Page 59 of The Italian's Pregnant Enemy (A Diamond in the Rough)

Interest flared in her eyes.

There had been very few times in his life that Dario had ever considered himself happy. But right then, he felt like he might be.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THENEXTMORNING, they spent some time wandering around the grounds of the bed-and-breakfast.

They had a leisurely meal in their quarters, and then began the drive back to Manhattan.

Lyssia felt like she was floating. And she had never especially felt like that before. She had never considered herself a romantic. Not really. But she was beginning to recognize that as being part of her very specific defense system.

It was not, she realized, in her nature to want everything.

Well. That wasn’t true.

She did secretly want everything. It was just that she was afraid of putting too much of herself into it.

It was why Carter had seemed like a good idea.

He had seemed like a good idea because he had seemed safe. And ultimately, being safe was something that she valued perhaps more than having everything.

She’d realized that in some small part the first moment her lips had touched Dario’s. But it was all becoming clearer as time went on.

She was happy. She didn’t know what it meant. But she was hopeful, even, about the potential future.

About what they might have.

He was difficult to read sometimes. But so was she.

It wasn’t like she was completely and totally emotionally available.

The truth was, she was somewhat stunted. It was because of her dedication to keeping things easy. Shallow.

She had tried having a business, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t put genuine heart into it. She had. Everything she had done had been genuine. Had been filled with actual effort. It was just that on some level, she had been holding back.

And she cared so much about what she did. The conversation she had with him at the restaurant had been clarifying in that regard. She wanted people to have a home the way that she did. She wanted everyone to be able to feel the kind of comfort that she’d once had. Including herself.

And when they arrived back at her apartment, she decided that she was going to show him everything.

“My studio... My office is in here.”

She had a feeling that to the deeply organized Dario her method would seem haphazard. She looked around the room as someone who was unfamiliar with the place would. Taking in the bright pink walls, the patterned wallpaper that went up the wall her desk was flat against. Replete with palm fronds and birds of paradise. She knew that it was eclectic. To say the least. There were fabric swatches everywhere. Wood stain samples, glaze swatches, and any and many other things.

“This is it,” she said. “I do most of the basic designs in here.”

He was speechless, looking around the space, and she could imagine that part of the issue was he couldn’t picture himself getting any work done here. She knew him. His workspace was always neat as a pin. Hers was... A bit haphazard.

“It’s quite amazing,” he said. “What do you sketch your designs on?”

“Anything,” she said, surprised that he hadn’t made a comment about her organization. “Everything. I have notebooks. And I like to put different fabrics next to the sketches. Sometimes I do it all in a virtual notebook, and then I can take fabric that I have imported into the tablet and get a good idea for how it will look virtually.”

“Do you design some of the textiles?”

“Yes,” she said. “This is my range. No one else has these fabrics.”

He moved over to the fabric swatches and touched them.

“I can make exclusive textiles for your hotel chain,” she said.

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