Donovan nodded along, then glanced over at me. “If it’s any consolation, you look beautiful. Even if we don’t have anywhere to go.”
I sipped my wine to hide my blush. “Do you flirt with a lot of women during global pandemics?”
“So far, only you,” he said with another white smile. “But this is my first pandemic, so…”
The music changed to something a little more upbeat. Brass instruments and a pounding drum. Donovan pushed away from the railing and swayed back and forth, like he was dancing with himself.
He looks like he can dance,I thought while trying not to check him out too overtly. The way he moved was hypnotizing, and the twilight only accentuated his dark features.
“This isalmostlike a nightclub,” he said.
“This is nothing like a nightclub. For one thing, the music is totally different.”
He pointed a finger at me. “Exactly. Club music sucks. This makes it feel like we’reactuallyin Rome. Which, in case you didn’t notice, we are.” He swept his wine glass across the plaza and city while dancing on his balcony.
I smiled as I watched him. He looked remarkably dashing in plain jeans and a T-shirt, dancing with his arm around an imaginary woman. The smell of Rome was in the air, the view of the city was stunning, and the music was setting the mood. I suddenly wished I was on his balcony, filling the empty space in front of him, his hand on the small of my back as he guided me in a circle.
“I wish we could dance,” I said wistfully.
“Why can’t we?”
“We’re supposed to stay six feet apart,” I said. “Just in case.”
“Do you ever break the rules?”
“Almost never.”
Donovan closed his eyes while dancing with his imaginary woman. “You’re not living up to your nickname, Feisty. Sometimes breaking the rules is fun.”
I watched him longingly, wanting nothing more than to throw caution to the wind, go over to his balcony, and dance with him. I wanted to do somethingfun, something more than just share wine together. If Donovan pushed the issue, I knew I would give in. Part of me wanted to.
Instead, Donovan stopped dancing and leaned on the railing again. He swirled the wine around in his glass and then knocked his head back to gulp it down.
“What’s for dessert?” I asked hopefully.
He grimaced. “There’s no more chocolate in the vending machine. I think there are a couple of bags of cookies, but I can’t do much with that.”
I snorted derisively. “You went to cooking school and didn’t learn how to bake delicious treats for your neighbor?”
He spread his hands apologetically. “I don’t have an oven in the room. Just a single stove top.”
“Darn.”
I reached for the bottle of wine to refill my glass, but it was empty. I put it back down and looked at Donovan. This was one of those crossroads where a night could go one way, or it could go another. We could open another bottle of wine and hang out more, and see where the night took us. Or we could end things here.
I waited too long, because Donovan glanced at the empty bottle and said, “I’m going to tidy up the kitchen. I only have one pot and one pan, so I have to keep them clean.”
I smiled sadly. “I’d offer to do the dishes, but… You know. Six feet.”
“A likely excuse.” He opened his balcony door. “You going to stay out here a bit longer?”
“Yes!” I said hopefully. Was he going to stay after all? “I am. Why do you ask?”
He gestured at the table. “I’ll leave the music on for you. Thanks for the wine. How about a third date tomorrow night? Unless you have other plans…”
“I’ll check my calendar,” I said, “but I think I can squeeze you in.”
He started to go into the room.