Falling for Italy Read Free

anybody—Giovanni had managed to make her feel uneasy, perhaps even timid. God help her, she was getting old. She’d had very few lovers, and none of them had made her touch the stars and the moon, or reach that incandescent passion that some skilled romance writers managed to create through words. She’d come to think that kind of attraction was only a commercial gig, but now she wasn’t sure.
    She didn’t understand the whole domesticity thing, long-term relationships, the routine of waking up next to the same guy for years and years. It was a mystery to her. She didn’t even have the courage to take responsibility for a pet. True, she had a plant, which she’d nearly drowned and mummified by turns. The poor thing was still alive, but had no flowers, only a few stingy leaves, though the flower girl had told her it was supposed to have purple ones. If the plant continued to live in the obscure future, perhaps she’d take a pet. Never a husband though. She couldn’t understand the need for that kind of commitment.
    However, she understood the concept of passion. As long as she could remember, a terrible, longing need had resided in her heart and body, waiting for awakening and fulfillment. Yet no one had succeeded in helping her discover those things.
    Lost in thoughts and reveries, a mug of cocoa forgotten between her palms, she gazed almost sightlessly at the big snowflakes falling endlessly beyond the huge shield of glass.
     
    * * * *
     
    Giovanni drove carefully, keeping an eye on the GPS, since he wasn’t familiar with the streets of London. However, his thoughts lingered back to his encounter with Sonia Galsworthy. For some reason, the woman was stuck on his brain and he looked forward to their shooting session the next day. There was something about her, both striking and attractive. As he’d watched her training, handling her gun with such self-confidence and attitude, he thought she was sexy as hell. She had the body of a goddess, outlined in tight jeans and a dark blue sweater that kept slipping off her shoulder, leaving it bare and making it obvious she didn’t wear anything underneath it. He nearly ached to explore the subtle curves hinted under the clinging material. He usually liked long hair on a woman, but her short bob suited her perfectly. He imagined sliding his fingers through that shiny dark hair, which left the soft, creamy-looking skin of her neck and back exposed.
    She was quite a package, Miss Sonia Galsworthy. As she’d watched him with those bold brown eyes in the parking lot, he’d wanted to yank her to him and kiss her until her ears rang. His too, for that matter. But he’d learned that romance was an art. He’d learned to bide his time, to exert finesse and patience when pursuing a woman. Building anticipation made the capitulation much sweeter and more satisfying.
    At thirty, he had never been married, nor did he have any thoughts of such commitment. He liked his independence too much. Just like his sister had before she’d found the guy who spellbound her to him.
    He smiled affectionately, thinking of Linda. She was a well-known sculptress and had moved to London at the beginning of the year. Part of her motivation to relocate was her involvement with Hope, a clinic for children’s cancer treatment and research. For years, she had made donations there and to other such facilities, as he did himself back in Italy. But Linda had taken a special interest in Hope. Fortunately it seemed, because there she had met her soon-to-be husband, Gerard Leon, a researcher and physician.
    Giovanni truly liked the man his sister had chosen the second time. Her first marriage had been a disaster, with a bully named Tony—the Italian Mafioso type. Giovanni had never trusted the slick bastard, but he had awed Linda for a while. She’d come to her senses soon enough though. Seven months after the wedding she had her lawyer draw the divorce papers. This time she was going to have a husband