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kissed her.
    Some part of Giulia’s brain tried to put together a complete sentence, and failed.
    Frank pulled a millimeter away. Giulia remained where she was, eyes closed, and Frank kissed her again.
    â€œI like your flexible boundaries,” he murmured.
    Before she could answer, he put one hand against the small of her back and the other around her shoulders. Her mouth opened and his tongue touched hers.
    Don’t sabotage this, old maid Giulia.
    She slid her hand into his buzzed hair and initiated the next kiss. His right hand moved around her shoulder and touched her ear, then her neck. It traveled to the top curve of her breast beneath the silk. She breathed in a long, shaky breath. He froze.
    Her eyes opened. He leaned away and stared at his hand like it belonged to someone else.
    â€œWhat?”
    He snatched away his hand. “Shit. Boundaries. I’m sorry.”
    She made a face. “I didn’t protest.”
    He shook his head. “I shouldn’t touch you like that. You’re a nun.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m going to Hell. I can just hear my grandmother now.”
    â€œI am an ex-nun. Ex.” She sat back against the couch. “I’ll show you my discharge papers.”
    Frank rubbed his face. “You’re different. Set apart. There’s no way I should be thinking about that lacy bra beneath that soft shirt.” He gulped. “Sorry. Shit.”
    â€œMaybe I’m okay with it.”
    His eyes flicked to her cleavage. “Damn it, don’t say things like that.” He straightened his shoulders. “I apologize. I’ll remember how to be a gentleman next time.”
    â€œYou were perfectly—” She gave it up. An adult male with a beguiling grin no longer sat next to her. He’d been usurped by a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I never thought of my breasts as cookies before. A giggle spluttered out of her.
    She waved away his questioning look. “The coffee’s getting cold.”
    Frank handed Giulia her cup. As she watched him stab the first bite of his pie, she thought, This isn’t over, Frank Driscoll. I’ll make you remember I’m a woman, not a plastic statue. As soon as I’m out of the convent … again.

Five
    After late Mass the next day, Giulia stuffed two pairs of panty hose into each Godzilla bedroom slipper. “That’s too many for less than a week, but the stupid things run if you look at them cross-eyed.”
    Her beat-up black suitcase was already packed. “Underwear, cell charger, pajamas, toothbrush, wallet, and all that stuff. Got it.” On top of everything she set the Day-Timer Frank gave her on her first case and tucked a slipper on each side.
    After she zipped her suitcase closed, she gave her plants a final once-over. The (probably) last batches of basil and oregano for the season were drying on paper towels on top of the fridge. The late tomatoes had just a touch of red.
    â€œYou’ll have to survive without me for a few days, guys.” With one finger she stirred the dirt at the base of the tomato. Disintegrating alpaca pellets gave off the faintest odor; in the next breath, it vanished. “Sidney, sales of this fertilizer will put your little brother through college.”
    The habit hung on her closet door like it was nothing more than an innocent, plain black dress. Giulia stalked over and yanked it from the hanger.
    â€œI refuse to let this thing intimidate me. You hear that, dress? That’s all you are: a few yards of double-knit. You’re not a real habit because you’re not blessed.”
    She pulled off her T-shirt and stepped out of her jeans. Poised with the habit over her head, she grinned at her reflection in the narrow full-length mirror. Thank you, imp that sat on my shoulder this morning. If Sister Fabian only knew what lurked under this dress. The red lace bra revealed hints of nipple; the matching panties