Shadow Rider by Christine Feehan Page B

their jacket or lunch box.”
    â€œWow.” Francesca leaned her chin onto her hand, her gaze fixed on him. That sea-blue gaze that made him want to fall right into it. “She sounds incredible.”
    â€œShe’s a character. She forgets her purse anyplace she eats and her glasses in most stores. Tonio always rushes after her if she’s anywhere around. If not Tonio, then one of the other children. He’s the youngest and the most enthusiastic, which means he’s a little tornado and you have to get out of his way when he’s making his run.”
    Berta was back with the antipasto, small plates, warm, fresh breadsticks and the wine. She expertly juggled each dish and poured a small amount of wine in a glass for Stefano to taste.
    He liked that Francesca watched him so closely, that she seemed fascinated by the conversation and by him. He nodded his approval of the wine, waited until Berta poured both glasses and left before he picked up Francesca’s glass and handed it to her. Her fingers brushed his. Instantly a spark of electricity leapt from her to him. He felt their shadows connect. Merge. The pull was strong, just like the narrow slider tubes that nearly pulled apart his body when he stood in front of them—a powerful magnet drawing him close.
    He heard her swift inhale. Her eyes darkened. Lashes lowered. Her breasts rose and fell. She pulled her hand away, bringing the wineglass to her mouth. She definitely felt the chemistry between them just as strongly as he did. It was explosive. His body reacted, going as hard as a rock, something that just didn’t happen to a man with his kind of discipline. He knew if he leaned into her and took her mouth, he’d ignite a firestorm—they both would.
    She was dangerous to both of them. He had to stay incontrol around her and just being this close to her threatened that. He was the one shifting slightly to put distance between them, a mere inch, but even that little inch gave him a reprieve.
    Tonio ran up, his thick, curly hair wild. Eyes shining. “I caught her, Signore Ferraro. Just as she was getting into her car.”
    â€œGood man, Tonio.” He slipped his wallet out and handed the boy a bill. “I’m proud of you for looking after her. What do we do?”
    Tonio puffed out his chest. “We always look after our women.”
    â€œThat’s right. Run along now and say hello to your parents for me.”
    The boy took the money and slipped it into his pocket.
“Grazie. Grazie.”
He grinned at Stefano. “Is
she
one of our women?” He indicated Francesca.
    Stefano nodded solemnly. “Tonio, this is Francesca. Francesca, Tonio. If you should ever need assistance, he is a good man and will come to your aid. Yes, Tonio, she’s very special to me. She’s one of ours.” He glanced at his woman. She didn’t know he was claiming her publicly, but that innocent question was welcome. Tonio would tell his parents exactly what Stefano had said to him. The boy always did.
    Francesca looked pleased. He knew she would. She wouldn’t be thinking about the underlying implication, only that the boy was cute.
    â€œPleased to meet you, Tonio,” she said.
    He nodded shyly. “Don’t worry. I’ll look out for you.”
    â€œThank you. I appreciate that.”
    Tonio turned with a saucy grin and raced through the restaurant back to his parents’ table. Stefano watched him go just to make certain he didn’t knock over any of Tito’s customers.
    â€œHe’s adorable.” Francesca dipped a breadstick into the marinara sauce and took a bite. Her eyes closed. “Wow. This is delicious.”
    â€œNo one makes pizza, antipasto or marinara like Tito’s family. They’ve been in the business for a couple of generations and they make the best. People come from all over to eat here.”
    â€œYou sound proud.”
    â€œI am. They’re a good