She turned to him, a big smile on her face. I love the way you just said that.

Said what?

My name! She laughed. I don't think I've ever heard you say it before, because you're always calling me senora or guava or peliglobo or something.

It was Lucio's turn to laugh. Pelirroja. It means redheaded. And it's guapa, which means ‘lovely lady,' the same as bonita.

Oh.

But what is so funny about how I say ‘Ginger'?

She laughed again. Your accent makes it sound like ‘Jeen-jair,' is all. It's actually kind of cute.

Lucio frowned, not certain he liked the idea of sounding cute. He had never once aspired to be cute.

My real name would probably be easier for you to pronounce, she suggested.

Lucio shook his head in confusion. Ginger is not your real name?

No. Ginger is the same as ‘Lucky' is for you. It's my nickname. My given name is Genevieve.

Lucio stopped walking. They had strolled from the back patio down a flagstone walkway into what the Americans called the yard, but he could not move another inch. He was astounded by that nameit suited her perfectly. So sensual. So regal.

Genevieve, he said.

Yes. She tilted her head and smiled. Now that sounds very nice rolling off your tongue.

Lucio took a quick glance toward the house, trying to determine which windows might correspond with which rooms. He saw no youthful male faces pressed to the glass and decided he would risk it. He had no choice. He had to kiss her.

Lucio grabbed that beautiful, warm face in his hands and covered that mouth with his.

He gave himself wholly to the kiss and to the earnestness of her response. It was then that Lucio decided he might as well admit it to himselfthere was something incredibly special about Genevieve Garrison. She fit him. She made him hum inside. She lit a fire in him the likes of which he'd never before experienced. He wanted to pull her so close and tight that there would be no space between them. He wanted to say her name over and over.

Genevieve, he whispered, dragging his kisses over her nose and cheeks and chin. Genevieve, Genevieve, mi corazon. When he kissed her throat she gasped.

I don't know what is happening to me, Lucio, she whimpered. What is this? Tell me what this is.

Lucio laughed, still planting kisses all over her face, in her hair. Truly, I do not know. But it is something very powerful. He kept kissing. I think we should pay attention to it.

Me, too. She reached up behind his back and pulled his mouth to hers again. Kiss me again.

Wait. Stop. Un momento. Lucio grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her in front of him. I need to tell you something before we go any further.

Genevieve's face fell. All the pleasure he'd seen there only seconds before had vanished. He did not even give her time to ask.

No, no, no. Lucio shook his head, knowing what critical bit of information she sought. I was married once, for three weeks, when I was still a boy. I have never been married since.

One of Genevieve's carefully groomed eyebrows arched high above a hazel eye. All right. So you were going to tell me you're leaving the country next week.

He laughed. Impossible.

Genevieve nodded slowly, as if further discussion were unnecessary. Okay. So you want me to understand that if you weren't in trouble, you wouldn't even be here. Is that right?

Lucio said nothing.

You wouldn't be in San Francisco unless you absolutely had to be. You wouldn't have been at Rick and Josie's wedding. Or at my house tonight. I would never have met you if you hadn't had all those problems with the magazine.

What you say is likely true.

Ginger chuckled bitterly, raking her fingers through her thick red hair. Great. So you want me to understand that you'll take as many pet portraits as necessary to get your money, and then you'll be on your way.

He blinked.

Ha! That's it, isn't it? Genevieve pulled away from Lucio and crossed her arms protectively under her breasts. Whenever she did that it only caused Lucio's blood to boil further. What was he going to do with this woman, with everything he was feeling? How could starting a relationship with her possibly be good for anyone?

You got me, Genevieve. Lucio smiled. That was my initial plan.

She lowered her eyes to the ground.

But no longer. Lucio tapped his fingertip against the underside of her chin, lifting her gaze to his. I've changed my mind, guapa.

Why?

Because of you. Because of how I feel whenever I see you. I cannot control myself. That is unusual for me.

Genevieve laughed. It's unusual for me, too.

But you feel it, yes? You feel something very strong between us, yes?

Yes, she whispered.

Then we need to have a new plan. Lucio reached for her hand again, guiding her back toward the house. I will court you, yes? I know this is not Spain. I know I've never before cared about going about things the right way. I know you're a grown woman in her thirties. But I would still like to ask your father for permission to court you. How might I reach him?

Genevieve froze. She swallowed hard. My father passed away a few years ago, she said quietly.

I am so sorry, mi amor, Lucio said. Your mother?

Genevieve frowned. Oh, boy.

What?

My mother lives in Los Angeles, but trust me, she'd be thrilled that I was dating you. She might even try to steal you from me. Oddly, Genevieve began the strange tapping of her fingers against her brow again. He had seen her do this several times, and it baffled him.

Something is wrong. What is it?

What? She looked surprised, but continued to pat her face. Nothing's wrong. Why do you say that?

Because of this tap-tap-tap you do on your face. Lucio mimicked her by patting his own forehead rapidly. Is it a nervous tic of some sort? A disorder?

Genevieve's hand fell to her side, her eyes locked on him but revealing nothing. Just a second ago you said I was a woman in my thirties.

Lucio shrugged. I am thirty-nine, myself, bonita. I was just guessing. You are obviously younger than me.

Again, her eyes revealed nothing. Her mouth was set firmly. Eventually she spoke. Exactly how old do you think I am? Genevieve waited for an answer, but by then, Lucio had realized he'd stumbled into the bramble bushes of the female ego. He decided it would be best to step away before he was scratched bloody.

It does not matter, Genevieve.

I'd like a number, she said.

Lucio laughed. Why in heaven do you need a number? It isn't important, guapa! What are you afraid of?

She said nothing, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Ah. I see, Lucio said with a nod. You do not wish me to know that you were a very young mother. He shrugged. This is not a problem for me. All of us make mistakes when we are teenagers. I certainly did. There is nothing to be embarrassed about.

With that, Genevieve began walking againmarching, reallyright up to the back patio door. As much as Lucio enjoyed watching Senora Garrison from behind, this was not the time to let her get away.

Genevieve! He ran to her side and grabbed her arm. Stop! What is wrong?

She turned to him then, her face twisted in sadness and streaked with tears. That familiar pang hit his heart. This grown woman had a child's sensitivity, a vulnerability he had yet to comprehend. He'd sensed that he'd need to proceed gently with her, but until that very moment, he hadn't appreciated how delicate an assignment it would be.

Just then, Lucio knew that when it came to Genevieve Garrison, he would need every bit of the expertise he'd amassed in twenty years of travel to unknown lands. It would take a sharp mind, a facility for diplomacy, patience, skill, and a sense of adventure.