Page 25 of The Fixer

I start to smile. “So let me get this straight. Yourteam saw us dance at the wedding and started betting on the odds of us sleeping together?”

He looks like he bit into a lemon. “Not sleeping together,” he says. “Dating.”

I grin widely. Looks like I’m not the only person rooting for Operation Make Leo Cesari Fall In Love With Rosa Tran. “Interesting.” I move closer and clutch his muscled bicep. “Don’t look so grouchy, orsacchiotto mio. Someone might be watching. Put on your best besotted impression.”

He gives me a dry look. “You’re having entirely too much fun at my expense, principessa.” He moves closer and wraps his arm around my shoulder. I breathe him in, basking in the now-familiar scent of pine and sandalwood. “You can dish it out, but can you take it?”

My pulse skitters at his nearness. It’s an act designed for anyone who might be watching, but even knowing that I feel myself respond to the suggestive note in his voice. A shiver runs through me, and my insides tighten. I imagine him slipping his hand under my top and peeling the fabric off me with a growl. Pinning me back in bed, spreading my legs, and kissing his way up them.

He knows the effect he has on me. But this isn’t all one-sided. I drop my gaze to his crotch, and I cansee the hard outline of his erection pressed against his trousers. “Can you?”

Speaking of his erection. . . It’s huge. Leo is a big guy, and I figured everything would be proportional, but even so.Gulp.Maybe, for the sake of my vagina, I should put a halt to my efforts to seduce Leo.

Then again, no. Andrea wouldn’t shy away from the challenge, and neither will I.

The boat comes to a stop. Omar clears his throat loudly, looking everywhere but at the two of us. “We’re here.”

I give him a sweet smile. “Thank you.” I take my roses, step out of the boat, and turn back to look at my fiancé. “Coming, Leo?”

14

LEO

What the hell am I doing? First I tell Rosa I want nothing to do with her, then I almost kiss her at the cafe. I flirt with her on the plane, and now I’m practically eye-fucking her?

It‘s her dress.It has to be.Every time I catch a glimpse of her tantalizing, sun-kissed midriff, my brain short-circuits. I can‘t tear my eyes away from her. I want to push her against a wall like a caveman, tear her dress apart, and kiss every inch of her skin the way I did in my dream. I want to thrust into her like an animal, punishing her for the way I’m reacting to her body.

But now she‘s staring at mewith hope in her eyes, and I have to shut this down. No more flirting, no more almost-kisses. In public, we have a role to play, and we’ll both do what’s necessary. But when we’re in private, I need to stay the hell away from her. Anything else is deeply unfair.

I lost my ability to love when Patrizia died, and all that’s left is a husk of a man, bitter, jaded, and cynical. Rosa wants something from me that I can’t give her.

I am not what she‘s looking for. I have nothing to offer her except my protection.

I walkher to her apartment, hooking my arm around her waist like the besotted fiancé I’m supposed to be. She stops in the foyer to get her mail. “Sorry,” she says. “My favorite fabric store, Tessuti Gelli, sends out a catalog four times a year. I’ve been waiting impatiently for it.”

I don’t know anything about fabric. “Is it in Venice?”

“Yes.” She unlocks her front door and pushes itopen. I follow her inside. “They have the most beautiful fabric. Remember the dress my mother wore to dinner last night? That was from Tessuti Gelli.”

“You made your mother’s dress?”

She looks surprised by my question. “Of course.”

“Did you make the dress you’re wearing now?”

“Yes,” she says. For some reason, she flushes when she says it. “I make most of my clothes. The only things I buy are jeans.” She looks down at her skirt. “This isn’t my best work, though. I was in a hurry when I was making it, and it’s a complete mess on the inside.”

“It looks great.”

“Thank you.” She avoids my gaze, and the feeling I’m missing something intensifies. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I want to say yes. Rosa is made of contradictions—dutiful yet driven, shy yet sassy—and I want to sit on her couch and discover all her hidden facets.

But I need to get the hell out of here while I still can.

“I can’t stay. What does your schedule look like this week? We have to move in together. Does Wednesday work?”

“That soon?” she asks, dismayed.

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