His grin returned. As well as a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Ouch. That hurts. Right here,” he said, jabbing a finger against his chest.
“You’re a big boy, you can take it.”
We kept chatting, no lull lasting more than a moment. All the while, we both laughed and smiled. I couldn’t remember the last person I felt this comfortable with. There was Isabella, I supposed. But certainly no other men.
I didn’t quite understand why, but I could tell that the two of us just clicked. Like two pieces in a puzzle that went together perfectly. I felt like I could be myself around him. More, it felt like he wanted me to be myself, and that he could just be himself.
But who did he have to pretend with, and what did he pretend? Stupid Isabella, I thought. Her teasing remark that Liam was already involved with someone still niggled at me.
Probably because I never thought of myself as particular special or good in any way. There were prettier girls than me. Smarter ones. Funnier ones. All better candidates for the handsome man sitting and laughing in front of me as he popped an olive into his mouth.
I suppose I’m probably just the kind of person who, when presented with a gift horse, would promptly open its mouth and count its teeth. What was the catch, here? Was there a camera crew nearby, ready to punk me right after Liam confessed he was never actually interested in me?
I guess it all came down to me wanting to know how he could have possibly noticed me among all the possibilities.
But I tried to push that out of my mind, tried to tell myself to stop being so suspicious. To enjoy things and go with the flow. I’d done that at the fundraiser, and it had led me to one of the most incredible nights of my life. Maybe I could make it work a little longer.
Besides, I wanted to know everything about Liam. Although what surprised me more was that he wanted to know everything about me!
Liam’s foot slid under the table, the toe of his shoe bumping against mine. Was it an accident? Had he done it on purpose?
My heart raced, all the heat in my body coursing through me, converging at one single point between my thighs. I glanced up at him, my eyes tracing that strong jaw line, then down to that delicious slash of flesh revealed by his unbuttoned collar.
My throat tightened. I had the sudden urge to have him right there on the bistro table. I could already hear the platter of antipasto shattering on the tiled patio, olives leaving smears of oil to bake in the heat of the sun while we tore at each other.
Before I could work myself up into a lather over it, I forestalled the issue with another question.
“So any brothers or sisters?” I said, taking a cold cut from the plate in the middle of the table.
“A half sister. Younger. You?” I watched the way his lips formed the words, mesmerized by the way they shaped each individual syllable. I didn’t even need to close my eyes to remember how his mouth tasted against mine, or to recall the other hidden talents of that tongue.
You’re getting obsessed, I told myself. More, I wasn’t even certain why. No guy had ever driven me crazy like this. Especially not on the second time meeting him. Like I said, something about the two of us together just clicked.
Even though I knew next to nothing about him, I felt like I’d known him my whole life. Sort of like meeting a friend you haven’t seen in a long time and picking up right where you left off, despite the gulf of time between last seeing them.
Though, of course, Liam was more than a friend. Much more.
I shivered, a patch of goosebumps running up my back. “I’m an only child, actually. Couldn’t you tell?”
He shrugged, and I wished I could see the play of muscles beneath his shirt. “I was being polite. So, being an art history major in Rome must be amazing. I bet you’ve seen everything a dozen times each.”
That put a bit of a damper over my flame. A bashful weight pulled my chin down to my chest. I sensed Liam’s sudden confusion, but embarrassment kept me from setting him straight.
“What is it?” he said, the concern in his voice melting my heart.
So I took a deep breath in through my nose and let it out through my mouth, agreeing with my impulse to tell him the truth rather than to make some excuse.
“Actually I haven’t really done any sightseeing. The closest I’ve been to the Coliseum and the Forum is back in your hotel room.”
Just saying that brought images of two glistening bodies writhing together on a sumptuous king-sized mattress. The heat of the recollection helped to break up my embarrassment. A little.
He hadn’t answered me. Instead, he stroked at his clean-shaven jaw like some wizened Greek philosopher, plumbing my depths with those baby blues of his.
I felt the urge to fill the void in the conversation. “I know, pathetic, right? An art history major in a city full of art history for two months and I haven’t seen a single thing! Pathetic.” I repeated. Beating myself up was almost as easy as returning one of Liam’s blinding smiles.
He shook his head, the motion disturbing that perfectly tousled hair. I wanted to run my fingers through it like I had that night, feel the softness of it, use it to pull him harder against me.
Pathetic, I thought again.
“You aren’t pathetic. Don’t say that about yourself.”
“But...” I started.
Then his baby blues hardened into two chips of ice and froze me mid-rebuttal. “No. Pathetic people don’t have the courage to go half way around the world for a year, away from everything and everyone they know. They stay at home and wallow in their self-pity. So, you’re not pathetic. If anything, you’re brave. And too self-deprecating. You wouldn’t let anyone else call you that, so why beat yourself up?”
I don’t think I blinked through his little speech. The hairs on the back of my neck had stood up, though. In a good way.
Not pathetic. Brave, I thought, followed quickly by, he thinks I’m brave!
I realized then that I’d just gotten a glimpse of the hard, business-minded core hidden by the handsome exterior. He’d spoken with such confidence, too. I bet he got his way at all the board meetings.
I kind of wanted him to get his way with me, right then and there. “What are you? Some kind of self-help guru?” I nudged his foot beneath the table.
“I’m good at reading people. Don’t you believe me yet?” he said, the ice over his eyes cracking at the same time he smiled. It was a one-two punch, first the lecture delivered so clearly, then the smile to smooth everything over.
He definitely got his way in the boardroom. And everywhere else, I bet. I hoped his boss knew what they had in Liam. Whatever meeting he was in Rome for was in the bag, as far as I was concerned.
“I believe that you have a really high opinion of yourself,” I said, unable to keep my own lips from curving up into a matching smile. I could lose myself in those eyes of his. Escape my sliding grades, escape the memories from St. Louis. All of it.
“A well-justified opinion of myself.”
I slipped my shoe off and then ran my toes up his calf, loving the warmth coming off him, the smoothness of his khakis against me. Liam’s smile twitched. Reaching down, he ran his fingers up my calf, stopping right behind the knee.
He squeezed that spot. It was like he’d lit a pilot light inside of me. A furnace roared to life low in my stomach. It wouldn’t have surprised me if my panties burnt to ash with the heat of it.
“A very well deserved opinion,” I said while teasing electric fingers ran up and down my back. If only we hadn’t been in such a public place.
I wondered if I could be brave enough to ask him to take me back to that lovely hotel room with its equally lovely, large bed.
His hand slipped away, leaving the back of my knee cool and aching for his touch again. Liam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, regarding me with that philosopher’s gaze again.
“Tell me something about you I don’t know. Something good.”
“Like what?” I said. I’d be his open book if only to feel his eyes discover me.
“Anything. Ten seconds. Something I don’t know.” He then jerked his watch out from beneath his cuff, actually counting off the seconds.
I opened my mouth, smiling hard enough that my cheeks hurt. But nothing came out. It was crazy. We hardly knew anything about each other. There was an entire ocean of life behind me I could tap, but I didn’t know when or where.
“Five...”
“Liam!” I said, laughing around his name. It was a nice name. Lyrical.
“Four...”
“I don’t know!”
“Three...” He couldn’t keep his own smile off his face, amused at the way he’d put me on the spot.
Desperate, I picked something. “Before I came to Rome I’d never been on a plane before.”
He frowned. “Something interesting.”
“Once, in third grade, I made a boy I had a crush on eat a worm.”
The frown disappeared, replaced by that winning smile. “Remind me never to play in the dirt with you.”
“So you think I have a crush on you?” I said, leaning across the table.
He smiled again, but didn’t answer. Probably because the answer was obvious. I definitely had a crush on him. Third-grade me would have tried to force-feed him a whole handfuls of wriggly worms.
Of course, now that that memory had surfaced, I recalled that the boy in question ran away from me every time I approached him on the playground after that.