Daniella Belle drives me crazy. That is, in a feel-good, I-want-you-so-bad-it-drives-me-crazy kind of a way. Yet I think I’m doing an academy-award-winning act of portraying this cool business-focused guy, who is not at all interested.

Although I have mentally punched myself a few times when I caught myself flirting.

And staring.

The woman is, after all, absolutely mesmerizing—getting to me like no other.

Perhaps it’s due to the simple fact I can’t have her.

Yep. That’s gotta to be it.

How the hell am I to survive ten days in Milan with this woman?

Avoid any time alone with her—at all costs.

We’re almost there, maybe just a couple of hours to spare. I’ve had an ingenious idea of how to get to know her a little better—asking her to tell me three things about herself that no one else knows.

Her green eyes glisten as she thinks of what to share. “Okay. I’m ready.” She lets out a soft giggle. “One: Taylor Swift is the only celebrity that I would have a full-on fangirl moment over, if I met her. Two: thunder and lightning frighten the hell out of me. And…” She hesitates for only a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Three: I sleep completely nude.”

Wait. What? Did she just say nude?

As in…

Bare. Hot. Nakedness.

Someone just kill me.

The mere thought of Daniella naked makes me all—

“Nude?” I swallow the sizable lump in my throat.

“I know. TMI, right? But you did ask for three things and—”

“Wait. Why nude?” I interrupt.

“It’s quite simple, actually. I can’t stand the way clothes get all tangled up in the covers. So sleeping nude eliminates that problem. You should try it.”

Next to you? I shake the illicit thought from my head.

“And what about you?”

“No. I don’t sleep nude. Yet.” A chuckle escapes me.

A wry smile surfaces. “I meant, what are your three things? That no one knows about you? Her long eyelashes fan her gorgeous face as she sits, face on palm, eager to hear my reply.

Right. This is supposed to be dual participation. Think, Antonio.

“Okay, Miss Belle. Three things. One: I’ve never seen one Godfather movie. Two: the color yellow makes be wanna barf. And three: I would give anything to live a normal guy’s life.”

Daniella looks at me, wonder shooting through her eyes to mine. “A normal guy’s life?”

I lower my gaze from her penetrating one. “Yep. You know, no paparazzi, no semi-fame. Just a regular guy living life with no spectators.”

“I see. Then you should plan your escape.”

I look up now, intrigued by her suggestion. “Plan my escape?” I laugh lightly.

“Yeah. For instance, if you could go anywhere in the world, away from it all, where would you go?”

A deserted island with you. Duh. “I never actually gave much thought to that. Maybe I’d escape to a little town in Italy. Live in a modest-sized home.”

“Now that you’ve got it all planned out, you should make it happen. Even if it’s only for a week or two. Unwind. No phone. No internet. No work. Nothing but solitary freedom.”

“Are you wearing your confident panties again? You’re good at making convincing suggestions.” I wink and her face beams.

“I never leave home without them.” She winks back, being just as coy.

She’s pretty keen and I admit, this suggested plan sounds quite enticing. I could stand to get away from it all for a few days. Or for a year. Or forever—operating CraveMe remotely. Only, part of me is too chicken to take such a leap.

Alone, anyway.

“Why are you afraid of thunder and lightning?” I say, covertly taking our conversation back to her.

She wilts into the seat, quickly turning away, now looking out the window. “I grew up in Texas where rainstorms are pretty intense, hurricane-like, in fact.”

“Okay…there’s more, right?”

She shifts in her seat, now facing me again, a dull grimace emerging. “Right. Well I didn’t have the luxury of curling up in Mommy and Daddy’s bed during my first storm, all safe and protected. My foster mom wasn’t that generous. Sure, my two foster sisters, her own daughters, got that. But not me. I was told there was no room for all of us and I was sent back to my room. Alone. The growling and rumbling sounds of the thunder—violently shaking my windows, echoing throughout my entire room—it was all too frightening for me, then only five years old, so I ended up sleeping in the closet. And…I’ve been frightened ever since.”

My mouth drops open, and if I’ve ever had a sorry I probed moment, this would definitely top all others.

I imagine a young and frightened Daniella. Shame on her foster mom for being so…uncaring.

“Daniella, I totally shouldn’t have intruded.” I place my hand on her arm, hoping it comforts her in some way. God knows I want to hold her.

But I can’t cross that line.

“It’s okay. I just don’t tell too many people. It’s kind of embarrassing. Me all grown up now and still afraid of thunderstorms.” She scoffs under her breath. “Luckily there aren’t too many in Los Angeles.” She smiles, a signal her slightly somber mood has eased into a more jovial one.

I’ll never bring it up again. Nor will I probe into why she had a foster mom. Even though I am hungry to know what happened to her own parents.

“So back to you, now.” She wriggles her way into a more comfortable position, now sitting cross-legged. “We’ve totally gotta get you to watch The Godfather. I mean it’s the ultimate guy flick.”

I stifle a laugh. “Is there no end to your suggestions?” Not only is this woman so incredibly foxy, she’s also quite adorable.

She purposely flutters her long butterfly-like lashes. “I am the queen of suggestions.”

“Ciao, Ladies and Gentlemen; as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Grazie.”

The flight attendant’s announcement seems to startle both Daniella and me, abruptly ending our conversation.

It’s been a long flight indeed, but an enjoyable one at that, with her by my side.

And now Milan. With Daniella. God help me.