Read Online An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel by Kasonndra Leigh - Free Book Online Page A

who’d be the lucky
recipient of her portrait. I don’t think it would be me.
    Sighing,
I smirk. “Why does every female in the world obsess over that movie? Americans,
Italians, British girls. No matter. They all go crazy for Jack Badly Stitched
Coveralls Dawson.”
    “Because
he’s sexy. That’s why.”
    “Are
you trying to tell me you want me to paint your naked body? I don’t know how
the boss would feel about me tainting her daughter, but we can work something
out.” I flash her a devilish grin.
    She
gasps and blushes. “Boy, you don’t hold anything back, do you? I’m saying it
would be neat to experience something like Rose and Jack’s adventure.”
    “Ah.
I see. I’ll keep that in mind.”
    I
get a wide-eyed smile just before she takes a step back away from me and
stumbles over a cord sticking out from behind one of the display tables,
forcing me to catch her yet again.
    “Careful,
signorina. How can a ballerina be prone to such catastrophes?” I ask, my body
suddenly aware of the way her petite, but firm, frame is pressed against mine.
My nostrils can’t help but inhale the fresh scent of roses drifting from inside
her hair.
    Easing
out of my arms, she straightens up her body. “Mother says I have her coordination
challenged genes and my father’s determination. Meaning I have to practice more
and watch my steps. My determination to overcome my clumsiness is crazy insane,
and that’s how I’m able to do ballet.” I can tell she’s lost in some memory.
Those gorgeous eyes of hers are focused on my painting, a sadness filling them.
I want to know more, but I realize nothing can happen between us that way.
Flirt. Joke around. Take your ass home. That’s my motto where Adriana’s
concerned.
    “I
am sorry, but I have to prepare for tomorrow’s show. You wanted to talk to me
about something?”
    “Right.
Yes. That. Hmm.” She places a finger against her cheek, frowning as though
she’s in deep thought. Just as I figured, she didn’t really need anything. I
should send her home. Now. I can’t, though. This is that defining moment with
the little ballerina from the other side of the neighborhood, that place I
always come to with a woman, the one where I decide to either take her on a
ride with La Dolce Vita or send her home. Option two is the road I know
I need to take with this girl, but I don’t.
    “I’d
love to see a live fashion show. I’ve never been to one before,” she says
suddenly, avoiding my question. “I mean, I’m used to big performances and
things, but not anything fun like a fashion show.”
    She
reminds me of a child with her wide-eyed enthusiasm. I could take her right
here in the shop—I’ve done it to many women—but I can’t bring myself to use
this girl in that way. Never mind that her Russian bodyguard would probably
rearrange my body parts before having me fired. I’ve faced worse, and Belikov’s
threat doesn’t bother me. Right then, I decide road number one, the player’s
alley, probably isn’t going to be the way I go with this one, either.
    “I
know what you’re doing,” I begin.
    “What
do you mean?” she asks.
    “You
were trying to make your bodyguard jealous yesterday at the pool.”
    Twisting
her mouth up, she starts lacing and unlacing her fingers. “No, seriously, I did
need to talk to you …”
    I
decide to play along, even though I know I’m right about her intentions. “All
right. Go on, finish your story,” I urge, unable to conceal my grin.
    “I’m
busted, right?”
    “Don’t
feel bad, Maia, you can use me anytime.”
    “Maia?
You know, I think Juliette’s a much better name,” she says as she holds back a
grin.
    “Maybe
this is true.” We stare at each other a brief moment, and then we both burst
out laughing. I’m having a normal conversation with another female, one that doesn’t
include a poetical metaphor or a reference to something sexual in every other
sentence. This is not good; time to send my badass