Page 24 of Casanova LLC

I got the Wi-Fi working on her phone and then gave her a quick tour: the sitting area, how to use the TV, the well-stocked cabinets and small fridge, and finished in the bedroom and bathroom.

“Tell me, how are you feeling? Tired? A nap, perhaps?”

She shook her head and smiled. “I couldn’t. I’m too excited.”

I smiled back. “A bath?”

“Ooh, a bath.” Then she paused. “What’s the plan for the rest of the night?”

“It’s your arrival night so nothing is planned. Given the weather, I thought we might enjoy an evening in. I’ll make dinner. Which you can have up here, if you’d like.”

“Alone?”

“If you’d like.”

“What if I wouldn’t like?”

“Then we’ll eat downstairs together. Open a Barolo. Get to know each other.”

“And then?”

“Dessert.”

“And then?”

“And then, most likely, you won’t be able to keep your eyes open any longer and I will escort you back up here, tuck you in, and say good night.”

Her shoulders seemed to breathe. “I’d love that.”

I made my gaze as comforting as possible. “We will only do what you love. I make no assumptions; I have no expectations. I suggest you do the same.”

She nodded in affirmation. “Three days: no assumptions, no expectations.” She grinned. “Sounds like a toast.” She held up an empty hand.

“If only the champagne weren’t downstairs.”

She stepped into me. “Then this’ll have to do.” Her lips parted, which made mine do the same, and one breath later our lips were touching. The barest touch, the most delicate crystal. We murmured “Salute” into each other’s mouths. One more breath and she was gone, heading toward the bathroom. She stopped, turned back and lifted a brow, just as I had done, and said, just as I had said, “You coming? I’d love that bath, now.”

Okay then.

“I’ll start it for you. Make yourself comfortable.”

I went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Continued to speak to her from there. “The towel warmer is on. There’s an assortment of robes for you in the armoire.” I drizzled some bath oil into the accumulating water and imagined her stepping into it. Left it in a place of prominence on the rim. Just in case.

I came back into the bedroom and she was sitting on the bed, leaning back on her palms, wet hair swept over one shoulder, damp sweater molded to her curves. She had kicked off her flats. Her rose-tipped toes dangled above the floor. She was looking dreamily out the window.

I cleared my throat. She sat up, just slightly, and I pointed at the nightstand. “Bottled water.” Then pointed toward the kitchen. “Cold bottles in the fridge. I’ve left some grapes on the counter and there’s Amaro in the decanter on the sideboard.”

“You do think of everything.”

“How long would you like? An hour?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll come back then. Take your time. Just text me if you want longer.”

“Thank you.” There was something behind her eyes. One of those looks I couldn’t quite parse yet.

I nodded and left the bedroom. On my way to the door, I saw the espresso machine on the counter and circled back. Where was my mind? “Can I make you an espresso before I go?”

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