Italian Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (8 page)

I closed my eyes again, letting myself fall into the moment again, fall into the sensation of the warmness of his palm.

"I couldn't stop thinking about something you said to me."

With my eyes closed like that, focusing my other senses, I got the full effect of that resonant voice of his. I smiled. "What did I say?"

"Come on out and I'll show you."

"Or we could just stay in..." Rationally, I knew that we shouldn't. I'd still only known Liam a handful of hours. I knew that we should take it slow. Yet I couldn't shake that impression that I'd known him my entire life, and that there was no reason to take it slow.

That hot throbbing started again.

"You have no idea how much that tempts me," Liam said, "But I really want to show you something."

"Okay," I said.

"Just like that? Okay?" he replied, his brow crinkling in a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Yeah, just like that. It's something I'm trying out." I left it at that, afraid he might tease me about my newfound decision to go with the flow for once. "So, what are you going to show me?"

Rather than say anything, he led me out of the apartment, letting me pull my shoes on first. I chose a pair of sensible and comfy flats, not entirely certain what it was he had planned. He gave me nothing to go on but a mischievous smirk.

The narrow staircase groaned and complained beneath our combined weight as we made our way down. At the bottom, he held the door for me and we stepped outside.

That grey BMW of his crouched at the curb, its modern-chic Euro appeal contrasting sharply with the old world visage presented by the cobbled, narrow street the bakery faced.

Out here, the warm and homely smell of the bakery was particularly strong and I thought momentarily about how much I now looked forward to the fresh-baked roll Mrs. Rosselini would be delivering tomorrow morning.

"So what is it?" I said, looking around. Aside from his car, I saw nothing that I didn't see every time I left my flat to go grab the bus for school.

Liam thumbed a button on his keychain and the car chirped. Then he pulled the passenger door open and gave me a flourishing bow while waving me in. "Rome. I'm going to show you Rome."

"Why?" I said, poised to sit in the passenger seat.

"I couldn't stop thinking about how you're an art history major living and studying in Rome without going to see any of the art the city has to offer. And then I knew I had to show you."

"You had to?" I couldn't quite keep the incredulity out of my voice. Old suspicions are hard to shake. The cynic inside me wanted to think this was all some ploy to get me in bed.

Except that didn't follow. We'd already had that incredible night after the fundraiser. And I hadn't exactly been trying to slam the door in his face when he came up to my flat.

And then there were his eyes. I kept looking at them, trying to find some twinkle of a lie in them, some deceit or deception and kept coming up with nothing.
The eyes don't lie.

"Yes, I had to. It's practically a crime that you haven't seen anything. Now sit down."

I gave in, plunking my butt down on the comfy leather seat. Liam closed my door and walked around the raked hood of the car, climbing behind the steering wheel.

"Are you ready?" he said, the BMW thrumming to life around us. He looked happy and excited and I knew he wasn't trying to lie to me or trick me.

I caught that excitement, my heart racing, little trembles racing up and down my arms and legs. I wanted to see all Rome had to offer. And I wanted him to show it to me.

For just a moment, a thin strand of guilt ran through me when I remembered my partially completed essay on Giulio Romano.

It's a field trip. A research trip
, I told myself. My paper would be better for going.

"Yes. Let's do it."

E
ven though the car had air conditioning, neither of us wanted to use it. Instead Liam thumbed the button to roll the windows down all the way, letting the fresh Roman air spill into the car.

I hadn't grabbed anything to tie my hair with, so it whipped and lashed about my shoulders, streaming back over the headrest. And I didn't care. It felt wonderful, feeling the air like that.

"Where are we going first?" I said.

"Just trust me," Liam replied.

We came to a stoplight at one point, the wind stilling around us so that I could hear again. His phone started buzzing, and he fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. He frowned at it. Something about his expression sent a sliver of worry through me.

Was it all over? Was he going to cancel as soon as our little adventure had begun? He was here on business, after all. I knew that much. And it would be unfair of me to monopolize his time when he should be going his job.

Even though it would be unfair, I still wanted him all to myself.

"Has something come up?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

The phone continued ringing in his hand. The muscles in Liam's jaw and temples worked. And then he thumbed the red button, sending the call to voicemail. "Nothing as important as showing an art history student some actual art history."

Putting the phone on silent, he shoved it into his pocket just as the light changed. As usual, the hyperactive Italian drivers in their tiny Fiats immediately began honking while Liam accelerated the BMW smoothly through the intersection.

"My hero," I said. It wasn't flowers or jewelry or a nice dinner, but it was somehow more romantic than all that. He'd chosen me over his job, put me ahead of whatever business he had here.

And it felt so good to feel important to someone again. It had been so long since anyone had done anything of the sort for me. And doesn't everyone need to feel important to someone?

"Don't worry about it. Really. I love this city, and I want to share its beauty with you. And your beauty with it. I just can't believe that you haven't seen it yet!"

Despite my well-honed flirt-shield, I couldn't stop the hot wave of the blush as it crept up my throat and into my cheeks.

"Stop it," I said, feeling foolish with a big smile spread across my lips. My hot cheeks hurt from that smile.

He glanced at me, then back to the road. "What? Complimenting you? I won't, thanks. Because it's true."

We passed a row of parked cars, and I watched my reflection flicker across their windows. Long blonde hair thrown into disarray by the wind. A goofy grin on lips I'd always thought were too thin and a face I always thought generous to call anything but slightly above average.

He couldn't really believe I was as beautiful as he claimed me to be. Yet I still saw nothing in his eyes to suggest otherwise. I wished I could see myself as he saw me.

At the next stoplight, a group of four young men chatting and laughing around a bench looked up and saw us. They started waving and whistling.

"
Bella signora!
" I heard one dark-eyed boy calling, blowing kisses at me. The heat in my cheeks intensified.

"You see?" Liam said. The light changed and we pulled away again.

"That's just what Italians are like," I said. It had taken some time after getting to Rome to acclimatize myself to that bit of culture shock. You had to be careful to avoid pinches to the rump and overenthusiastic, full-body hugs. And I'd long since learned to emulate the way the native Italian women ignored the catcalling.

Not that I didn't find it all entirely unflattering. You could be your own women, liberated and all that, and still appreciate a little attention.

Liam slammed the steering wheel in mock irritation, "You have an excuse for everything, don't you?"

"Not quite. So, where are we going?"

He shrugged a mysterious shrug and then started up one of Rome's prominent hills.

It wasn't long before the marble-columned facade of the Pantheon rose up, as if it had grown from the ground itself fully formed.

"Oh!" I said, unable to keep the gasp entirely to myself.

He pulled the BMW into a visitor parking lot and we made our way into the square in front of the ancient building. It wasn't exactly tourist season—it was a little too late in the year for that—but there were still a fair number of people milling about in that stone square.

Even from the other side, I could make out the letters hewn into the marble facade. "
'Marcus Agrippa built this when he was consul for the third time
,'" I said, almost inaudibly. A little shiver ran up my back, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I couldn't believe I was actually there.

"You read Latin?" he asked.

"A little," I said. It dovetailed pretty well with Italian to the point where if you puzzled over it for a bit you could figure it out.

"I'm impressed."

Almost unconsciously, I reached out and took Liam's hand.

"We can go inside, you know," he said.

I realized I'd been standing rooted to the spot at the end of the square for far too long. We went and passed the large fountain out in front of the main doors. And then we were in the rotunda. It was massive. The weight of history pressed down in the hundreds of tons of concrete making up the overhead dome. I could almost feel it on my shoulders.

"I get that every time I come here," Liam said.

I remembered then when he spoke about how he loved the history in the city, how it helped put his life in perspective. I could see why, now. How could anything I ever do compare to a place like that?

He led me around eagerly, taking me from one statue to the next, pointing out frescoes and paintings.

I had to say, I was impressed. I'd still been having the suspicions that this was all some big con to sleep with me again. That suspicion disappeared, changing into one that wondered how Liam came to know all this.

I spent almost as much time looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I did looking at the history around me.

More than once, I caught him looking at me, too. Our eyes would touch and then dart away from each other like when you forced the same pole of two magnets together.

"Raphael is buried here," I said, remembering something I'd read in my research.

Raphael, who'd left his studio to Giulio Romano. Who I was currently writing a paper about.

"Aha!" I said.

"Hmm?" Liam replied.

"Nothing," I continued, embarrassed that I'd said that out loud.

"No, really, tell me. I want to know."

"It's nothing... I'm just writing a paper on one of Raphael's students, and I sort of justified going out with you as a research trip."

Liam snorted, "I thought maybe it was something like that."

"You and your superpower again? Reading people and all that?"

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it, right?"

We spent maybe another fifteen minutes there, just taking it in. Having Liam there to share it with somehow made it more special. Knowing I wasn't alone in this strange land made it special.

Although my favorite part was when he pulled me into a quiet alcove and kissed me. It felt secret, clandestine. Tourists wandered around just a few feet away, oblivious to the two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"Is this a tour of the city, or are you trying to take a tour of me?" I said before kissing the cleft in his chin I liked so much.

"Can't it be both?" he replied, putting a finger beneath my chin and tilting my head back so that he could kiss me some more.

Every nerve and fiber came alive at his touch. Who needed Mr. Drayton the art teacher's exercise when I had Liam's soft and warm lips to pull me into the present moment?

Of course, the problem with moments is that they come to an end. No matter how you try and hold onto them.

We both sensed that if we didn't quit now, we'd have to change the rating from PG-13 to R. Even so, it ached inside when we parted.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm the fires inside, I blew it out through pursed lips. "Wow."

Even in the shadows of the alcove, I could see Liam's jaw working, see the way he fought to regain some sense of control and composure over himself.

Although, I had to admit that I really wanted to see him lose control.

He took my hand and led me back out into the rotunda proper, back out under that dome and the hole in its center that looked like nothing except a great iris in the sky looking down at all the tiny mortals that dared pass beneath it.

"That's called the oculus," I said, Liam following my gaze.

"You seem pretty familiar with a lot of this already. Did you learn all this from school?"

"No," I smiled, my eyes still wandering over all this beauty that Liam showed me, "I've always wanted to visit Rome, actually, ever since I can remember. I used to read books and magazines..."

And I had so many of those books and magazines and documentaries. All cherished gifts and belongings. Except now their memory did nothing except send me on a downward spiral.

"Then this must be a dream come true, being here, actually seeing all of this in living color instead of in a glossy magazine spread?"

My shoulders slumped a little at that, and a sudden and intense sadness welled up from the pit of my stomach in a cold wave. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" I said, barely a whisper.

My eyes drifted down until they came to rest on the polished marble floor.
I am such a downer!
I could practically feel my psyche scrambling for some sort of purchase as my mind slipped into that terrible and familiar rut.

Sensing my sudden change in mood, Liam gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "What is it? Something's wrong."

The concern I noted in his voice pulled me from my sudden and unexpected slump. "Nothing, just something reminded me of some stuff I don't like to think about."

Liam studied me, waiting for more. I realized that I wanted to tell him more, that I wanted to tell him everything. Except I couldn't. Just thinking of putting my thoughts and feelings into words shoved a lump the size and weight of a bowling ball up my throat.

He somehow saw that, too, and thankfully chose not to press me for more information.