I sat back and smiled at him. “You’re so masterful when you talk like that, Sebastian.”
He leaned forward and stared at me. “Yeah, well, if we can find a fucking pharmacy, you’ll find out just how ‘masterful’ I can be.”
“Looking forward to it.”
We sipped our limoncellos and drank some water, as we watched the world go by: yachts and fishing boats in the harbor; scooters, bikes and cars; people of all ages, strolling, chatting, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
“You know what we should do, Caro?” said Sebastian, stretching his arms above his head. “We should drive up to Amalfi. The coast road has some gnarly mean bends – see what the bike can really do. There should be some great views, too.”
I swallowed hastily. I could just imagine Sebastian tearing up the mountainside, and carving his way around another terrifying set of hairpin turns.
“That sounds fun,” I said, trying to restrain the quaver in my voice.
I didn’t fool him at all, and Sebastian laughed out loud. “That’s my girl!”
After we’d paid Aberto, we wandered through the town, on the lookout for Via Roma, which turned out to be a wide avenue running alongside the harbor.
To Sebastian’s delight, we also found a pharmacy, where he purchased two boxes of 12 condoms, much to my embarrassment and the amusement of the elderly woman serving him. I think she may have given me a sympathetic glance, too.
I felt a little lightheaded when I did the math: 24 condoms; three nights.
But I also found cheap mascara and a dark cherry lipstick.
“Looking forward to tasting that lipstick on you later,” whispered Sebastian.
“Looking forward to tasting you later,” I whispered back, which earned me a very hot look.
Signora Carello’s villa was a small but pretty, whitewashed building overlooking the sea, as promised.
I’d expected another well-built motherly type, but the Signora was a bone-thin racehorse of a woman, perhaps 70 years of age, with swept-up black hair and immaculate taste in clothes.
“Ah, the young travelers Aberto mentioned. Welcome to my home. Please, come in. Let me show you the room.”
She led us up a flight of shallow steps that looked like they could have been carved out of marble, or some other polished, creamy stone – and opened the door into a beautiful, dreamlike room.
A large, white bed dominated, with fronds of net curtains hanging down, and a wardrobe that was Oriental style, made from a wicker material. The balcony doors were open, and the curtains drifted on the breeze, brushing across a small mosaic table with two matching chairs.
“Oh, this is just lovely!”
“Thank you, signora,” she said, obviously pleased by my reaction.
“Actually, it’s signorina,” I said, not wishing to mislead this charming woman.
“I’m working on that,” said Sebastian, challengingly, and I saw Signora Carello try to hide a smile.
“The bagno is on the right,” she said, gesturing elegantly towards a white door.
The bathroom was plain and white, but, joy of joys, it had a gigantic enamel tub in the center of the room, as well as a small shower in the corner.
I clapped my hands together and grinned at Sebastian.
“We have a motorcycle,” he said, smiling at my obvious happiness. “Do you have somewhere I could park it overnight?”
“Oh, I used to enjoy riding on a motorcycle in my day!” she said. “Oh, yes, young man… I was quite fast in my youth.”
And Sebastian blushed. He actually blushed. I hadn’t seen him do that in ten years. I was almost jealous of Signora Carello.
She smiled pleasantly at him and when she looked at me, she winked. I grinned back. Oh, I liked this woman.
“I’ll go and get the bike,” he muttered.
“Sebastian, would you mind if I stay here and take a bath?”
“No, that’s fine, Caro,” he said, suddenly brightening up. “I’ll see you later.”
Hmm, what was on that tricky Hunter mind now?