Excerpt:A very handsome waiter approaches us, all masculine energy and charm. With his arrival comes stronger pinpricks under my skin. It’s akin to getting zapped in winter from static. But as I glance around the restaurant, everyone else is carrying on as normal so I sit and try to act normal as I look up at the sexy as sin man. I’d peg him as thirty perhaps. Ebony, silky hair, styled back off his face. Deep eyes, Roman nose and full lips. What is it with Italian men? Are they all attractive at this age?
My eyes fully appraise him as my pulse jackhammers. My neck feels flushed, causing beads of sweat to form. God, can he see my reaction? I’m mesmerized like a hormonal teen, riveted to the spot.
His full smile adds to his beauty and for a moment even Bianca remains mute as he greets us. There’s a presence about him I can’t define. It’s that certain something that ‘just is’. The X Factor. Energy is pouring off him and I’m in the line of fire. Can someone please bring me a cold glass of water? Or an industrial fan?
She quickly recovers though and offers a ‘ciao’ which I robotically mimic, enthralled by his rugged beauty up close. The flickering light of the candle on our table, catches his high cheek bones and full mouth, stealing my attention for way too long. His short-sleeved black shirt fails to cover a tattoo which disappears up his forearm.
“Do you speak English?” Bianca asks for my benefit, a little too loudly might I add. When I peek at her, she’s wearing a knowing expression, right eyebrow raised, lips tipped up. Her foot taps mine under the table. When did she begin staring at me like that? Probably when I answered him like Siri.
“Of course. I’m fluent. I’ve been learning it since high school. Would you like a drink first?” That voice. Every syllable and word hit me front and center. The tone sounds like a deep lullaby I could be rocked to sleep with. Sheesh. What is happening with me tonight? Am I hormonal? My menstrual cycle is on point, my period not due for another two weeks so it can’t be that. If this heat doesn’t settle down, I’ll need to step into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I’m pretty sure the restaurant is air-conditioned too.
I look back to the waiter who is blatantly ignoring Bianca and watching me with his shockingly beautiful eyes. Eyes one could stare into if they wished to find all the answers of the universe. Eyes which see right through you and invoke a sense of belonging. As if you’ve seen them before. Familiar. Comforting. Ones I want to dive into and never leave.
They’re turning me into a hot mess. I need to get my act together. I’m acting so out of character. Like a schoolgirl, not a forty-year-old divorcee. My hands fidget on my lap as I glance around the room. It’s not big. A cozy, intimate space with guests lined up outside the door like we were moments ago. I count the tables. Fifteen. That’s all. I’m guessing they need to expand soon. Either that, or they want to keep it the way it is.
My eyes are drawn back to Mr. Handsome as he flicks his attention from Bianca and back to me again. It truly is getting too unbearably hot in here.
“Two glasses of your best wine. And would it be possible to have a garlic bruschetta?”
“Sure. Let me get that for you.” Finally he turns and saunters back to the kitchen, leaving me with heated cheeks and a flutter in my belly. But as soon as he’s gone, the temperature cools back down to normal. That’s strange. Is he running a fever? Does his body temperature run abnormally high all the time?
“Maybe he’s the one,” Bianca laughs. “He was checking you out.”
“And clearly younger than me. He was probably just being friendly to the tourist.”
But I doubt my own words. Men don’t make prolonged eye contact if they aren’t interested. Pity we’re leaving the day after tomorrow. I’d probably come back just to see his face again. A girl can dream. But how can he possibly be the one? Not the first hot Italian guy to speak to me. It couldn’t be that easy.
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