by Dan Brown
Langdon scratched his head, making a show of pondering it. “Well, there is one thing that interests me more.”
She smiled and took a step toward him. “That being?”
“How you disproved that Einstein theory using tuna fish.”
Vittoria threw up her hands. “Dio mìo! Enough with the tuna fish! Don’t play with me, I’m warning you.”
Langdon grinned. “Maybe for your next experiment, you could study flounders and prove the earth is flat.”
Vittoria was steaming now, but the first faint hints of an exasperated smile appeared on her lips. “For your information, professor, my next experiment will make scientific history. I plan to prove neutrinos have mass.”
“Neutrinos have mass?” Langdon shot her a stunned look. “I didn’t even know they were Catholic!”
With one fluid motion, she was on him, pinning him down. “I hope you believe in life after death, Robert Langdon.” Vittoria was laughing as she straddled him, her hands holding him down, her eyes ablaze with a mischievous fire.
“Actually,” he choked, laughing harder now, “I’ve always had trouble picturing anything beyond this world.”
“Really? So you’ve never had a religious experience? A perfect moment of glorious rapture?”
Langdon shook his head. “No, and I seriously doubt I’m the kind of man who could ever have a religious experience.”
Vittoria slipped off her robe. “You’ve never been to bed with a yoga master, have you?”