course. He didn’t give away the inside-outness he felt. He played it as cool as he could, but when they got to the steps of the Hotel de Fiore, he stopped. Laine was already one step up, her support arm stretched, and she turned back.
She’d been talking about the work she needed to do and how the Signora hadn’t been at the desk when she’d left and how she needed the wifi password. Colin had only been half listening.
“It’s more than convenience isn’t it?” said Colin, looking up at her. “Us meeting up here?” He needed to know he wasn’t just some bloke she’d called for a hook up on a business trip. Not that he was opposed to that scenario but for some reason he needed to know , and that very need made his disorientation complete. Because he’d never needed to know anything like that before. He’d never cared. And now his foot hurt and this strange yet familiar, stunningly beautiful, and very sexy and exceptional American woman stood over him, smiling down, a question in her eyes, and if all she was really thinking about was her work and getting the wifi password and keeping things convenient, Colin needed to know .
“What is it?” she said, gazing into his eyes. Eyes that held but hid his desire and confusion and longing and self-protection.
“True love,” he whispered.
Her eyes flickered. Her smile disappeared. He watched her throat move as she swallowed deeply.
“The wifi password,” he said, taking a careful step up, and then another. “True love. In Italian. Amore Vero. Type that in and you’ll be set.”
Chapter 8
Laine
Laine felt as if her heart might climb out of her chest and up her throat and lay itself down at Colin’s feet as he stood on the steps of the Hotel Fiore. When he said ‘true love’ she felt her heart stop, and then it started again with a thunderous roar, but by then he was hobbling up the steps and talking about wifi passwords. She felt like such an idiot. For so many reasons. This was not how things were supposed to be going.
To begin with, they weren’t supposed to meet tonight. Not when she hadn’t showered, was punch-drunk from lack of sleep and a teeny bit tipsy from Paolo’s Chianti, which she’d convinced herself accounted for the clumsiness of banging into Colin, and she was still in the process of trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was about to merge fantasy with reality. She would have sorted that out by tomorrow , when they were supposed to meet for a romantic dinner or drinks or walk through the medieval city streets. But no, reality had come crashing in, as clumsy and awkward as it always was. She’d actually hurt Colin tonight. She felt like a clutzy American. She’d tried to be cool, to brush it off, but she was intensely embarrassed. Colin hadn’t even recognized her at first, and why would he? He barely knew her. What had she been thinking, rushing off to Florence believing she could rekindle their fiery one night stand? Such things weren’t possible.
She sighed inwardly as she held the door open for Colin. He was in genuine pain.
Inside, the Signora was bustling through the lobby with a tray and two sherry glasses when Laine and Colin entered.
She smiled at Colin. “Not alone anymore, I see.” She winked.
“It’s not what you think,” said Colin.
Laine bit her lip, pained at the truth of that statement. “We’ll ask her for some ice for your foot.”
Colin nodded.
Laine peeked into the common room and saw the older German couple sitting together on a love seat. The Signora served them each a sherry. The couple clinked glasses, sipped, and then kissed one another delicately and with great love. Laine turned back to Colin, who was now leaning on the counter looking pale. The Signora bustled back with her tray.
“I think I know what you want,” she said in a lilting voice. She looked at Laine and smiled approvingly. “One room instead of two?”
“No!” said Laine and Colin at the same time.
Laine
She’d been talking about the work she needed to do and how the Signora hadn’t been at the desk when she’d left and how she needed the wifi password. Colin had only been half listening.
“It’s more than convenience isn’t it?” said Colin, looking up at her. “Us meeting up here?” He needed to know he wasn’t just some bloke she’d called for a hook up on a business trip. Not that he was opposed to that scenario but for some reason he needed to know , and that very need made his disorientation complete. Because he’d never needed to know anything like that before. He’d never cared. And now his foot hurt and this strange yet familiar, stunningly beautiful, and very sexy and exceptional American woman stood over him, smiling down, a question in her eyes, and if all she was really thinking about was her work and getting the wifi password and keeping things convenient, Colin needed to know .
“What is it?” she said, gazing into his eyes. Eyes that held but hid his desire and confusion and longing and self-protection.
“True love,” he whispered.
Her eyes flickered. Her smile disappeared. He watched her throat move as she swallowed deeply.
“The wifi password,” he said, taking a careful step up, and then another. “True love. In Italian. Amore Vero. Type that in and you’ll be set.”
Chapter 8
Laine
Laine felt as if her heart might climb out of her chest and up her throat and lay itself down at Colin’s feet as he stood on the steps of the Hotel Fiore. When he said ‘true love’ she felt her heart stop, and then it started again with a thunderous roar, but by then he was hobbling up the steps and talking about wifi passwords. She felt like such an idiot. For so many reasons. This was not how things were supposed to be going.
To begin with, they weren’t supposed to meet tonight. Not when she hadn’t showered, was punch-drunk from lack of sleep and a teeny bit tipsy from Paolo’s Chianti, which she’d convinced herself accounted for the clumsiness of banging into Colin, and she was still in the process of trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was about to merge fantasy with reality. She would have sorted that out by tomorrow , when they were supposed to meet for a romantic dinner or drinks or walk through the medieval city streets. But no, reality had come crashing in, as clumsy and awkward as it always was. She’d actually hurt Colin tonight. She felt like a clutzy American. She’d tried to be cool, to brush it off, but she was intensely embarrassed. Colin hadn’t even recognized her at first, and why would he? He barely knew her. What had she been thinking, rushing off to Florence believing she could rekindle their fiery one night stand? Such things weren’t possible.
She sighed inwardly as she held the door open for Colin. He was in genuine pain.
Inside, the Signora was bustling through the lobby with a tray and two sherry glasses when Laine and Colin entered.
She smiled at Colin. “Not alone anymore, I see.” She winked.
“It’s not what you think,” said Colin.
Laine bit her lip, pained at the truth of that statement. “We’ll ask her for some ice for your foot.”
Colin nodded.
Laine peeked into the common room and saw the older German couple sitting together on a love seat. The Signora served them each a sherry. The couple clinked glasses, sipped, and then kissed one another delicately and with great love. Laine turned back to Colin, who was now leaning on the counter looking pale. The Signora bustled back with her tray.
“I think I know what you want,” she said in a lilting voice. She looked at Laine and smiled approvingly. “One room instead of two?”
“No!” said Laine and Colin at the same time.
Laine
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