought to do so quickened his heartbeat. Now is not the time.
Nick’s silence caused Tiffany to look away from the sensually dusky scene out the window and over to the picture of perfection standing less than five feet from her. She almost did gasp this time, the reality of her situation suddenly hitting her like a bolt of lightning. She was in the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel in Rome, Italy, with one of the finest men she’d ever seen up close and personal. She guessed he was around six feet tall, solidly built, his muscular frame perfectly proportioned. He had the type of body that in hugging, a woman could lose herself, Tiffany imagined. One that could communicate “Don’t worry, I’ve got you” with one good squeeze. She followed Nick’s tongue as he unconsciously licked a set of lips that were just the right size, casually nibbling on the lower one as he pondered some event to which Tiffany was not privy. His brow was furrowed slightly, and Tiffany took in the perfect arch of his thick, black eyebrows and the long, curly lashes that framed the bedroom eyes that had melted her in the airplane aisle. Before she could stop herself, her eyes traveled over his broad shoulders, down his strong back, stopping at his nicely rounded derriere before continuing to peruse a set of sprinter’s legs and big feet that hinted at the promise of…
Promise of what? Tiffany mentally shook herself and hurried away from the window. The air had suddenly grown heavy and she found it hard to breathe. Where is Tuffy? In that moment she realized it wasn’t her teddy bear, but the bear of a man on the other side of the room that she’d rather hug and squeeze right now. And just as quickly, she extinguished the thought. While she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, she was sure nonetheless that he belonged to somebody—maybe several somebodies. She thought of Joy, her best friend, and figured she was more the type of woman Nick would go after. Joy was a Tyra Banks type: tall, beautiful, long hair courtesy of European and Native grandparents instead of a weave, and confident beyond belief. And here she was, Tiffany, looking for an old-ass teddy bear! Get your head out of the clouds, Tiffany! Janice Matthews’s voice rang in her head. Her mother was right, and Tiffany decided to obey her.
“Look, I’m going to—”
“Would you like to join me—”
Nick and Tiffany spoke at once, both silently aware that somehow, surreptitiously, the atmosphere between them had shifted.
“I—I was just going to thank you again for everything you’ve done, and then take a shower and lie down. It’s been a long day.”
“Surely it has, but aren’t you hungry?” Nick knew that while there was food service in coach, it was nothing like first class.
“Not really.”
Tiffany’s stomach chose that exact moment to become vocal, and a loud, sustained growl emanated from its core. The sound of this base bodily function chased away the discomfort they both felt—brought about by unsolicited and unwelcome thoughts.
Tiffany’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. How dared her body betray her, sounding common in front of this classy man and calling her a liar with pronounced vigor. “Ooh, excuse me!” she muttered, even as she pressed a hand against her flat stomach, mentally daring it to speak again.
Nick’s laugh was deep and unfettered. “You may not be hungry, but your stomach is. Join me for dinner. I’m going to one of my favorite restaurants and I detest dining alone.” Actually, Nick was quite comfortable eating solo, and once through the doors of AnticaPesa, he was rarely alone for long. But he felt not one twinge of guilt playing the sympathy card to get Tiffany’s agreement to be his dinner date. Something about her hesitation—and again, that flash of trepidation quickly replaced by resolve—made him want to be the one who relaxed her, who helped her feel comfortable in what was for her a strange, new place.
Thirty minutes later they were on their way to fine dining in the center of Rome. The slight discomfort returned, and was reflected in their silence as they waited on the chauffeur. Tiffany tried to still the nervousness combined with physical need that sprung up as soon as she walked from her bedroom to the living room. Nick was there, standing in front of the window, talking on the phone. It gave her a moment to behold him in all his glory: dressed casually in a black silk pullover and black pants. Joy would probably know the designer, Tiffany thought as she stopped and sipped the sight of him like one would a tumbler of fine brandy. Even with her lack of knowledge of all things fashion, Tiffany was sure the outfit had been tailor made. There’s no way that any piece of clothing could come off the rack and fit that perfectly. She forced herself from the hall into the main living area and thanked her best friend for forcing her to pack the jersey dress she now wore.
“Joy Lynn Parsons! You know you shouldn’t have gone shopping for me! How much did this cost you?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure it ends up in your suitcase.”
“Look, my days will be spent in the kitchen and my nights will be spent in bed, alone. This is a crash course in upscale Italian cuisine, girl. I’m not going to have the time or place to wear something like this.”
Joy had rolled her eyes. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you to always be like the Boy Scouts—prepared?”
“Sure. As long as I was preparing myself for something he wanted me to do.”
“Well, these gifts
