ack smiled at the expressions that flitted over Lara's face. Shock transformed into wonder as she gazed around the Great Room. He felt a surge of pride, for the room was impressive when all lit up. Mario and Gianetta weren't very nimble in their old age, so it was probably their grandson, Lorenzo, who had lit all the candles before leaving on his assignment.

A cool breeze swept through the open French doors, causing the flames to flicker and the gold to gleam.

Lara gave him a wry look. "Just a small palazzo, huh?"

He shrugged. "There are over two hundred palazzi in Venezia. It's no big deal."

"Right. Everybody has one." She followed him onto the balcony. "I can't believe it. We're really in Venice?"

"Yes. Venezia." He breathed deeply of the cool, humid air. Candles glowed behind beveled glass on each side of the French doors. A bistro table with two chairs was nestled in the corner of the balcony.

He glanced over the balustrade at the water below. Lights sparkled on it, reflecting the moonlight and lights from neighboring palazzi. The water gate was directly below him on the ground floor. The lamps from the water gate illuminated the red-striped poles in front of his home.

Jack always loved coming home. And now he had someone to share it with. "How do you like it?"

"It's incredible. Very... old." Lara gave him an odd look, then shivered.

"Are you cold?" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I was afraid it might be too chilly for you. I'll have Gianetta find you something warm."

"Thanks." Lara looked around curiously. "It's not just the cooler weather that's bothering me. I'm in shock that we're actually here, and I'm still freaked out by our mode of transportation."

"It was quick and painless, no?"

"The moment of sheer terror was over quickly, but my confusion is greater than ever. How are you able to do such a thing?"

With a sigh, he stroked her hair. "I really don't know how it works. It's simply a gift, and I'm grateful for it."

"Well, it does beat ten hours on a plane." She turned in his arms so she could look over the balustrade. "I didn't realize the canals were this big."

"Most of them are not. This is the Grand Canal."

"Oh. Nice address." She glanced back at his home. "Not too shabby for a palace."

He grinned. "Unfortunately, many of the palazzi are in bad shape. This one dates from the sixteenth century, and there is always something that needs repairing."

"But you love it," she said quietly.

"Yes. I do. It's my anchor. A constant that is always here for me and never changes."

She regarded him, her eyes narrowed. "There's something so old-fashioned and... noble about you."

That was high praise for someone born a bastard. "Cara mia, thank you." He kissed her brow.

"Giacomo! You have arrived," a voice said in Italian.

Jack turned to find Gianetta at the open French doors. "Bellissima." He gave her a hug and kissed her plump cheeks. She was wearing a thick bathrobe over her nightgown, and her long gray hair lay in a braid against her ample bosom. He responded in Italian, "I'm sorry you had to get up in the middle of the night."

She patted his cheek. "It's always good to see you. And I'm thrilled you brought a girl with you. I've waited so long for this."

About fifty years, Jack figured. That's how long Gianetta and her husband, Mario, had been taking care of the palazzo. They'd started out as servants, but over the years, they'd become loyal and treasured friends.

"She's mortal, no?" Gianetta whispered in Italian.

"Yes, she is. Her name is Lara Boucher," he answered in Italian. "She's American."

"And very pretty." Gianetta nodded in approval, then spoke in heavily accented English. "I am very happy to meet you."

"Thank you." Lara grinned. "I'm delighted to be here."

"She needs a coat or jacket," Jack told Gianetta. When she looked confused, he translated into Italian.

"Ah, I have just the thing. And I'll bring refreshments." Gianetta bowed and left the balcony.

"She seems very nice," Lara said.

"She approves of you, which is good, since she and Mario are like family to me."

Lara snorted. "Everyone keeps playing the matchmaker around us."

"As if we need any encouragement." He wrapped his arms around her from the back and pulled her against his chest.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "The stars are lovely, but I wish there was more light. When does the sun rise?"

"Too soon." He nuzzled her neck. They had less than three hours before he'd have to teleport them back to New York City. He couldn't risk falling into his death-sleep in front of her. "This is a good time to be here. The city is quiet. All you can hear is the lapping of water against the buildings and the occasional hoot of an owl."

She folded her arms over his. "I've always wanted to see Venice. Thank you."

"Bellissima, we have barely begun." Jack pointed in the distance. "Do you see the light on the water? That is our gondola, coming to pick us up."

"This is so cool." Lara turned toward him, smiling. "Thank you for dragging me here against my will."

"Hmm." He smoothed a hand down her back. "What else can I make you do against your will?"

With a laugh, she slid her hands around his neck. "You know what they say-where there's a will, there's a way."

He nudged her nose with his own. "I want my way with you."

"Mmm." She pressed against him and raked her hands into his hair. "I can't ever resist you, Jack."

"Cara mia." He kissed her brow, her cheeks, her nose, and his heart soared. Lara wanted him, and he hadn't used any vampire tricks. She was the first and only woman he'd met whose mind he couldn't invade and read, and yet, their minds seemed to be of one accord.

He captured her mouth with his own and indulged in a long, leisurely kiss. She melted against him. Lara in his arms in Venezia-life didn't get any better than this.

A throat cleared. "Scusi," Gianetta whispered at the entrance to the balcony.

Lara stepped back, blushing slightly.

"I bring... food," Gianetta spoke in English. She set a wooden tray on the small bistro table. "And I bring cape for the signorina." She removed the cape that had been draped over one shoulder and shook it out.

"Oh my gosh, it's beautiful." Lara stroked the midnight blue velvet.

While Lara was busy admiring the cape, which Gianetta was settling on her shoulders, Jack sidled over to the table to check the food. Sure enough, Gianetta had filled the bronze goblet with warmed-up synthetic blood. He chugged it down before Lara could see the contents.

She laughed. "You sure were thirsty."

"Yes." He set the empty goblet on the tray. "You look wonderful in the cape."

With a grin, she pirouetted and let the long cape swirl around her. The velvet material came to rest in long folds that reached her ankles. "Isn't it gorgeous? It's lined with silk and has a hood, too."

She lifted the hood, and Jack caught his breath. Her eyes looked as deep blue as the velvet framing her lovely face. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, making her fragrant with the scent of pulsing blood. He was tempted to forego all the sightseeing and whisk her straight upstairs to his bedroom. But no, he needed to court her first. He needed her to love him. That way, if she ever found out the truth about him, he'd have a better chance at not losing her.

"Very nice cape," Gianetta said in English. "Giacomo give me cape ten years ago for Carnival. Giacomo very nice man."

"Oh." Lara cast a curious look his way. "I guess he was about eighteen at the time?"

Gianetta gave Jack a confused look and spoke in Italian. "She doesn't know?" When he shook his head slightly, she frowned at him. "You have to tell her."

"Something wrong?" Lara watched them both.

"Yes." Jack switched to English and pointed at the tray on the table. "Your gelato is melting. Come, have a seat."

"Yes." Gianetta rushed to the table and set the bowl of ice cream, a linen napkin, and a glass of water in front of a chair. "Gelato from Venezia very good. You try."

"I'd love to." Lara sat in a bistro chair, carefully arranging the velvet cape around her.

Jack handed the empty bronze goblet to Gianetta.

"Here." She passed him a small package of Vampos, the after-dinner mint for Vamps who wanted rid of blood breath.

"Grazie. You think of everything." He popped a mint into his mouth and handed the package back to Gianetta, who quickly slipped it into her bathrobe pocket.

Lara glanced at the empty tray, then at Jack. "You're not going to have any ice cream?"

"No. I'm... lactose intolerant." He sat across from her at the table. "But I'll be happy to watch you enjoy it."

She gave him a sly grin. "You like to watch?"

He chuckled.

She aimed a seductive look at him as she brushed the hood off her head. He swallowed hard while his wayward mind imagined more clothes coming off.

She lifted the spoon to her mouth and touched the gelato with the tip of her tongue. Then she licked it. "Mmmm. So sweet and creamy."

He arched a brow at her. For a sweet angel, she could be wonderfully wicked. "You like it?"

"Oh, yeah." She opened her mouth slowly and inserted the spoon. "Mmmm." She drew the spoon out slowly.

His groin tightened.

"Oh, yes." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. "Yes. Yes!" She pounded a fist on the table.

He shifted in his chair.

Gianetta grabbed Jack's shoulder and whispered in Italian, "Is she all right?"

"Yes." His voice sounded strained. "She really likes ice cream. That'll be all, Gianetta."

"Humph." Gianetta grabbed the empty tray and headed out the door, mumbling about strange American ways.

Lara grimaced. "Sorry. She probably thinks I'm crazy, but I just couldn't resist."

He smiled slowly. "Cara mia, I am counting on you not being able to resist."

She spooned more ice cream into her mouth. He continued to watch, amazed that he could get a hard-on from something so simple and innocent.

"This is really good." She finished the last bite. "And this bowl is beautiful."

"It's from Murano, where the glassblowers work."

"I'd love to see that."

"They're not open now, but I can arrange it for another trip." He stood and looked over the balcony. The gondolier was approaching the water gate. "Tonight, I want to show you the basilica and campanile at the Piazza San Marco."

She dabbed at her mouth with the linen napkin. "I'm guessing basilica is a church, but what's the other thing?"

"The campanile. A bell tower."

"Oh, cool! But aren't they closed at night?"

"I have... connections."

She grinned. "From being a choirboy?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. Our gondola is arriving. Do you want to see?"

"Oh yes." She jumped up and peered over the balustrade. "Oh my gosh, he's wearing a striped shirt and hat, just like in the movies."

"Shall we go?" Jack gestured toward the French doors.

Lara accompanied him across the Great Room to the staircase. About fifty years ago, he'd had the stairs wired for electricity so no one would trip in the dark or have to carry a candle.

Lara glanced at the ascending staircase. "How many floors are there?"

"Four." He led her down the stairs. "The water floor is below. I live on the second and third floors, and Mario and Gianetta live on the fourth with their grandson."

Gianetta met them at the bottom of the stairs. "Mario has taken care of everything," she told Jack in Italian. "Father Giuseppe will be waiting for you in the piazza, and Lorenzo will be there shortly."

"Grazie milk." Jack gave her a hug. "I may not have time to come back here."

"I understand." Gianetta smiled at Lara and switched to English. "Giacomo very good man. Never bring girl here before."

"Really?" Lara's eyes lit up.

Jack gave Gianetta an annoyed look, then escorted Lara to the garden. "I want to show you this before we go."

Lara gasped when they stepped into the garden. Long strands of white twinkle lights outlined its square shape. A path of paving stones circled the fountain in the middle. An arbor entwined with wisteria arched over a stone bench. The scent of gardenia and roses filled the air, along with the sound of trickling water from the fountain.

"It's so beautiful," Lara whispered. "And so peaceful. No wonder you love it."

Jack gazed up at the windows on the third floor where his bedroom was located. He was tempted to teleport Lara straight there. But their gondola was waiting, and he was determined to court her properly. He refused to act like his father, treating each woman like a conquest before moving on to the next. Lara deserved better. And if she could love him, he would remain devoted to her forever.

"Come." He led her back down the arched hallway to the water gate.

Mario was waiting for them where the gondola had tied off. Jack gave the old man a hug and introduced Lara.

Mario shook her hand. "Brava, bellissima. Giacomo very good man."

Lara gave Jack a wry look. "You must pay them well."

He laughed. "I do, actually."

He stepped into the gondola and helped Lara board. They settled on the cushioned seat beneath a canopy that afforded them some privacy.

"Piazzo San Marco, please," he called to the gondolier in the back of the boat.

"Of course," the gondolier replied and moved them quickly into the canal.

Lara snuggled close to Jack. "This is so romantic."

"I'm glad you like it." He looped an arm around her shoulders and turned toward her so he could see her face.

She looked about curiously as they moved slowly down the Grand Canal. He pointed out several palazzi that had been transformed into hotels. They were lit up, and some even had luxury yachts parked in front.

Her mouth fell open. "Look at that bridge."

He glanced at it. "That's the Rialto." The center arch was illuminated at night.

Lara's eyes glittered with excitement. "This reminds me of a movie I loved when I was little. I thought it was the most romantic movie ever. Lady and the Tramp. Have you seen it?"

"No."

"Well, the Tramp takes Lady to an Italian restaurant, and the waiters bring them a big plate of spaghetti. Then the waiters serenade them with the song Bella Notte, and it's so incredibly sweet."

" Bella Notte'?" He'd have to tell Mario about this.

"Then the Lady and the Tramp start sucking on the same spaghetti noodle, and he accidentally kisses her snout."

"Her... what?"

"Snout. Oh." Lara laughed. "Did I forget to mention that they're dogs?"

He gave her a dubious look. "Romantic dogs?"

She laughed again and swatted his arm. "I was five years old. And that spaghetti-noodle kiss was really hot. Lady turned away with this sweet blush like she was all embarrassed, and Tramp has this wolfish grin on his face like 'Yeah, baby, let's do that again.?

With his own wolfish grin, Jack tapped the end of her nose. "So if I kiss your adorable little snout, will you be my Lady?"

True to her role, Lara looked away and blushed. "I'm not sure you could be a Tramp. I don't think he ever lived in a fancy palazzo."

"Ah. But I'm a bastard, so I should still qualify."

She poked him in the chest. "You're not a bastard. You're a sweetheart."

"Must I prove I'm a bastard?" He reached underneath her cape and tickled her ribs. "Take that. And beware, or I will jab you with the comfy cushions."

She wiggled away from him, giggling. "Stop it, you... tramp."

With a laugh, he pulled her onto his lap. "My lady."

Her laughter faded as she slid her hands around his neck and gazed into his eyes. "Jack."

He squeezed her hip. "Woof."

She smiled. "A real bastard might try to take advantage of me." She nuzzled her nose against his cheek.

"I'll do my best." He turned his head to take her mouth. Her lips opened, inviting him in. He circled his tongue inside her mouth and stroked her tongue.

She moaned, then suddenly broke the kiss. She glanced over his shoulder at the dark canopy separating them from the gondolier. "I forgot we're not alone."

"They're used to it. Venice has always been a place for lovers."

She raked a hand through his hair. "Is that what you want us to be-lovers?"

"Mmm-hmm." Underneath the cape, he skimmed his hand down her skirt till he reached bare skin.

She ran her fingertips along his jaw. "Everyone keeps telling me what a good man you are."

"Mmm-hmm." His hand crept under the hem of her skirt. "I'm as trustworthy as a priest."

"So I hear. Shanna said I could trust you."

"Mmm-hmm." His fingers inched up her bare thigh. "I'm practically a saint."

She glanced down at the cape where his hidden hand made a bulge that continued to move up her thigh. "What exactly are you doing?"

His mouth twitched. "Searching for the Holy Land?" He reached the edge of her panties, Lace, by the feel of it.

She frowned. "Perhaps you should know that I'm not-I mean, I don't normally-" She gasped when his hand slipped under her panties. "Jack, you... bastard."

"That's me." He squeezed her bare rump.

"Jack," she breathed. "We shouldn't..." She glanced nervously at the canopy.

"I know. You're just so hard to resist." He patted her bottom, then started to slide his hand out from under her panties.

Her panties came with him. With a gulp, he quickly moved his hand so the panties would be in place. Then he slowly moved his hand down. There was a tug on his ring, and the panties moved with him.

Merda! Her lace panties had snagged on his ring, the signet ring he'd inherited from his father, Giacomo Casanova. His father had seduced hundreds of women without any problems whatsoever, and he was having trouble with just one. This was the real reason he never used the Casanova name. He could never live up to his father's reputation. The old man was probably laughing in his grave.