Without releasing her, he glanced at the intruder, then pressed his forehead to Danielle’s. “Can I kiss you?”
A flurry of sensations blanked her brain—the warm press of his skin, his woodsy scent, his breath whispering over her lips. Too stunned to speak, she nodded.
He captured her chin between thumb and forefinger and held her gaze for a moment, until his dark lashes fluttered down, and he closed the distance between them. His lips brushed hers, feather-light, and pressed softly at each corner of her mouth, which opened on a sigh.Sweet Jesus. When had she ever been kissed like this?
“Mmm,” he hummed against her. His breath smelled of Chianti. He pressed her closer, hand splayed at the small of her back, and kissed her again, a long, voluptuous caress. She wound her arms around his neck and arched into his embrace, moaning helplessly as the tip of his tongue traced her lower lip.
“Madonna,” he murmured. Beneath half-lowered lids, his eyes shone dark and molten.
A sharp whack on his shoulder shattered the moment. “Basta così,” an older man scolded. “There are kids here. Go home if you’re that arrapato.”
Matteo threw his head back and laughed. “Means horny,” he explained. “Sorry, bella. Your beauty is intoxicating. I got carried away.” He pressed another kiss to the shell of her ear. “Will you forgive me?”
Face aflame, she nodded. “Should we go?”
He loosened his hold, once again taking her right hand. “As much as I’d like to get you alone, I’m enjoying dancing with you. Give me just one more?” As if on cue, the D.J. began a Sinatra tune.
She searched the dance floor for the giggly girls, but they’d disappeared into the crowd. The lights shifted to a rosy hue. Matteo swayed her slowly, keeping a safe distance this time, but the air between them crackled with electricity. Could the others see how she flushed and bloomed at his touch? They must have noticed because at each turn, eyes followed their movements, and murmurs trailed behind them.
“I think I’d better sit down,” she told him when the music faded. “I’m feeling a little woozy.”
On their way back to their table, they passed the girl who’d hoped to dance with Matteo. She muttered under her breath, but when Matteo gave her a dismissive wave, she raised her volume. “Cradle robber.”
Danielle went rigid with indignation.Jealous bitch. The girl was right, though. Matteo was at least ten years her junior, maybe more. She must look ridiculous, making out with a much younger man in front of a roomful of strangers. The rosy cloud she’d been floating on a moment ago deflated, dumping her back to earth with a painful thud.
She squeezed his hand. “Matteo, I’m really tired. I think I’ll head home.”
Those mesmerizing dark eyes saw right through her lie. “Don’t worry about Bianca. She’s crazy, a real shit stirrer. Nobody listens to her.”
She reached for her purse, dangling from the back of her chair. “Honestly, I had a wonderful time, but I’m ready for some quiet.”
He hovered behind her, far too close for clear thinking. When she reached for her wrap, he unfurled it and draped it over her. His hands settled on her shoulders, a warm, heavy weight that kept her rooted in place. His breath stirred her hair. Finally, he sighed. “Okay. If you want to go, let me walk you home.”
“No, really, I—”
“Too many drunk tourists out on a warm night like this. Please, bella. Let me see you to your door.” His broad palms kneaded her tense shoulders. “Uncle Sal will give me hell if I don’t.”
Just then, Salvatore returned to their table holding a plate piled high with pastries. “What’s this? Leaving before dessert?” He lifted a cannolo to her lips. “Stella Giusto made these. You’ll never taste anything better.”
“She’s tired, Zio,” Matteo interjected. “I’m gonna take her home.”
Salvatore’s expression of dismay smoothed into a knowing grin. “Ah. Okay, then. You two lovebirds go on home.” Grasping her shoulders, he kissed both her cheeks. His mustache tickled. “I hope to see you soon, Danielle.”
She nestled under Matteo’s protective arm as they wound through the crowd. Outside, the cool evening air carried the ocean tang, more noticeable now that the Belgian waffle and kettle corn vendors had shut down for the night. Just as Matteo had predicted, boisterous tourists filled Main Street, roaming from one bar to the next. He kept his arm around her shoulders until they reached her rented cottage, only releasing her when they climbed the porch stairs, and she fished in her purse for the key.
“Nice place,” he remarked. “I can see why you keep coming back.”
“Yeah, well.” She opened the door. “It’s not the same without my kids.”
According to Marie and her other divorced friends, the quickest way to get rid of a guy was to mention your offspring. But Matteo stood his ground, a dreamy smile on his face. “I’ll bet you’re a wonderful mama.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. You’ve got”—he waved a hand as if wafting smoke—“this caring aura. You’re a very loving person.”
“You can tell that from just one kiss?”
He shuffled closer. “One spectacular kiss.” Closer still. “Fireworks, bella.”
