CHAPTER 2 Tanzi
Seeing the cathedral with a private tour guide (and a sexy one at that) and two of my friends is cool. I like it better than being part of a big group, but I still can”t believe I let the gorgeous Sicilian pick me up in the piazza.
Even if he did invite my friends to come along.
With a Spanish billionaire for a dad and former super model for a mom, I”ve been raised to be about ten times more cautious than the average person.
Only there”s something really special about Rio. Mom always said I would know when I met that guy – the one I cannot resist. The one I crave spending time with from our first hello.
I”ve dated. A lot more than dad would like and less than mom encourages me to.
But Rio? He”s catnip. He got to me with a single smile in ways other men haven”t managed to after months of going out.
Okay. Yeah, he”s gorgeous. Like stop you in the street and nearly get hit by a car good-looking.
Even in my heels, he”s at least three inches taller than me. His body is to die for and the way his tailored suit fits shows off more muscles than any businessman has a right to possess.
He”s got these aristocratic looks that go perfectly with the arrogance I realize pretty quickly is innate too.
I want to reach up and muss his perfectly styled black hair. Just to see how he”ll react.
And maybe to spoil that perfection a tiny bit. To make it easier to breathe.
It”s his eyes that really get to me though. Espresso brown, they glow with appreciation for me. Like I”m all that and a bag of chips.
Which feels weird because he”s over the top, alpha of the pack impressive. He can”t be more a few years older than me, but you can tell he”s already one of the ”important players” as dad calls them.
And he”s fascinated by me. He barely looks at my friends and Joni is a model. She”s the one men stop to watch when she walks by. But not Rio.
He only has eyes for me.
And I’m basking in all the alpha male approval. It”s heady stuff.
After the cathedral, we spend an hour at a trattoria, talking about everything and nothing at all while Joni and Dylan played tourists with their cameras nearby. Palermo is a beautiful city with bits of history and art everywhere.
And rather than wallowing in it, I”m lost in another kind of attraction altogether.
”I feel like I”ve known you forever,” I admit when there”s a lull in our conversation.
His dark eyes spark with something almost feral. ”Me too.”
”It”s weird, right?”
Shaking his gorgeous head, he grins. ”Not weird. Amazing.”
”It”s kind of scary, though.” Even more terrifying is how fast the minutes are counting down until I have to tell him good-bye.
”We need to get a taxi to catch up to the group if we don”t want to miss this afternoon”s tour.” Dylan stands beside the café table and I don”t know how he got here without me noticing his approach.
Dylan is nearly as big as Rio and not a silent guy.
”Yeah. You need to stop mooning over the pretty Sicilian and get a move on, Tanzi.” Joni”s commiserating grimace takes the sting out of her words.
A fist of panic squeezes my heart.
This reaction is ridiculous, but I can”t ignore the sense of dread skating up my spine at the thought of never seeing Rio again.
He smiles, relaxed and confident. ”I am happy to continue in the role of tour guide and I believe my Mercedes will be a more comfortable ride than a tour bus.”
”Only if one of us drives.” Joni crosses her arms, her expression set in stubborn lines.
That”s my friend. She”s taken classes at my dad”s school of caution.
No way will Rio agree to that, though. And no matter how desperately I want to stay with him for just a few more hours, I can”t. Not without my friends.
Rio fishes in his pocket and then hands a key fob to Joni. ”Have at.”
He offers his hand to help me from my chair. Which I’m totally capable of doing on my own, but I take his hand anyway.
Pulling me up, he leans down and whispers. ”Please tell me she”s at least a passable driver.”
”Joni”s a great driver.” Not that she”s gotten to do much of it this trip. ”Are you worried about your car?”
”No, but your safety is paramount to me.”
Warmth spreads through my insides.
His car is parked only a couple of blocks away. Joni points toward it with the fob and presses the unlock.
She opens the door and slips into the driver”s seat, giving Dylan a superior look. ”Not all men are such Neanderthals they think women are lesser drivers.”
”I don”t think you are a bad driver,” Dylan defends himself. ”I just feel better when I”m the one behind the wheel. It”s got nothing to do with you being female.”
”I didn”t see you insisting on driving when it was Rio offering to take us around.”
”Unlike you, I”m not going to demand someone give me his car keys.”
I slide into the backseat to the sound of their good-natured bickering. I”m used to it.
Rio shocks me by taking the other side of the back seat and leaving the front passenger seat for Dylan.
”Wouldn”t you be more comfortable in front?” I ask.
He shakes his head. ”Not unless you”re the one driving.”
”I hate driving.” Especially in New York.
Though I doubt I”d like it any better here. The streets in Palermo are narrow and packed with cars and pedestrians.
We buckle our seatbelts and Rio takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers. ”What”s on the tour for this afternoon?”
My heart stops and then starts beating double-time at the small touch. I have no answer for him. I can barely remember my own name right now, much less what was on the itinerary for the afternoon.
Rio”s expression says he knows exactly what the chaste physical connection is doing to me. Then he starts caressing my hand with his thumb, the brushes back and forth never stopping.
I had no idea that holding hands could be so sexual.
Dylan isn”t so hampered, and he rattles off the two places we are supposed to see.
”If you trust me to set our agenda, I can promise you a more comprehensive and interesting tour.” Rio”s asking all of us, but his gaze never leaves mine.
”Cool,” Dylan says.
”Just give me directions,” Joni agrees. ”But tell me how to turn on the nav system so I know where we are.”
It”s a good thing my friend has her caution cap on, because mine is long gone and Dylan is the risk taker in our group. He”s always up for the unexpected.
Rio gives directions and a really fascinating tour commentary of the city. It”s a forty-minute drive to our first stop and he keeps up the interesting tidbits of history and local color, never once taking his hand from mine.
I”m so wound up by the time we reach Piana, I”m ready to explode. The bulge in Rio”s slacks says he”s not unaffected either.
Of course, Dylan insists on getting cannoli. ”We can”t come to Cannoli Village without eating at least one.”
”Did you have to tell him the nickname for the town?” Joni mock whines. ”He”s going to insist on trying several to see who makes them best.”
We all know it”s not Dylan that won”t be satisfied with tasting only one of the cream-filled tubes of pastry. Joni”s the one with the sweet tooth.
But we all try different types of cannoli at three different bakeries. My favorite is filled with pistachio cream.
Probably because after I eat it, Rio swipes a bit of cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then licks it off. My mouth tingles like he just kissed me.
We”re all too full from cannoli to get lunch, but Rio insists we try food at every stop. Fresh fruit so juicy and sweet I wish I could take some home. Arancini so deliciously seasoned, I ask the vendor for the recipe.
”You send me an announcement of your wedding I will send my bisnona”s recipe as a gift to bless your marriage.” The old man speaks in Sicilian, but it”s close enough to Italian, I get his drift.
My cheek heats with a blush, but Rio grins and offers his hand to shake on it.
Eventually we make our way back into the city.
”Come to dinner with me,” Rio says as we draw up outside the tour hotel.
It”s ridiculous. Impulsive. But every instinct I possess tells me I can trust this man. Those same instincts insist I will regret walking away right now.
And it”s not just the sexual need buzzing through my body like a whole hive of bees. ”Yes.”
Joni about has a conniption, and she insists on getting Rio”s phone number. When she tells him to put her contact in with find my friend privileges, I put my foot down.
”Knock it off, Joni—” I start.
But Dylan interrupts. ”While you were busy driving, I looked the guy up.” He and Rio share an enigmatic glance. ”He”s safe, alright? Not only do I know where to find him here in Sicily, but where his family business is headquartered.”
”Do you want to know those things?” Rio asks me, wariness in his tone.
I shake my head. ”Dylan knows them. That”s enough.”
The truth is, I don”t want to tell Rio about my parents and I”d rather get to know him, not his background.