Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee

it couldn’t continue like this. He needed routine and stability, and his life—their lives—were in England.

      Sam heard Bridie call out, ‘Sam, the car is here!’

      Taking a deep breath and slipping on the one pair of low-heeled shoes she’d brought, Sam went to meet her fate.

      * * *

      The restaurant was nothing like Sam had expected. The car had taken her across the river to the very hip and bustling Trastevere area and the building looked small and rustic, with tables outside despite the cool early February air. Golden light spilled onto the pavement and the smells coming out of the door were mouth-watering.

      Sam went in and immediately her eye was drawn to the tall man who’d stood up. Her heart kicked betrayingly, as if she hadn’t seen him just hours ago. She felt ridiculously shy all of a sudden too—which was crazy, considering what had taken place in Rafaele’s bedroom last night.

      By the time a solicitous waiter had taken her coat and she’d made her way through the small tables to Rafaele her face was burning.

      He held a chair out for her and Sam felt self-conscious in her dress, hoping that Rafaele wouldn’t think she’d gone to any extra-special effort.

      In a bid to deflect his attention she said quickly, ‘Bridie thought I should dress up a bit...’ She looked around the restaurant. ‘But I don’t think I needed to. I thought you might choose somewhere more upmarket.’

      ‘Disappointed?’ Rafaele’s voice sounded tight.

      Sam looked at him quickly and felt her hair slide over her shoulder. ‘Oh, no! I love it. It’s just...I never expected you to like a place like this.’

      Something relaxed in Rafaele’s face and seeing the faint stubbling on his jaw made Sam feel hot for a second as she imagined the abrasive rub of it between her legs. She pressed them together tightly under the table, disgusted with herself.

      ‘This is my favourite restaurant. They specialise in cuisine from the north and they’re world renowned. But they’ve remained humble and haven’t sold out...’

      Just then a man with a huge barrel chest came over and greeted Rafaele effusively, before taking Sam’s hand in his and lifting it to his mouth to kiss. She couldn’t help smiling, even though she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. She caught ‘bellissima’ and blushed, which only made him gush some more.

      Eventually he left, and Rafaele indicated after him with his head. ‘That’s Francisco—the manager... I’ve known him since my student days when I used to work here.’

      Sam’s eyes widened as she recalled Rafaele telling her about his working three jobs to get through college. ‘You worked here?’

      He nodded and broke some bread to dip into oil and balsamic vinegar. Sam took some bread too, a little blindsided at imagining a younger, driven Rafaele working here, with women drooling over him in his waiter’s uniform of white shirt and black trousers.

      She admitted wryly, ‘That’s a little hard to believe.’

      Rafaele arched a brow, mock affronted. ‘You don’t think I’m capable of taking orders and clearing tables?’

      Sam felt a flutter near her heart and looked away, embarrassed. This was so reminiscent of before, when Rafaele had been intent on wooing her.

      She looked at him. ‘You never...talked about this stuff before...’

      Immediately his expression closed in and Sam wanted to reach out and touch him. Her hands curled to fists.

      ‘Before was different...’

      Sam’s mouth twisted and old bitterness rose up. ‘I know. You didn’t want to be seen in public with me.’

      Rafaele looked at her, his jaw tense. ‘It wasn’t like that—’

      A waiter interrupted them then and asked for their orders.

      Another couple entered the restaurant, hand in hand, and Sam felt a bittersweet yearning rise up within her. Damn Bridie for making her wish for something that would never exist. She’d been foolish enough to hope for it in the past. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

      When the waiter had left with their menus Sam sat back and looked at Rafaele. ‘What was it like, then?’

      For a second he looked so like Milo did when he was reluctant to do something that he took her breath away and she felt tenderness fill her.

      ‘I didn’t want to share you...that’s the truth. I wanted to lock you away in my palazzo. It used to drive me crazy that you worked all day surrounded by men who would look at you and want you.’

      Sam had to bite back a strangled laugh and ignore a very treacherous swooping of her belly to hear the evident jealousy in Rafaele’s voice. ‘No, they didn’t!’

      ‘They did,’ Rafaele growled. ‘You didn’t notice, though—oblivious to your effect on them. I’d never met another woman like you, and certainly not one who could match any man around her for knowledge and expertise. One who managed to turn me on more than I’d thought was possible.’

      The swooping sensation intensified and Sam felt increasingly out of her depth—as if the rules had changed and she wasn’t sure where she stood any more. Their starter arrived and Sam concentrated on it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. She was in uncharted waters with Rafaele, and not sure where this conversation was headed.

      After the starter was cleared Rafaele sat back and took his wineglass in his hand. Sam sensed the interest coming from a couple of women who had come in a few minutes before and, like last night, felt the rush of jealousy in her blood.

      Slowly he said, ‘Sam...last night at the function...’

      She tensed. She really didn’t want to talk about it. That acrid jealousy was all too recent and current.

      ‘I didn’t mean what I said...about you becoming my mistress. I know you’re not that kind of woman.’

      Sam emitted a small laugh and felt a dart of hurt. ‘You can say that again.’

      He leant forward and put his wine down, ‘Dio, Sam, stop putting words in my mouth. I meant that you’re worth more than any other woman who was there last night.’

      She looked at him and her heart jumped into her throat. His eyes were intense on hers.

      With imperfect timing the waiter appeared again with their food, and Sam looked at the fish she’d evidently ordered but couldn’t remember selecting now. You’re worth more than any other woman who was there.

      She looked at Rafaele and whispered, ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Eat...then we’ll talk.’

      Sam felt as if she could no more eat than walk over hot coals, but she forced some of the succulent food down her throat and wished she could enjoy it more. She was sure it was delicious.

      When the dishes were cleared away Sam felt very on edge. Rafaele regarded her steadily and her nerves felt as if they were being stretched taut.

      Finally he clarified, ‘I should have thought more about it before taking you with me last night.’

      He obviously saw something Sam was unaware of on her expressive face because he put up a hand and went on, ‘Not because I don’t want to be seen with you in public but because you were right. We need to know what...we are.’

      Sam frowned. ‘What we are?’

      Rafaele reached out and took her hand. Sam looked at her much smaller pale hand in his dark one and her insides liquefied.

      ‘Sam...I think we should get married.’

      Sam raised her eyes to his. Shocked. ‘What did you just say?’

      ‘I said, I think we should get married.’

      Sam