s Templar?”
I was intrigued. “What makes you ask that particular question?”
“It’s all the rage, isn’t it? Buried treasures rumored to be left along Via Cassia. Can you imagine?”
I put my head in my hand, enthralled by this woman. I found myself wishing I really were a journalist. What fun Tara and I could have, exploring not just Tuscany, but all of Italy—writing about wine and “buried treasures” by day, ravaging one another’s bodies by night.
“To be honest, I have more interest in the idea that they hid as much art as they did gold.”
“A theory I’ve not heard.”
She rested her elbow on the table and raised her hand just slightly. “I’ll admit to being a bit of an art nerd. I have a degree in it, in fact. Well, the history of it.”
I took a sip of wine, hoping she would continue. Instead, she looked lost in thought. “What made you choose art history?”
“Even when I was little, I could spend hours in galleries. It became an obsession, really.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she bit her bottom lip. “So boring,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. “What about you? Why journalism?”
We spent the next hour dancing around what we could and couldn’t talk about. Only I was aware that’s what we were doing. I still learned a lot about her without her needing to tell me about her family or her best friends.
I tried not to think about what I’d seen in Sienna, but I couldn’t help it. I’d followed Tara’s line of sight when she came out to the car, and saw a man duck around the corner. I caught enough of his height and build to know it couldn’t have been Richard Emsworth, but who was it? It had shaken her enough I couldn’t help but think she recognized him.
“Do you have any siblings?” she asked.
“I have a sister. Younger. Her name is Sloane.”
“Are you close?”
“Not really.” Saying the words out loud made me sad, especially after surviving the plane crash. Hadn’t I vowed to tell the people who were important to me that I loved them? I’d certainly told Sloane, but had I done anything to forge a stronger relationship with her? “What about you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I always wished I did.” She peered over her shoulder, stifling a yawn. “Would you mind if we went back to Valentini now? I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight.”
I knew where I wanted her to sleep. Although if she was in my bed, neither of us would get any rest. “Of course,” I said, turning to look for Alejandra. When I didn’t see her, I excused myself and asked one of the other servers to locate her.
“Can I bring you something?”
“No. I mean, yes. Il conto per favore.”
He shook his head. “Non c’è fattura.”
“I insist, really.”
“Scusa, but I have no bill.”
The young man disappeared into the back, and I returned to our table.
“Let me guess; there is no bill.”
I laughed. “You would be correct.”
“It seems my new boss arranged not only for us to have a date, but also to take care of the check.”
“I’d say she’s more of a friend to you than a boss.”
“I haven’t known her much more than twenty-four hours.”
I rested my hand on hers. “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“Are you suggesting that you, too, are my friend, Ben?”