Mail-Order Prince In Her Bed

Maria was delighted by the profusion of amazing hand-made pottery from Sicily, Taormina and Grottaglie. The brilliant colors evoked Mediterranean sunshine and made her feel cheerful just by looking at them.

Antonio bought a pretty glazed bowl and a small figurine of an ebony horse, and had them wrapped—for safe travel, he told the clerk. It seemed odd that he was purchasing items that had originated in his own country, but maybe he was too busy with his olive groves to go shopping very often at home.

He offered to buy Maria a pretty vase she had admired, but she politely refused after flipping over the price tag. “I’ll save up for it and come back someday.” But she knew she never would. Everything in the shop was gorgeous but way out of her budget’s league.

At last they drove back across the city as the sun set, and Maria felt as if she were melting into the limousine’s seats. She hadn’t felt so relaxed, so pleased with a day in as long as she could remember. If humiliating her had been her friends’ goal, their plan had failed miserably. This day and Antonio had been wonderful gifts.

The car pulled up in front of her apartment building. Maria sat up straight and was about to turn toward the passenger door beside her when Antonio’s hand closed around the back of her neck and easily guided her back toward him.

“Sei bellissima,” he murmured, then kissed her expertly, softly on the lips.

It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to draw a breath or protest. When he pulled back a few inches to observe her reaction, she was speechless.

“You still don’t believe me,” he said. “I can see it in your face.”

She shrugged, but the words came out in a froggy little whisper. “I believe you’re Antonio Boniface from Italy. It’s the prince part that’s still a little hard to swallow.”

“A pity you’re such a cautious woman.” He tapped one finger on her chin, her cheek, then the sensitive lobe of one ear.

“What’s wrong with being cautious?” she asked, mesmerized by his voice as much as by his touch.

“You will miss out on a lot of life’s pleasures.”

She laughed nervously, her heart thudding in her chest. “I don’t suppose we’re talking about chocolate cake or a good movie?”

“No.” He gave her an amused smile.

“Listen,” she said over a sudden dry spot in her throat, “I think I know what you’re getting at. I’m just not in the habit of sleeping around.”

“I know that.” His finger continued its path, tracing her lips, trailing down her throat.

She gulped. “You do?”

He nodded slowly. “You’re easy to read, Maria McPherson. You were an obedient child, and now you’re a careful woman. You don’t entice men, intentionally that is. In fact—”

He studied her face thoughtfully, then ran an experimental hand around behind her neck and brought his fingers up through the strands of her hair at her nape. The sensation was electric. She shivered deliciously.

“In fact, I wonder if you’ve not been too careful.”

“In, ah…in what way?” she asked breathlessly.

“In the way of totally avoiding satisfaction. By running from the joy of sharing yourself with a man.”

He was asking if she was a virgin. “This is getting way…way too personal,” she stammered.

He smiled apologetically but didn’t remove his hand. It felt pleasantly rough, not what she’d expected of gentry, if he was that. His fingers tangled playfully in her blond waves.

“Only an observation. I’m fascinated by your decision. If you elect to wait for your life mate, that is an honorable choice—one which any man should respect. I only wonder that a lovely woman like you shouldn’t be more eager to experiment a little.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t curious,” Maria blurted out, then realized she had made a tactical error in this matching of wits.

She suddenly wondered where the driver had gone. He was no longer in the front seat, but he didn’t seem to be waiting outside her door either.

“I mean, of course, anyone is curious about something they’ve never tried, something everyone talks about and requires at least one scene in every movie you see. That would be natural.”

“Of course,” he said. “Natural.” There, again, was that enigma of a smile. He didn’t insist upon an explanation, but she felt compelled to give one.

“Listen, my not wanting to have sex with you, a stranger, if that’s what you’re hinting at, has nothing to do with how attractive you are. Believe me, if I were to choose a man on looks alone, he’d be someone like you. On top of that, you have great manners and that super accent, and you’re fun to be around.”

“But you wouldn’t sleep with me?” He was teasing her, yet he was also serious. She could see mixed motives in the dark glitter of his oh-so-blue eyes.

“No!” she gasped. “I don’t even know you, Antonio. For goodness’ sakes, you could be married!”

“I’ve been honest, I told you my name and where I’m from. Now I add that I’m not married. Dio! I can see you still don’t fully believe me.” He sounded honestly frustrated. “How can we get to know each other? You tell me.”

She let out a long, weary breath. After all, she didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. “Listen, come upstairs for a cup of coffee. I think I have a pound cake in the freezer. But this is just a way for us to talk, okay? I’m not luring you up to my apartment to have my way with you.”

“Certainly not,” he said, agreeably.

“Or to let you have your way with me,” she added, just to make things perfectly clear.

But she feared all her warnings were doing no good. The dangerous twinkle in his eyes worried her. On the other hand, she’d already decided he wasn’t a threat. And even if he were, the walls of her apartment were onion-skin thin. One scream would bring three sets of neighbors running to her aid with the police soon to follow. Neighbors looked after each other in Bethesda.

She opened the door that led straight into her living room and turned, by habit, to lock the door behind them. Almost at once, she felt Antonio move up close behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, warm, inviting her to turn to face him.

If she didn’t take evasive action, he’d kiss her again. She stepped to one side, ducked, maneuvered around him and aimed for her kitchen.

He didn’t follow her, as she feared he might. Instead, he strolled around her little apartment checking out her knickknacks—her collection of seashells, her dainty demitasse cups and saucers displayed on their own cherry wood wall rack—while she made coffee and nuked a Sara Lee.

Finally, they sat on her couch and sipped and nibbled in electric silence. She thought she could hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. Her palms were moist and hot.

It was she, despite all common sense, who returned to their earlier conversation. “It’s just that I believe sex to be only one factor in a complex relationship that develops, over time, into marriage. My mother had me when she was very young. She never went to college because of me. Her whole life was different than it might have been because I came along, because my father disappeared when she told him she was pregnant.”

“And she supported both herself and you on her own?” he asked.

“Yes. It must have been terribly hard for her. I just don’t want it to be like that for me, raising a child alone. I want a husband first, then children. Everything in its proper order, you see?”

He took a bite of cake then nodded thoughtfully. “I understand.”

“But, you’re right, a person can’t help being curious. I mean, at work every day, people tell jokes then look at me to see if I get them. They know, I guess, that I’m sort of…inexperienced, and it amuses them.”

“You’re charming,” Antonio murmured, a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

“And you have a one-track mind.” She rolled her eyes then laughed at his hurt expression.

He put his plate on the coffee table and leaned toward her, his wide hands braced on his knees. “I’m not as obsessed with sex as you imagine. I just haven’t had much time or desire to be with a pretty woman, not for several years now.”

She pinched off a morsel of cake to plop into her mouth. He certainly was an unusual man. Not at all easy to figure out. No woman in years?