“The snake was given its freedom to chase mice and other rodents,” she blurted trying not to stare at his broad shoulders, his bare chest sprinkled with dark hair and his muscular legs. “Good,” he said. Then he picked up her book and handed it to her, his hand brushing hers and causing a frisson of awareness to travel up her arm. “The Guide to the International Academia of Florence,” he said after a glance at the title. She was glad he’d changed the subject. She had no more to say about snakes. She could think of nothing coherent to say on any subject, not with him standing there, looming over her, half naked. She gripped the book tightly to keep her hands from shaking. A sudden chill had caused goosebumps to run up and down her arms despite the warm afternoon sun. She shaded her eyes with one hand. It wasn’t so much to block the sun, but to block the view of the man who stood over her, formidable and charismatic, bigger and sexier than any man had a right to be. And completely at home, dressed for an afternoon around the pool. Even though she’d been lead to believe he never took time off, never relaxed, never used his pool.
