Gaining Visibility (20 page)

“That sounds heavenly.” She would have to beg off from Sunday dinner somehow. Maybe feign a headache or too much packing to get done.

Vitale's eyes opened and his gaze locked with hers for a moment. He started to say something, thought better of it, and took another sip instead.

Something about his look, and maybe the heady effect of the wine, made her bold. She took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. “Vitale, would you like to go with me to Florence? I'll be working some. That's the part of my trip where I'm scheduled to be looking for lines for the business. But, since I've found your pieces, some of what I came here for is already taken care of, so I won't mind taking additional personal time—” She stopped when he started shaking his head.

“I cannot, Julietta. I would enjoy, but I must work much when the weather she is good. The winter, she does not allow for the stonework then. That is when I spend the time in the studio.”

Julia swallowed her disappointment. “I understand.” She hadn't really expected him to accept her offer, but hearing the finality in his voice made her wonder if she'd overstayed her welcome after all. Was he anxious to be rid of her so his life could get back to normal? She enjoyed having houseguests, but she was always relieved when they left.

Bedtime a couple of hours later compounded her angst.

“Julietta.” Vitale pulled her close as they settled in for the night. “I think I am too tired to make the love tonight.”

“I understand.” That damn word again. “You've put in a long day.” And she did understand, or at least her brain did. Her body was a different matter. It surged out of neutral merely at the thought of him. The sound of his voice, his touch, his breath on her neck sent her into high gear in record time.

His eagerness night after night had suggested she had the same effect on him, but she should've known better. Reality had a knack for showing up when it was least welcome.

Angelina's fears were ungrounded. The expiration date on this fling had now been set.

Julia could only hope the remaining time would somehow pass slowly.

C
HAPTER
18

J
ulia awoke the next morning with an emptiness that was more than hunger. Vitale was already gone. She'd wanted to start the day with at least a glimpse of him, a chance to read his mood to see if he really was simply exhausted last night or if his ardor for her had started to cool after a week.

A week. Was it possible she'd met him only a week ago? She was as comfortable with him as if she'd known him for years.
Her
desire hadn't cooled a bit. But she couldn't let it consume her either. She forced herself out of bed.

Concentrating on the photographs and descriptions kept her focus off the limited time remaining with Vitale, although as soon as she stopped for a break, it sprang to mind.

Around two o'clock, she called Hettie, hoping the distraction would be good for them both. She waited patiently as the phone rang. It sometimes took Hettie a few rings to maneuver the phone into place, especially in the morning when she claimed her good arm wasn't awake yet. But Julia's patience turned to anxiety as the ringing continued long past what should've been acceptable.

Her breath left her in a whoosh when the familiar voice finally answered. “Hello?”

“Hettie, it's Julia. Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine. You just woke me.”

Julia checked her watch. “I woke you up? You've usually had breakfast by now.”

“I wasn't hungry.” That seemed odd. Alarms started going off in Julia's head until Hettie added, “Camille brought the chocolates, and I did have a couple of them with some coffee, though.”

“Now, now. You shouldn't let chocolates take the place of breakfast.

“Now, now.” Hettie mimicked her tone. “You shouldn't try to tell me what to do. I've earned the right to eat chocolate for breakfast if I want.”

There was the spark Julia had been waiting for. She relaxed. “Duly noted. So, how are you feeling?”

“I'm tired. We had a pianist who came in and gave a concert last night. He could play anything, and he took requests, so we ended up staying up until after nine listening to him. I haven't been up past nine o'clock in years.”

“That sounds like you had a great time.”

Hettie chuckled. “Yeah, it was fun. So, anything keeping you up at night?” She sounded like her old self again.

“Well, I do have this project I'm completing for Vitale,” Julia answered.

“I'd have bet on it.”

Julia ignored the insinuation and proceeded to explain how she'd been spending her daylight hours. Halfway through her story, Hettie yawned loudly. “Are you sure you're okay?” Julia asked.

“I'm fine. Just sleepy.”

If Julia had hoped for a rousing exchange, it definitely wasn't going to happen this morning. Hettie simply wasn't up to it. “Well, shall I let you get back to your nap?”

“Yeah, and you get back to playing with your Italian.”

Julia laughed. “Okay, but only because you told me to.”

“Love you, dear.”

“Love you, too. I'll call you Sunday.”

“I'll be here. Bye.”

So staying up until nine had exhausted Hettie. That was probably to be expected. Hard as it was to admit, her beloved mother-in-law was slipping.

The thought churned Julia's belly as she went back to the job at hand.

* * *

Time was such a frustrating entity. Sometimes it moved too fast, like her time left with Hettie . . . and Vitale. Other times moved too slowly, like these hours away from him.

The thought had no more surfaced in her brain than Vitale came bursting through the door of the studio. One look at his dark features told her this was not a “Honey-I'm-home” moment.

“Julietta.” He stalked to where she stood and loomed over her, hands fisted and resting on his hips.

What had she done that had angered him so? “What's wrong?”

“You do not tell me Orabella and Mama come yesterday.”

Oh, that. “No.” She shrugged and started rearranging the purple sheet for the next shot.

His hands grasped her shoulders and swung her around to face him again. “Orabella say Mama not nice to you. Is this true?”

“She's worried about you. She wants you to be with a woman nearer your age. Get married. Have children.” She shrugged again.

His bottom lip protruded as his brows lifted. “But Mama should not say the not nice thing. We go now, and I tell her this. She apologize.”

“No, Vitale.” Julia mirrored his raised eyebrows. “You can't go around trying to fix everything for everybody.”

“I do not feex the everything for all the people.” His angry tone confirmed she'd hit a nerve. “But I feex this.” His finger poked the air, punctuating his words.

“There's nothing to fix here.” Julia grabbed his hand. “Your mother is caring for you because that's what mothers do. She's trying to keep you from making a mistake with me. That's all.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and raised it slightly. “Mama is not Vitale. Do you think the time, she has been the mistake?” His eyes searched hers as if he would find the answer there rather than in her words.

She licked her lips as she pondered his question. Yesterday, she'd been so sure she had a purpose here. But last night and this morning she'd been wondering if she'd stayed too long. So now it came down to this—if she had the time to do over, would she do it again? Yes. Unequivocally yes. But how did he feel about it? “No,” she answered. “I've had a great time, and I don't think it has been a mistake. Do you?”

“No, no the mistake.” His lips swooped down and met hers with such force she stiffened, preparing for pain, but there was none. His lips were demanding, yet tender. His heat flowed into her, and she met his demand and added some of her own.

“I would make the mistake if I do not make the love to you now.” His voice was husky against her cheek. “But I need the shower. You join me?”

She nodded and he kissed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

“Vitale, did Orabella come see you on the job?” she asked as they made their way inside. “How did you know they were here yesterday?” Not that it really mattered, but she was curious.

“Yes, and then I hurry to finish and to come the home early.”

He wasn't in a hurry for her to leave. He was in a hurry to finish. . . to get back to her. She pulled him to a halt. “Vitale?”

He looked down at her, surprised.

She took his face in her hands, raised up on the tiptoes of her good foot, and kissed him again.

He smiled. “Tonight we make the love and relax, yes? I plan another surprise tomorrow.”

Julia wasn't sure what he had in mind for tomorrow, but she suspected nothing was going to top the next few hours.

C
HAPTER
19

J
ulia hadn't spent a day on the beach in years. Not since their last family vacation in Destin, Florida. Melissa's last summer at home. Five years ago.

And Destin never looked like this.

Vitale led her through a stand of cypress trees so thick they gave no hint of what lay beyond. Stepping out on the other side was like stepping into another world. Before her lay a horseshoe-shaped cove rimmed by a narrow beach of small, cream-colored pebbles. Turquoise water deepened to sapphire and then midnight blue as her eyes scanned away from the shore. Even her large sunglasses couldn't tame the brilliance of the sunlight sparkling across the crest of each wave.

“Is beautiful, yes?” Vitale's arm hung casually across her shoulder.

She slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “I've never seen a more beautiful beach.”

“I have the hope we would be alone.” His wave indicated the three other couples who dotted the coastline. One was elderly, the other two twenty-somethings. They all had one thing in common.

“The women are topless.” Julia fought to keep the shock out of her voice. She'd seen topless sunbathers during the boat tour, but those had been on lone yachts out on the water, away from everything else. These women were within spitting distance. She glanced up at Vitale, whose attention was focused on a sailboat out at sea.

He shrugged. “
Sì.
Is common on the some beaches in Italy.” A cloud of concern dropped over his face, and he turned to her. “Oh, Julietta,
mi dispiace.
The many beaches are not. We go to the different one.” He grabbed her hand and started retreating toward the line of cypress trees.

She pulled back. “No, Vitale. Please stop feeling that you have to protect me.”

“But I tell you before, I feex the things it is possible to feex, yes?” His hand pushed through his hair in frustration.

“It's fine. Really. This is a perfect place. I want to stay.” She gave a sheepish laugh. “It's not the issue with my breasts so much as my prudish, American upbringing reaction.”

His eyes searched her face. “You are sure of this?”

She flashed him a smile and nodded. “Positive. C'mon.” She dragged him back toward the water, trying not to stare, but the sunglasses afforded her some glances that satisfied her curiosity.

None of the women had telltale swimsuit lines. They obviously did this often. The elderly woman's large belly swayed as she moved from the surf toward her towel. Her biscuit-brown suntan stretched from forehead to toes, broken only by the swath of red swimsuit bottom and the dozen gold chains hanging between her pendulous breasts.

The young women chatted, flanked by their male companions, both of whom appeared to be asleep. She wasn't surprised to see the chatting stop and all three of the women gawking at Vitale.

Julia nudged him playfully. “I could take my top off and they wouldn't even notice.”

“This is true,
bella mia
. For the woman to be without the top on the beach is very common in Italy. They would not notice the breasts. Only how beautiful you are.”

But they would notice her scars. She couldn't show those in public . . . could she? As he shook the towels out to lie on, she shook the notion from her head. It was silly to even toy with the idea.

She turned her attention to Vitale and watched with awe as he pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him in only his swimsuit. Even after a week of seeing him naked, the perfection of his physique still made her breath stop.

She stepped reluctantly out of her shorts, feeling like a Volkswagen next to a Ferrari. “Want to swim first?” The water called to her—and it would be the perfect cover.

Vitale nodded enthusiastically. “I am ready to swim at all the time.”

“I'd race you to the water”—she gave a dramatic sigh—“but I have this toe thing going on.”

Like a gigantic bird of prey, Vitale scooped her up. “I have the Julietta thing going on.” His announcement came just before he took off toward the water. Julia's laugh became a shriek, and she clung to his neck, heart pounding as fast as his feet on the pebbles. He plunged in at full speed.

The water engulfed them before she had a chance to dread the cold, which turned out not to be cold at all but more like bath water.

Letting go of his neck, she took a deep breath and pushed out of his arms and under the incoming wave. After a week of hobbling about on foot, the freedom was exhilarating. She remained underwater until her breath ran out, then surfaced to find Vitale right beside her.

“You are the very good swimmer.”

The awe in his voice sent her ego soaring. “That's been part of my workout, swimming laps several times a week.” She pointed to a log floating fifty yards away. “Wanna race?”

The side of Vitale's mouth quirked. “Do the champion win the prize?”

She thought for a moment, searching for something appropriate with other people present, and at last came up with, “How about a backrub?” Vitale's eyes hooded in question. “A massage. On the back.” She gave him a quick demonstration.

“
Va bene.
” He gave a curt nod.

“That's settled, then. On your mark. Get set. Go!” Julia shot off as soon as she finished the last word. She gave it all she had, keeping her head down as much as possible, pulling with her arms, pushing with her legs. She skimmed along, the tepid water giving her buoyancy and freedom, leaving Vitale in her wake. She wasn't swimming, she was flying. Soaring. Winning.

Soon, her fingertips scraped across the rough wood. She grasped it and turned to find him several lengths behind her, his graceful form cutting elegantly through the water.

He straightened up and ran his hands up his face and through his hair, flinging water in all directions. “You win the backarubba,
bella mia
.” He held her by the elbows and nibbled playfully on her neck, teeth grazing the outside of her ear. “I give it here?”

Still reveling in her victory, the hot sun warming her back and a hot Greek god warming her front, she was Aphrodite, emerging from the sea in all her glory. She had won the first challenge. The second was within reach . . . and this chance might never come again. Besides, no one but Vitale could see her out here.

She pulled at the neckbands of her swimsuit until they dropped to the side and her breasts fell free.

Vitale's eyebrows shot up in surprise before his mouth settled into an approving smile.

“When in Rome . . .” She unhooked the back of her top and flung it away along with her inhibitions.

Vitale gave a wild whoop and caught up with it, holding it up in one hand like a victor's trophy before slinging it around his head and letting go.

For the better part of an hour, they played catch and raced and frolicked until they were both exhausted. The time had come for a nice, relaxing float on the air mattresses, which were still folded up in the bag on the beach. They swam to where the water was shallow enough to walk out but still chest high.

Julia hesitated, clutching the swimsuit top like a lifeline. Could she actually walk out of the water with her breasts bare, scars exposed? The saltwater stung where she'd chewed her bottom lip too vigorously.

Vitale's stride had taken him a couple of yards ahead. He stopped and turned to look at her, not saying anything, but the tender expression in his eyes shouted, “You can do this.” He held out his hand.

She moved forward and took it, still covered but gathering strength and courage from his willingness to be her escort. His hand around hers was warm and large and, when he touched his lips to her hand, she knew she could probably face anything.

They walked out of the surf together.

The other beachgoers did turn and look, but no one stared. At least not at her. The men smiled, but the smiles were friendly, not mocking.

The women had no clue Vitale was in the company of anyone.

When Julia and Vitale got to the towels and the air mattresses, it was Vitale who had to blow them up. Julia's heart was still racing too much, demanding all of her extra air. She talked herself through the hyperventilation, assuring herself this was merely a new experience, she was a survivor, and she simply needed to get through the first fifteen minutes. After that, everything would be fine.

And it was.

Within a quarter hour, she was relaxing back on her elbows, face turned up in homage to the sun, chest thrust out to catch the rays as if, like these other women, she'd done it all her life.

* * *

Julia heard Vitale move and sensed he'd left her. When he didn't return after a couple of minutes, she squinted one eye against the sun.

He squatted a few feet away, his camera aimed directly at her.

She shot up into a sitting position, hands molding to her breasts in a reflexive move that shielded them from the lens. “Vitale! No!”

“
Sì,
Julietta. Do not cover.” His tone was that of a father correcting an errant child. He stood up and moved a few feet to the left. “You have the need to see how beautiful you are.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows impatiently. “I feex if you do not like. Yes?”

She glared at him, hands defiantly gripping the skin that stayed perpetually cool with only liquid sacs beneath.

One side of his mouth rose. “When in Roma . . .”

Her shoulders slumped in surrender and her hands fell away. Sheesh! One twitch of his mouth and she was exposing naked breasts to a camera. Thank God he hadn't given her one of his smiles.... She rested back again on her elbows, trying to ignore the sounds of the camera as he caught her from every angle. But she only truly relaxed again when she felt Vitale settle onto the towel next to her. His lips laid a path of kisses up the back of her arm from elbow to shoulder, and her body shuddered a responsive hurrah to this newly found erogenous zone.

“The photographs, they are not only to see how beautiful you are.” Vitale's voice was right beside her ear, and his breath shimmied across the lobe and down her neck. She smiled at the double pleasure of the feeling and his words. “They are for Vitale also. I want to remember you in this way.”

His voice was drenched in the sensual huskiness she'd grown used to—the one that preceded the descriptions of delicious things he wanted to do to her body in bed, sometimes murmured in Italian, but easily translated.

When he didn't follow up, curiosity got the best of her, and she turned to him in question—one that froze on her lips as soon as she saw the look in his eyes. The passion was there, as expected. But something unexpected lingered also. Something she recognized, knew, feared, lived for, loathed, grasped with her heart, flung aside with her mind.

It had only been a week, and they had only one more day. She couldn't let this happen.

She surged to her feet so fast her head swam. “Hey, I thought we were going to make use of these floats you worked so hard to blow up.”

Carefully avoiding Vitale's confused frown, she grabbed up the green float and limped toward the sea.

Vitale stayed onshore and watched her for a while, as stunning from a distance as he was up close with the sun deepening the bronze luster of his skin. Eventually he followed, paddling out to her on the yellow float, chiseled features set with determination.

She had to gain control of the conversation, and she had to do it fast before he started talking about things that would only make her distraught to think about.

“Teach me some Italian, Vitale,” she said as soon as he reached her. “I've been here a week, and you've been speaking English the whole time. What's the word for sea? Like the water, not ‘see' with the eyes.”

“
Mare
.” He cupped his hand and let a stream of water flow through his fingers onto her stomach.

“
Mare,
” she repeated, trying to mimic the inflection he placed on the first syllable, making the last one sound like an afterthought. She practiced it a few more times as he floated behind her and dribbled water onto her hair. The water crawled along her scalp, making her tingle. “What about swim? What's the verb for ‘to swim'?”

“
Nuotare.
”

“
Nuotare. Nuotare.
” She flung out an arm dramatically and gave it her best Italian effort. “
Nuotare.
Mmm. I love the Italian language. It makes even the most mundane things sound glorious.”

“The
americana,
she love everything.”

She heard the splash as he rolled off his float. A wave of motion flowed under her; then he popped out of the water at her feet.

“You say you love to swim. You love the food. You love the flower. You love the daughter. Everything. Always ‘love'... or ‘feex.' ”

He made a good point . . . sarcastic, but good. “You're right,” she acquiesced. “We do tend to overuse the words. They're just expressions.” She sat up and shrugged. “So, how would
you
say, ‘I love to swim'?”

“
Mi piace nuotare.
It please me to swim.”

Sitting up made the mattress a little wobbly. She hooked her knees around the edge and dangled her legs in the water.

Vitale took immediate advantage of her position and claimed the bottom half she'd just freed up. Somehow he managed to get astride without tipping them over. They floated face-to-face. The sudden close proximity caused Julia's breath to hitch, and the air around them rose several degrees.

“We do not use the word
love
for everything,” Vitale said. “Only the special thing. The special people.” Using his hands as paddles, he moved the two of them smoothly across the water. “I love Mama, Papà. To them I say,
Ti voglio bene.
”