Page 10 of Royally Roma
“Understood.” His eyes glittered, silver sparks in their moody gray depths. “Julia.”
Her name had never sounded quite as...delicious...as it did coming from his mouth. Like it was a delicacy. Something to savor. It defied logic. “All right, Mr....ahh... I’m sorry. What should I call you?”
She flipped open her notebook again in search of his name. She’d jotted it down along with all of the other pertinent details when the scheduling coordinator at the touring company had called the night before.
“Call me...um...ah...” He frowned, and a rather intriguing muscle in his jaw tensed.
She told herself not to look at it, to focus her attention on one of his less appealing features. But it was hopeless. There was simply nothing unpleasant to zero in on.
“Yes?” She stared pointedly at his forehead and waited for him to tell her his name.
A group of nuns passed them, walking up the hill toward the gardens, their long, traditional black habits whipping around their legs in the spring breeze. They shared the narrow walkway with a young man wearing headphones and carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Rome, old and new, side by side.
“Call me Mano.” Her client cleared his throat, and the tense set of his jaw appeared to relax ever so slightly. His lips parted and, for a moment, Julia forgot what they’d been talking about, suddenly spellbound by the thought of kissing him. This man who she’d known for all of five minutes.
“Julia?” He angled his head, a wry half-smile curving his lips. “Are you quite all right?”
He knows.
Her throat grew dry. Why did it feel like he could see inside her head?Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he doesn’t know. He’s neither an ax murderer nor a mind reader.
She swallowed. Hard. Where were they? Oh, yes. His name. “Mano.” Why did that sound odd? “That’s your name? Mano?”
“Yes. Mano.” His smirk vanished, and he nodded resolutely, the knot in his jaw tensing again. Not that she’d noticed or anything. “That is definitely my name.”
Julia flipped another page of her notebook and finally found the information she’d been looking for before her imagination had taken its inappropriate detour.Hotel de Russie. 9:00 am. 8-hour private tour. Rome highlights. Begin with Colosseum?
And then, the odd bit.Last name: Romano.
That couldn’t possibly be right. She lifted a brow and met his gaze head-on. “It says here that your last name is Romano. Are you telling me that your name is Mano Romano?”
There was a loaded pause.
He’s lying.
She told herself she was being paranoid. Why would someone lie about something as inconsequential as their first name? Furthermore, why did it matter? She was giving him a tour of the city, not bearing his children.
Bearing his children.Her face grew instantly hot, along with a few more intimate body parts.
Mano Romano’s sensual mouth curled into a rare smile. “I suppose I am, Miss Costa.”
And just like that, butterflies took flight in her belly. Not just a few. An entire swarm. When he smiled, that whole polite sophistication thing he had going turned full-on charming. Too charming. Far too charming for a man with a name as silly as Mano Romano.
Fascino fatale.
“I think we should get going,” he said.
“As you wish.” She slid her backpack off her shoulders.
Mano’s foot tapped nervously on the pavement. He cast another quick glance at the nuns.
“And it’s Julia, not Miss Costa.” She squared her shoulders. She’d never much cared for butterflies. What were they really, other than glorified moths? Winged grief. “Remember?”
“Very well. My apologies, Julia.” His gaze lingered on her for a minute or two, just long enough for the pleasant warmth coiled in her center to ignite and become uncomfortably scorching. “We really should get this thing underway. Is a car en route to collect us?”
The tour. The reason they were standing there, even speaking to one another. She’d almost forgotten. Where in the world was her head? “A car? No. A chauffeur isn’t exactly included in the package.”
“I see.” He frowned, distinctly displeased at this news. “How are we to get to the Colosseum?”
