The Escort - By Gina Robinson Page 0,3

wants to meet you first. He prefers to travel alone. He said something about not wanting to face a week-long train ride with a frivolous woman."

Angelina frowned. She didn't like this Tonio's attitude. "He sounds like a crotchety old man."

Nonna shrugged again, concealing a grin.

"As desperate as I am, I suppose I can put up with just about anyone. Did you tell him that I only need him to escort me onto the train? Once we're onboard, he's free to do whatever he pleases. Mario will never know the difference. I can take care of myself."

"If Tonio agrees to take you, he won't desert you. I have his word." Nonna handed her a scrap of paper with an address written in a bold masculine hand. "Here is his address. Go see him."

Angelina was breathing deeply as she reached the third-floor landing of Tonio Domani's apartment building, more from excitement than exertion. She reached into her apron pocket and retrieved the crumpled address she'd hastily stuffed there before leaving Nonna. Studying it, she walked down the hall, scanning doors for the correct address.

Number 325 looked like all the other doors lining the hall. But its innocuous appearance did nothing to quiet her nerves as she stood before it. He must take me with him. She willed the butterflies winging wildly in her stomach to quiet, drew in a deep breath, whispered a prayer, raised her arm, and knocked.

Silence.

She waited a decent length of time. Nothing.

This was a fine mess. When would she have time to come this way next? When could she escape from Mario's protective eye again? She quickly crossed herself, amended her prayer to add that Signor Domani be home, and knocked again.

Still, no answer.

Frustrated, she searched for something to scribble a note on. She could tear off a piece of the address, but she had no pencil—

Either her ears deceived her or she heard something. She stopped her frantic searching and stepped closer to the door. A deep, masculine voice hummed a tune, she was certain of it. But in this apartment or the next one over? She leaned with her ear cupped against the door, straining to hear.

Without warning the door swung open, throwing her off balance, headlong into the warm, bare arms of a stranger. She stared into a naked, well-muscled chest covered with curly black hair, held close by a man who smelled pleasantly of fresh soap and shaving cream. She pulled away slowly, afraid she'd topple over again, steadying herself on the doorjamb, shaken by more than her tumble. Much more.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, stumbling over her words and peering cautiously up at him.

The man before her was easily over six feet tall and handsome in a way that took her breath away. Quite possibly, no, certainly, the most handsome Italian man she'd ever seen. And she'd seen many. The sight of him made her warm all over, almost overheated. She clenched her hand, resisting the urge to cross herself again. Surely such feelings in a married woman were a sin of the most mortal kind.

Eyes the color of coal stared down at her, bold with curiosity as he lounged in the doorway, legs posed in a casual, wide stance. Her eyes met his for the barest second. Embarrassed, she averted her gaze from his dark, piercing one. She felt the flush of her skin under his obviously appraising scrutiny and amused grin.

He seemed to enjoy her discomposure. Little bits of shaving cream dotted his face. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he swiped at them with his towel, still staring at her, waiting for her to speak again. But her tongue froze.

"Can I help you?" he asked at last.

"I...I'm afraid I have the wrong address. I'm looking for Antonio Domani. Do you know him? Which apartment is his, if you please?"

"You found him. I'm Domani."

She stared in disbelief. This couldn't be Tonio Domani. Nonna wouldn't be foolish enough to believe Mario would allow her to travel alone with this man.

"Nonna Gia sent me," she began uncertainly, "I am here to talk to…you?" She couldn't keep the question from her voice. "About a trip west to Idaho. But there must be some mistake. Is there another Antonio Domani here? Your father perhaps?"

Tonio tipped his head back slightly and laughed a deep, hearty, amused laugh. "There is no other Tonio. I am the one and only. Some would say fortunately. What other misinformation did Nonna give you about me?"

"She said