CHAPTER

Sixty-eight

Clutching a glass of champagne, Mildred stared out the tiny window of the first-class cabin.

She was finally headed home.

Sighing, she reached for the airplane telephone, swiped her credit card down its side, and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Geneva?”

“Mildred?”

“Yes, it's me.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine now.”

“Where are you?”

“On my way home.”

“Oh, good. That crazy-ass Chevy wasn't giving me any information, and every time I dialed your number, you didn't pick up. I didn't know what in the world was going on—”

“I'll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“Okay, then.”

“Bye.”

Mildred hung up and took a sip of her drink.

“ 'Scuse me, miss?”

Mildred turned her head and came face-to-face with a gorgeous olive-skinned hunk of a man with the greenest eyes and the blackest hair she'd ever seen.

“Sorry to bother you, but I had to come over to tell you that you are stunning.”

Mildred blushed.

“My name is Sergio Martinelli,” he said, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it.

“Mil—I mean, Karma Jackson,” Mildred replied.

“May I?” Sergio asked, indicating the empty seat beside her.

Mildred nodded.

“Do you live in New York?”

“Yes, I do. And you?”

“Me, I live in Italy,” Sergio said, leaning in close. “The land of amore.”

Mildred smiled and took a sip of her champagne.

“Are you married, Karma?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Boyfriend?”

Mildred shook her head no.

Sergio clutched his chest. “God has finally smiled down on Sergio Martinelli,” he announced dramatically. “Would I be being too forward if I invited you to my home in Pisa?”

Mildred cocked her head to one side. What the hell did she have to lose? Mildred Johnson had lived her life. Now it was Karma Jackson's turn.

“No.” Mildred grinned. “You wouldn't be forward at all.”