Full Moon in Florence by KC Martin Page B

you?”
    Laine shook her head. She could walk. She just felt so disappointed, and clumsy.
    “It was all supposed to be so perfect,” said Laine quietly, feeling the magic of the night fade, the heat of passion between them cool. Colin stood up and threaded her arm through his. He seemed to catch on now.
    “Tonight?” he said. “You wanted tonight to be perfect? And your broken shoe ruined that?”
    Laine nodded.
    Colin started to laugh.
    Laine couldn’t control it. Her tears started to fall.
    Colin must have realized his response wasn’t appropriate because he stopped in mid-gufffaw. Laine’s response wasn’t appropriate either and she wiped a corner of her wrap against her eyes, no doubt smearing her fastidiously applied mascara.
    Colin stopped walking and turned to her, her shoes, in three parts, clamped in the fingers of one hand. With his free fingers, he wiped away a tear that Laine had missed.
    He was still smiling, the feature left over from his quickly aborted laughter. “You have to admit it’s kind of funny,” he said gently.
    Yet to Laine it was tragic. She had taken such a risk coming here, reaching out to Colin, pretending to be the kind of woman who could build an affair out of a one night stand, believing she could give a hot guy a foot job under the table at a restaurant. She was fooling herself. Sure, it was just a shoe. It was also just her life. Just her messy, clumsy, very unsexy life. She sighed heavily.
    “Hey,” said Colin, using two of his fingers to lift up her chin so she would meet his gaze. His eyes seemed to twinkle. More of that stoppered laughter, Laine guessed.
    “Nothing’s ruined. Believe me. I wanted tonight to be perfect, too.”
    Laine lifted an eyebrow. He did?
    “And then I went and kissed you too early and said the wrong thing. And I stumbled over my words back at the restaurant.”
    Laine smiled. “You mean about the bath? That was cute.”
    “And then I practically mauled you in the middle of the street because I was too impatient to walk the few blocks back to the hotel like a gentleman.”
    “It’s all right.” Laine had liked it really, though he had come on rather strong. She’d had a hard time getting her bearings.
    “But we nearly got hit by a car and I yanked you out of the road and that’s why the heel of your favorite shoes got stuck.”
    “They’re your favorite shoes, too.”
    Colin, who seemed about to say something else, stopped to think.
    “My favorite feet might have been in those shoes, but you could be wearing trainers tonight for all I care, Laine.”
    “But in Paris…”
    He tilted his head back, sighed with recognition. “Is that what all this is about? You wanted tonight to be perfect, like in Paris?”
    “Didn’t you?”
    Colin looked away for a moment. Then he said. “I admit I wanted tonight to be perfect, but I don’t even know what I mean by that. I think, for me, that just means I wanted you to be happy. I wanted us to have fun together, and I think we were having fun, that we are having fun.” He frowned with those last words because it was pretty obvious they weren’t having fun at this exact moment.
    Laine slid her arm through his again and they continued walking. “I’m sorry I got upset. I guess my expectations were too high.”
    “Uh, what do you mean?” Colin looked genuinely concerned.
    “Oh no. Not about you. I mean of myself. I thought if I dressed right and said the right things and everything went smoothly and beautifully then …” Her words kind of died off.
    “Then what…?” He turned to her, his gaze open and curious.
    Laine hadn’t really formed that thought fully. What did she think? That if things went well they’d want to keep on seeing each other? They might be able to create something more than a one night stand or an affair? That maybe she would finally feel free to love wholeheartedly and with abandon? That they might truly, deeply fall in love? Every one of those answers was too heavy