gorgeous.”
“But not as gorgeous as the famous Allie.”
“I leave you alone for a couple of days,” she sighed, “and look what you get up to. All these beautiful women running after you.”
“Not quite,” Mac said with a phony-modest grin, and she snatched up a pillow and whacked him over the head with it.
“No, no,” he moaned, pushing out from under the feathers. “No more. I need to take a shower.”
She grabbed his hand. “I know a few party games in showers. Oh, and by the way, I hope you haven’t forgotten you’re taking me out to dinner tonight.”
“Right.” Mac had been thinking more about room service and sleep but a promise was a promise.
“We’re going to Alvaro’s,” Sunny said, smiling. “Nothing but the best for your girl. Remember?”
C HAPTER 11
Tonight Sunny was all spiffied up in an expensive little slip of black chiffon from one of Rome’s famous boutiques, that clung where it should and fluttered around her knees in a very feminine way. She wore black pointy-toe stilettos and Guerlain’s Mitsouko perfume. She slicked on Dior’s Rouge lipstick, a satisfying brilliant red, then smacked her lips together to smooth it out.
The dresses she had tried on and rejected littered the bed and the bathroom was awash in bubble bath and shampoo. After all, it took a lot of effort for a girl to look her best. She wasn’t sure whether Mac had gotten it yet, but she was truly a very girly girl.
Anyhow, there she was now in her new designer black chiffon that had cost an arm and a leg and that, looking inthe mirror, she thought was worth every cent. She wore little diamond hoops in her ears and a left hand conspicuously lacking in any sort of ring, be it diamond or gold, large or small. That night she planned to use her left hand pointedly, flaunting its nakedness in front of Mac, who in typical fashion probably wouldn’t even notice her perfect manicure, let alone that this was her engagement finger. And that it was empty.
After some persuading Mac had temporarily abandoned his favorite tees in favor of a white linen shirt worn open at the neck and without a tie because he couldn’t stand to be buttoned up. His Dolce black leather jacket was a concession to Sunny’s beautiful dress and the fact that she’d told him chic Romans congregated at the restaurant she had chosen for its authentic atmosphere, as well as for its fine food. Plus the fact that it was only a couple of blocks’ walk from their hotel, so no messing about trying to find one of those elusive and horribly expensive Roman taxis, whose drivers, Sunny had found to her cost, invariably quoted the equivalent of forty bucks even though you were only going the shortest distance.
“Ready?” Mac’s eyes smiled at her. He pulled her close, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “Why don’t we just get room service?” he whispered, nibbling at her earlobe.
She pushed him away, laughing. “Because I want to show off my boyfriend. You put the ‘cream of Roman manhood’ to shame, baby.”
“You too,” he said, sincerely. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.”
To her surprise, Sunny felt herself blush. Mac wasn’t given to paying compliments. He was the kind of man who took it for granted that she knew he loved the way she looked. She supposed she did. Still, it was nice to hear him say it.
Linking her arm in his, they descended in the little cage elevator, then walked up the Via Bocca di Leone, named for the pretty lion fountain in the little piazza.
The restaurant had nicotine yellow plaster walls with ancient blackened beams across the ceiling, and white tablecloths with lavish bouquets of scarlet flowers. It was old-world elegant and filled with a chic crowd, there for the food as well as for the “scene.” Their table was along the wall near the center and they settled in, pleased with the place and with each other. A tiny amber-shaded lamp lit Sunny’s face from below, turning her into a Latina
“But not as gorgeous as the famous Allie.”
“I leave you alone for a couple of days,” she sighed, “and look what you get up to. All these beautiful women running after you.”
“Not quite,” Mac said with a phony-modest grin, and she snatched up a pillow and whacked him over the head with it.
“No, no,” he moaned, pushing out from under the feathers. “No more. I need to take a shower.”
She grabbed his hand. “I know a few party games in showers. Oh, and by the way, I hope you haven’t forgotten you’re taking me out to dinner tonight.”
“Right.” Mac had been thinking more about room service and sleep but a promise was a promise.
“We’re going to Alvaro’s,” Sunny said, smiling. “Nothing but the best for your girl. Remember?”
C HAPTER 11
Tonight Sunny was all spiffied up in an expensive little slip of black chiffon from one of Rome’s famous boutiques, that clung where it should and fluttered around her knees in a very feminine way. She wore black pointy-toe stilettos and Guerlain’s Mitsouko perfume. She slicked on Dior’s Rouge lipstick, a satisfying brilliant red, then smacked her lips together to smooth it out.
The dresses she had tried on and rejected littered the bed and the bathroom was awash in bubble bath and shampoo. After all, it took a lot of effort for a girl to look her best. She wasn’t sure whether Mac had gotten it yet, but she was truly a very girly girl.
Anyhow, there she was now in her new designer black chiffon that had cost an arm and a leg and that, looking inthe mirror, she thought was worth every cent. She wore little diamond hoops in her ears and a left hand conspicuously lacking in any sort of ring, be it diamond or gold, large or small. That night she planned to use her left hand pointedly, flaunting its nakedness in front of Mac, who in typical fashion probably wouldn’t even notice her perfect manicure, let alone that this was her engagement finger. And that it was empty.
After some persuading Mac had temporarily abandoned his favorite tees in favor of a white linen shirt worn open at the neck and without a tie because he couldn’t stand to be buttoned up. His Dolce black leather jacket was a concession to Sunny’s beautiful dress and the fact that she’d told him chic Romans congregated at the restaurant she had chosen for its authentic atmosphere, as well as for its fine food. Plus the fact that it was only a couple of blocks’ walk from their hotel, so no messing about trying to find one of those elusive and horribly expensive Roman taxis, whose drivers, Sunny had found to her cost, invariably quoted the equivalent of forty bucks even though you were only going the shortest distance.
“Ready?” Mac’s eyes smiled at her. He pulled her close, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “Why don’t we just get room service?” he whispered, nibbling at her earlobe.
She pushed him away, laughing. “Because I want to show off my boyfriend. You put the ‘cream of Roman manhood’ to shame, baby.”
“You too,” he said, sincerely. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.”
To her surprise, Sunny felt herself blush. Mac wasn’t given to paying compliments. He was the kind of man who took it for granted that she knew he loved the way she looked. She supposed she did. Still, it was nice to hear him say it.
Linking her arm in his, they descended in the little cage elevator, then walked up the Via Bocca di Leone, named for the pretty lion fountain in the little piazza.
The restaurant had nicotine yellow plaster walls with ancient blackened beams across the ceiling, and white tablecloths with lavish bouquets of scarlet flowers. It was old-world elegant and filled with a chic crowd, there for the food as well as for the “scene.” Their table was along the wall near the center and they settled in, pleased with the place and with each other. A tiny amber-shaded lamp lit Sunny’s face from below, turning her into a Latina
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