It was an urge she resisted.
After setting the phone on the desk, she hurried to her suitcase to begin unpacking. Once she finished the task, she promised herself, she would seek a cocktail down at the hotel bar. Maybe it would help calm some of her heart-racing excitement. Help keep her cool under pressure.
Every three minutes she glanced at the connecting door, as if Maximo might magically be standing there, arm against the doorframe, watching her.
The door remained closed, but it didn’t hurt to dream.
Three
As darkness descended over Rome, Camryn made her way downstairs. She’d changed into a sleek gray skirt that hit modestly above the knees and a cream tulle shirt with matching gray embroidery at the neckline. She wanted to look nicer, more professional, even if she was just getting a drink.
The fact that she might ‘bump’ into Maximo Payne again had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Nothing at all.
So that she was not tempted to act like the paparazzi she disdained, Cam left her camera and her cell phone in her room.
Entering the dining and bar area, she paused to survey the scene. Candles burned on linen-covered tables and chandeliers glittered where they hung from the ceiling. The light they threw off was minimal, in keeping with the romantic ambiance. Only two couples dined in this evening; the rest of the tables were empty.
A lone figure sat at the bar, back to the room.
Camryn’s breath caught.
Maximo.
Unlike her, he hadn’t changed from his jeans and black button-down. Having seen him up close and personal, in a confined space without distractions, she thought she would recognize him anywhere. The breadth of his shoulders and muscular physique were a dead giveaway, as well as the ink black hair he ran his fingers through.
How best to approach the situation? The more times she saw him and did not admit who she was, the more awkward it would probably be when they sat down for their interview.
Camryn headed to the bar. She strode up with confidence and a smile for the bartender. He was cute in his own right, with dark hair and glittery dark eyes.
“Good evening. Can I get a glass of wine, please?” Cam asked.
“Of course. Red, white?” The bartender spoke perfect, heavily accented English.
“Your choice.” Cam decided to put the fate of her palate in the bartender’s hands. Aware that Maximo could hear every word from his nearby seat, Camryn feigned indifference to his presence.
Which was hellaciously hard to do.
Perhaps it was the indifference itself, or her lack of greeting, lack of fawning or flirting, that eventually drew his attention. Cam couldn’t be sure, but the next thing she knew, Maximo’s pleasant voice rumbled through the silence.
“If you’ve just had dinner, you should try the limoncello. It’s an Italian staple.”
“Actually, I haven’t eaten yet. What’s limoncello?” Cam asked. She accepted her glass of white wine from the bartender with a smile of gratitude. Although the drink went on her room tab, she left a tip on the counter. The bartender’s bemused expression changed to a smile when he slid the coins into his palm, as if the gesture temporarily confused him.
“A customary drink most Italians have after a meal. If you’re wanting an authentic experience, that’s a good place to start,” Max said. He had a tumbler of amber liquid cupped between his hands.
Cam turned to face the superstar, sipping the wine to buy herself time. She needed to calm the frantic ohmygodohmygod running through her mind. How ridiculous, like she was a teenage girl instead of a twenty-two-year-old woman of the world. Since he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, Cam got her first up close and personal look at Maximo’s eyes. She’d seen them in photos before, and on the big screen, but not like this. The hazel color tended toward a pale greenish-brown, as if she were staring into the clear depths of a spring-fed stream. He had intense eyes, incisive, like he could shave away the facade of a person to expose what lurked beneath.
What had he been saying? Oh yes. Limoncello. “I’ll definitely give it a try. Maybe with dinner tomorrow night. Or tonight, if they’re still serving.”
Her stomach growled right on cue, protesting the lack of food.
Maximo rumbled a laugh. Clearly he’d heard that. “They serve here until eleven. You’ve still got two hours or so.”
“Thanks. It’s my first night here, so I haven’t caught up to the schedule yet.” Camryn talked herself down from another internal glee session. She was standing here having a conversation with Maximo Payne! Her heart didn’t know whether to flutter or stop altogether. Which was not the reaction to him she thought she would have. Cam was all business with interviews, rarely sidelining into personal feelings or conversations. Maximo was an entirely different animal. The unexpected, fierce attraction she felt caught her off guard.
“This is my dinner,” he said, lifting the tumbler to indicate the drink.
“Not a very fulfilling meal. Maybe you should join me. Give me some pointers on what’s best from the menu.” The words were out before Cam could stop them. She’d just invited Max to dinner! Before he could turn her down, which she was sure he would do, Cam held up a hand in apology. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Maybe you should let me decide that,” Max said. He finished off his drink and set the tumbler on the counter. “It’s about fifteen steps to the nearest dining table, and all we’re going to do is eat. I think I can handle that.”
Camryn laughed quietly. She met his gaze, feeling a shiver work its way straight to her core. “Well, all right then. Let’s eat.”
Max slid off the bar seat and said something low in Italian to the bartender.
Camryn hadn’t realized he was fluent in the language, despite his heritage. The strange words sounded pleasing and sexy on his tongue. Falling into step at his side, she walked with him to a table of his choosing. To her surprise, Max held her chair.
“Thanks.” Rather than make a big deal out of it, Camryn settled in and had another sip of her wine, as if his chivalry was to be expected.
He circled the table and sat in an opposite chair. “I’m Max, by the way.”
“Camryn. Nice to meet you, Max.” Oh boy. This was it. Would he know her name from the meeting Lenni had messed up? Or the meeting they had the day after tomorrow? Surely Lenni had contacted him about it by now. Cam braced herself, unsure what his reaction might be.
“Nice to meet you, Camryn,” Max said. There was no surprise in his gaze or recognition from the incident yesterday.
Camryn couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. “So . . . what do you recommend, then?”
“I’ve taken care of it. I’m having them deliver several dishes so you can experience more than one item,” Max said. A waiter brought him a glass of white wine and set it before him on the table. “Grazie.”
“That sounds excellent. Of course, I have to try pizza before I leave.” Was she staring? She tried not to. Cam found it quite difficult to pretend this was some normal meeting with a stranger. He was almost too handsome, too charming. It wasn’t the Maximo she’d read about in papers and heard about through the rumor mill. That Max was a sour-tempered, withdrawn hermit who disliked the limelight.
Then again, that information came from tabloids. What did she expect? Camryn knew she wouldn’t be any more pleasant with the rabid photographers lurking around every conceivable corner.
An inner voice insisted she should come clean and tell him who she was.
“You’ll try some tonight, actually,” Maximo said. Watching her, he lifted his glass for a drink.
Camryn found it easy to get lost in his gaze. He was downright mesmerizing, so much more imposing and electrifying in person than she could believe. A presence on screen, and she found him to be even more so in the flesh.
Now she understood why his fan club had exploded like a neutron bomb.
“Excellent. I can’t wait. Should I expect to taste this limoncello you spe
ak of, too?” she asked.
“Absolutely. It’ll come after the meal.” He drained his wine. The waiter came over to discreetly fill his glass again. “So tell me, Camryn, what brings you to Rome?”
Oh crap, she thought. Cam turned her wineglass by the stem to give her fingers something to do. “Business. I—”
A sudden flurry of clicks and strobe lights surprised Cam into silence. She glanced aside in time to see a man with a camera to his face, the flash brashly illuminating the softer colors of the dining hall. She felt a lot like a deer in the headlights, unable to look away. Or move.
“Get him out of here!” Maximo demanded, gesturing impatiently to a trio of security who rushed in to subdue the photographer.
There was the sourpuss Cam had heard about. Max’s demeanor matched the robotic way he’d shoved a path through the paparazzi at the hotel yesterday.
As if she cared about that right now.
Blinded, she blinked several times and looked across the table to Max. Fury painted itself across his features.
“I hate those bastards with every last breath,” he said.
So much for announcing who she was and why she was here. Right at this moment, she suspected he might punt kick her away from the table. Now she had to play dumb and pretend like she didn’t know what was going on, or why that man had looked so intent on taking Maximo’s picture.
“It seems there’s a camera around every corner these days,” Cam said, attempting a puzzled but casual air. She lifted her wine for a drink. A long drink.
Max studied her as if he was trying to read her mind or figure out what she was thinking. “You can say that again. I apologize for the rude interruption.”
“It’s not your fault.” Cam set her glass down and crossed her legs. This was just another dinner and Max was just Max. Not a superstar, not a worldwide heartthrob.
Max grunted as if he disagreed, but said no more about the photographer.
“Anyway, what are you in Rome for?” Cam felt like a heel. She knew why he was here. But what else was she supposed to say? Ask what he did for a living? Talk about awkward.
“Vacation. A much-needed vacation,” he said, as if his reason needed clarification.
“You speak Italian, I noticed. Have family in the area?”
“Probably long lost cousins that I’ve never met. My grandparents immigrated to the States when they were in their early twenties, so we’re two generations removed from Italy. I know the language, though. My grandmother insisted my mother learn it, and she insisted I learn it, too,” Max said.
And just like that, Cam had more information on Maximo Payne than any other journalist thus far. Most everyone knew that Max was part Italian, but explicit details were in short supply. She could flee to her room, get on her site, and make an announcement that would go viral around the Internet in minutes. That was more Lark’s style than her own. Despite the obvious windfall it might generate for the website, she wouldn’t publish his personal information without consent.
But, boy, was it hard to resist the siren call of an exclusive news break.
“My parents and grandparents are the same. They wanted us to be fluent in English and Spanish, which has come in handy more often than not.” Cam found it easy to share these personal details.
“Where are they from?” he asked.
“My father’s side came from Mexico. My mother is half Dutch, half Irish.”
“An eclectic mix,” Max said.
Cam laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
The waiter arrived with a large tray of food. He spread out several platters and individual plates. Represented in the array were spaghetti, pizza, lasagna, and a separate platter lined with meats, mozzarella chunks, and sliced tomatoes. It looked like enough to feed a small army.
It also smelled like heaven.
“Traditional Margherita pizza, all’Amatriciana spaghetti, and lasagna,” Max said. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks. You won’t run screaming from the table if I fill three plates, will you?” she asked, still smiling.
He laughed. Max had one of the nicest masculine laughs Camryn had ever heard. There was a slight rasp to his voice that sent shivers through her body.
“I’ll tell you what. If you eat three plates of food, I’ll take you on a private tour of Rome myself.” His eyes sparkled with what seemed to be both challenge and mirth.
Cam was getting lost in the moment. She knew it, understood it, yet felt helpless to stop it. This was not what she was here for. Her visit was all business. She should be subtly prying more information from him or, at the very least, have come forward with her real agenda.
“Max,” Cam said with a sudden smile. “You’re on.”
Maximo stared across the table at one of the most intriguing women he’d met in a long time. Not just intriguing, but beautiful. She presented herself with candid confidence and an underlying mystery he couldn’t place.
That she hadn’t freaked out or asked uncomfortable questions about the accidental paparazzi episode impressed him most of all. She didn’t seem to realize who he was, which was such a relief that he’d surprised himself by offering up a dare.
The slender wisp of a woman shouldn’t have been able to demolish three plates of food with so much ease, but she’d hoovered up two slices of pizza, a chunk of the lasagna, and a portion of spaghetti bigger than his own. She ate four slices of buttered bread, had three glasses of wine, and nibbled at the array of meat, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese.
Mother of God.
Through it all she chatted and laughed, as if she could sit there and eat three more plates of food with no problem.
He was blown away by her moxie. Blown away, and charmed. While she sipped the limoncello and declared it the best after-dinner drink she’d ever tasted, Max considered all the places he might take her.
There were many.
Rome was filled with countless treasures, one around every corner. The obvious landmarks were sure to be crammed with tourists, which presented a challenge all its own. He could either attempt to visit and hope to go unnoticed, or hire a security team to clear the way ahead of time. The latter option would surely raise questions, ones he wasn’t prepared to answer yet. And he had intimate experience with trying to go undercover in public. Once, he’d been surrounded by a mad throng of people who had torn at his clothes, his body, even his hair.
Then there was the debacle at the Blue hotel. The paparazzi had surprised him on his way to the limousine, shouting and snapping photo after photo. A few had gotten into his personal space, nudging him with elbows and bodies, attempting to herd him away from the car so they could descend en masse. Once they had you cornered, he’d learned, it was difficult to escape without throwing punches.
“Max?”
He snapped out of his reverie and looked across the table. Camryn stared at him with concern.
“Yes?” He hadn’t heard a word she’d said in the last five minutes.
“I asked what we’re going to see first, but if you’re having second thoughts, it’s no trouble. We don’t have to go,” Camryn said, looking somewhat sheepish.
“No, no. We’re going. I was thinking of where and when. How early is too early for you?” he asked.
“I can be up at any time. Especially since I think I’m about to crash soon from all the excellent food and wine.” She hid a laugh behind her hand.
Max chuckled. Camryn was more than a touch intoxicated. “All right. How about we meet in the lobby at five?”
“Five a.m.? As in, it’s-still-the-middle-of-the-night 5:00 a.m.?”
“I thought you just said you could be up at any time?” he asked, lips twitching with mirth.
“By human standards! Any alarm before seven is blasphemy.”
“Five o’clock, and that’s my final offer.”
“Six thirty,” she countered.
“This is not a flea market where we haggle over the time. Five,” he said. He was gleaning
far too much amusement from the interlude with Camryn.
“Six.”
“Five.”
“Five forty-five.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “We do not have a deal. I have to say, I was looking forward to the tour.”
“Okay, five! Five o’clock.” Camryn threw her hands in the air, eyes wide with playful exaggeration. “Don’t blame me if I’m a zombie for the first hour and a half, though.”
“Zombies can still enjoy the sights. We’ll load you up on coffee first.” He pushed back his chair and circled the table. “Come on. Let me walk you to your room.”
She laughed with apparent delight and rose unsteadily to her feet. “Why, thank you, monsieur.”
He leaned close to her ear. “Wrong country.”
Engulfing her small hand in his, Maximo gently guided Camryn away from the table. He didn’t need to ask what floor, and took care of button-pushing once he escorted her into the elevator. A comfortable, companionable silence filled the lift as it ascended.
Max released Camryn’s hand when the doors opened, then set his palm low against her spine and let her lead the way.
“Thanks for tonight. I mean, for dinner. For talking. It was a lot of fun,” Cam said while digging into her wallet. She produced the security card to her door moments later.
“Yes, it was. I’ll see you at five,” Maximo said, facing her when she stopped at her suite. Right next to his, he noted. Max studied the sparkle in her gray eyes, the bloom of a smile on her pretty mouth.
“Okay! I’ll be up, I promise. Good night, Max.” Camryn tried three times to use the card on the door to no avail.
Chuckling, Max gently eased the card from her fingers, slid the correct end into the slot, and waited for the corresponding light to turn green. The lock clicked when it released.
“There you go,” he said, handing her card back. “Good night, Camryn.” Maximo pivoted toward his own door and let himself inside before he did something he might regret.
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