She tried to recapture the lighthearted mood of earlier in the evening as they walked back through the streets toward their hotel.

"I may have to rethink the whole fish thing," she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

"I've been holding out on going full vegetarian with Maddie but I'd swear that sea bass was staring up at me from the platter." The sea bass baked in a salt crust had been prepared table side, as was the tradition. But when the waiter cracked the crust to reveal the entire fish, then filleted it at the table, all Stevie could think about was how appalled Maddie would have been over the whole procedure.

"Let's just say I won't be ordering salt baked sea bass when Maddie's with me," Stevie said. And then she started to giggle.

"Oh, a minute ago you were mildly horrified. And now you think it's funny?"

"It is funny. I mean, who decided that removing the skin, head and bones of a fish table side was a great idea? It's actually kind of disgusting when you think about it."

She had to stop a second to catch her breath, and Mike turned to face her as she tried to explain.

"I've had dishes like that before and never gave it a second thought, but ever since Maddie came to live with me, it's like I see everything through the eyes of a five-year-old. An extremely precocious five-year-old with some very definite opinions."

She felt laughter erupting again, and couldn't hold it back. "And the absurd formality of it all. The waiter, ceremoniously delivering it to our table, placing the napkin just so over the dome of salt, then whaling away at it with the back of a spoon until it cracked open and crumbled onto that poor dead fish with the one glassy eye just staring up at me . . ."

"Now you're making me think it's ridiculous, too."

She gasped. "And I have no idea why it strikes me as so funny but I can't stop laughing."

Mike moved in closer. "I can fix that."

"Hmm, what?" She was only half listening. Then the air between them changed and she took a step back, leaning against the side of a building, as fashionistas, tourists, and vaguely recognizable celebrities flowed past them on the Via della Spiga, just a half a block from their hotel. He was suddenly close, way too close.

Mike leaned his hand against the wall behind her, effectively trapping her. He ran his other hand slowly up her bare arm and she felt her jacket slip through her fingers and fall to the ground by her feet. He moved his hand across her shoulder, behind her neck, tilting her head slightly while he continued to look into her eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze away.

She had plenty of time to say no, to stop this, to ask him what he thought he was doing and laugh it off. But her limbs wouldn't move, the words wouldn't come. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but instead she leaned her head forward, let him pull her against him, lifted her lips to meet his. It was familiar and startling all at the same time. He wrapped his arm around her and gathered her closer, reminding her how perfectly their bodies fit together.

He brushed his lips over hers once, twice, then leaned back, watching her through eyes that darkened like a stormy sea as he ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, then caressed the side of her jaw with his fingertips. Then he moved closer and she heard herself sigh and his lips met hers again, firmly and with purpose as if he knew her every secret desire and was planning to make them all come true.

It's only a kiss, she told herself, even as the intensity of it swept like a shock wave through the very core of her. She'd had lovers since Mike, of course, some of whom she remembered very fondly. None of them had stirred her like this. Over the past six years she'd managed to convince herself that her memories of that lost weekend with Mike had been exaggerated in her own mind simply because it had been so spontaneous, so unexpected, and so completely out of character for her serious, practical self.

But now, as she sank deeper into his kiss and felt every nerve ending in her body electrified by something so simple as the touch of his lips on hers, she had to admit she was in danger of losing her bearings and making everything so much more complicated than it already was.

Then she lost the ability of rational thought as his mouth claimed hers, as he adjusted the angle of their bodies and kissed her in a way that screamed danger and more all at the same time.

It barely registered when the rain that had been forecast finally arrived, starting with a sprinkling of fat drops then turning into a full summer shower. As pedestrians hurried past them to find shelter, all Stephanie could feel was the heat of Mike's body, and the wild and reckless energy that seemed to be coursing through her veins. Her fingers dug tighter in to the sleeves of his suit jacket and she felt the strong muscles underneath. The taste of him was dark and wild and intoxicating. The heavy rain-scented air surrounded them like a cloak and she doubted she'd ever walk down a wet street in Italy again without thinking of him.

Finally something broke the spell and they stared at each other, then Mike picked up her sodden jacket and they walked the half block to the hotel, not speaking. They stepped through the pedestrian entrance directly from the Via della Spiga. By some miracle they were alone in the elevator and she was aware of how her nipples were showing through the thin silk blouse. He kissed her slowly this time, tasting, brushing, making her want, while his hand lightly traced the outline of her nipples. It was so hot she was surprised her clothes didn't steam right off of her body. Then somehow they were out of the elevator and at the door to her suite and she threw her dripping jacket over her shoulders hoping it would cover up her breasts as they walked in the door and saw Luciana sitting on the divan reading. She rose swiftly, and gave them a look that missed nothing, but didn't comment other than to say she'd hoped they wouldn't get caught in that downpour.

"Well," Mike said, "getting a little wet never hurt anyone."

"No," Luciana said, her eyes searching his face. "I suppose not."

She turned to Stephanie. "Madelyn is sound asleep in the middle of your bed. The poor baby was exhausted. We'll have to pace ourselves a little better tomorrow."

Luciana walked past them to the door, then paused. "I imagine she'll sleep soundly through the night. Very soundly." She walked out and the door clicked shut quietly behind her.

Suddenly it felt awkward. What had she been thinking, letting her senses rule her like that?

"If you'll excuse me," she said, trying to infuse a bit of formality into her voice, get some distance, "I better get out of these wet clothes and make sure Maddie's okay."

"Maddie's fine," Mike said, moving toward her and she took a step backward and almost tripped. He reached out to steady her, and the jacket slipped off her shoulders and landed on the floor behind her.

"Do you know what I'd like to do right now?"

Yes. "No," she said, and swallowed.

"Then I'll tell you. First I'd peel you out of that wet blouse. Then I'd take off that lacy bra you have on underneath." He lowered his gaze and she felt her nipples respond as if he touched her. "So that I could use my mouth on your breasts, flicking your nipples with my tongue until you begged for mercy."

She felt her knees go weak.

"And then, when I decided we'd both had enough, I'd toss you over my shoulder and carry you across into my suite, to my bed. By the time we got halfway to the bedroom I'd have your panties off and your skirt would be lying on the floor. Then I'd drop you on my bed, completely naked except for those sexy shoes, and I'd use my mouth and my hands on every inch of your body, just to see how many times I can make you come."

He looked her in the eyes. "Then I'd take you so hard and so fast that all you'd be able to do is scream my name."

He reached up and swept a stray lock of damp hair behind her ear while she tried to remember how to breathe. And wanted him in that moment more than she'd ever wanted anyone, anything, in her life.

His voice was low, measured, and the words burned through her like a slow fire.

"That's how I'd like to spend the rest of the evening. So tell me, Stevie, what do you want to do tonight?"

Author's Note: 

This chapter makes me think of  Rod Stewart's classic "Da Ya think I'm Sexy." Do you like to listen to music when you read?