Page 85 of The Roman Holiday Rule

I stop walking, forcing him to face me. The branches of the oak we’re under cut the lamplight into speckled shadows. “Mark.”

“This was a bad idea,” he mutters and releases my hand.

I guess never mind about all that stuff I thought about handholding with Mark. Just a fluke. “Taking me to your family party was a mistake? Or just me, in general?”

His eyes lock onto mine, and he spins me until my back is against the tree trunk. “Not you, Lexington. A walk in the dark. I don’t think I can—” One hand stays on my shoulder, and with the other he scrubs his stubble.

“Can what?” Despite my question, I give him a tiny nod, because I’m feeling reckless. If the cicadas can be so bold, I can too.

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “I can’t stop...” His face moves closer to mine. Another inch. His cheek grazes mine. “...myself from ...”

The last unspoken words hang in the air near my ear. He turns his head, and oh, the architect can measure space. His lips meet mine, direct and bold at first. Then ... this man knows his angles.

I grab his shirt and pull him closer.The birthday boy is sonotshy.

His hands press into the back of my neck, tangling in my hair. We are zero degrees of separation. Geometry is hot and dangerous, kids.

A few minutes later, he rests his forehead to mine with a deep sigh. His hand finds mine in the dark, and we walk back to the hotel in silence because the force of that kiss demands space around it. It could fill the galaxy, the emotion in my chest. I have never felt so free to just feel and not think.

At the hotel lobby entrance, his lips graze the corner of my mouth. As much as his first kiss spelled out his attraction, this one whispers familiarity and affection, and the intimacy of it makes me feel known in a way I haven’t for a long time.

We’re going to have to talk soon, but not now. Not tonight.

Reluctant, I pull open the lobby door. “Thank you for taking me. I had a really nice time.”

“Night, Lexington. See you tomorrow.”

The absolute banality of our goodbyes is a testament to how much that kiss knocked us off-kilter.

With his classic, crooked smile, he waves and drives off on the Vespa, leaving me glowing and dazed, like a drunken star.

Forty-Six

Mark

Even beforethe official start of the festival at one o’clock on Saturday, there’s a buzz in the air like the tire crunch of gravel before a day of construction begins. The city looks like one big party, with colorful streamers tied to lampposts and banners hung over the narrow streets between buildings.

I pass several piazzas with stages set up in the middle and booths hugging the perimeter. I thought the Reena Brooke painting preview today would be the highlight of my year, but after that kiss with Lexington last night ... I think that slot is already taken. Permanently.

Outside the museum where the Reena Brooke gallery is, I hesitate. I’m a half hour early because I don’t want to miss a potential minute of time with Lexington, but as soon as I step inside, it’s clear I’ll be lucky to be with her at all.

Lexington, gorgeous in a pale pink, floor-length skirt, dark hair swept up with a few stray wisps, is delegating, passing out instructions, and answering questions while Gia fields phone calls in the corner. Festival staff carry in chairs and set paintings onto easels like ants on a mission. A small wooden stage has been set up in the back.

I slip off to the side, out of the way, and rest against the cool wall.First things first—I loosen my tie and shed the suit jacket my aunt insisted I wear since I’m supposed to be at the architecture display for the first hour of the festival, representing the company. I drape it over my arm and watch as the chaos in the room turns to an organized machine.

It’s nonstop interruptions and tiny fires to put out, but Lexington is calm and gracious. After ten minutes, there’s a break in the action and she scans the area. As soon as we make eye contact, she sets her tablet on the podium and joins me at the wall. I brush my hand over her shoulder and squeeze the back of her bare neck, then step away before I’m tempted to kiss her while she’s at work.

Her expression is knowing and questioning, victorious and shy. “Hey, you.”

It takes me a moment to regather my wits after that simple but loaded greeting. I take her elbow and draw her to the hall, out of the action. “How’s it going?”

“It’s insane, but it’ll settle down once everyone spreads out at their stations. I hope. I’m already a hot mess.”

“You are vibrant and impressively capable and ... stunning.”

She adjusts my tie, grinning. Mental note—muss up tie so Lexington can fix it again later. “You’re a bit intimidating in anI do mathway in this suit yourself. I think I’ll take Alba up on her offer to hear embarrassing Mark stories—”

I grab her hand and play with her fingers. “I don’t think so.”