Gaining Visibility (6 page)

The stonemason could have his pick and was probably waiting for better fare.

A third glass of wine just to assuage her nosiness seemed silly when a walk down to the village would be beautiful tonight, not to mention better for the tummy Julia was fighting to keep flat. She also wanted to get to bed early because she'd decided to do tomorrow's hike first thing in the morning. That way, she'd have the rest of the day for sightseeing—her last chance to explore Lerici . . . at least, for this trip.

While she contemplated her choices, Adonis excused himself, making up her mind for her. With him gone, the tableau wouldn't be nearly so interesting.

She signed her check and left the finale of the interlude to her imagination.

C
HAPTER
5

B
y ten the next morning, Julia had already hiked seven miles, showered, traded her shorts for a skirt and her hiking boots for flip-flops, and was enjoying a continental breakfast on the patio of the hotel, which once again gave her a full view of the pool and Adonis at work.

She noticed yesterday how he worked from a hodgepodge of large stones sometimes piled two feet high, sifting among them to find the one that worked best. He would eye both the spot and the rock carefully, then chisel the edge for the fit he wanted. And sometimes, after all that work, he'd fume and throw the stone away, and search for another. He certainly was picky about which stone went where. Perhaps color also influenced his choice? As a designer, she could appreciate that.

And she could appreciate the man . . . from a distance. She certainly didn't want to get within his radar and risk the embarrassment of getting caught watching him again. He was used to it, though, she could tell from the self-assured way he carried himself. She couldn't help but notice the number of looks he garnered from the women in the area.

If he lived to be a hundred, this guy would never know what it meant to be invisible.

As she sipped the last of her
caffe latte,
he disappeared around the edge of the building. When he didn't return for at least ten minutes, she decided maybe the coast was clear for a while. Today was her last day in Lerici, so if she was going to get a closer look at the sculpture she'd studied from afar, it had to be now, and preferably while the temperamental stonemason was away. She signed her check and moseyed over toward the clamshell.

The closer she got, the more intriguing the object became. Overlaid with polished mother-of-pearl, the part housed inside the shell—the ball or moon or pearl or whatever it was meant to be—begged to be touched, so she obliged. The smooth orb had already caught the sun, was warm under her palm. A delicate stroke sent it rolling to one end where the concave form sent it back the other direction. She stood mesmerized, rolling the orb from one end to the other, watching the ever-changing display of colors as it moved along the path. It reminded her of the kaleidoscopes she'd enjoyed as a kid, making her feel like a magician wielding great magic with the turn of her wrist or the flick of her finger.

“You like?”

Julia spun around to find the stonemason and the same dark eyes she'd encountered before, but today they weren't so brooding—and they were much closer. So close they stopped her breath for a couple of seconds. “It's . . . it's beautiful,” she finally managed. “I've never seen anything like it. I was trying to decide if it was a pearl or an iris or the moon passing in front of the sun.”

“Iris?” The eyes squinted in the same questioning way as they had the day she arrived, but today they lacked the fire that lit them from behind, replaced instead by a pleasant warmth.

She made a little circle with her finger in front of her eye. “The colored part of the eye. The iris.”

“
Capisco.
” He studied her eyes for a few seconds. “You have the beautiful . . . iris. Like the sea in winter.”

Oh my.
She'd heard about the legendary charm of the Italian men, but she hadn't prepared to deal with it—or her resulting momentary lack of brain function—firsthand. His gaze continued to scrutinize her eyes in a disconcerting manner, and she suddenly felt sorry for all those amoebas in high school biology classes. “Thank you. That's very nice.” She turned back to the sculpture, finding her escape by rolling it once again to the end and back.

“I must work now. I finish today.”

The comment drew her back around to face him. He had one of those smiles that melted a woman's insides. Perfect teeth gripped a lusciously full lower lip. She felt a twinge of disappointment she wouldn't enjoy him with her coffee tomorrow. “Please, go ahead and work.” She gave a dismissive wave. “Don't mind me.”

He didn't move, just continued to stand close, shifting his weight.

“It's been nice talking with you.” She gave a little wave.

He still stood there, then his smile broke into a low chuckle that vibrated in and out and around her. “I am Vitale. I work here.” He pointed to the exact spot where she was standing.

Her eyes flitted across the way to the area where he'd been working earlier, only now noticing it was finished. “Oh, of course. Sorry!” Embarrassed she'd been gawking too much to pick up on his hint, and more than a little flustered, she moved to get out of his way, a stack of nearby stones forgotten.

The side of her knee connected with the precarious pile. She stumbled, trying to miss them, but lost her balance in the process.
Oh God, I'm going to fall.
She fought to keep her skirt from bunching around her hips, trying to preserve some scrap of dignity on her way down. Just when she thought all was lost, two strong hands gripped her arms and kept her upright.

Too bad he didn't have four hands, for while he managed to save
her
from falling, he couldn't do the same for the stones. They toppled every which way with the largest one choosing her foot to break its fall. The corner of the huge rock lunged at her toe and bore into it.

Her knees buckled with pain, but his hands continued to keep her vertical.

“
Aieeee! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!
” She pushed the sounds out through clenched teeth, similar to the Lamaze techniques she'd learned when she was pregnant with Melissa.

They hadn't helped much then either.

With a swift leverage movement using his own foot, Vitale sent the errant stone tumbling, and once the weight was gone, Julia's pain eased a little. But a pulsing throb continued up through the middle of her foot. She leaned away from the comfort of the male body that surrounded her and sneaked a look. The foot was red, darker near the toes, but otherwise appeared fairly normal.

“
Non muova.
” He held her tightly as she regained her balance. “Are you injured?”

Julia caught her breath. “I don't think so.”

He let go, and she shifted her weight to the foot.
Ghah!
A knife stabbed through her middle toe and cut its way through the top of her foot. “Shhh—” She cut off the expletive. “I need to sit down.”

Vitale's arm snaked around her waist, all but lifting her off the ground. The pleasant sensation of being held so tightly took her mind off her toe for a split second until her foot made contact with the ground again. Then the pain tore through her foot, more intense this time.

Leaning heavily against his solid body, she hobbled to the nearest chaise and eased down, dreading to look again. The way the pain was increasing, if her toe looked half as bad as it felt, it was going to be ugly.

He stooped down in front of her and took her ankle gently in his hand, raising her foot. The warmth of his touch and the gentleness of his manner gave her courage. She looked—and immediately wished she hadn't.

The toe was already turning a peculiar shade of blue with a black tinge creeping in. She tried to curl it, but it didn't cooperate, and the movement hurt too much to force it. A sinking feeling in her stomach confirmed what her brain didn't want to admit.

“I think my toe's broken.”

“
Sì,
signora. I think you are right.”

Julia's mind whirled with the ramifications. Would she be able to wear a hiking boot? Or even a shoe? Her heart bounded into a thudding rhythm. “Help me up.” It was more of a command than she meant it to be, but this was no time to be courteous. Besides, if this peabrain hadn't left his stones piled so high, it wouldn't have happened. He took her extended hands and pulled her to her feet.

Instinctively her weight shifted onto her left foot, avoiding the inevitable. She put the right one down on the warm paving stone, rolling it from the outside in. A little pain, but bearable. Her heart slowed a notch. She took a step. As soon as her weight shifted from her heel in the direction of her toe, the intensity of the throb increased from mild to excruciating.

“Damn!”

“You should not walk on it.”

“I know that,” she snapped. Frank had broken his toe a few years back. After five hours in the emergency room and a seven hundred dollar x-ray, the doctor had taped his toe to the one next to it and sent him home telling him to ice it and take ibuprofen.

She also knew she wouldn't be hiking the Cinque Terre tomorrow.

Disappointment and anger festered in her like a boil ready to pop. “I can't believe this happened.” She swung her fists into the imaginary punching bag in front of her. “What in the hell does this world have against me?”

The question was rhetorical, but Vitale evidently felt she wanted an answer. He shifted his weight, staying well out of reach of her flailing arms, and scratched the back of his head. “I do not know, signora.”

“Stop calling me that.” She punched a fist in his general direction, catching herself before she stomped her foot. “My name is Julia.” She was acting childish—shrewish even, but she didn't care. She needed to unload, and Vitale was the nearest dumping station. With all those muscles, he should damn well be able to take it. “Months of training. A year of planning, and hoping, and dreaming. And it all came down to this? A jet-lagged night and two measly hikes? I can't hike the Cinque Terre with this!”

“You come to hike the Cinque Terre?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice since the sympathy in his made her want to collapse in tears.

“I am sorry.”

* * *

The old gentleman Vitale fetched to her room had to be a hundred if he was a day, but he had a charm about him that enchanted Julia. She wished she could introduce him to Hettie. They would make a great pair.

She sat on the bed with the ancient doctor kneeling in front of her. He held her calf firmly, occasionally giving it a light squeeze, his eyes focusing on her toe, running slowly up to her knee, then back down to her toe.

He made a gesture and said something in Italian that appeared to have three parts. She looked to Vitale for the interpretation.

He gave a sheepish grin. “He says you have pretty legs . . . nice ankles . . . and the broken toe.”

Julia tapped her finger to Matchbox Twenty's song “Overjoyed” and tried not to grimace when he started taping her toe to the one beside it. She also tried not to think about how Vitale's presence in her room seemed to be using up the oxygen her brain needed to put together a rational thought.

“You cannot hike the Cinque Terre now.” Vitale hit on the point again, as he'd done several times since her accident.

She cocked her head and gave her best imitation of an Italian gesture of impatience. “I get it. I won't be hiking the Cinque Terre. You don't have to keep repeating it.”

Her irritated tone didn't seem to faze him. “You will need to change the plans. Where were you to stay?”

“I have reservations in Monterosso. I'll go there and spend time on the beach.” Not a great plan, but the best she could come up with since she'd already paid a deposit.

“That will not be enjoyable. Monterosso, she is very small. Two days, you wish you were not there.”

“You have a better idea?”

“You stay here. Much to do in Lerici. Monterosso, not so much.”

She knew he was right. From what she'd read, Monterosso was tiny, and lying on the beach for ten days wasn't her idea of the dream vacation. “But I have reservations, and they'll charge me if I cancel at this late date.”

Vitale's bottom lip protruded in a sensuous pout, heavy eyebrows drawn together. He pinned her with that brooding stare she'd encountered at their first meeting. “You have the number for the telephone?”

The small journal lay on her nightstand. She pointed to it, and he handed it to her. She flipped to the page with the hotel information.

“I cancel the reservation for you. I do not let them make you pay.”

Julia's stomach did a quick tap dance. She'd never had a man take charge of things for her. Frank was more of a sit-back-and-lether-do-it type, and that included everything from paying the bills to making love. But Vitale was waiting for an answer. If he could get her out of the reservation in Monterosso, maybe she could go on to Florence or Pisa or Genoa. Or maybe she would stay here in Lerici for a few more days. “Okay. If you think you can.”

Vitale rested the receiver under his chin as he held the book with one hand and punched the numbers with the other. He started talking as soon as someone answered on the other end. His tone wasn't angry, just no-nonsense. It wasn't long before he turned to her. “What is your name?”

“Julia.”

He nodded. “Julietta what?”

Julietta?
She started to correct him, but it sounded so nice the way the word rolled off his tongue. “Um, Berkwith.”

“
Che?
”

She didn't know the word, but she caught the meaning from the question in his eyes. “Berkwith. B-e-r-k-w-i-t-h.”

He held out the journal and a pen, and she wrote it down for him.

A pat on her leg surprised her. Doctor Old-But-Still-Interested had finished taping up her toe, and she hadn't even felt it, she was so caught up in Vitale's conversation. Or in the man, if she dared admit that.

She reached for her purse, but the doctor waved it away and said something she didn't understand. In her head she translated it as, “No, no. You are such a ripe and luscious woman, it was my pleasure to tape your toe merely to have the opportunity to fondle your shapely legs.”