Page 56 of My Fake Italian Marriage

Il buongiorno si vede dal mattino.

(A good day starts with a good dawn.)

Saturday dawned grey and cloudy. When Cleo headed out for her morning run, the streets were slick with rain that had fallen in the night, and the air was cool and damp. Despite the weather, she needed to stretch her legs, clear her thoughts, and get away from the constant buzz of attraction between her and Luca. She needed to calm herself before she could face another day resisting temptation.

She ran a shorter distance than usual, a little over a mile to the hilltop hamlet of Osservanza with its magnificent views over the countryside, where she paused, watching storm clouds gather over the ancient volcano of Monte Amiata to the south.

Would it be so bad to let this sizzling attraction between them take its course? Sure, it could never be more than a temporary affair, but she wasn’t looking for more. Her friends thought she needed to get laid to finally move on from her past, and her body agreed.

They were mature, consenting adults, and there was no reason they couldn’t enjoy a brief fling for a week or two without wrecking their business relationship, was there?

Luca wasn’t Evan. If she’d learned that sooner, maybe… She imagined that big bed in the honeymoon suite in Blevio, and her skin tingled at the mere thought of how different those few days could have been if she hadn’t still been clinging to her fear of repeating past mistakes.

She arrived back in Montalcino as the sun pushed its way through the clouds. Steam rose off the paved streets.

“A good day for football,” Michele said, when she stopped at the bakery. “Not too hot, not too cold.”

“As long as it doesn’t rain.”

“It won’t rain again until evening,” he replied confidently. “I can feel in my bones that today will be a good day.”

Several hours later, she and Luca arrived at the stadium in the shadow of the high, medieval stone walls of thefortezza. The field was decorated with flags, and food stalls were setting up. While the team began their warm-ups, she and Gigi wandered through the food stalls. This fare was nothing like the hot dogs or vinegary chips served at football games Cleo had attended in the past.

“You must try thepanino con lampredotto,” Gigi said as they reached a food van parked at the edge of the field.

“What is it?”

The blonde woman’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Florentine street food. Try it first, then I tell you what’s in it.”

The sandwich looked like a bacon butty with green salsa sauce, but smelled far more delicious than any bacon butty. Cleo took a bite and hummed her approval. It was juicy, messy, and flavourful. “This is really tasty.Nowwill you tell me what’s in it?”

Gigi’s grin deepened. “The stomach of a cow, slow-cooked in tomato and herb broth.”

“Tripe?” Cleo grinned. “I grew up in South Africa. It’ll take a lot more than that to put me off.” On the farm, she’d often eaten pap and tripe stew with the farmworkers’ kids. Still, she was grateful her new friend had waited untilaftershe’d had that first taste. And yes, it was delicious enough that she intended to eat it all, cow stomach or not.

The stands around the field filled, until Cleo was sure most of the town had turned out to support their local team. They made a sea of green, though there were a fair number of spectators in the visitors’ section dressed in the opposing team’s colours of red and white. Despite the heavy, steel-grey sky and cool weather, a carnival atmosphere reigned. Children ducked in and out of the crowd, and the scent of roasting meat, herbs and pizza from the food stalls filled the air. The Rossis arrived, then Sarah and Tommaso, setting up their camp chairs and cooler boxes beside Cleo and Gigi.

Luca jogged over to greet them, his smile bright and confident, edged with the adrenalin of impending battle. He shook Tommaso’s hand, clapped Daniele Rossi on the back, and greeted all the women with the typical Italian greeting of kisses on both cheeks, then turned to Cleo, his gaze capturing hers. The air between them snapped and crackled with unspoken desire, and his eyes warmed, crinkling at the corners.

When I’m with a woman, I want to make love to her.

“Come on!” Daniele called out. “Give your husband a kiss for good luck. We want our team to win today!”

Luca leaned close, his stubbled cheek brushing hers. “You don’t have to,” he whispered, his voice rough and gut-wrenchingly sexy. “I promised you no kissing.”

“But what if I really want you to win?” she whispered back, turning her head to touch her lips to his. Though it was nothing more than the merest brush of lips, the kiss electrified every part of her.

His arm slid around her waist, holding her against him for a moment, and everything else faded but the two of them. She heard her own heartbeat.

Then Luca stepped away, grinning. “Now, how can we possibly lose?”

He gave her one last, searing glance before jogging back onto the field. Cleo touched her lips, still feeling his firm, warm lips on her own. So much for no public displays of affection. But that hadn’t felt public. It had felt incredibly private and intimate.

“I knew it!” Sarah whispered. “He likes you!”

Cleo shook her head. “No, he doesn’t. At least, not like that.” She kept her voice low so only Sarah would hear. “It’s all just for show.”

“In all the time I’ve known Luca, he has never looked at any woman the way he looks at you. He had that same look when he kissed you yesterday: as if he couldn’t see anything or anyone but you.”

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