Educating Gina by Debbi Rawlins

right one was most important, according to the women on Sex and the City.
    She selected the pair of black stilettos, even though she had already worn them. Obviously she would have to talk to Mike about taking her shopping again.
    There were certain disadvantages to dressing in this new manner. Men looked at her as they never had before. She supposed that was what she had wanted at first. But mostly she had wanted to be like her friends, or the other young women who frequented the nightclubs in Milan. And not like Grandmother Scarpetti.
    She did like the way Mike looked at her, though. The way his eyes got a little glassy made her body temperature go up. He never made her uncomfortable like other men had at times. Of course, he had instructions from her zio to take care of her.
    A heaviness settled in her chest. Was that why Mike paid attention to her? Because it was his duty? No, she was being silly. He liked her. How could he kiss her as he had if he did not like her?
    She sighed as she slipped her feet into the heels. She wished she had more experience with men. All she had for information was her friends’ gossip. Not that she knew whom to believe. Maria thought she knew everything about men, but Gina suspected some of Maria’s claims were fantasy.
    As Gina stood, her dress rode up her thighs and she had to tug and rearrange the clingy fabric until seams matched and nothing showed. She looked in the mirror and had second thoughts about wearing such a revealing dress. Then she imagined how Mike’s eyes would get glassy and his gaze would run down her body, and she started feeling warm and giddy.
    The doorbell rang and she quickly checked her teeth for lipstick before going to answer it. Even though she knew it was Mike, she peeked through the peephole as he had counseled her, but saw no one.
    She grinned and then called out, “Who is it?”
    “It’s Mike.”
    “How do I know it is you?”
    Silence, and then he said, “Come on, Gina.”
    “Step back so I can see you.”
    “Very funny.” He did as she asked. “Okay?”
    “Another step back.”
    “Gina, do you want to go out tonight or not?”
    She smiled when he moved back and she got a good view of him. He wore a silky, burgundy printed shirt and black jeans that were snug enough to start that funny flutter again. She flattened her palms against the door, pretending it was his chest, and watched the way he rubbed his jaw and then pushed his hand through his hair.
    Maybe they should stay in the apartment tonight. She could make him some pasta and then they could get comfortable and then maybe—
    “Gina?”
    “Yes, Michael?”
    “Are you going to let me in?”
    She unlocked the dead bolt, opened the door and kept a straight face. “Turn around so I know it is really you.”
    His gaze met hers and a thrilling intensity in his eyes made it impossible for her to look away. He moved forward and she automatically took a step back. One side of his mouth started to lift.
    Ah, so he was playing a game. When he moved toward her again, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. “There is one way to tell if you are really Michael Mason.”
    His left eyebrow shot up, but he did not try to move away or pry her hands from his shirt. He stared down at her, expectant, watchful, while he reached behind and closed the door.
    She swallowed and resisted the impulse to release him and back away. “A kiss would reveal who you really are.”
    “Is that right?” His gaze lowered to her mouth.
    Her breath caught and she could only nod.
    “Like this?” He lightly brushed his lips across hers.
    It was maddeningly brief and chaste. “You are not Michael Mason.”
    He smiled, his mouth curving in that sexy way that made her want to squeeze her legs together, and she braced herself for a real kiss.
    He glanced at his watch. “Are you ready?”
    Disappointment dampened her mood. “I have to get my purse. Michael?” She had started to turn, and when she suddenly