Chapter 9
Blackwell memorized Donna’s silhouette while she was in the bathroom, ironing a simple shirt for the day ahead. She was comfortable in her plain white bra that she’d probably bought at one of the huge chain stores. Most of the women he’d met in Europe wouldn’t dream of wearing anything like that, but on Donna, simple looked sexy.
She glanced over her shoulder so he cleared his throat, turned his head and pretended he hadn’t been studying her chest. “After the Doge’s palace, ice cream, Gallerie dell'Accademia, and an early dinner, I was thinking we could drive to Firenze this evening.”
She buttoned her shirt and put the iron away. “Sounds amazing, Blackwell. I was wondering, did you ever get a nickname as a kid in school or did everyone always call you Blackwell?”
He stood and
