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smile.
    “But American, Marcos. If you have more children we will never see them,” Sofia chattered as she assembled the feast: balls of mozzarella swimming in cloudy water, slices of salami,
mortadella
, and
capicola
, aged provolone, small green olives in brine, and a loaf of fresh-baked bread.
    He laughed. “I think you’re rushing things, Sofia. It is only a lunch. And her being American is perfect. We can enjoy our time here, and I can see her when I travel to California to look at vineyards. We can keep it casual.” Which is all he ever wanted from a relationship these days.
    “So you never have to commit to anything before you break her heart.” Sofia raised her arms in frustration. “To you it is only a lunch. To a woman, it is an invitation.”
    He shook his head as she rattled on in rapid Italian, but her observation made him pause. How had Elizabeth viewed the invitation to the vineyard? Did she see it as more than the simple act of friendship it was intended to be? Time to change the subject.
    “And I see Gina in two weeks.”
    “I’d better get to see her, too.” Sofia slammed the cheese on the cutting board and sliced off a hunk. She wrapped the cheese in paper and thrust it into a wicker basket. “You’ll supply the wine, yes?” Sofia handed him his lunch. “And bring my basket back.”
    “Yes, Sofia. I always bring your basket back, don’t I?” He pulled out his wallet to pay the amount on the bill she’d scratched out on the back of a paper bag.
    She took the money and stuffed it in her apron pocket. “Go then. But make sure the American doesn’t fall for the romantic Italian with a stone for a heart.”
    He kissed her on the cheek and left the store, his mind rumbling with new questions. What was he doing with Elizabeth? Since the breakup of his marriage, he’d dated some women and slept with others. But Sofia was right, he’d kept them all at arm’s length. That’s what had made time with Elizabeth perfect. They could enjoy each other’s company and there was a built-in distance to keep the relationship from getting too serious.
    But the remembrance of the quick brush of their lips made him want more. It had been a long time since he’d felt as comfortable with a woman as he did with Elizabeth. For the first time in years, he wanted more than a simple companionship. The stone heart Sofia had accused him of having had developed a crack.
    And, as Sofia had so helpfully pointed out, the woman who caused the break lived half a world away.
    • • •
    Maybe, Marcos thought as he paced the small hotel lobby, the same pull wouldn’t be there when he saw Elizabeth in the daylight.
    Laughter exited the tiny elevator before the two women appeared.
    Luck wasn’t with him. The crack widened a fraction.
    He walked toward Elizabeth and Sarah, a broad smile breaking across his face. “
Bella!
You both look wonderful. I’ve picked up a most magnificent lunch from my cousin, the sun is shining and it’s a wonderful day to be alive in Liguria!”
    “Are all the people in town your cousins?” Elizabeth asked.
    “It must seem that way, but no. In Italy, we buy from who we know.” He shrugged. “And who we know are usually our cousins!”
    Elizabeth’s smile invited him into a place where he could relax and be himself, odd-ball sense of humor and all.
    Catching his breath, he said, “My car is right outside. It will take us about an hour to get to the vineyard.” He led the way through the lobby, sending a brief wave to Rosita.
    “Where are you taking my guests today?” she asked.
    “The vineyard.”
    “A beautiful day for it.”
    “
Si
.” He held the door for the two Americans, and they stepped out into the fragrant air of a summer day in Liguria. Bright bougainvillea lit the stucco walls, reminding him of childhood summers, and enticing him to let go of his worries for the day. He seated the women in his Alfa-Romeo, rolled the top down, and cruised into the hills toward the