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"Is there somebody waiting for you at home?" he asks.

"Five demanding men, actually. All neutered, so don't get jealous."

He laughs, and I look up at him.

"What about you? Is somebody going to be upset that you've spent the evening kissing a strange woman?"

Something flickers across his face, disappearing before I can identify it.

Then he brings my hand to his chest.

"The only woman I'm interested in tonight is standing right in front of me."

Oh, hell.

He knows exactly what to say.

"You're trouble, Lorenzo Moretti."

"Enzo," he corrects gently. "And you're going to let me take you to dinner tomorrow."

"Am I?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Would you prefer to get down on one knee and beg?"

His smile turns sinful. "For you, sweetheart, I might be willing to learn."

I think my ovaries just applauded.

He hands me his phone, and I enter my number. He immediately calls mine so I'll have his, then kisses my knuckles before leading me back inside.

By the time the reception ends, Enzo has danced with me again, made sure I got a proper slice of chocolate wedding cake, and introduced me to several people whose names I've already forgotten.

He walks me outside to meet my rideshare.

"Rocco could take you home," he offers.

"I've managed to survive thirty-seven years without a personal chauffeur."

"I'd rather know you get there safely."

"I'll be fine, bossy."

He smiles and opens the car door when my ride arrives.

"Tomorrow evening. Dinner."

"Look at you, planning the whole thing."

"Would you rather choose?"

"Surprise me."

"That I can do."

He gives me one last kiss before I climb inside, and I spend the entire drive home grinning like an idiot.