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straight. Even though she was tall, she still had to tip her head back to see his face.
    “Good, I am pleased you are okay.”
    Okay? No way. Butterflies were fluttering through her stomach. Forget it . Nic’s fine clothes, his fancy car, his movie actor good looks… This man was way out of her league. He would never be remotely interested in her. A waitress from a little village like Castellina? When he drove a car that was worth more than she would earn in ten years.
    “Gia?”
    She shook her head. “Yes?” What was he going to ask her? His dark gaze was intent and his expression was so serious.
    “I wanted to talk to ask you about your paintings.”
    “ My paintings?” That was the last thing she expected him to say.
    “If you’re the artist who created those landscapes back in the restaurant. Unless your father was joking?”
    “Of course he wasn’t joking. And yes, they are mine, but I am surprised he admitted that.” And what was the big deal about her paintings anyway? What did he want to know about them for? She was a provincial talent. He had city and sophistication written all over him. She couldn’t really understand why he had stopped to ask about her work.
    “So they are yours?”
    “I just said they were.” Gia stared at him.
    “Can I buy them?”
    Her face screwed into a confused frown. “Why would you want to do that?”
    “Because they are very good.” He wasn’t smiling now. When Gia realized he was serious, a tendril of excitement unfurled in her chest.
    “Um…er…you’ve—”
    “Do you have more?” Nic reached out and took her arm. The expression of his face was akin to yearning. Gia’s heart gave one huge leap.
    “More what?”
    “Landscapes. Or other paintings?”
    Gia wanted nothing more than to grab his hand and drag him up the road into her cottage, turn the lights on, twirl around with her arms spread wide and show him the dozens of canvases that graced the walls of her studio. There were more small pictures like those in the restaurant, but she had many more full-sized canvases of her landscapes.
    But of course she didn’t take his hand. Too many years of having her work dismissed as unimportant by her family kept doubts running deep in her veins, and she imagined she would only be disappointed one more time.
    “Look, I really have to get home.” She turned away from him, but he still held her arm. Goose bumps touched her skin despite the warmth of the night. Turning back to face him, she narrowed her eyes and tried to keep her voice free of uncertainty. “What do you know about art? Why would you think my paintings are any good?”
    Deep blue eyes held hers. “Because I dabble in art, and I have never been so touched as I was by the movement in your landscapes.”
    …
    Nic held Gia’s arm lightly. The moonlight highlighted her wide eyes, and he was scared she would scamper away like the frightened rabbit she reminded him of. No wonder she seemed to lack assurance in herself. He’d seen the way her father had set aside her work. A talent like hers deserved to be recognized. No, more than recognized; it must be exhibited. Celebrated. Shared with the world. Already, his thoughts surged ahead. He was planning his tactics, ready to persuade Gia to listen to him. Excitement thrummed in his veins as he mentally calculated his strategy. As much as he hated it, he’d switched into business mode. Lately, that came with more frequency than his creative muse. Odder still, he liked the surge of excitement that accompanied it. To present an artist, discovered by him… That is, if the rest of her work was to his standard.
    He sought the right words to convince her—without scaring her off and without sounding too pushy. Without her knowing he was one of the Baldinis her father had criticized. He could sponsor her. He could organize an exhibition. That was if she had enough work completed. Thinking quickly, Nic formulated a plan in his head. He’d plan every last detail,