Celina felt her face grow warm at Tony’s compliment. She caught a glance of herself in the small beveled mirror by the door. Red lipstick and pink cream rouge brought color to her face, and the cake mascara she’d carefully applied with a little brush framed her tawny eyes.
“You look really nice, too,” Celina said.
“Except for these, right?” He drew a finger along one angry red scar on his face.
“Why, no, not at all.” His attitude surprised her. He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, and the more time she spent around him, the less she noticed his scars. Maybe he was as nervous as she was.
Tony beamed and leaned against the doorjamb. He’d changed into a pressed shirt and slicked back his hair. Cologne wafted from his neck, reminding her of her father.
“I thought we would eat
