Italian Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story by Lucy Lambert Read Free Book Online Page B

hotties wandering around.
    “Are you married?” I blurted out. I wanted to gobble the words back down right away. But I wanted to know the answer more.
    Liam held out his hands and examined them, showing two bare ring fingers. “Not last I checked. Why? Are you?” One corner of his mouth ticked up in another small smile. I couldn’t tell if he was amused at me or with me.
    I couldn’t blame him, if we switched places I’d definitely be wondering about the sanity of the mousy blonde sat across from me. And how to make a quick escape.
    I couldn’t let him escape!
    “No! Definitely not,” I said, holding up my own hands for proof.
    “Why do you ask?” Liam said.
    “Well, because you are hot. I mean really smoking. Like habanero pepper hot.” I couldn’t look at him anymore, so my eyes drifted down to the round bistro tabletop. I could see a silhouette of my reflection in it, as well as various white puddles of nondescript light.
    Liam chuckled. It was a rich, throaty sound. It suited him, and I liked hearing it. “Habanero pepper hot? I’ve never heard that one. Thanks, I guess. What does my apparent hotness have to do with anything?”
    “It’s just that I’m... I’m like mild salsa hot. Maybe medium on a good day.”
    Liam sighed. I glanced up long enough to see that those eyebrows of his had knit together again. My heart plummeted into my stomach, which in turn fell down through my feet. This is it , I thought. He saw it now, too. Saw that my lukewarm mild salsa hotness did not compare at all to his.
    “You’re wrong,” he said, followed by “ Grazie ,” when the Giancarlo-clone waiter came and set our drinks ( Americanos for both of us) on the table. I barely looked up, worried that the heat in my cheeks had my face glowing cherry red.
    “You’re definitely much hotter than mild salsa. You’re beautiful and funny and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since our night together. I want to get to know you, Emma. Now, how about some lunch?”
    “So long as it’s not frittata,” I said.
    He snorted. “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up!” He laughed again. It was an easy laugh. I think that laugh was what really did it for me. Not his looks, his smile, his kisses. It was because his eyes laughed, too. They scrunched up, made him look boyish and innocent. The eyes don’t lie , I remembered.
    “How long have you been in Rome?” he asked.
    “Two months,” I replied, “I’m here studying abroad for a year.” It was my first semester here. And, if I didn’t bring my grades back up, possibly my last. “Art history,” I volunteered.
    “I’ve always loved Rome,” Liam said, “There’s just something about it...” He looked around at the old buildings, the narrow, winding streets, the fountain that burbled down in the middle of the intersection closest to the café. “So much history all in one place. Sometimes I think about it and it overwhelms me. Does that make any sense?”
    “Yes!” I said, “If I think about it, it starts to make me feel smaller. But somehow better about myself, more secure. Kind of like looking up at the stars at night.”
    “That’s it exactly!” Liam said.
    At least, I used to feel that way. Before I came to Rome, before the reason for my coming to Rome, anyway. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. But I did know what he was talking about.
    I wondered if he did actually have a real interest in the city, or real knowledge about its history. I wondered if maybe this was some kind of line he ran on girls, trying to sound romantic and mysterious. If it was a line, it worked very well for him.
    “So how long have you been in Rome?” I said, tossing his own question back at him.
    “Five days, so far.”
    “And what are you? Some kind of businessman, I’m guessing. Here for some important meeting for your boss.”
    Liam tugged at one rolled up sleeve that had begun falling back down. “Business, yes.”
    The waiter came back and