Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) (30 page)

“So, how was your first motorcycle ride, Miss Natalie?”

“I loved it.”

“Yeah? I’m glad to hear that. I took it easy with you at first, but you seemed comfortable enough that I started to punch it.”

Natalie remembers how he drove fast, but she felt safe the whole time. With some surprise she realizes she trusts Anthony. There’s something capable and solid about him.

“Is it hard to ride a motorcycle?” she wonders aloud.

“Not really. Like anything, it takes practice.”

“Do you think I could try it?”

They’re passing a tourist shop selling T-shirts and Anthony stops and turns to her with a horrified expression. “You want to ride my
Ducati?
”

“Not alone or anything,” Natalie says quickly. “But with you in back, sitting behind me.”

His horror appears to be turning into panic.

“Just for a short distance,” she adds. “Like maybe around a parking lot.”

Anthony’s handsome face goes blank as he’s clearly searching for something to say. He blinks at her, but still doesn’t speak.

“Do you need a paper bag to breathe into or something?”

He offers a small grin. “More like one to throw up into, I think.”

“You can say no.” She laughs.

He puts his hand up. “Just give me a second. I’m waiting for my heart rate to stabilize.”

“Think of something peaceful. Like me
not
ever riding your motorcycle. How’s that?”

“Yeah, okay—thanks, that’s helping a lot.”

They start walking again and Natalie can’t quite control her amusement. “So you’re really attached to your motorcycle, huh?”

“If you knew how much I paid for it, you’d understand. It was a real extravagance on my part.”

“All right, well, I’ll settle on being a passenger—for now.”

Seagulls fly overhead and the air is tangy with the smell of saltwater. When they walk by an outdoor fish and chips place, Anthony motions toward it. “What about eating here?”

Natalie shades her eyes and looks over. “Okay.”

“You sure? We can go to a restaurant if you want, but I was thinking it might be nice to sit outside.”

“This is good. I like sitting outside. Plus, we’ll get some exposure from our nearest star, right?”

“That we will.”

They get in line to order food and Natalie decides to ask him why he can’t make it to dinner on Friday. “Do you have a date?”

“Sort of.”

“Oh.” She feels kind of let down. Of course he’s still seeing other women. This is just a casual thing, after all.

They get up to the window and after asking her what she wants, Anthony orders food and drinks for both of them. She offers to pay for the meal, but he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head.

“I’ll just go find us a place to sit then.”

The seating area is packed, but as she scans the crowd, a table suddenly opens up right near the water. Quickly she pushes her way through the throng and gets there right before a punk girl with dreadlocks does. The girl glares at Natalie, but Natalie pretends not to notice.

Suck it up, sister—age before beauty.

As Natalie tries to scrub the grime off the table with a napkin, she decides that it doesn’t matter if Anthony has a date on Friday. No matter what happens, she’s going to relax and let herself enjoy today.

“Hey, I’m glad you found a spot.” Anthony comes over with the food. He’s wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses and is so hot that if he stepped near a canister of gasoline she’s certain it would explode.

“You look straight out of
Top Gun
with those sunglasses,” she teases. “Maybe I should start calling you Moondoggie.”

He takes a seat. “Except the character you’re thinking of was named Maverick, not Moondoggie.”

Natalie takes a sip from her soda. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, it’s Maverick. The other guys were Iceman and Goose.” He puts a basket of food in front of her and then one in front of himself.

“No, it’s definitely Moondoggie. I can’t remember the other characters’ names.”

Anthony tears open a couple of mayonnaise packets and squirts them near his fries. “You’re seriously going to argue that Moondoggie was Tom Cruise’s character in
Top Gun?
”

“Yes, because I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

“And I’m one hundred percent sure you’re wrong.”

Natalie tries to control her grin. She knows the character’s name was Maverick, but it’s fun to get a rise out of Anthony.

“Well, I prefer Moondoggie,” she tells him. “It’s far more poetic, especially for an astronomer.”

Anthony opens his mouth, but then closes it. He starts to chuckle. “You’re shining me on, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am, Moondoggie.”

He shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?” He looks at her though she can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses. “Keep this up and I might have to bend you over my knee, Miss Natalie.”

She nearly chokes on a french fry. The images flooding her mind are overwhelming and she can’t decide if she’s repelled or titillated.

He smirks. “I can see I’ve finally left you speechless.”

Natalie nibbles her fish and watches as Anthony eats his fries. “Do you always eat french fries with mayo?”

“Yeah, this is how I grew up eating them.”

“Is it gross?”

Anthony laughs. “No, it’s not gross. In Italy, when you buy french fries, they come wrapped in a paper cone, and you eat them with mayonnaise on the side.”

“Really? Can I taste one?”

“Sure.”

Natalie takes one of Anthony’s fries and dips it into the mayo. She eats it tentatively.

“What do you think?”

“It’s good. It sort of reminds me of potato salad.” She tries another one and has to admit they’re delicious. “So you’re Italian for real, huh?”

“Yeah, my parents are both Italian, though my dad grew up in the States.”

“And you’ve spent time in Italy?”

He nods. “As a kid, I spent most summers visiting my grandparents in Rome.”

It sounds wildly adventurous to Natalie, who’s never even been to Europe. Peter wanted to go years ago but she thought it was too extravagant. She’s come to realize that was a mistake on her part.

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you a native Northwesterner?”

“No, but I’ve lived here for years.”

“Where did you grow up?”

She picks up her soda and plays with the straw. “All over, but mostly Nevada.”

“Did your parents work for the government or something?”

Natalie snorts. That certainly would have been something. “Not hardly, my father was a professional gambler.”

Anthony stops eating. “Really?” Then he laughs and shakes his head. “You’re shining me on again.”

“It’s true. My dad played professional poker. He even won the World Series Main Event.”

Anthony takes this in, studying her. “That would explain your odd question—about whether I’ve ever counted cards.”

Natalie is embarrassed she asked him that. Ironically, between his good looks, charm, and facility with numbers, her father would have approved of Anthony.
And I’d do well to remember that.

“So do you gamble, too?” he asks.

“No, never.” People used to assume she gambled, but Natalie never wastes money like that. “I play cards for fun sometimes, but that’s it. People always think being around poker players sounds glamorous, but trust me—it wasn’t. At least not for my family.”

Anthony takes a drink from his Coke and studies her. There’s something about the way he’s doing it. Almost like he really gets it.

Natalie dabs her mouth with a napkin and sets her finished basket of food aside. “Anyway, traveling to Rome every summer sounds way more interesting.” She leans forward. “Maybe I should insist that you speak Italian to me.”

“But you wouldn’t understand anything.”

“It’s the language of romance though, isn’t it?”

Anthony grins. “
Sì, mia bella signora.
”

Natalie swallows.
Oh. My. God.

After eating lunch, they walk along the pier and when Anthony sees a sign advertising “Shrunken Heads Inside” at Ye Olde Curiosity Shop, he points at it.

“I think it’s our duty to check this out—what do you say?”

“Shrunken heads? They’re on the top of my disgusting things I’ve always wanted to see list.”

“Me, too, what a coincidence!” His brows rise with amusement.

They venture into the shop, which is a hodge-podge of postcards, books, and Native American knickknacks. They wander a bit and discover a wall of peculiarities clustered in the back of the store. The whole place smells musty with a tinge of sea air and they’re the only people checking the place out. They peruse the selection of oddities. Various petrified and jarred animals are on display, along with other strange items. Including said shrunken heads.

“So, Professor Novello, what’s your opinion, are they real?” Natalie turns to him.

“The shrunken heads?”

“Any of it.” She waves her hand.

“Sure, it’s all real.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Real plastic.”

Natalie laughs. He’s discovered he loves to make her laugh. She really lets loose when she laughs.

“Do you think it’s plastic? Some of it does look real to me.”

“I agree the mummies are real. The other stuff is dubious, though.”

She nods, leaning forward to inspect a stuffed mermaid. “This is an odd place.”

He’s inclined to agree with her.

“Oh, wait, look over there.” Suddenly Natalie is pulling on his arm and he follows her over to a gypsy fortuneteller machine. “Let’s have our fortunes told. Do you have a quarter?”

Anthony digs into his front pocket for some change and holds his palm out to her.

As Natalie delicately sifts for a quarter, his eyes wander down. Underneath her jacket she’s wearing a shirt that’s tight enough for him to see her curves and yet only shows a small tantalizing peek of cleavage. He can’t tear his eyes away from that peek of skin, though. It feels as if he’s been staring at it all afternoon, trying to visualize what’s below.

“Are you sure you’re ready to hear what Madam Estrella has to say?” She looks up at him. Busted for staring at her chest, he quickly meets her eyes.

“Sure, hit me.”

“Maybe it’ll tell us if you’re going to win the Smyth Medal.”

“That would be something. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.”

“I know! It’ll command you to lease us that space next door.”

Anthony nods.
You have
got
to tell her the truth.
He tries to ignore his feelings of guilt.
I’ll tell her soon.
It’s still hard for him to believe his first impression of Natalie was so off the mark, though he has to admit she is a bit of a ballbuster. After hearing a little about her childhood, though, he understands why she’s probably had to be that way. In truth, he admires her for it. He doubts she gives anyone her good opinion unless they deserve it.

Natalie puts the quarter into the machine and after some minor theatrics with lights flashing, it spits out a small card. She picks it up and her eyes widen when she reads it.

“What does it say?” he asks curiously.

She hugs it close. “I’m keeping this one to myself.”

“Hey, you can’t do that. I paid good money for that fortune. Hand it over.”

“What makes you think it’s for you? I’m the one who put the money in.”

“And I’m the one who bankrolled it.”

It’s in her right hand, and when he playfully tries to grab it, she quickly puts it behind her back. “Too slow, Professor.”

“Now I definitely have to see what it says.”

Anthony tries to grab it again. She keeps thwarting him and before he knows it he has her pressed against the wall. He slips his arm around her, his hand closing over hers.

Natalie laughs, but there’s a breathless quality to it that’s going straight to his groin.

“Give it up, Miss Natalie.”

“Never!”

She squirms against him. Instead of relenting, he feels her hand tightening around the card even more.
Little minx.
And then he has an idea that might work.

“
Dai,
” he murmurs. “
Fammi di averlo.
”
Come on, let me have it.

She meets his eyes and her expression changes. Those blue eyes darken and her amusement turns to something else entirely. When her mouth opens, Anthony can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses her.

At first she’s hesitant, but then gives in with a breathy moan. One of his hands immediately goes to grab her ass and pull her to him.

Damn.

They kiss enthusiastically and when Anthony feels her hand with the card inside loosen, he plucks it from her.

She breaks the kiss. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking what’s mine.”

She tries to pull away, but he won’t let her and keeps her body firmly pressed into his.

Natalie gives him a saucy smile. “It’s not yours yet.”

And then to his surprise, she snatches the card right back from his hand. He looks down and sees her fist tighten around it.

“What are you going to do next?” he jokes. “Eat it?”

“If I have to.”

He lowers his voice. “Should I speak Italian again? It appears to be your kryptonite.”