A/N: Wow! I am really overwhelmed and touched by the response to my first chapter! Thank you all so much! Obviously many of you love Rome, (and romance) or at least the idea of it. I'm so glad.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter too. I will be using some Italian words and phrases from time to time, and I will translate at the end of the chapter if necessary. I don't really speak Italian, so you native speakers please feel free to correct me if I make a mistake.

Now, onto more romance (sort of) in Rome…

Chapter 2: Famiglia (family)

"Virgil!" Lisbon exclaimed as the older man took her into his embrace.

"Teresa," he replied into the top of her head. "So glad you could come"

"Yeah,"chimed in Jane, shaking his hand. "Thanks for getting her to take the first vacation she's had in years."

Minelli laughed. "Happy to help. You remember my lovely bride."

May stepped forward, hugging them both. "I can't believe we're all here!"

"Good you could come too, Cho," Minelli said, offering his hand.

"Yes, sir, Boss. Thanks for the invitation."

Then Minelli turned to the rest of the crowd that had gathered in the hotel restaurant.

"Famiglia di Roma," he announced loudly, "meet famiglia della California!"

"Benvenuto!" echoed through the private dining room. "Welcome!"

Jane, Lisbon and Cho were surrounded by a multitude of Minellis, everyone from the famed sister from Hawaii to uncles, aunts and cousins of the groom. Everyone was speaking a mishmash of Italian and English, hugging them and kissing both cheeks like they were really a part of the family. Virgil and May had never looked happier.

When most everyone had been introduced or had introduced themselves, they settled around the long wooden table, and the waiters came in with platters of antipasto, then bowls of pasta, risotto, various roasted meats, vegetable dishes, bread and, of course, plenty of wine.

Lisbon sat with Jane on one side, and was soon joined on the other by a beautiful raven-haired man with blue eyes very similar to Virgil Minelli's. She had felt those blue eyes on her from the moment she'd stepped into the dining room, and she was flattered that he had somehow managed to secure the seat right next to her when dinner began.

"I am Niccolo Minelli, Virgil's second cousin. And you are Teresa." He took her hand and kissed it, and while Lisbon blushed, Jane's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Yes. How nice to meet you," she replied.

"And I'm Patrick Jane," he intervened.

"Si, si. Virgil's best man."

The two men rose briefly and shook hands. Niccolo was at least a head taller than Jane, and Lisbon couldn't help admiring the Italian's muscular form.

"So, you are with la polizia as well?" He asked Jane. "Just like I hear is the beautiful Teresa."

"No. I'm a consultant actually."

"Oh, I see. You tell them how to solve their crimes."

"Exactly."

"Sort of."

Jane and Lisbon had such different definitions of Jane's job description that Niccolo grinned in understanding. "Aw, you two must be married."

"No!" This time when they spoke at once, they agreed wholeheartedly.

Niccolo laughed softly, and his cerulean gaze rested in appreciation on Lisbon. "I am very glad to hear this." He brought his wine to his full lips and continued watching her over the rim of the glass.

"No, not married, but we are partners," Jane clarified.

Lisbon shot him a look which he pretended not to notice. Partners, eh? He made it sound like they were something more than longtime colleagues.

"Are you from Rome?" Lisbon asked, changing the subject.

"Si, born and raised here."

"But your English is very good," complimented Jane. "You must have studied abroad."

"Si. I attended university in England."

"Ah," said Jane.

"And what do you do here in Rome?" asked Lisbon.

"I am a tour guide now. My degree is in History, and I came back to Roma to teach, but I find myself enjoying more and more showing visitors my beautiful city. I can give you a private tour of the Vatican, the Colosseo, and the Palatino if you wish."

"Oh, I would love that!"

"The day after the wedding then," Niccolo said. "It will be a date. I will show you my Roma." He seemed briefly enraptured by Teresa, then he looked at Jane politely.

"Patrick, you must come too, of course."

"Of course," agreed Jane, but his answering smile was tight. "Teaching jobs must be hard to come by in Rome," he added, and Lisbon elbowed him under the table for his rudeness. He gasped in sudden pain.

"No, not at all," replied the oblivious Nicollo. "I will teach a class at Sapienza each semester, but I much prefer being outside, surrounded by beauty. Although one finds beauty in the most unexpected of places."

His eyes were on Lisbon when he said this, and Jane found the man irksome to the extreme. He rubbed his bruised side and fumed silently.

They continued to dine on the wonderful food, but the more involved Lisbon and Niccolo became in their conversation, the less Jane felt like eating. He glanced across the table to see how Cho was faring, and grinned when he saw that the younger man was flanked by two of Virgil's elderly aunts, who pinched his dimpled cheeks often and clearly spoke little English.

What had been a wonderful afternoon had suddenly lost most of its luster. He felt like a child whose playmate had found a new friend, and damned if he wanted to share.

An hour later, after many courses and toasts to the happy couple, Jane had had enough.

"Lisbon," he said softly, but she was so involved with Nicollo and their conversation about the catacombs on the outskirts of the city that she didn't hear him at first.

"Lisbon," he said again, more loudly, this time touching her shoulder at the same time.

"What?" she said, turning to him with barely contained annoyance.

"We've had a very long day, and morning will come very soon. Shouldn't we get to bed?"

He could have said to sleep, or retire, but he had chosen his words carefully, and while Lisbon was too tired to catch his meaning, Nicollo certainly had, and he raised his eyebrows and smirked a little in understanding.

Just planting the suggestion caused Lisbon to yawn, her hand coming up to her mouth in embarrassment.

"Oh, excuse me, Nicollo. It's not the company, I assure you."

"Not at all. And Patrick is right. You must get some sleep. The sooner the morning comes, the sooner I may see you again."

Lisbon blushed, and it wasn't just from the three glasses of wine she'd enjoyed.

The pair rose, as did Nicollo. "May I walk you to your room?" he asked.

Jane reached for her arm. "That's quite all right," said Jane. "We have adjoining rooms."

"Oh," said Nicollo. "I see."

"Jane—" said Lisbon, finally catching on. She shot Jane a look that would freeze a lesser man, but Jane only smiled innocently.

"It's not what you think, Nicollo," Lisbon continued. "We are only colleagues. But he and I are heading in the same direction," she said, holding out her hand to him. "It has been nice talking with you. I'll see you tomorrow at the wedding."

Nicollo leaned down and kissed her lingeringly on each cheek.

"Buona notte, Teresa."

"Buona notte, Nicollo."

"My friends call me Nicki, you know," he said.

"Well, good-night…Nicki."

Jane nodded to the Italian and hastened Lisbon off to say their farewells to Minelli and May, putting her arm purposefully through his.

Later, in the elevator, Lisbon dropped his arm and turned to him curiously. "What's with the manhandling all of a sudden?"

"It's that Nicollo. He's a real rounder. You should steer well clear of him."

"What? He was very charming. Sure, he likes to flirt, but I hear that's the way most Italian men behave."

"My point exactly."

"And so what if he was interested in me?" she asked in annoyance. "I came here to enjoy myself for a change. Nothing wrong with some harmless flirtation."

"He must be at least ten years younger than you."

He could almost see the steam shooting from her ears.

"And what the hell difference does that make? You think he's after my money or something?" She laughed without humor. "That's funny."

"No," said Jane seriously, just as the elevator door opened on their floor. "I think he's trying to get you in bed, and he thinks that because you're an older woman, you'll be much more desperate, and much more…grateful."

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw his error immediately, and he scrunched up his face in preparation for a sock in the nose. But it didn't come.

"Go to hell, Jane," she said, brushing past him to flee down the hall to her room.

"Lisbon, wait!" he called, trotting after her. But she'd made it to her door and had shut and put the chain on before he'd had time to catch up.

He knocked softly. "Lisbon, please open the door and let me apologize."

He heard a faint rustling just behind the door, and knew she must still be standing there. He directed his attention to the peephole. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I'm just trying to look after you."

There was a moment of silence, and he could imagine her on the other side, fists clenched in anger.

"I'm a big girl, Jane. I don't need you to look after me," she finally said through the door, exhaustion riddling her voice. She sighed. "We're both tired, so I'm going to forget you ever said any of that crap you did. Good night, Jane. I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same."

Jane was reluctant to leave things this way, but he could tell most of the fire had drained from her in her extreme fatigue.

"Okay," he said. "See you in the morning."

His hand briefly touched her door, and then he walked the few steps to his own, going through the motions of sliding his key card and entering his quiet, lonely room. He was oddly comforted to know she was just a wall away from him, and he put his ear to the adjoining door to listen. He could hear the sound of water running, the rustling of clothing being removed and bedding being drawn back. Soon, the light from beneath the door went out, and after her very audible yawn, he imagined with a smile Lisbon closing her eyes and settling in to sleep.

He didn't stop listening until he heard her deep breathing, and his own eyes grew heavy.

"Fino a domani, la mia bellisima amica,"1 he whispered, then crawled into his own bed to sleep, the sound of Lisbon's laughter filling his dreams.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho watched his coworkers across the table with an internal smile. Jane was clearly jealous of the Italian guy flirting with Lisbon, and it made for some very amusing entertainment. He wished they'd just do it already and put themselves (and him) out of their misery. Had Rigsby been there, he surely would have placed a bet that the long-time friends would become lovers by the end of this trip. Cho would have had to concur.

On his side of the table, however, it wasn't quite so much fun, and sex certainly didn't seem a prospect for Cho in the near future. Minelli's aunts were very sweet, but they were also very old. Cho had a deep respect for the elderly, so he listened politely as they tested their rusty English, which amounted to comments about the restaurant's inferior food (compared to theirs) and intense interest in his marital status. Of course, they knew plenty of women who would be suitable for a handsome, successful Americano, some of who were related to the Minelli family. He'd smiled and allowed his dimples to show, which they took great pleasure in pinching while at the same time making a fuss over his firm biceps. Still, despite the old women's opinions, the food and wine were good, so the evening wasn't a total loss.

After Jane and Lisbon left, Cho made his excuses to the widows, wished Virgil and May luck for the morrow, and with the best intentions headed for the elevator and his waiting bed. Unfortunately, jetlag was still messing with his internal clock, and he felt the need to see the darkness to put him in the best frame of mind for sleeping. He glanced at the clock in the lobby. Ten-forty-five. He shook his head and went out the hotel doors and into the night.

The crowds had dispersed from around the beautifully lit Spanish Steps and all that remained were a few strolling night owls, and lovers in search of a bit of romantic privacy. Cho decided he'd walk once around the square and then make an attempt at sleep. He'd gone only a quarter way around when he heard two people—male and female-having a vehement argument in rapid Italian in the shadowy space between buildings. Even if he'd brought his Italian phrasebook, there would be no way he'd have been able to follow what they were saying.

But there was no mistaking the word no, especially coming from the mouth of a woman.

Cho stopped short, stepping casually back beneath the awning of a closed shop to listen further, his cop senses perking up despite his being in a foreign country. His hand went automatically to where his holster normally would have been, but he remembered belatedly that he had not brought his weapon to Italy.

As the fight escalated, Cho heard the woman gasp and he could no longer stand idly by. He stepped into the narrow alley in time to see the man grabbing the woman's upper arm violently as she tried to walk away. His back was to Cho, so all he could see in the dim light was a small, dark-haired young woman, no doubt frightened to death of the taller man who continued to yell as she jerked against his grip.

Cho moved quickly, wrapping a thick arm around the man's neck from behind and powering him to his knees, keeping him just above the point of passing out. He smelled strongly of alcohol. At once, the man's hand released the woman and came up to fight feebly against Cho's arm.

"Telefonare la polizia," Cho suggested tightly.

Cho tightened his hold and the man grew limp. He laid him gently to the cobblestones and stepped back, panting softly with exertion and adrenaline. Without warning, Cho felt the weight of a woman's flat leather handbag slamming into the back of his head.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in the midst of being continually pummeled. "Stop! Uh, smettila! Smettila!"

He struggled with her a moment, managing to get hit in the face a couple of times before he grabbed hold of her wrists. They were both breathless now.

"Lady, I was trying to protect you. Stop, please."

"Stupido Americano! Why did you kill my brother?"

Cho instantly dropped her wrists.

"What? He's not dead. Just passed out."

She dropped to her knees beside her hapless brother, patting him firmly on his cheeks.

"This was not your business," she was muttering.

"But he was yelling at you…and he grabbed you like he was about to assault you."

"We always argue in this way. I was yelling too."

"I'm sorry. An understandable mistake. You were speaking so fast—I didn't understand your Italian. Let me help you-"

"I think you have given too much help, eh?" Sarcasm was apparently the same in any language.

Cho stood helplessly by until her brother began to come around with a moan. The woman helped him to sit up, and she spoke to him in soothing Italian. Well, thought Cho, he was going to help whether they liked it or not.

He squatted down and put the man's arm around his shoulder.

"Where are you staying?" Cho asked the woman.

"It's none of your—"
"Look, he's been drinking too, and there's no way you will be able to get him into a bed without help. Please, let me do this."

She looked at him from the other side of her brother, and although he still couldn't see the features of her face, his heart gave a great lurch in his chest.

"D'accordo. Okay," she said, realizing he was right.

"Okay, let's pull him up together then." On Cho's count to three, they both stood, the man's head lolling heavily forward.

"Walk, Luca," she cajoled him, and he began mindlessly sliding his feet along the cobblestones.

"Where are we going?" asked Cho.

"We are meeting our family in a ristorante down the piazza. We are very late. That is why we were arguing."

A sneaking suspicion occurred to Cho. "The Minelli dinner for Virgil and May?"

She stopped suddenly, and Cho and Luca almost fell forward.

"Si," she said. "How do you know this?"

"I was there. I worked with Virgil in the US."

"You are also la polizia?"

"Yeah."

She laughed, and it was low and sexy, like she had been drinking whiskey all her life.

"That is why you attacked poor Luca like he was uno stupratore—a rapist."

"Yes. Sorry."

"No, I am sorry I hit you," she said, suddenly seeing the humor in the situation. "Like Cugino Virgil says to me, once la polizia, always la polizia."

Cho grinned and nodded. "Virgil is your cousin, then?"

"Si. We came in from Napoli, but our train was late. While I was changing at the hotel, Luca visited the bar." Her last words were ominous. His drinking must have been a big part of their argument.

"So I see."

By this time, they had made it into the light of the hotel entrance, and Cho could see the woman's face for the first time. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Black hair fell to her waist in princess-like waves, her mouth full and painted a rich red to match her dress. Her olive skin appeared flawless, and though she was petite, her body was sweetly curved in all the right places. But it was her eyes that caught and held him. They were so light blue they appeared almost silver. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

"What is your name?" he asked her, feeling himself holding his breath in anticipation.

"I am Serena Minelli," she said, and her eyes had gone round at the sight of him. Clearly he wasn't what she had expected either.

"I'm Kimball Cho," he said. "Incantato."2

Then Luca gave another moan and promptly vomited at their feet.

A/N: I hope you laughed in all the right places! I had fun writing this chapter. More romance up next, I promise. Thanks for reading, and I hope you will be so kind as to leave a review.

1. Fino a domani, la mia bellisima amica—Until tomorrow, my beautiful friend.

2. Incantato—Enchanted.