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eyes Stephanie had ever seen. He was pleased with her interest.
    â€œI could be part of the troupe?” he asked.
    â€œGiovanni, right now, I don’t even remember what the troupe is supposed to be doing. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
    â€œ Certo !” His eyes lingered over her. She’d been warned that men here liked to pinch women. So far, she hadn’t been pinched. She couldn’t begin to imagine Giovanni walking over to pinch her. And still, there was a certain smouldering in his gaze that suggested he was a man finding a woman to be attractive. She wondered wryly if it had to do with the fact that she was an unmarried, hopefully attractive young woman, or if he felt that it would be a good thing to seduce the person who might give him his first break in show business—even if it would be a very strange break!
    â€œGood night, Giovanni, thank you,” she said.
    â€œTruly a pleasure. Anytime you need anything, please, you need just to call on Giovanni.”
    â€œThank you, again. I’ll remember that.”
    â€œTomorrow, bella signorina ,” he told her, and was gone.
    Stephanie shut and locked the door. She couldn’t help the smile that stayed in place as she shook her head and headed up the stairs, ready to unpack and call it a day.
    Bless Reggie. Maybe this was going to be fun after all.
    She took the time to unpack a few things and arrange her toiletries in the delightfully modern bathroom, then stepped into the shower. It, too, was almost thrilling. The water was hot, and the pressure was strong.
    She lingered there, then stepped out, toweling dry, and slipping into her nightgown and light velvet robe. She pulled the coverlet from the bed, then hesitated, looking to the sliding glass doors that she had left open.
    The air was so very good . . .
    But there was a small flight of stairs that led from that second floor balcony area down to the beach.
    She had no idea what the crime rate might be here—or if there was one. Exhausted, she decided that she didn’t care. So what if it might be absurd that she had so carefully locked the front door after Giovanni’s departure, only to leave the back wide open.
    She was simply so weary.
    And the breeze was so, so good.
    She shimmied out of the robe, and into the bed, turning off the bedside lamp and snuggling low into the covers.
    The sky outside remained a fascinating shade of deep blue. The air continued to waft around her on the softest movement of a breeze . . .
    Strange that she had been so frustrated and worried when she had arrived. Travel was difficult. Building a new life was hard.
    Trying not to remember what she had left behind was harder still. But it would be all right.
    It was all so beautiful here. Truly, there was nothing like it. Her sense of well-being, derived just from the air and her view of the mountains, remained with her. She marveled at the feeling of . . . almost a dreamlike euphoria that seemed to have settled over her. Tomorrow, she was certain, all would be well. After all . . .
    It was Italy.
    She closed her eyes. And the sense of being enfolded and almost sensuously cradled by the air remained as she drifted . . .
    Gema could hear the sound of knocks on the door when she turned off the water. For a moment, she stood dead still, never having expected him back so quickly. Then, she flew into action, afraid that he would think she had fallen asleep and go away.
    She quickly slipped into a silk wrap and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she rushed out. Um. Not so bad. The silk clung to every curve on her wet body, enhancing the fullness of her breasts and clearly delineating her nipples. Sexy, she determined. Her hair was damp, falling free around her shoulders. Not at all bad.
    She raced down the stairs and threw the door open.
    And stood there, her mouth forming into a round O shape.
    She started to close the door.
    But didn’t.
    Her limbs felt like lead. A state of