and Atlanta still had their clothes on, a good thing given their surroundings. But they had ditched their sunglasses.
“If you didn’t have a plane to catch, too, I’d hop on a later flight just so I could spend more time with you,” he told her.
“Sure you would.” She humored him with a smile, apparently deciding she’d just been fed another line.
“I mean it.” He reached across the table and caught her left hand in his. Her fingers were delicate and bare of any adornment. “To be honest, I didn’t expect to enjoy myself as much as I have.”
Her brows pulled together at the same time she pulled her hand free. “Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was a pathetically backhanded compliment. I told you I get tongue-tied around beautiful women.”
The truth was the only beautiful woman around whom he’d ever found himself at a loss for words with was Atlanta.
Chuckling, she shook her head. “You’re forgiven. I think I know what you mean. I enjoyed being distracted.”
That was all he’d had in mind when he’d sat down earlier, someone to take his mind off the problems at hand. Now…?
“Maybe when we both get back to the States we could get together. If you’re going to be in New York, there’s a new exhibit coming to the Met in October.”
“The Met?” Her eyelids flickered. No doubt she’d figured he was going to suggest a sporting event of some sort.
“I’m a patron.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not exactly the quote unquote dumb jock whose only interests are those that happen on the diamond.”
“I didn’t think you were. Honestly, I don’t know you well enough to draw that conclusion.”
“That doesn’t stop most people.”
She sighed. “Look, Angelo, I really appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Dating isn’t going to be a priority for a while.”
He nodded slowly, bemused and a little disappointed. “You know, that makes twice now that you’ve thrown me out before I got on base. Forgive me for saying so, Atlanta, but you’re hell on a man’s ego.”
“I think you’ll survive.” She smiled. It wasn’t the high-wattage sort the cameras captured. This one was the genuine article.
“Glad I could make your day,” he grumbled.
“You did, Angelo, but not in the way you mean.”
Atlanta rarely did anything spontaneous. Spontaneity was too costly. She’d found that out as a child. Under Zeke’s care and later his control, she’d learned to deftly plan out her every move. She didn’t plan to kiss Angelo Casali. She just leaned across the table and did it, resting her lips against his for a brief, sweet moment during which neither of them closed their eyes.
Innocent. That was what the gesture was. It had been a long time since she’d felt that way around a man, which was what caused her to draw away.
She gathered up her handbag and reached for her small carryon as she stood. Even though her legs felt ridiculously shaky, her voice came out steady. “From one wounded ego to another, thank you.”
Atlanta stopped in the restroom after saying goodbye to Angelo. Taking several slow, measured breaths, she regained the last of her composure. Then, with her makeup freshened and her emotions firmly in check, she dropped the dark glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and hustled to the gate. She arrived just in time for the final boarding call for Flight 174 to Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. A flight attendant helped stow her carryon in one of the overhead compartments. Atlanta let out a sigh and turned to find her seat.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you, sweetheart?” a masculine voice drawled.
Her neck snapped around and her gaze locked with Angelo’s. He was two rows behind her on the opposite side of the aisle. So much for restoring her composure.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked inanely.
He tugged at the strap of his seat belt. “Preparing for takeoff.”
“Are…are you following me?”
She immediately felt like an idiot for making the assumption and that was before Angelo replied, “And you claim to have a wounded ego. Seems perfectly healthy to me.”
Her gaze darted around. Thankfully none of the other passengers in first class seemed to be paying much attention.
“So, you’re going to Italy,” she managed on a weak smile.
“Yeah. Is that seat next to you open?”
Angelo didn’t wait for her to reply. He unbuckled and rose, grinning as he plopped down beside her. One thought came through loud and clear: The flight to Italy was going to be interesting indeed.
Chapter Two
“SO, WHAT takes you to Italy?” Angelo asked once their flight was airborne. “A movie role?”
“A vacation, actually. I want some time alone without the media following my every move.”
“So you picked a small town like Rome for that,” he replied deadpan.
“Rome isn’t my final destination.” She lowered her voice. “I’m heading a little farther south to an isolated little village that I’d never heard of before. It’s tucked up on a hillside, very remote and the people are very discreet when it comes to celebrities, or so I’ve been told.”
No way, Angelo thought. What would be the odds? He had to know. “You’re not talking about Monta Correnti, by any chance?”
“You know it?” Then her face paled. “You’re…you’re not going…”
“Yep.” Angelo’s laughter rang out loud enough to draw the attention of the passengers around them.
Distraction. In the airport’s VIP lounge he’d told Atlanta it was the name of their game as well as its object. Apparently they were going into extra innings.
A couple hours into their flight, Angelo could no longer ignore the angry throbbing of his shoulder. Atlanta was reading a magazine, or more likely pretending to since she hadn’t turned the page in twenty minutes. He was no speed-reader, but even he could have finished the article on eyeliner dos and don’ts in that amount of time.
He twisted the cap off the mineral water he’d ordered when the flight attendant last came around, and as discreetly as possible popped a couple of the potent painkillers the team doctor had prescribed, washing them down with a gulp of the beverage.
“That bad, huh?” She closed the magazine and laid it on her lap.
“Just stiff,” he lied. “I’ll be all right.”
