Full Moon in Florence by KC Martin Page A

offered it up. Laine realized she was trembling all over. Was she nervous or excited? She was pretty sure both.
    Colin led her out under the courtyard’s blanket of overhead twinkling lights and then through the candlelit interior of the restaurant. The conversations were now quieter, people sat more closely together, more of them touched and stared into each other’s eyes, a few couples were already kissing. Giammo’s definitely possessed some kind of romantic magic.
    Colin reached for Laine’s hand before they walked out the door. Laine saw Giammo pouring Spumante into glasses at a nearby table. She smiled at him, sure that her cheeks were slightly flushed in anticipation of what was to come. Giammo nodded approvingly and winked as he filled the glasses on the table before him. Laine wondered fleetingly whether Giammo’s Spumante carried the magic.
    Outside, the air was cooler. Colin draped Laine’s wrap over her shoulders and then he left his arm there, holding her close. They walked somewhat awkwardly for a few steps before falling into an easy pace with one another. Colin leaned in and nuzzled her ear.
    “Dinner was delicious but you are the course I’ve been waiting to taste.”
    She sighed and tilted her neck so he could kiss it. “Feel free to take a sample.”
    He stopped walking. His mouth fell hungrily on her throat. His soft warm lips and hot roving tongue took her breath away and made her knees go weak. He worked his way up her neck to her ear and then across her jaw bone to her lips. His mouth pushed hers open wide and his tongue probed deeply. His obvious passion overwhelmed her.
    “Oh, Laine,” he murmured, pressing his hips against hers. They were standing in the middle of the street, with nothing to lean against. Laine clutched him for balance, and he must have mistaken that for equal ardor because he opened his hands against her buttocks and pulled her roughly toward his hard length, as if he wanted to climb up inside her right there. She heard a car engine and a tinny beeping. Headlights arced through the darkness. Colin broke the kiss and pulled her hurriedly off to the side before an old Fiat barrelled by.
    Laine felt something tug at her foot but didn’t know what it was until she was leaning against the pillar of a loggia running the length of this block.
    “Are you okay?” said Colin. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Ever since your foot touched—“
    “—My foot,” said Laine, looking down. It was at an odd angle. In the rush from the street, one of her heels had gotten caught and broken off. Her face fell. Her favorite red shoes! She looked toward the street. Colin followed her gaze, saw what she was looking at and dashed out to retrieve the broken piece. He carried it back, looking sheepish.
    “It’s my fault.”
    Laine shook her head. For some strange reason she felt on the brink of tears. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It was just a silly shoe! But these shoes had helped bring her and Colin together three months ago, and they were helping make tonight a perfect evening. Until now. Broken. Was it a bad omen? She looked up at Colin who saw the tears forming in her eyes and seemed surprised.
    “We can get it fixed. It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. Doesn’t Italy have the best shoemakers in the world?”
    He was trying to cheer her up but didn’t he see that it wasn’t the fact that the shoe had broken but the fact that the shoe had broken tonight , of all nights. She didn’t know if she could stop the tears from coming. She felt ridiculous and irrational, but she couldn’t really help it.
    “It’s ruined,” she said, meaning the evening, not the shoe. Colin was probably right that it could be fixed.
    “I’ll find a shoe repair first thing in the morning. I promise.”
    He kneeled down and slipped the foot bed off her foot. He pulled the unbroken shoe off, too.
    “You’ll have to walk in your stockings. Unless you want me to carry