Heart pounding, I shake my head. "Not really. He lives in my building."

His expression turns speculative, and I know I'm in trouble. "Hmmm, I think you've been holding out on me."

"He's a neighbor," I say firmly, as if that will make it true, "nothing more."

"That's a shame. Please, please, please, tell me he's not married."

"He's not married," I mutter. Sucking in a breath, I repeat Matteo's own words, hoping they'll feel like a glass of cold water in my face. ...