woman who wasn’t sure if the man she was speaking to was joking or not would do. I laughed and withdrew my hand from his light grasp. “Wow, if you’re an example of that famous Latin charm, no wonder it’s, well . . . famous.”
He held my gaze. “Will you consider it?”
“What?” I needed him to say it, in case I was mistaken.
“Staying here with me.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re kidding.”
“I do not kid,” Roberto said with grave sincerity. “I ask that you think about it.”
The idea that he was serious—that he meant it—was overwhelming. “Why? You hardly know me. I hardly know you.”
“I know that you are like me, and that I have been alone all my life until now, as have you. I know that our chemistry is alike, a small miracle to me.” He grazed his thumb lightly over the back of my hand, sparking that strange surge of energy between us again. “It does not sound as if you have much to return to: no job, no family, no close lovers or friends. You have been alone all your life, like me, and I have never felt anything like this before with another woman. It would be criminal, as you say, not to taste this, explore it . . . savor it.”
Oh my. For someone who had never been attracted to a woman before, he was very, very good—smooth and suave and tantalizingly seductive.
My hand crept up automatically in a nervous gesture to touch the necklace I had always worn. “My necklace,” I said, reminded of its loss. “What happened to my necklace? I know I was wearing it when I fell. I always wear it.”
“Do you?” he asked curiously.
“Yes, it was the only thing I had when they found me abandoned as an infant on the doorsteps of an orphanage.”
“So you have had it ever since you were a child?”
“Yes, it’s the only thing I have from my mother. Please tell me you have it.”
He nodded, and I felt a surge of relief well up within me. “Oh, thank God. I would have been devastated if I had lost it.”
“It looked valuable, so I put it in my safe for safekeeping and forgot about it until you reminded me. I shall go get it. No, stay here. Allow me to bring it to you.”
My joy, when he returned, turned to puzzlement. The item he laid carefully down on the table was a necklace all right, but one I had never seen before. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Your necklace. The one that you were wearing when you fell and hit your head.”
“But the necklace I’ve always worn is just a simple cross. This . . . I don’t recognize it.” I looked down at an exquisite cameo, the likeness of a man carved upon its ivory surface with scroll-like writing framing the rim. The bottom was engraved with the fierce image of a stylized dragon. As I ran my finger over the engraving, the present world hazed over and the man whose likeness was carved onto the cameo was looking at me. His eyes were a deep, rich chocolate brown.
“The dragon denotes my lineage and is the crest of our family line. Will you wear this?” he asked.
With an abrupt wrench, I returned back to present reality.
“What’s the matter?” Roberto asked, grasping both my hands.
I was shaking, trembling.
“I don’t know. I think . . . I remembered something—some one . The man who gave me this necklace. He said the dragon denoted his lineage, his family line.”
“Who was he?” Roberto demanded.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Roberto stared at the cameo image as if by sheer will he could make it impart its secrets to him.
Picking up the bright silver chain, I examined the scrolled writing more closely to see if it might jar loose some more memory.
“That does not hurt you?” Roberto asked, sounding odd.
“What?”
“The silver chain you are holding.”
“No? Why should it?” I asked.
He gazed at my fingers holding the delicate chain. When I continued to simply hold it with no sign of discomfort, he pushed his chair back and stood. “How interesting,” he murmured. “Do you remember
He held my gaze. “Will you consider it?”
“What?” I needed him to say it, in case I was mistaken.
“Staying here with me.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re kidding.”
“I do not kid,” Roberto said with grave sincerity. “I ask that you think about it.”
The idea that he was serious—that he meant it—was overwhelming. “Why? You hardly know me. I hardly know you.”
“I know that you are like me, and that I have been alone all my life until now, as have you. I know that our chemistry is alike, a small miracle to me.” He grazed his thumb lightly over the back of my hand, sparking that strange surge of energy between us again. “It does not sound as if you have much to return to: no job, no family, no close lovers or friends. You have been alone all your life, like me, and I have never felt anything like this before with another woman. It would be criminal, as you say, not to taste this, explore it . . . savor it.”
Oh my. For someone who had never been attracted to a woman before, he was very, very good—smooth and suave and tantalizingly seductive.
My hand crept up automatically in a nervous gesture to touch the necklace I had always worn. “My necklace,” I said, reminded of its loss. “What happened to my necklace? I know I was wearing it when I fell. I always wear it.”
“Do you?” he asked curiously.
“Yes, it was the only thing I had when they found me abandoned as an infant on the doorsteps of an orphanage.”
“So you have had it ever since you were a child?”
“Yes, it’s the only thing I have from my mother. Please tell me you have it.”
He nodded, and I felt a surge of relief well up within me. “Oh, thank God. I would have been devastated if I had lost it.”
“It looked valuable, so I put it in my safe for safekeeping and forgot about it until you reminded me. I shall go get it. No, stay here. Allow me to bring it to you.”
My joy, when he returned, turned to puzzlement. The item he laid carefully down on the table was a necklace all right, but one I had never seen before. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Your necklace. The one that you were wearing when you fell and hit your head.”
“But the necklace I’ve always worn is just a simple cross. This . . . I don’t recognize it.” I looked down at an exquisite cameo, the likeness of a man carved upon its ivory surface with scroll-like writing framing the rim. The bottom was engraved with the fierce image of a stylized dragon. As I ran my finger over the engraving, the present world hazed over and the man whose likeness was carved onto the cameo was looking at me. His eyes were a deep, rich chocolate brown.
“The dragon denotes my lineage and is the crest of our family line. Will you wear this?” he asked.
With an abrupt wrench, I returned back to present reality.
“What’s the matter?” Roberto asked, grasping both my hands.
I was shaking, trembling.
“I don’t know. I think . . . I remembered something—some one . The man who gave me this necklace. He said the dragon denoted his lineage, his family line.”
“Who was he?” Roberto demanded.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Roberto stared at the cameo image as if by sheer will he could make it impart its secrets to him.
Picking up the bright silver chain, I examined the scrolled writing more closely to see if it might jar loose some more memory.
“That does not hurt you?” Roberto asked, sounding odd.
“What?”
“The silver chain you are holding.”
“No? Why should it?” I asked.
He gazed at my fingers holding the delicate chain. When I continued to simply hold it with no sign of discomfort, he pushed his chair back and stood. “How interesting,” he murmured. “Do you remember
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