The Rome Affair. Addison Fox

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      And a very real part of her knew it was true.

      No matter how she attempted to think her way out of this attraction to Jack, she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t make sense of this raging need to see where things would go between them.

      Hell, she didn’t even know the man. How could she possibly think of sleeping with him? Of giving her hormones the upper hand.

      The disconcerting thoughts gave way as she finally registered the view out her window. The streets of Rome enveloped them, and it was only when they passed by the Spanish Steps that she began to relax and give herself over to the moment.

      Rome.

      The Eternal City.

      And a personal favorite since she’d been a small child. She, Rowan and her mother had come here when she was twelve for a girls’ weekend, just the three of them. It had been a spontaneous trip, in reaction to a weekend her father, Liam and Campbell took on a campout upstate.

      Even after all these years, she could still taste the sweet gelato they’d shared in one of Rome’s many piazzas. Could still remember her mother’s encouragement to lean forward and take a sip from one of the fountains around the city, all which had run with fresh water since the Roman Empire.

      And she’d never forget the light gleam in her mother’s eye as they’d walked past a gaggle of Italian men who offered up appreciative stares and comments in their native tongue.

      She’d been scandalized at the time, and it was only later, as they crossed the Tiber to visit the Vatican, that her mother had explained how the men competed against each other while also saving face by acknowledging the women around them.

      “Sort of like how Liam keeps looking at his muscles in the mirror?” Rowan’s question had her mother’s light laugh floating on the afternoon breeze as they crossed the old bridge.

      “It’s a bit like that.” Her mother pulled both of them close. “He thinks we don’t notice when he does it.”

      “That’s because he’s stupid. All boys are stupid.” Kensington couldn’t resist offering this tidbit up. It had become her favorite litany, even if she didn’t think all boys were stupid. Especially one in particular who’d caught her eye at school.

      “No, sweetie, they’re not. They’re just different from us.”

      Kensington shook off images of the young boy who’d caught her attention in math class and focused on making her point. “Like this weekend. Who wants to go sleep in a tent?”

      She enjoyed the sounds of the city keeping them company and couldn’t imagine trading this for a night spent under the stars.

      Rowan’s argument was swift, winging back within moments. “Hey. I like sleeping outside.”

      “You can have it.”

      Her mother tugged them both closer for a hug. “Girls. We’re all entitled to like what we like. And your brothers are entitled to the same courtesy. All I’m trying to say is that men see the world differently than we do.”

      “Is that bad?” Rowan voiced the question first, and for some reason Kensington was glad she had.

      Although she had her brothers as ready—and gross—objects of the male species, lately she’d begun to notice that some of the boys at school didn’t seem quite so gross. There was Jonathan from math class, who had caught her attention with his cute smile and his big feet that he never quite tripped over. And Jeremy in gym kept teasing her every time they had to partner up for tennis. And there was Paul, who asked her to dance at the last social.

      She didn’t think any of them were gross.

      “We’re here.”

      Jack’s voice pulled her from her thoughts and it took Kensington a minute to reorient herself. “Already?”

      “Already? We’ve been sitting in traffic for the past half hour.” He pointed toward the window. “I thought you looked a million miles away, and you clearly were if you missed the drive.”

      “I was actually right here in Rome. My mom, sister and I took a trip here when I was a kid and I was thinking about a conversation we’d had.”

      “It must have been a good one if you’re smiling like that.”

      “Like what?”

      “Memories have misted your eyes to a soft, bluish-gray.”

      The compliment pulled her up short and she wasn’t sure what to say beyond a soft, “Oh.”

      “It’s lovely.” His dark eyes were inscrutable but it was the husky timbre of his voice that tugged at her.

      Not all boys were gross. She’d learned that early and had continued to appreciate the lesson. And with one look at Jack Andrews, she could only concur with her mother’s words of wisdom—some of them grew up into dynamic, interesting men.

      Their driver pulled up to their hotel on the Via Veneto, the lush accommodations rising several stories above them as they came to a stop. She grabbed her bag but stopped for a moment, unable to hold back a response. “It was lovely. My mother gave Rowan and me several important lessons about boys that weekend.”

      “Anything you’re willing to share?”

      The flirtation was as easy as breathing. “Oh, nothing you’re not already aware of. Men like to posture and preen in front of women.”

      The puzzled look that filled the hard lines of his face had her immediately thinking of what he must have looked like as a little boy. “You mean that’s some sort of deep, dark secret?”

      “It is to twelve-year-old girls who don’t understand why strange Italian men are shouting words of adoration at their mother.”

      “Ahhh. The mating ritual of the European male. I can see how that would be an eye-opener.” He paid the driver, and they slid from the car. He reached for her bag before gesturing her forward through the large revolving door that fronted their hotel. “For what it’s worth, I avoid showing my appreciation with whistles, catcalls or anything that can be construed that I spend my days hanging around on street corners.”

      She couldn’t resist turning toward him and pushing a bit on the events of their flight. “So sexual innuendo at thirty-six thousand feet is more your style?”

      “I prefer to think of myself as a man who takes bold action when required.”

      Jack pressed a hand to the base of her spine as he guided her through the lobby toward check-in. The heavy width of his palm had sparks shooting up and down her back, and she couldn’t hide the small, feminine smile, so like her mother’s on that long-ago day.

      For all her self-inflicted browbeating in the car, she’d fallen right back into Jack Andrews’s orbit. And damn it if she wasn’t enjoying the ride.

      He pulled her to a halt in the lobby, the bustle of mid-day activity crisscrossing all around them. She nearly stumbled at the sudden stop, but Jack held her in place, his hands firm.

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