A Tuscan Proposal

Chapter 2

If Gabe was surprised, he didn't show it. He responded to her kiss without hesitation, as if he'd thought about this for as long as she had, as if he wanted this as much as she did.

Francesca didn't usually follow her impulses. She'd learned a long time ago that her instincts weren't to be trusted, at least when it came to men. And she knew it was entirely possible that she would look back on this moment—whether tomorrow or next week or a year from now—and decide it had been a mistake. But right now, in Gabe's warm embrace, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Kissing Gabe was...incredible. His mouth was soft but firm, his response bold but not overwhelming. He kissed her back with a hunger that clearly expressed his desire for her and an intensity that made her knees quiver, her head spin. When his tongue touched the center of her upper lip, she opened for him, willingly, eagerly.

Whether it was rational or smart, she wanted him with a desperation she hadn't experienced in a very long time. So she stopped trying to deny it, stopped trying to fight it, and let herself get lost in their kiss, lost in his taste, and lost in the feelings that churned inside of her, overriding all sense and reason.

The whole day had been extraordinarily unexpected. She hadn't anticipated that he would accept her spontaneous invitation—to sacrifice billable hours to walk with her on the beach. His acceptance of her challenge had only been the first surprise.

She'd enjoyed being with him—talking to him and flirting with him. Two years earlier, she'd made certain assumptions about him solely on the basis of his profession, and she was beginning to suspect that some of those assumptions might not have been entirely correct. As a result, she hadn't let herself get to know the man that he was, and she decided that she didn't want to waste another minute of the time she had left in Charisma.

Slowly, reluctantly, she eased her mouth from his. "Maybe we could pick up pizza and take it back to your place," she suggested.

"Why my place?" he asked.

"Because I live close to Valentino's and I didn't think you'd want any of your family to see your car parked in front of my apartment."

*

Gabe's hands tightened on the wheel as the implications of those words registered in his mind—and immediately heated his blood. And still, he wasn't sure he could trust his ears. Had she really said that? Or was he just hearing what he wanted to hear? He'd wanted her for so long—since the first time he saw her, but she'd resisted all of his efforts to get to know her better. And now, after a few hours together, was she inferring that there could be more?

After only one kiss, he wanted more. It was a little unnerving, how completely she'd captivated him, so that he was willing to do whatever she asked. Not just willing but eager.

"What do you like on your pizza?"

"I'm a simple girl," she said. "Just cheese and pepperoni works for me."

He could think of a lot of words to describe Francesca, but 'simple' wasn't one of them. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, sexy, challenging, frustrating and amazing, and she made him feel things he hadn't felt for a woman in a very long time—if ever.

He didn't believe in destiny, and he wasn't looking for anything long-term. He was only thirty-two years old—he figured he had plenty of time before he started to think about getting married and having a family. Then he'd met Francesca and suddenly he was certain that she was the one he was meant to be with. Not just for this one night, but forever.

But he was willing to start with one night.

The possibilities played out in his mind as he led the way down the hall to his apartment. Francesca hadn't said much in the car after he'd picked up the pizza, and he found himself wondering if she was having second thoughts—and praying that she wasn't.

He unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter. She stepped over the threshold without hesitation; he silently sighed his relief and followed her inside.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he offered. "Wine? Sweet tea? Soda?"

"Wine sounds good. Red, if you have it."

He selected a bottle from the rack, uncorked it. "Do you want to grab plates? They're in the cupboard above the sink."

She got the plates and napkins while he poured the wine into two glasses. They chatted about books and movies—and books made into movies—while they ate, but throughout their conversation, one question continued to niggle at the back of his mind. When she pushed her plate aside, he finally said, "You never said why you were playing hooky today."

"I was trying to forget," she admitted.

"That bad?"

She licked pizza sauce off of her thumb. "I've been summoned back to Colorado. According to my parents, I've been playing around long enough and I need to get serious about my life."

"Is that what you've been doing—playing around?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "I've been moving from place to place over the past four years, working at everything from answering phones in a dental office to making coffee."

"You've been gone four years?" His family drove him crazy sometimes, but he couldn't imagine being away from them for so long.

She nodded. "I only wish I'd made the decision to leave three years earlier."

"Why do you say that?"

Before she could explain, his phone beeped. She pushed her chair away from the table and carried her empty plate to the sink, giving him privacy to check his message. He did so quickly, then set the phone aside.

"I bet a million messages and emails came through while you were out of the office today," she noted.

"Not quite a million," he said as he refilled their wineglasses. "And nothing urgent." Certainly nothing that he would let intrude on this time with her.

"So what's the plan?" she asked him.

"The plan?" he echoed.

She sipped her wine. "Are you going to make a move or have you lost interest?"

"I haven't lost interest," he assured her. "I'm just afraid to make a move and discover this is all just a fantasy and that you're not even really here."

She eyed him over the rim of her glass. "Have you fantasized about this?"

"Since the first day I met you."

"Really?" She smiled at that. "What happens in your fantasy?"

"You want me to tell you?"

She shook her head. "I want you to show me."

He held her gaze for a long moment, until the air fairly crackled with the chemistry between them. "I can do that," he promised.