These he then tossed into the air, spinning them in circles as expertly as an NBA player can spin a basketball on his fingertip.

The centrifugal forces made the pies thin in the middle and thicker towards the crust.

These shells he slathered with that fresh tomato sauce, a deep red, then shredded mozzarella cheese, a creamy white, and finally a few fresh sprigs of basil, deep green.

He then took a broad tray with a handle on it and loaded the pies into the oven. Soon the restaurant filled with the delicious aromas of baking pizza underscored by wood smoke. Flickering orange light spilled out through the oven's open door before he closed it up again.

"The colors of the flag, that's what the toppings meant," Liam filled in for me, noticing the rapt attention I paid to the process.

I'd wanted to talk to him right away about dealing with Dr. Aretino, but I couldn't. I was physically incapable of doing so until I'd had a taste of that pizza.

It was an aching wait for those pizzas. And when he finally put them on the table in front of us I barely remembered that here they ate their pizza with a fork and a knife.

I sawed off a portion and stuffed it into my mouth. Liam had done it again. First the gelato place, now the pizza place. The man knew his Italian foods.

It was rich tasting, as flavorful as it had been aromatic. Different, yet similar to the pizza back home in St. Louis. Though you could tell not a single ingredient in this pizza had come from a can or a freezer.

"Wow," I said.

"Glad you approve," he said, slicing off a piece of his own and plopping it into his mouth.

We didn't speak again until we'd cleared every morsel from our plates. It wasn't until the chef had put two tiny white mugs full of espresso down on the table that I marshaled the nerve to try and bring it up again.

"What do you think I should do about Dr. Aretino? Something that keeps me from sinking to his level. I'm not asking you to fix this for me. Only what you think," I said. I had to make that distinction clear.

My heart started pounding, and since all my blood was in my stomach in the first place, it gave me a dreamy, lightheaded sensation.

Liam sighed, then took a sip of his espresso. He stared back at the oven without really seeing it.

"I've dealt with lots of men like Aretino," Liam said, "There's not much that will get through to them. You have to beat him at his own game, use it against him somehow. That's the only way."

"But what about not wanting to be like him?"

He nodded at my concern, recognizing it. I loved that I didn't have to tell him, that he could just know me like that. No one, especially no guy, had ever been like that with me before.

"They sometimes fight forest fires by burning the trees before the fire can get to them. Stops it in its tracks."

"What if I don't want to burn myself in the process?"

"Look at it this way: if you stand up to him, put him in his place, then maybe he won't try this again with someone else."

That did make sense, but it still didn't feel entirely good. Two wrongs not adding up.

He saw my hesitation. "He's not going to understand anything else, Emma. It sounds to me like he has everything tied in a neat little bow, or at least he thinks he does. He thinks he's untouchable at the university. And he may be right."

"A vote of confidence if I ever heard one," I said. I wished then that there was more pizza.

It was no wonder some people liked to eat through their worries. Eating was easy and comforting (and tasty, you can't forget tasty) and perhaps most of all it was something you could accomplish. Something you can start and finish.

Instead, I took a sip of my espresso. It was powerful, bitter, and incredibly smooth. Sleep was something I wouldn't be doing that night if I drank much more of it.

"My point is that you attack him right where he thinks he's most invulnerable."

"I'll get right on that, right after I climb Everest and explore the Marianas Trench."

Liam lifted one hand and spread his fingers. "There's something, if you look hard enough. There always is. For instance, there was another fundraiser invitation for the Arts faculty left for me at the hotel. I'm sure Aretino will be there."

It was too frustrating. I didn't want to think anymore. In fact, mostly I could just think about dessert, and what I wanted for it. I'll give you a hint: it starts with L, ends with M, and has eyes the same blue as a midmorning sky.

And I wanted to enjoy my dessert all night long, which I fully intended to do.

"Let's get out of here," I said.

We did. I couldn't resist kissing him, and he kissing me right back, along our return trip to where he'd parked the BMW.

We got closer to the Capitoline Hill and its museums, stopping at a corner to let a little red Fiat run through the intersection without so much as a perfunctory tap to the breaks, right through a stop sign.

"Awesome driving," I said.

"The camera got him," Liam said, pointing up at said camera where it stood mounted to the top of a tall poll. There was another one on the other side of the intersection to catch bad drivers coming from the opposite direction.

Cameras, I thought. I remembered our little tryst in the staircase, noticing the camera watching us there. I remembered the way Liam said he didn't have anything to hide. And I knew he didn't.

But Dr. Aretino did, I was sure of that. It was only a matter of exposing it to the right people.

"You're a genius," I said, kissing Liam when he started to try and cross the street.

Chapter 17

The following day, I took the bus back from Liam's hotel to my little flat above Mrs. Rosselini's bakery.

He'd offered me a ride back, of course, but I didn't take him up on it. Even though we were entering into Rome's rather rainy fall, the day had started off beautifully. Skies so clear and blue that you could see the moon hanging over the earth.

I thought that if Liam took me up in another hot air balloon that I'd be able to see the ancient volcano Mount Vesuvius brooding and ominous far to the south, it was so crystal clear that day.

The city looked golden and bright and somehow quaint and old fashioned in that light. I watched the sidewalks go by as the bus swayed gently beneath me, hardly even noticing the hard "padding" and the way it failed to cushion me.

I touched the thin wall of glass separating me from the golden world. Despite the apparent warmth of the sun, it was cool and smooth against my fingertips.

Though I do have to say that I had some difficulty concentrating on the present moment when the recent past had been so very pleasant.

A blush rose into my cheeks when I thought about it. I even crossed my legs and glanced around at the other passengers on the bus as though they could somehow sense my thoughts.

It took no effort at all to remember the way Liam's hands had felt on me. He'd had them on my bare waist, our bodies glistening in the dim light coming in through the cracks in the drapes.

No, it took no effort at all to recall how I'd gripped the headboard while I lifted my hips and then drove our bodies together, again and again until neither of us could take it anymore.

In fact, a warm tingle started racing up the front of my stomach at the memory.

Then there was falling asleep in his arms. I thought that I could fall asleep on a cold slab of concrete if I had his arms around me and the steady rhythm of his heart to soothe me while I rested my head on his chest.