“Looking forward to tasting you later,” she whispered back.

Fuck me, game on! I was so getting laid tonight.

Signora Carello’s villa was amazing and it overlooked the water. I wouldn’t have cared if it was a shed with no roof because it put a smile on Caro’s face.

I rang the bell and a woman opened the door almost immediately. She must have been pushing 70, but I could tell she’d been a knock-out in her day. She was thin and very upright for her age, with piled-up hair that was still black and looked natural.

“Ah, the young travelers Aberto mentioned,” she said in accented English. “Welcome to my home. Please, come in. Let me show you the room. My name is Signora Carello.”

She led us up a flight of shallow steps and opened the door into a large room with a balcony facing the sea.

The bed had curtains, like in a movie, and Caro glowed with happiness.

“Oh, this is just lovely!”

“Thank you, signora.”

Caro blushed—it was so damn cute.

“Actually, it’s signorina.”

For some reason her reply annoyed me.

“I’m working on that,” I muttered.

Caro pretended not to hear me but the old lady looked pleased. Damn! Why couldn’t I charm the panties off of Caro? It always worked on other women.

I mentioned the motorcycle, hoping that the signora would have somewhere around back to park it.

“Oh, I used to enjoy riding on a motorcycle in my day!” the old lady said, surprising the hell outta me. “Oh, yes, young man … I was quite fast in my youth.”

My brain immediately decided to go there. Wow, reeeeally didn’t want to know that. And, holy shit, I think I might have been blushing. What the fuck?!

“I’ll go get the bike,” I muttered.

“Sebastian,” Caro said quickly, “would you mind if I stay here and take a bath?”

“No, that’s fine,” I said, as an idea struck me. Her eyes narrowed, but I was already on my way. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll walk you out,” said the old lady.

She followed me down the stairs and out into a sunny courtyard.

“You can put your motorcycle there,” she said, pointing to a small paved area. “I hope it doesn’t leak oil—so difficult to clean it off sandstone. My boyfriend had an English motorcycle, a Triumph. It always leaked oil. Very annoying.” Then she smiled at me. “But I did love riding on it.”

Triumph made nice bikes, but she was right about the oil. I shook my head to focus.

“Signora, I wonder if you could help me with something?”

“If I can,” she said. “I had a feeling you wanted to ask me something.”

She may have been seventy, but she was damn observant.

“I want to take Caro somewhere real special—somewhere fancy, you know?”

She gave me a measured look. “Is there a particular reason for this? I’m being nosy, I know, but indulge me, young man.”

“My name’s Sebastian Hunter, ma’am.”

“A lovely name. Piacere! And this special occasion?”

I felt the blush return—what a fuckin’ tool, but I blundered on.

“I’m going to ask Caro to marry me and…”

I didn’t get any further before she flung her arms around my shoulders and kissed me three times.

“Ah, bello, I thought it must be that! You look at her with such love in your eyes. I’m so happy for you. She will say yes, of course.”

I rubbed my neck nervously. “I sure hope so, ma’am, but she’s kind of off marriage so…”

“No, you are wrong. You she loves. I know this. Yes, let me see … somewhere special … ah, I have it! If you drive along the Amalfi coast for 20 minutes, you will see Capri on your left. The road is very beautiful—perfect for your motorcycle. At the top is a mountain pass: you must stop there for the view—it is a perfect place to propose and…”

“Um, well, we’re going to visit the place where her father was born tomorrow. Capezzano Inferiore, you know it?”

The signora sighed. “Yes, I know it. That is very romantic. I have high hopes for you, Sebastian Hunter. Romance is much needed in our lives, no?”

“I guess I agree with that, ma’am!”

“I know just the place you must take her—Il Saraceno. It is a very fine hotel with wonderful views of Capri. It is the perfect place to make love all night.”

I shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the collar of my t-shirt. “Um, yes, ma’am. Um, we’ll need some fancy clothes to go with the fancy hotel. I want to buy Caro a dress—something amazing. I guess I’ll need a tux, but renting is fine.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Si, I can think of one or two places you could try.” Then she sighed again. “Young love—it sweeps all before it. L’amore mantiene giovani.”

It took a moment to translate the second half of her sentence: The heart that loves is always young. Her smile was wistful, but then she squeezed my hand and rushed into the house to write down the addresses I was going to need.

I leaned against the wall while I waited for her. I was trying to look casual, but my heart was racing. I’d said it out loud; I’d admitted that I wanted Caro to marry me. I tried to imagine it happening, saying the words.

Fuck, I really needed to think about this.

First stop was a fancy-looking woman’s dress shop, and I felt as conspicuous as a hippy at Boot Camp.

The moment I stepped through the doorway, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I felt eyes on me. At least they weren’t hostile—in fact I’d go as far as to say they were very … welcoming.

A skinny, well-dressed woman with pulled-back hair and no tits sauntered toward me, putting so much extra swing into her walk that I half-expected her to dislocate a hip.

“Signore,” she purred, “welcome to Camilla’s. How may I help you?”

This I could handle. I’d been ‘handling’ women like her for the last six years.

“I’m looking for a special dress for a very beautiful woman—I can see that I’ve come to the right place.”

The turmoil that flashed across her face was too fucking funny, but I gave her my best polite smile, and she had no option but to return it.

“For your wife, signore?”

“I hope so. I’m going to ask my girlfriend to marry me. And if she says yes, I’m going to take her to Il Saraceno for the night.”

“She will say yes, signore, I have no doubt.”

She helped me pick out a silky dress in dark blue that I knew would look amazing against Caro’s clear, tan skin. The matching shoes cost me more than a month’s wages, but it was going to be so worth it. Because despite what the saleswoman said, I was still nervous about what Caro was going to say. She’d made it pretty damn plain that she wasn’t planning on marrying a guy in the military again. I hoped I’d done enough to make her change her mind, but a small voice of doubt was growing louder. What the fuck would she want with a dumb grunt who’s only got a high school diploma? And if I left the Marines, an unemployed dumb grunt, too.

I wanted to believe that we’d been given our second chance for a reason, but maybe that was wishful thinking. It was making my brain hurt just thinking about it. The sooner I asked Caro and knew the score, the better.

The saleswoman also talked me into buying something cute but more casual for this evening, and picked out a short skirt and a pair of those round-toed flat shoes that chicks seem to like. If I had my way, Caro would be in nothing but a pair of fuckin’ sexy high heels that made her legs look endless—especially wrapped around my waist. A man can dream. I’d go for the short skirt as second best. She looked amazing whatever she wore, but I wanted to see her in something other than jeans for a change.

I also got talked into buying some sexy-as-fuck panties and bra for Caro. They cost about the same as a new kidney, but I looked on it as an investment. Trying to describe the size of Caro’s tits was … interesting.

Next stop was an upscale men’s shop where I rented a tux; even that was a pain in my ass finding something that fit right. And the guy measuring me up was entirely too hands-on for my taste. But I think he knew he was pissing me the fuck off, because he backed down when I told him he’d end up losing a few teeth if his tape measure went near my junk again—although my Italian might have been kinda off, because he looked scared.