An American Girl in Italy: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance. Aubrie Dionne

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      The Italian hottie jumped down the last two steps and smiled like he’d won a game. ‘There you two are. We were starting to worry.’

      Carly considered blaming Alaina, but thought better of it. He already thought she was a bitch. Better not make that a mega bitch.

      ‘I’m sorry. We missed the alarm.’ Carly handed him the garment bag.

      He offered his hand to her, and Alaina stepped between them and took it instead. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Mio Dio, signorina.’ Michelangelo stepped back as if she’d attacked him. But, he recovered his charm quickly. ‘You must be eager to start your tour?’

      ‘Si.’ Alaina grinned. ‘But not without an escort.’

      ‘I can take care of that.’ Michelangelo escorted her up the steps.

      Carly shook her head and followed behind them. Had she misinterpreted everything that had happened yesterday? Or was he just a big flirt?

      As Alaina reached the top of the stairs, she waved to everyone on the bus as thought she was the Queen of England. Michelangelo glanced at Carly and winked.

      Maybe he had thought of her after all. She noticed the front seat next to him wasn’t taken. Had he saved it for her?

      ‘I must ride in the front of the bus.’ Alaina placed her hand over her heart. ‘I suffer from severe motion sickness.’

      Michelangelo paused, scanning the seats. His face tightened like a man who’d lost a hand of cards. ‘Of course.’

      He turned to Carly. ‘My apologies, Ms. Davis. There is one seat open in the back if that will suit you.’

      Severe disappointment flustered Carly and she pushed it back. Why the hell do I care if she sits next to the tour guide?

      She pulled herself together as Ms. Maxhammer gave her a purposeful stare. Battling Alaina over a man wasn’t worth her principal oboe seat. Think of all the e-mails you’ll get to answer without him.

      ‘Yes, that’s fine.’ Carly shuffled past them and walked down the aisle. Her gaze settled on the last empty seat, which was slam bam next to horny Al. He wore an old Bruins t-shirt with holes in the front. A Red Sox cap half-covered his oily hair.

      He tapped the seat and grinned. ‘Hey, babe. Looks like you’re sitting with me.’

      Carly resisted the urge to gag. Any man entertained by emptying his spit valve ranked a tad below the maturity line in her book. She tried anything to get away. ‘Where’s your trombone?’

      He shrugged and pouted. ‘They made me put her under the bus for safekeeping.’

      ‘Bummer.’ For both of them.

      He smirked. ‘I’d say there’s a silver lining.’

      She settled into her seat and whipped out her phone. Hopefully, Al would take the hint and leave her alone.

      The bus started to move, and he turned to her. ‘Sleep well last night?’ The faint smell of cheap alcohol wafted from his lips.

      Carly coughed a little in her throat. His question was innocent enough, but coming from him, it sounded sleazy—like he pictured her sleeping in the nude. She finished her e-mail before replying with the least-sexy answer possible. ‘Like a brick.’

      His gaze held expectation, but she wasn’t going to ask about his nighttime escapades. Instead, she returned to her e-mails.

      Al adjusted his baseball cap and leaned toward the window as though he got the picture.

       Maybe he isn’t so dense after all.

      Carly had a few moments of pure e-mail answering bliss before her skin prickled on the back of her neck. The distinct feeling someone was watching her came over her. She glanced over to Al. He’d propped his head against the window and was sleeping like an oversized baby on Nyquil. Probably too much late-night drinking with his brass buddies.

      Carly rolled her eyes. If all men were so simple-minded and easily entertained, she’d have no problem focusing on her career for the rest of her life. Never mind the distraction of dating and the sticky business of falling in love. She placed her hand on her oboe case. You and me, girl. Foreva.

      The prickling sensation returned, and Carly casually glanced around the bus, trying not to weird anyone out. What did her mom used to say? Something about if your necklace chain had turned around, someone was thinking about you. She touched the rhinestone G clef in the nape of her neck. The clasp had fallen to the front. Interesting.

      Pretending to stretch her arms, Carly scanned the bus behind her. A few of the older violinists slept, the percussionist snapped pictures with his phone, and Melody and Wolf whispered in each other’s ears.

      How sweet. She loved her friend but seriously, if she’d had time for breakfast, she’d be hurling it up. Romance was not for her.

      Carly moved to turn back around, but Melody caught her gaze. Her friend widened her eyes in a WTF look and pointed to the front of the bus behind the seat in front of her, where no one else could see.

      So she caught the culprit, eh? Carly turned around slowly, not wanting to give herself away. Alaina was chatting like an energizer bunny at the front of the bus. But Michelangelo wasn’t listening. Instead, he’d positioned his elbow over the seat, allowing him to turn in Carly’s direction. As their eyes met, he gave her another sultry wink.

      Carly dropped her gaze immediately, her cheeks turning into tomatoes. Two winks in one day? Who did he think she was? His secret cohort?

      Behind her, Melody giggled. Carly guessed it wasn’t something Wolf had said.

      *****

      Michelangelo prayed for the bus ride to end soon. Carly’s sassy banter and reluctance to open up had intrigued him, but this opera diva’s ongoing lecture about herself was as boring as a documentary on drainage pipes. Sure, Alaina Amaldi was magnificently pretty, but a challenging puzzle lured him more than a superficial prize.

      ‘When I was only fifteen, my parents drove me to Juilliard to study with the famous Edith Bers, who gave the US premiere of Schumann's Des Sängers Fluch. She said my talent rivaled some of the great opera singers of our time.’

      Michelangelo wished he could sneak another peek at Carly, but Ms. Maxhammer had already caught him glancing in the same direction three times. Better to make the diva happy and bide my time. ‘Schumann, eh? Tell me more about your studies.’

      Alaina took a deep breath as if she was about to hit a high note, and his phone vibrated in his pocket. ‘Oh, one moment, per favore.’

      She creased her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in consternation.

      ‘This may concern the concert.’

      She shifted in her seat. ‘Oh, okay. Go ahead.’

      He pulled out his phone and recognized СКАЧАТЬ