AN #1: Goodness me, the feedback and love I received for my first two chapters have have made my year. Seriously, some of you are also authors and to know you liked my work makes me want to go all Sally Field on you...I give all of you an Italian double kiss and will make you arancini if you ever visit!

As always, I own nothing about TBL but my angst.

Chapter Three

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Red and Lizzie settled into a comfortable booth, somehow semi-private and also occupying a fairly defensible position.

The frescoed walls were tasteful, and she was certain the servers would be attentive and discrete. Salvatore bowed and scraped to Red. It hwas as if he saved the man's firstborn. Then again, it was Red...for all she knew he probably had.

After Red made the presumptive move to order them both an aperativo, Lizzie attempted to assert her preference for some variety of chicken salad. Red huffed, offended at the boring choice. "Lizzie, no! That's for silly tourists and bland suburbanites!" He leaned in conspiratorially, "Instead, let's have arancini. And for an entrée you have to try the trenette ala pescatrice, it's the best I've had outside of the Amalfi coast."

Lizzie frowned at his continued high-handedness. "Red, I am fully able to both cause you a great deal of pain and order my own meal."

He smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I know you are quite the multitasker and am fully aware of your many talents. Lizzie, I must say you exude a marvelous hint of ferocity when in a fit of pique. Puts me in mind of what you would look like..."

He shook his head and tilted it to the side, as if he was shifting his perspective. "You know I enjoy that about you, sweetheart: the lion heart behind the Mona Lisa smile. Keeps me guessing. As for our order I can call them back and eat the most plebeian of entrees...or you can keep trusting me and just enjoy a truly decadent meal."

Shaking her head, Lizzie waved at him to continue. It wasn't worth it. If I don't like the meal, she ruminated while examining her salad fork, I can always stick this in the other side of his neck.

Red chuckled, "Plotting, my dear? It's so adorable when you contemplate something that involves grave bodily injury. Really puts a twinkle in your eye."

Lizzie muttered something unintelligible regarding Red's parentage, and was moving to change the subject when he beat her to it. "If I may inquire, what were you visiting that despicable merchandise emporium? Please tell me it wasn't for something for yourself. Or even worse, for me. Lizzie, I do have standards." Red pursed his lips in a mocking moue of displeasure.

Lizzie was caught between admitting she cared about his opinion regarding her wardrobe and staying ahead of his diabolical mind if she chose to conceal the truth. It wasn't worth it. It was extraordinarily hard to hoodwink this criminal. The man likely had stock in smoke and mirrors and a degree in obfuscation.

Liz took a deep breath and attempted to answer nonchalantly. "I just had some free time and wanted to supplement my winter wardrobe, but nothing caught my eye." Red slowly began to grin.

To watch the process was to witness a fire growing from a spark, all warmth and light, kindled in the first upturn of his lips, spreading over his features. His eyes reflected the glow and Lizzie was caught by its sudden beauty, a glimpse of the man behind the mask of a bon vivant.

Even while drawn to the transformative warmth, she was still caught off-balance when Red leaned over to grasp her hand. "That's because they sell trash. You were never meant to be clothed in cheap and disposable garments." He turned her hand over, and traced the faint blue of her veins on her wrist. "Do you see this skin?"

He traced the tips of his fingers back and forth, up to her elbow, down to the heel of her hand. "This flawless skin was only meant to be showcased by the most perfect tailoring, caressed by the finest of fabrics." Lizzie stared, completely flummoxed, as her mind stuttered and her body started to sing.

Red ceased stroking her arm and brought her wrist to his lips, maintaining eye contact and with the most subtle of smiles. His kiss was brief, but held more intent then any other Lizzie had ever experienced.

Red returned her hand to her lap and leaned back to his previous position. The distance between them, once both friendly and casual, but now felt like either the length of the savannah between a lion and his prey, or some sort of dueling ground. Their eyes held an intense conversation. Lizzie couldn't breathe.

Thankfully, their appetizer arrived, and the crispy morsels both provided a welcome respite from the previous intensity and broke their gaze. Lizzie found that in that moment, only bits of her primal brain were fully functioning. She was grateful that some of those bits could be distracted by fried food.

A small draft from two servers rushing by moved over her lap, catching the small bit of moisture left on her wrist from his lips. Liz fought to control the resulting shiver.

Red continued without acknowledging the moment. "So, to accomplish our goal of getting you properly clothed, we'll just pop over to a few stores and one independent boutique. That should cover your winter necessities. Anything else can be made by an affiliate of my tailor. Etienne is a genius with fabric, despite his awful taste in music and furniture. That, and his proclivity for greyhound racing. Those poor bitches."

Lizzie's brain, fueled by the influx of calories, finally started processing Red's sartorial soliloquy and slammed on the breaks. Turning back towards him, she tried to employ courtesy. "Red, there is no reason to put yourself out. It was just a little frivolous whim to buy a few things, not a new wardrobe."

She could see the cogs whirling and Red plotting the next ten minutes of their conversation, ensuring that any outcome would favor him.

"Lizzie, I'll put myself out whenever I please. I'm remarkably easy in that respect. In fact, I am positively wanton in my desire to assist you. I adore a bit of frivolity, now and again. That I get to combine it with your wardrobe overhaul - well, that makes it truly fun."

For the second time in an afternoon, Lizzie wondered if she should give Red a demonstration of how she could harm someone with a fork. Or perhaps a spoon...it would hurt more.

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AN #2: a bit of an allusion to one of my favorite characters, there. Please continue to review if so moved. Feedback is fuel!