Page 32 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Cara sighed. “You’re Catholic, right?”

Sure, he was.

He was French and Italian.

He was a damned Catholic.

“Of course,” Gian said, turning to face her more. “Why?”

“Then you’re familiar with the Bible and sin. Tell me, is there any place in the good book that explains how much of a sin it has got to be that you can manage to be that attractive and charming in three languages?”

Gian laughed loud and hard.

Cara’s stomach tightened into a dozen more knots.

Fuck.

Yes, that’s what she was.

Fucked.

“There is no such thing in the Bible,” Gian assured.

“There should be,” Cara mumbled to herself. “It’s not fair to all us unsuspecting women walking around, you know.”

Gian lifted a shoulder. “There’s really only one woman who needs to be worrying about it, at the moment.”

“Oh?”

His brown eyes lifted to meet hers unabashed, his grin still firmly in place. “You, Cara. Just you.”

She didn’t know what game this man was playing, but he was damn good at it.

“What are you doing here, Gian?”

“You owe me a coffee. It also happens to be dinnertime, so I thought you might like food, too.”

Cara came a little closer to the back of his Lexus. “And you knew where I lived, how?”

“Constantino is chatty when he drinks,” Gian admitted. “I tend to use that to my advantage at times.”

“My cousin?”

“Surprised he knows things about you?”

“A little,” Cara replied. “We’re not really close.”

“You don’t have to be,” Gian said, not elaborating further. “He also mentioned you might have your weekends free, which is why your uncle often calls on you, if he needs an extra hand at the bar like he did the other night.”

Cara eyed him curiously. “So, you’ve been asking about me?”

“Oui. Is that a problem?”

“Maybe.”

“Funny, bella, you don’t sound like it’s a problem.”

Cara barely held back her smile.