“Yeah, I’ve done other seasonal ones. Summer fare, seasonal veggies, garden tours, religious ones. There’s really a food or wine for almost every occasion. I like to group them.”
“So, what do you do? Search for local places and then call and see if they want to be on the tour?”
She nods as she chews, then takes a sip of wine. “I’ve developed some great relationships with owners, chefs, bartenders. They don’t make a ton of money on the tours, but they know that if they make a good impression, they could get separate business. Word of mouth is everything in this industry.”
I’m so impressed with her right now, as I think about how creative what she does is. “You must have to visit a lot of businesses.”
“Wherever I am, I wander around the neighborhood and take in all the food and drink establishments. My head is always creating new tours.”
“So, what’s your long-term goal? Would you want your own business instead of working for somebody else?”
Her sigh is wistful. “I would, yes. The food tour industry is quite saturated here in Rome, though.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Would you leave Rome?”
“Maybe. I might leave Italy if the right opportunity came up.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah, my parents would—how do you say? Lose their minds?”
I laugh through my nose. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“It would be hard on them not to have me nearby.”
“And you? Would it be hard on you?”
She seems to give that some genuine thought before finally answering. “It would be difficult, yes. I’ve never been all that far away.” She pauses. “But I think it would be good for me, too. To be on my own. To do something I’m proud of without worrying about what my family is feeling about it or how they’re thinking I should be with them. It’s…” She gazes off toward the small windows in her living room. “Something I think about.”
We finish our dinner as the sun begins to set. I help clear the table, but Marina won’t hear of me doing the dishes. She waves me away, telling me to feed my boy, so I do that. He gets his kibble with some Pecorino Romano grated on top, and you’d think I gave him a Porterhouse. He finishes in about 3.5 seconds, and Marina waves me to take him outside while she finishes cleaning up.
“I will have wine poured and ready for you when you get back,” she tells me with that sexy smile of hers.
There are as many people out and about here in Trastevere as there usually are in my little slice of Rome, but they’re different here. The feel, the attitude, it’s all much more casual, which I didn’t think was possible. Slower. More relaxed. People aren’t in a hurry in my neighborhood, but they’re even less so here. They smile and nod and bid meciao. Reggie, God bless him, does his business in less than ten minutes, and I promise him extra treats later. He seems to get it and doesn’t fight me when I turn us back to Marina’s building.
At the front door, I stop.
I know what’s going to happen tonight. I know it. I’m going to sleep with Marina. There’s not a doubt in my mind. She’s toobeautiful, and our chemistry is too thick, hanging in the air like fog. It’s impossible not to notice it.
Part of me wonders if we’ve been building to this night since the moment we met. Another part of me thinks that’s just silly. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other. We live on different continents, but we’re allowed to have fun if and when we want. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that. Right?
I try not to calculate how long it’s been since I had sex. Hell, since I wanted to have sex. And I shake my head, literally, before I can reach an accurate number of months, years, whatever, however long it’s been because the bottom line is: I want this. I want Marina, and I want her now.
Deep breath in. Slow breath out.
I reach for the door handle.
Chapter Twelve
Marina looks different when Reggie and I get back.
I mean, notdifferentdifferent. She’s still Marina. Still tall and sexy and gorgeous. But there’s something in her face, in her expression, that’s changed ever so slightly.
“Everything go okay?” she asks as she carries two glasses of wine into the living room. Dusk continues to fall, and the room is dimming by the minute. She’s lit a couple of candles, and the atmosphere is warm and inviting. And romantic.
My lower body starts to throb, just to let me know I’m alive.
I unclip Reggie from his leash, and he heads right back to the chair. I glance at Marina, and she smiles and shrugs. “He’s fine.”