Page 108 of Casanova LLC

“Really.”

“What, in your expert opinion, makes me passionate?”

“Art.”

“Your art.”

“Is there any other worth talking about?”

“Okay, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean I’m a passionate person.”

“Okay, that would be true, if it weren’t for the fire in there.” I stared at her cheeks. Then her chest. “I refer you to the aforementioned blush.”

“We can’t all be blessed with a perfectly bronzed Mediterranean complexion.”

“Aw, gee, I hadn’t thought you’d noticed.”

“I didn’t mean it like?—”

“And you’re curious.”

“Curious? Like, peculiar?”

I chuckled. “No. As in you possess curiosity.”

“And what am I curious about?”

“What aren’t you curious about? Which, in turn, makes a man very curious. About you.”

We’d been standing still for so long that at that moment, the automatic lights turned off. But Claire didn’t flinch. Didn’t once stop looking at me, in fact.

“About what, exactly?” It was a whisper.

“All of you. Every part of you.”

With the light coming in from the rest of the gallery, I watched her swallow.

We stayed just like that.

“So,” I murmured, “Would you agree?”

“To what?”

“To being curious?”

The silence that fell over us made the unspoken answer ring loudly in the air. I took a chance; I brushed a finger against the hand at her hip. She didn’t move away. She just said: “Yes. But I’m not that person.”

“But you could be. Tonight, you could be.”

She made a little moan in the back of her throat. I wanted more of that sound. “I’m drunk.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No,” she breathed, “I’m not. God.”

“But you are curious.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

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