Isle of Capri, Italy
“Mi scusi, signorina! Signorina, scusi!”
The urgent male voice broke into Cat Connors’ thoughts and rose above the babel of
languages from the tourists crowding Capri’s main square, La Piazetta. The man’s voice
got closer. Her knowledge of Italian was limited, but it sounded like he wanted a woman’s
attention. He couldn’t be talking to her. She kept walking.
Someone touched her arm, stopping her.
With a gasp, she turned around. Her gaze collided with a black T-shirt stretched over
a hard, muscled chest. Slowly, she raised her eyes to take in six feet of male hotness. He
stared down at her with the hazel eyes of a Roman god. He must have descended from
the heavens, with those chiseled cheekbones, wavy dark blond hair and full lips that
promised heavenly delights. He epitomized the kind of gorgeous guy she’d expect to find
on this romantic island.
He held out a phone to her. “Ha perso il suo telefono?”
She felt in her pants pocket. Empty.
“My phone! Thank you. Where did you find it?” Hoping he spoke English, she took
the phone from him.
“It fell out of your pocket.” Speaking perfect English, his deep voice with a hint of
lilting accent sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through her.
Clutching the phone, she patted her pocket again. The movement of her hips as she
walked must have pushed the phone out. She should have known to secure it better. Her
eyes met Mr. Roman God’s. “Thank you again.”
His killer grin made her insides melt like gelato in the hot Italian sun.
He shrugged in that offhand way Italians had perfected. “No problem. You are
Someone shoved against her and she almost lost her balance. Mr. Roman God
cupped her elbow, steadying her.
“It’s not every day I have the pleasure of meeting a beautiful American,” he said.
Her beautiful? No one except her mother had ever called her that. “Uh-thank you,”
“I would like to buy you a glass of wine.” He studied her with those incredible hazel
eyes fringed by thick dark lashes.
This smokin’ guy was picking her up in the middle of Capri’s main square? Men rarely
hit on studious, quiet Cat Connors. Must be something in the water here.
Anxiety fueled by shyness compelled Cat to say no. If she was ever to become the
new Cat, she had to forge ahead and take chances. Forced to come here on this family
trip, she’d decided it would be the catalyst she needed to complete her metamorphosis
into a new Cat. She’d finally pull free from the shadows of her glamorous stepsisters and
be her own person-a woman who no longer tried to please others but lived her own life. A
little harmless flirtation with Mr. Roman God would be the perfect place to start. In this
square packed with tourists, she’d be safe. She had time before she had to meet
“Okay, I’d like to have a drink with you.”
They sat at an outdoor table in a nearby café that fronted the square. Mr. Roman God
said something in rapid Italian to the waiter who brought over a bottle of chilled pinot
grigio, opened it, and presented the cork to her companion, who sniffed the cork and
nodded that the wine was acceptable. The waiter filled two glasses and shoved the
opened bottle into an ice-filled bucket on a stand next to them.
When he left, Mr. Hotness leaned his elbow on the table and raised his glass. “My day
has become more interesting.”
She touched her glass with his. “To interesting days.”