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“Oh, fuck!” he said, angrily.

“What? What
’s the matter?” I said, nervously.

Had he changed his mind already?

“I forgot to give you the fucking ring,” he snarled. “Fuck it! I wanted this to be so smooth. Jeez, I said it enough times in my head.”

“You did? You practiced this?”

I loved that he’d practiced
.

He smiled, slightly abashed. “Yeah, once or twice. Maybe a few times more… Maybe a lot of times more… Ah, fuck it, Caro. See if the damn thing fits.”

I couldn’t help laughing out loud from sheer happiness – plus, he was so damn funny.

“You
’re in danger of sweeping me off my feet again, Sebastian. How can I resist such sweet words: I’ll treasure your proposal forever, ‘See if the damn thing fits’.”

He grinned at me, then pulled a small ring box out of his back pocket, opened it, and laid it on the table.

Nestled in the dark blue satin was a small but breathtaking blue-white diamond solitaire, simply mounted on a gold band.

I gasped, as the diamond
blazed in the sun, scattering tiny rainbows across the table.

“Sebastian, it
’s beautiful! Where on earth did you get it… and
when?
”

“Try it on.”

He lifted the ring out of the box and slid it onto the third finger of my left hand.

“Perfect.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you, tesoro.”

I
twisted around and kissed him softly, leaning down to enjoy the feel of his lips on mine.

Sebastian looked as if he
’d just climbed Mount Everest or defeated the Mongol hordes single-handedly.

“So, fiancé,” I said, “what shall we do now?”

My new name took him by surprise.

“Wow, fiancé, huh? I didn
’t think it could sound so cool.”

“I disagree, Sebastian. I think it sounds
hot
. Maybe we can agree to disagree, or just accept that it’s an all-temperature sort of title.”

He laughed loudly, the sound filled with a ridiculous and infectious jo
y that I couldn’t help sharing.

“Well, fiancé
e, I thought we could check out those gnarly bends on the Amalfi coast. What do you think?”

“I think you
’re crazy, probably certifiable, and I’m horribly afraid it’s contagious.”

He grinned at me and stood up, tucking my hand under his arm, as we floated back down to Salerno.

The sun was blazing in the sky, the air warm, and the feeling that filled me, indescribable. I felt both calm and fizzing with joy; happy and anxious; loved and terrifyingly in love. I was falling off a cliff, one I’d thrown myself from willingly, hoping I’d fly. Crazy in love.

When we reached the villa, Signora Carello was standing in her garden, watering the
bougainvillea.

“Did you have any luck finding your family, my dear?” she asked kindly.

“Yes, I did,” I said, gazing stupidly at Sebastian.

Sigora Carello gasped as she saw my ring flashing in the sunshine.

And she kissed us each three times,
while Sebastian grinned away as if nothing could ever dim his happiness.

“And now for your surprise?” she said, patting Sebastian on his arm.

He winked and nodded.

I actually felt jealous that I wasn
’t in on the secret, but I couldn’t help smiling anyway.

“Some lunch before you go? I was going to fix myself insalata tricolore – you
’re welcome to join me.”

We sat in the signora
’s pretty garden, enjoying the tranquility that came from within.

“So, when will you marry?” she asked, with keen interest.

We answered simultaneously.

“I don
’t know,” I said.

“As so
on as possible,” said Sebastian.

The signora laughed.

“Oh, you two have some talking to do, I can see that. Never mind, my dears, you’ll work it out. Have you decided where you’ll live?”

“Caro has a place near New York,” said Sebastian, “but I could be stationed anywhere.”

“You’re in the army?”

“No,
ma’am, US Marines.”

Signora Carello nodded slowly, a frown of concern crinkling her eyes.

“He has to do two more years,” I said, staring at my plate, and trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “And he’s being sent out to Afghanistan. On Thursday.”

“Ah,” she said, and shook her head sadly.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” said Sebastian, emphasizing the final word. “Besides, I might see you out there.”

Signora Carello looked confused.

“Caro is a reporter – a foreign correspondent,” said Sebastian. “But I wish she…”

He stopped mid-
sentence.

“Well,” said the signora, forcefully, “you young people don
’t choose the easy path, but it is your own path. I wish you both well. Please come back and have your honeymoon here.”

“Honeymoon!” said Sebastian, looking as if he
’d just won the lottery. “Hell, I’d forgotten about that! Yeah, we should definitely have a honeymoon, Caro. With room service – so we don’t have to get out of bed.”

I felt hugely embarrassed he
’d said that in front of the signora, but she just laughed and he winked at her.

When Signora Carello took the plates back into the villa, I elbowed Sebastian in the ribs.

“Don’t say things like that in front of her: she’ll be embarrassed!”

Sebastian laughed. “You
’re the only one who’s embarrassed, Caro, which is pretty fucking funny. Signora Carello used to be ‘fast’, remember? Anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

And then I recalled that the signora had already cle
aned our room that morning; I cringed, thinking about the large number of condoms that we’d deposited in the garbage can. Oh, God, how embarrassing was that? Sebastian’s inappropriate comment paled to nothing when faced with more tangible evidence of how we’d spent our time.

We collected our leather jackets
from the tidy room, and Sebastian changed into his heavy boots before we headed off for the ‘surprise’. He looked so sexy bending over to fasten the buckles. What was it about jeans, boots and leather jackets? I wondered what it would be like riding through upstate New York on Sebastian’s mean machine. Now
that
would be fun.

I was puzzled when the signora cornered us by the front door and kissed us again, whispering something to Sebastian, and patting his arm.

I had the distinct impression that they’d planned something together: no doubt the Hunter charm and the Italian love of intrigue had been cooking up something.

The Amalfi coastline was like a huge James B
ond set. Dizzying, narrow roads arced up the mountain, with the cliffs falling away into the sea, many hundreds of feet below.

I clung onto Sebastian, as he took the turns with terrifying speed. I could tell he was enjoying himself, but I had my eyes closed and grit my teeth so hard, I was afraid
I would grind them into chalk dust or make them come flying out of my mouth like so many peanuts.

At the top of the path,
above the small town of Pontone, Sebastian pulled off the road next to a lemon grove, and cut the engine.

“It
’s a great view, baby. You want to get your camera out?”

I opened my eyes and pulled off my helmet. He was right
– it was stunning. And, with my blood pressure returning to normal, I felt able to capture the astonishing landscape in the lens. I snapped a few of Sebastian, too, looking all bad-boy next to his motorcycle.

I climbed a little higher to get some more views of the sea; when I slithered back down the mountainside,
I was surprised to see that Sebastian was digging around for something in one of the bike’s saddlebags.

“
Don’t you want to ride on a bit further?” I said, puzzled.

“
Nope: we’re staying here. Picnic,” he grinned at me, holding a miniature bottle of champagne in one hand, and two crystal flutes in the other. “Borrowed from Signora Carello,” he said, answering my unspoken question.

“I think the signora has a soft spot for you, Sebastian.”

“Must be my animal magnetism, baby.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“Hey, don’t knock it: it works on you.”

“That is true, Chief.”

He led us to a patch of dry, springy grass and opened the champagne, where the cork flew off like a rocket, making us both duck.

“Huh, guess it got shook up on the road.”

Yeah, and it wasn’t the only thing that got shook up
, I thought, uncharitably.

He poured the champagne,
half-filling the glasses with froth and bubbles.

“Here
’s to us, Caro,” he said, softly and seriously. “Today, tomorrow, forever. Promise?”

“Yes, tesoro. Forever, I promise.”

We sat, high above the Mediterranean, as if at the top of the world, sipping our champagne and speaking quietly, promises and words of love. Then we lay in each other’s arms, feeling the warm sun on our faces.

“I love my surprise, Sebastian,” I said contentedly.

He chuckled quietly. “This is only part of it, Caro. There’s more.”

“More?”

“Much more.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll see.”

Feeling a little light
headed from both the ride and the champagne, I mounted the motorcycle once more, and we headed back down towards the sea. This time, I screwed up my courage and managed to open one eye as Sebastian raced down the hill, taking the curves with what, to me, seemed like reckless speed.