Page 15 of Royally Roma
The thought of turning Julia Costa, naked and trembling, over his knee and administering her much-deserved punishment flitted briefly through his mind. Or not so briefly. In truth, it lingered on the periphery of his awareness. She stood less than arm’s length away, holding a folded pop-up map of ancient Rome, and all he could think about was what the soft warmth of her impertinent bottom would feel like beneath his palm.
“Very stylish,” she said, her gaze sweeping him up and down. “Abnormally so, considering we’re about to go traipsing through the mud. I’m afraid you’re not going to recognize the hem of those elegant slacks by the time we’re through. Don’t forget I tried to warn you.”
Niccolo’s hand twitched. If she kept this up, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. What was she doing to him? He was balanced on the knife-edge of arousal purely by virtue of her sharp tongue. He scarcely recognized himself.
“I consider myself duly warned,” he said drolly. “Twice.”
He looked down at his gaudy plastic ensemble. There was nothing the least bit regal about his appearance. He looked perfectly ordinary, from the shins up at least, and he realized he was enjoying himself. Quite a bit.
Julia pulled the hood of her own green rain poncho over her upswept hair. The silly ensemble suited her a fair bit better than it did him. She looked rather cute, actually. Misty-eyed, rain-kissed, and infinitely kissable. Or maybe Niccolo was still drunk. It was the only explanation for the vexation that had crept upon him since she’d first come into view on the hotel’s piazza.
She blinked up at him, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having. “Okay, then. Shall we get started on our adventure?”
Above them the umbrella pines swayed. The bruised sky wept misty Roman tears. And Niccolo got the distinct feeling that he was only beginning to know what it meant to truly lose himself.
“Absolutely.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
The Colosseum was packed, as always. Of all the sights in Rome, it was the one most requested by clients of When in Rome Touring Company. Probably ofeverytouring company in Rome.
As Julia led Mano through the crush of people, she was aware of little else but his eyes on her. His gaze lit tiny fires in places she’d all but forgotten about after Elio. Places that had come screaming back to life when this mysterious stranger had wrapped his arms around her on the Vespa. One innocent touch and she’d all but melted into him. She couldn’t even think about how solid and firm he’d felt sitting behind her.
All of him. Every unyielding inch. It was much too overwhelming.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a trembling hand and vowed not to let what was surely nothing more than simple chemistry go to her head. He was an attractive man. That’s all. She’d have to be blind not to notice. Surely she could deal with one handsome man. She’d met plenty of other attractive men in her life and somehow managed not to melt into a puddle at their feet.
But none of those other men had made her feel quite this way before. Aching. And uncomfortably empty. Something about Mano felt different. And wrong. Very, very wrong.
She couldn’t trust him. Everything about him screamed as much, from his too-expensive taste to his phony-sounding name. For once, she was going to listen to reason, to trust her head instead of her heart. She’d been blindsided by her father’s deception. And even after his actions had cost her everything—her name, her reputation, the only home she’d ever known, every penny she’d ever possessed—she’d been foolish enough to allow herself to be taken advantage of by Elio. She’d met him her very first day in Rome, when she’d been at her most vulnerable. They’d bumped into each other at a quaint outdoor bookstall near the Circus Maximus. He was a used-book dealer, which Julia found hopelessly romantic.
Within an hour, they were having coffee together. Within three weeks, he was sharing her apartment. She’d fallen for him hard and fast. When he began talking marriage just two months into their relationship, she’d been so flattered and giddy that she’d failed to see the warning signs. He was spending more time on her couch than he was at the bookstall. There were fewer and fewer books piled up in the corners of her apartment. He’d stopped going to estate sales altogether.
He’d begun borrowing money.
When she finally told him no, they’d had their first argument. Afterward, they made love and promised never to fight again. The next day, she’d come home from work to find Elio gone. Along with every penny she owned.
Once again, she’d had to rebuild her life.
No more. Enough was enough.
Mano Romano might be dreamy on every level, but he was her client and she had a job to do. As far as jobs went, being a tour guide wasn’t bad. Especially in Rome, where centuries upon centuries of treasures lay scattered beneath her feet, just waiting to be discovered. It was the closest thing she could do to being an actual archaeologist, at least until she finished her master’s degree. Of course she’d rather be up to her elbows in Rome’s flinty brown Mediterranean soil or the richterra rossaof southernmost Italy, digging for those treasures herself. But that would come in due time. Once she got caught up on her student loans and all the other bills that had gone unpaid since the Elio disaster, she’d have more hours to devote to her thesis. She was so close. She’d completed all the necessary course work and excelled at her field studies. But none of that meant anything without a written record of all her findings. The university’s graduate committee had approved her proposal six months ago, and she’d yet to write a single word. When she wasn’t dragging tourists all over the city, she was too exhausted to string together a coherent sentence.
All of that would change once her debts were paid. Or even part of her debts, for that matter. All she needed was a few extra hours a day.
Until then, she’d be hanging out with the likes of Mano Romano. Not that he was in any way typical of her ordinary clients. On the contrary. She released a jittery sigh and turned to make sure he was keeping up in the throng of people.
He came toward her, maneuvering his way through a group of French-speaking tourists, looking far too handsome for someone dressed in a green rain poncho. “I see you walk as swiftly as you drive.”
Her cheeks warmed. Why did every word that came out of his mouth bring about a physical reaction? It was beyond annoying. “It’s a must, I’m afraid. Otherwise, we’d be at a standstill for days. If you’re having trouble spotting me...”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. “My eyes couldn’t be more on you, Julia.”
There it was again. That empty ache in her center. A tingle in her thighs.
She took a step backward and cleared her throat. “Good.”
