“The restaurant was only a few blocks from the stores.”
Emma turned a one-eighty. “I think we needed to go the other direction.”
Gio agreed and they doubled back.
They found the restaurant where they’d eaten and darted down another wrong turn.
By now they were both drenched.
Emma crushed the bag of clothes close to her body to keep the paper from ripping.
“We should have taken a picture of the intersection,” she said.
They slowed their pace, turned in circles.
The streets had emptied of pedestrians, but cars and scooters still sped by.
“We rounded the block twice, then drove over two before we found parking.”
“One more block over, then?” Emma asked.
Gio stayed close to her side as they slowed down and looked for a familiar landmark.
Her hair was starting to drip by the time they saw the car a half a block away. “There.”
They picked up their pace.
Gio stood in front of the passenger side door and stuck his hands into his jeans pocket for the keys. When he finally had them in his hand, they flipped out of his fingers and onto the ground.
Emma started to laugh.
They both reached for them at the same time, their heads collided.
Gio was laughing as they stood up, rubbing their heads.
Their eyes met as rain dripped off their faces.
Giovanni stood within two inches of her body, the car to her back. His grin fell and his gaze traveled to her lips.
Emma’s heartbeat picked up in her chest, her breath caught.
His fingertips reached for her hair and pushed the wet mess aside. That simple touch sparked hot, even against the cold, wet rain. His palm cradled her cheek, and his thumb traced the outside of her lower lip.
What would it hurt to let him kiss her?
Emma swayed a little closer.
“Am I wearing you down already, cara?” His voice was a whisper.
She nodded, and then shook her head.
Their eyes locked.
His lips parted, he lifted an eyebrow . . . and pulled away.
Out of the trance he’d managed to put her in without any effort whatsoever, air rushed from her lungs.
Gio retrieved the car keys that were still on the sidewalk and placed a gentle hand on her hip and urged her to move to the side.
Get a grip, Emma.
He opened the door and she scrambled inside.
It was going to be a very long last two hours of their ride home.
Still damp from their run in the rain, Emma and Gio walked into the villa, both of them rolling a bag at their side. They didn’t see anyone as they walked the path to their rooms.
For two hours they both ignored the almost kiss and the electric tension that didn’t seem to ebb even one kilowatt. They talked about the higher-end wines they both liked and compared notes as to which was better.
Anytime the conversation dried up, Emma found herself looking at the man and asking herself, What if? and Why not? For something temporary, of course.
She liked her single life. Liked having her own say in every part of her day. And in fact, would be getting more of that once she was home and starting her own winery . . . if her father agreed to her.
Once out of the car and such close quarters with Giovanni, she felt like she could breathe a bit easier.
They stopped at her door and he pushed the black bag closer to her.
“Thank you again,” she said. “For everything today.” For a moment she felt like she was saying good night to a date after prom.
“I had a great time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Shopping for women’s underwear?”
“That was the best part.” He winked at her.
“You’re incorrigible.”
He laughed. “Are you going to meet the others?” Dinner hour was wrapping up, but Emma didn’t want anything to do with a party.
“All I want is a hot shower and bed.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good night.”
He turned to walk away, and she stopped him before he opened his bedroom door. “Giovanni?”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you? Why did you stop?” She didn’t have to elaborate her question. Their almost kiss hovered over them like thick perfume in a crowded bar.
He rubbed the side of his jaw, smiled. “You’re not ready.”
Then, without anything else, he walked into his room and left her standing there.
Holy shit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He was avoiding her.
A night of tossing and turning and wishing he’d taken her up on the invitation of a kiss made it hard to look at her without complete longing.
“Did something happen between you and Emma yesterday?” Chris asked the next day when he found Gio wandering the vineyards while everyone else soaked up some sun in the pool.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Just seems you wouldn’t give up an opportunity to see her lying out by the pool. Just because I’m gay, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a bombshell when I see one.”
Gio groaned and walked deeper into the vineyard. “If I saw her in the swimsuit, I’d have to offer my services as suntan-lotion boy. And I’m certain I’d violate something in the process.”
“And the problem with that is?” Chris asked.
“Nothing. Ultimately.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Have you ever found yourself so intrigued with someone that you really wanted to get to know them better before anything sexual happens?”
Chris nodded several times and then switched his answer. “No. But maybe that’s just me.”
“I’ve followed close to that way of life myself. The majority of the time the women I’ve spent time with were on the same page. When I knew they weren’t, I ended things. Emma is different.”
“You haven’t even known her for a solid week.”
“I realize that. Besides, we have a bet going. I said I wasn’t going there while on this trip.”
Chris laughed. “That was dumb.”
“Trust me, I know. I’m certain she’s making her own wager on getting me to cave.”
“That might be a bet worth losing.”
“I know that, too.”
“You two . . . talk about competitive,” Chris said.
“I like the chase, if I’m honest.”
Chris patted him on the back. “We all do, Gio. We all do.”
The last dinner at the villa was set under strings of soft lights outside under the oaks. A long table stretched out for all of them, several bottles of wine, bread, olive oil, with an array of meats and cheeses.
It was seven o’clock and the sun was dipping across the horizon.
Gio stood beside the Golden Girls, laughing along with them. “How many bottles did you buy here?” he asked.
“Not that many,” Carol told him.
“I sent a case home,” Diane said.
“One? I sent three,” Jean told them.
“We’ll be the hit of our book club.”
“Wine must be your fountain of youth,” Gio said.
Carol put her hand on his chest, tapped twice . . . and then hummed. “Don’t waste all that charm on us.” She looked over Gio’s shoulder.