Summer Desserts

so.” Carlo gave a last wistful look over his shoulder. Perhaps he could talk Summer into stopping somewhere, a park bench, an outdoor café, where he could get a more…complete view of Philadelphia’s attractions. “You must be tired of walking, love,” he began.
    “I’m definitely not having dinner with him tonight.”
    “That should teach him to push Summer Lyndon around.” The park, Carlo thought, might have the most interesting of possibilities.
    She gave him a dangerous stare. “You’re amused because you’re a man.”
    “ You’re amused,” Carlo corrected, grinning. “And interested.”
    “I am not.”
    “Oh, yes, cara mia, you are. Why don’t we sit so I can take in the…beauty and attractions of your adopted city? After all—” he tipped the brim of his hat at a strolling brunette in brief shorts “—I’m a tourist, sì? ”
    She caught the gleam in his eyes, and the reason for it. After letting out a huff of breath, Summer turned a sharp right. “I’ll show you tourist attractions, amico. ”
    “But Summer…” Carlo caught sight of a redhead in snug jeans walking a poodle. “The view from out here is very educational and uplifting.”
    “I’ll lift you up,” she promised and ruthlessly dragged him inside. “The Second Continental Congress met here in 1775, when the building was known as the Pennsylvania State House.”
    There was an echoing of feet, of voices. A group of school-children flocked by led by a prim, stern-faced teacher wearing practical shoes. “Fascinating,” Carlo muttered. “Why don’t we go to the park, Summer. It’s a beautiful day.” For female joggers in tiny shorts and tiny shirts.
    “I’d consider myself a poor friend if I didn’t give you a brief history lesson before you leave this evening, Carlo.” She linked her arm more firmly through his. “It was actually July 8, not July 4, 1776, that the Declaration of Independence was read to the crowd in the yard outside this building.”
    “Incredible.” Hadn’t that brunette been heading for the park? “I can’t tell you how interesting I find this American history, but some fresh air perhaps—”
    “You can’t leave Philadelphia without seeing the Liberty Bell.” Taking him by the hand, Summer dragged him along. “A symbol of freedom is international, Carlo.” She didn’t even hear his muttered assent as her thoughts began to swing back to Blake again. “Just what was he trying to prove with that gloss and machismo?” she demanded. “Telling me he’d pick me up at eight after I’d refused to go.” Gritting her teeth, she put her hands on her hips and glared at Carlo. “Men—you’re all basically the same, aren’t you?”
    “But no, carissima. ” Amused, he gave her a charming smile and ran his fingers down her cheek. “We are all unique, especially Franconi. There are women in every city of the world who can attest to that.”
    “Pig,” she said bluntly, refusing to be swayed with humor. She sidled closer to him, unconcerned that there was a group of three female college students hanging on every word. “Don’t throw your women up to me, you Italian lecher.”
    “Ah, but, Summer…” He brought her palm to his lips, watching the three young women over it. “The word is…connoisseur.”
    Her comment was an unladylike snort. “You—men,” she corrected, jerking her hand from his, “think of women as something to toy with, enjoy for a while, then disregard. No one’s ever going to play that game with me.”
    Grinning from ear to ear, Carlo took both her hands and kissed them. “Ah, no, no, cara mia. A woman, she is like the most exquisite of meals.”
    Summer’s eyes narrowed. As the three girls edged closer she struggled with a grin of her own. “A meal? You dare to compare a woman with a meal?”
    “An exquisite one,” Carlo reminded her. “One you anticipate with great excitement, one you linger over, savor, even worship.”
    Her brows arched. “And when your plate’s clean, Carlo?”
    “It stays in your memory.” Touching his thumb and forefinger together, he kissed them dramatically. “Returns in your dreams and keeps you forever searching for an equally sensual experience.”
    “Very poetic,” she said dryly. “But I’m not going to be anyone’s entrée.”
    “No, my Summer, you are the most forbidden of desserts, and therefore, the most desirable.” Irrepressible, he winked atthe trio of girls. “This Cocharan, do you not think his