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Beatrice focused on it the way he wanted her to focus on him.
    “Luca!” Hands in the air, Mateo came outside, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed both his cheeks. “ Come stai ?”
    “ Va bene , Mateo.” He clapped the boy on the back, surreptitiously glancing at Beatrice. She’d looked up and watched the scene, her fingers still poised on her mobile.
    “You have a reservation for two,” Mateo said. “I gave you your favorite table.”
    “Thank you.” He held a hand out to Beatrice, who was staring unabashedly now. “Are you ready, Beatrice?”
    “Yes.” Avoiding his hand, she stood on her own and brushed by him.
    “That’s your lady?” Mateo said in awed Italian, staring after her.
    He nodded grimly. “Yes.”
    “ Bellisima .” The young man brought his fingers together and kissed the tips. Then he rushed after her, telling her in overly accented English that they were seated in the corner.
    Luca followed, watching her unwind her scarf from her neck as Mateo pulled out the chair for her. He liked watching her take her clothing off, even something as innocent as a scarf, despite the fact that a young Italian pup ogled her like she was tiramisu.
    “This is an interesting choice of a restaurant,” she said to him as he sat next to her.
    “I know the owners.”
    “From Italy?” she asked as she lifted the menu.
    “No, I met them here. The owner is from Genoa.” They were both Italian in a foreign land, so of course they’d bonded instantly upon meeting.
    She looked at him from above the menu. “Where are you from?”
    “Bologna.” He unfolded the napkin and set it on his lap. “Have you been?”
    “No.”
    “A pity.” He lifted his hand to beckon their waiter over. Quickly, in Italian, he ordered a bottle of the wine they kept on hand especially for him, as well as food for the two of them.
    “I take it you ordered for us,” Beatrice said dryly as the waiter took the menu from her hands.
    He smiled. “Are your feathers ruffled?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I like to make my own choices.”
    The first time he saw the Mediterranean he fell in love with the waters. Her eyes were the same hue. “Trust me, Beatrice. I won’t disappoint you.”
    “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” She unfurled her napkin and draped it on her lap. She lifted her mobile and glanced at it. “How late does the show stay open? I feel like we may be late after dinner, and I want to be certain to have enough time for research.”
    He had plans to help her with research. He shifted in his seat. “I’ve made arrangements.”
    Her brows drew tight. “What does that mean?”
    “That you should trust that I’ll provide what you need,” he said, trying not to let his frustration show. He smiled as well as he could. “And how was your day, Beatrice?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
    “You know what I’m up to.”
    “Yes, but I don’t understand why you’re up to it.”
    “Of course you do.” He leaned forward. “I haven’t been unclear in my intentions, Beatrice. I want you.”
    “You’ve had me.”
    “Only enough to whet my appetite.” Beatrice Summerhill was his forever, if he could only convince her of that. “I want more.”
    She didn’t look any less suspicious. “I feel like there’s more going on right now than that.”
    Because she was an intelligent woman. It hadn’t escaped his mind that if she invested in his company they would be entwined in a deep way as far as she was concerned. He recognized that even if the vows were sacred to him, to her a contract was more binding and true. He just had to convince her to enter a personal partnership with him.
    Easier said than done.
    Mateo was the one who came back with their wine. Not bothering to show the label, he began to uncork it, staring at Beatrice like a lovesick puppy.
    Luca rolled his eyes.
    Smiling, confident of her charms but without any coyness, Beatrice angled toward Mateo. “You do that so expertly. Have you