Page 31 of Chasing Caine

She stared at me, no response forthcoming. But she didn’t run, frown, or roll her eyes, as she normally did when the emotions grew difficult. Instead, she leaned forward to kiss me. It was tender, a kiss we hadn’t shared before. There was no sex, desperation, or need behind it.

And there was no joke to temper her feelings.

No, she was telling me she loved me, even if she couldn’t say it. She wanted a future with me as well.

As our mouths separated, she smiled sweetly, and a fullness spread through my chest. I could have leapt from the sun bed and told everyone there that the most miraculous woman in the world was in love with me.

Instead of pushing her too hard, I winked. “Shall we go swimming now?”

She sat up and double-knotted her bikini, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Race you to the far end of the swimming area.”

Before the words ‘What do I get if I win?’ could form on my lips, she was sprinting to the water’s edge. I chased after her, sure I wouldn’t win anyway.

Chapter 12

Antonio

WeproceededthroughthePompeii laboratory, directly to where Bianca worked. She’d been out sick while Samantha and I were in Capri, and Samantha was dying to speak with her before we headed to meet with the Carabinieri. Had we been there under other circumstances, Samantha no doubt would have stopped me every five feet to ask questions about the lab. But today, she was laser-focused.

Various worktables crowded with tools lined the walls of the room, while larger tables took up the center. Bianca sat facing a computer in the back. Only one other restorer was in the room, at a table with a mosaic tile—perhaps two feet square—surrounded by solvents, cotton swabs, and a dust extractor.

“Buongiorno, Bianca,” I said as Samantha and I arrived next to her, causing her to look up from her monitor.

Bianca ripped off her glasses, letting them fall to her chest from her beaded chain. Smoothing out the stray hairs she’d disturbed from her ponytail, she smiled at me. “Dr. Ferraro, good morning.”

“This is my associate, Samantha Caine.”

The two women nodded to each other and shook hands. Samantha had reluctantly agreed to go shopping with me in Capri before we left. She’d purchased short white pants and a cornflower blue cap-sleeved blouse, which she wore. Today was casual-professional, sporting her visitor’s badge and her luxurious hair trapped in a low bun.

True to my word, I’d bought nothing for her. Except for the one gift I snuck while she was not watching. Hopefully, I’d have an opportunity—and the courage—to give it to her before she left. It was mostly for me, though. She couldn’t deny me a selfish gift.

“How are you feeling?” asked Samantha.

Bianca continued fussing with her hair, smoothing her lab coat, and running her palm over her leg. I smiled politely, familiar with this response. We met while we were both working on our PhDs, when I’d been spending more time in Pompeii than in the States. Mario liked to say she was nervous, but she always reacted to me this way.

“Good. How are you?”

“We were told you were off sick the last two days?”

“Oh, no. My sister broke her wrist on the weekend and I had to help her get settled.”

Samantha nodded. “Are you aware a piece of the wall painting was removed from Casa di Marte?”

“Yes.” Bianca focused on Samantha but hesitated over her words each time she flicked her eyes back to me. “Mario was asking about it.”

“Did you authorize or request it?”

Bianca shook her head, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “I checked the inventory this morning. I had this mosaic—” She pointed to the piece the other restorer was working on, likely the one she’d asked for my help with. “—removed from the fountain in the atrium, which I’ll—Sorry, but who are you, exactly?”

“I’m—”

I put up a hand. “She’s working with me.”

“Excuse me,” came a man’s voice from behind us.

Samantha and I turned to see Thomas, one of the men on my team, approaching. Tall and lean, seven years my senior, he worked for the British Museum in London. He spoke with a crisp accent and knew little Italian, so we’d agreed English would be our primary language.

He gave Samantha a once-over. My first instinct was to grab her hand, drape my arm around her, or step between them. However, she’d been clear she wished to be seen as a professional at the lab, not my girlfriend. She’d earn their respect on her own.