Page 53 of To Have and To Hold

Em’s long legs bent as he sat in the driver’s seat. The fresh scent of his cologne mixed with the leather aroma as he started the car. The soft rumble of the engine told me that while this vehicle may look like a race car, it was all luxury.

My heart beat faster as the gate to the parking lot moved, we turned the opposite direction from Mia’s house, and we entered the city of San Diego. Being here with Em was nothing like riding with bodyguards. Even the view from the front seat was exciting and new.

I turned to my tour guide. “Thank you. I’ve been excited about this since you asked.” I leaned back as he guided us through traffic. “But being here now...” I hummed. “This is exhilarating.”

“If fighting five o’clock traffic is your idea of fun, I can’t wait to see what you think of where we’re headed.”

“Where are we headed?”

He reached over, laying his hand on my thigh. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

My breath caught. Swallowing, I stared at his hand. When it didn’t move, I shifted my gaze to his profile. “This isn’t a date, right?” My voice came out less confident than I would have liked.

Instead of moving his hand, he gently squeezed my thigh. For a brief moment, he turned toward me, his dark gaze drinking me in. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather not define whatever this is until the evening is over.”

This wasn’t real.

“Okay.” I let out a breath and leaned back, taking in the surroundings.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“If the tour includes food, I wouldn’t complain.”

His lips curled. “Good, because we have reservations at one of my favorite restaurants. I hope you like Italian.”

I pushed against his muscular arm. “You don’t ask an Italian if they like Italian. It’s like me asking if you like Mexican food.”

“I do.” He peered my way. “The spicier, the better. I also like Italian.”

He peered over, looking at my feet.

“What?” I asked.

“The restaurant has valet parking. I was checking to see if you had walking shoes or non-walking shoes. The self-parking is about a seven-minute walk.”

“I don’t mind walking.” I looked down at the ballet flats I’d put on this morning. I wasn’t much for high heels. “My shoes are comfortable.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t like strangers having access to my car, and walking will give me a chance to show you around.”

After parking in a garage, Em opened my door and offered me his hand. I stared at his large palm and long fingers before placing my hand in his. His fingers encased mine as I stood. When we made it back to street level, my first clue to where we were was the numerous Italian flags flying from the buildings.

I turned to him. “Is this Little Italy?”

“It is.”

My body vibrated with excitement at seeing all the people on the sidewalks and seated in outdoor dining areas. The crowd was eclectic. “Thank you. This was a great choice.” I spun around, letting my hair flow in the breeze as I looked down the street. When I stilled, Em reached for my shoulders.

“You are so fucking full of life.”

I smiled. “This feels like I’ve been let out of prison.”

“You’re free, Isabella. This is only the beginning.” He reached for my hand.

I didn’t protest or stiffen as our fingers intertwined.

We headed north. With sunshine and fresh air on our faces and my hand in his, I marveled at the people, casually sitting, drinking cocktails, and eating delicacies. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught our reflection in large plate glass windows.

Do we look like a couple?

---