Her Best Friend's Brother (12 page)

“Oh.” Color flushed her cheeks. She busied herself loading the display cases with fresh muffins. “Wel Mom and Stuart did have some pretty great news. They are sending me to Rome.”

“What? You’re going to Italy? Like a summer vacation?”

“No, for school. They are paying for year abroad.

I guess Stuart feels bad about excluding me, uprooting me…” A roling motion with one arm showed that he had many reason and she wasn’t realy concerned with what they are. “So I am going to Rome.”

“For a year? You are leaving for—a year.” Tony was floored. Here he had been about to lay out his heart to her. Declare his intentions, so to speak. And she was leaving. He was nothing more to her than Parker had been.

When had he ever thought he would be feeling bad for Parker? But now he was. She had cast him aside just as she would be doing to Tony at the end of the summer…

when she left the country.

His silence seemed to encourage her so she kept talking as she unlocked the front doors, and finished her morning routine. “I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he was determined. And I realy want to go, so I gave in pretty easy. There is a cooking school an hour or so away from the colege with a great pastry program, and I could be learning from the best about biscotti, budino, and tiramisu, and al while I work on my business degree. I think I realy needed to do something like this. I mean you have your writing, and Mel has her designs, and Parker’s forever going on about law school choices…”

“I don’t want to talk about Parker!” Tony was angry

“Ok—ay” Libby drew out the word thoughtfuly.

This was ridiculous. Here she was blabbering on waiting for him to screw up the courage to ask for no-strings sex? No way. “Listen, we’re good Tony. This was probably a bad idea. We aren’t
that
kind of friends, right? We just got caught up in the moment, forget about it.”

“Of course. You’re right Lib. I gotta go okay? I’l talk to you tomorrow, kay?” Tony strode quickly out the front door, and when he got to his car he puled out his cel phone and caled the Talahassee News Journal to cancel his job interview.

Tony was gone 20 minutes before Libby realized that he hadn’t gotten around to teling her his ‘something else’.

Chapter Twelve

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you are leaving!” Mel gushed at the airport. Just like she had gushed in the car on the way to the airport, and like she had gushed on the phone when Libby had tried to tel her it was sily for her to come al the way home just to ride to the airport.

“We can talk al the time Mel—the marvel of modern technology.”

“It won’t be the same!”

“Okay babe—give her a hug and let her get through security. We don’t want her to miss her flight.” John tried to calm Mel down. Sily John. Mel lived for this stuff. “Have a good flight Libster; cal us when you get settled.”

“Oh! I almost forgot! Tony said to wish you good trip too.” That got her attention. Libby hadn’t seen Tony since the day of the bakery incident.

Apparently he had gotten a cal that afternoon to go to a meeting with some people from his publisher about the Isaac Raines books and had left that night. They had talked of course and emailed. But things felt weird between them.

They both determinedly avoided discussing the kiss in the bakery, but Libby guessed it would take some time before the weirdness could dissipate. She was glad anyway— she was wiling to accept that Tony was okay with casual sex.

That was fine, but she would be damned if she was going to be his
warm and willing body
. Al week, al summer realy, after the kiss at the bakery Libby’s brain had battled with her hormones. At the time she had wanted him more than she had wanted her next breath, but she only needed to remind herself of Mel’s graduation party when he had explained about not being able to help how his body reacted. Explained to her that his only reactions to her were physical. That hurt she had felt at being nothing more than an itch to scratch had lasted months and she wasn’t wiling to go through it again.

“Tel him thanks for me, and I’l cal him… you know after I cal you.”

Mel snorted. “Yeah sure right
after
you talk to me. Listen Lib, do yourself a favor. Find some hot Italian guy and work my idiot brother out of your system. Have a hot and steamy European adventure.”

“I am not going to Europe to have a fling!”

“Wel you should be. I know al that higher education wil take up a lot of time, but surely you can spare a few nights over the next year. Think about it—they wil al have accents!”

“Okay I wil think about it.” Libby had no intention of doing any such thinking, but this was the best way to deal with her best friend when pressed for time.

Libby and Mel hugged tightly. And Libby set off with the mob of people headed for metal detectors.

Glad things are going well. You should mail me
some Italian style chocolate chip cookies!

Only 5 weeks left until
Thrills
is released. I am so
stoked. You won’t be able to buy it in Italy, but I will
mail you a copy.

-t-

I preordered my English copies on Amazon last
month! But maybe you could mail me one anyway—

signed. And when I am old I can sell my first edition
signed Marchetti for eight million dollars.

Rome is beautiful. The school arranged for a lot of
tours when we first got here, but now that I am making
friends I am seeing all the
local
stuff too.

-L-

Dear Libby,

I never know what to say in these things! Miss you
Lib! So does John. How is the Italian man hunt
coming?

Love, Mel

Dear Mel,

So far the well is still dry

Love, Libby

When Libby got Tony’s package in the mail, she tore it open right in the elevator of her building. She couldn’t wait. Inside she found two copies of
Thrills, by
the up and coming author Anthony Marchetti.
When she opened the first book she found Tony’s familiar but messy handwriting inside the cover.

Thanks for never doubting me! Love,
Anthony Marchetti

I just got your package! The book is perfect! Not
that I thought it wouldn’t be, but it is. I passed a copy
(not the one you signed that I am saving to fund my
retirement) around my friends. One girl complained she
wouldn’t sleep for a month. High praise.

-l-

Ps: is it weird that I want to tell you I’m proud of
you?

She didn’t go home for Christmas. She went sking with a group from the university. She missed her family, and her friends. But she loved Rome, and her new friends. A feeling deep in her bones told her that she needed this time.

She needed her European adventure even if wasn’t going to be hot and steamy.

Dear Libby,

I’m glad skiing was great. And thanks for the bolt
of Italian leather! I can’t tell you how excited my
distributer is about Italian leather belts and wallets.

Merry Christmas, Mel

Dear Mel,

Here it is just leather! Glad you liked it.

Love, Libby

I signed the deal today on Isaac Raines. And they
are ordering a second run of
Thrils
.

I am thinking of relocating. What would you think
of me moving back to Lindstown?

-t-

Dear Libby,

I can’t wait for you to come home. How is the fling
coming—any prospects?

I don’t think it is serious, but Tony brought a girl to
Easter dinner. Just so you know.

Love, Mel

Libby didn’t cry. She wanted to, but the urge to sob wasn’t as strong as she thought it should have been.

So instead of crying she went to a party. Conjuring Mel’s fashion advice from her memory, Libby dressed with purpose. Her red dress molded to her body until it flared at her waist. Spinning in front of her mirror Libby admired the way the material moved with her body, and lifted teasingly with a wiggle of her hips. Strappy black heals and a ful-on makeup application completed her look.

Lena, an Italian friend of Libby’s from the culinary institute, had invited her to the party. Originaly she had declined thinking she would be out of place as the only tourist there, but staying home with her textbooks wasn’t a good idea. In the cab, on her way to the club, Libby had second, third, and fourth, thoughts. A part of her was afraid that when the shock of Mel’s news wore off depression would settle in. Of al the ways that evening could end, a teary public meltdown was Libby’s least favorite scenario.

Less than a year in Italy had given her enough Italian to order a meal, go shopping, and ask for a restroom. That was not enough to survive an evening at a local party. It was likely that most of these dancing, drinking, laughing people spoke better English than Libby, but she loathed being the ignorant American. Lena introduced her around, but soon Libby found herself sitting at the bar sipping her wine, and wondering if she could politely cal herself a cab. She had come to the conclusion that having a fling was better in theory than in practice.

“Balare?”

Libby turned to find a man tal dark and gorgeous enough to satisfy Mel’s fling requirements. He was probably too old to be a student. Although there was a wide range of ages attending the culinary institute, so she couldn’t be sure. His dress shirt was roled up past his elbows, and unbuttoned at the colar in deference to the heat of the room. A spray of chest air showed through the opening of his shirt. And that solve an age old debate between Libby, and Mel: chest hair or no chest hair. Chest hair was unquestionably sexy.

He cocked his head waiting for an answer.

“American?”

“Si. Yes I am, sorry.”

He seemed to find that funny. “You are sorry that you are American?”

“No. I am sorry that I didn’t understand what you said. I am stil learning.”

“I asked you to dance with me.”

“Oh! Umm sure… yes. Thank you.”

He thought that was funny too. Standing up they walked closer to the other dancers. Tal, this man towered over her even in her dancing shoes. Despite being dressed in a relatively loose button up shirt she could tel he was muscular. Big solid forearms bulged below his roled sleeves, and his shoulder was hard beneath her hand. He was a wonderful dancer. This was lucky for Libby as she was not-- and two poor dancers together are always a disaster. They danced two or three songs, and he held her close enough to smel his cologne the whole time.

“Would you care to take a walk with me? Mia Belezza?” He had to lean down and speak directly in her ear, because the music was much louder on the dance floor. Hot breath tickled her neck.

Libby stiffened. He clearly read the discomfort in her expression because he added “It is too warm in here, and we cannot talk. We wil go just outside. The street is wel lit, and popular. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

So prince charming is also a gentleman, she thought and alowed herself to be led outside. “What did you cal me?” Libby asked when the quiet of street made conversation possible.

“Mia Belezza”

Libby thought for a moment. “My pretty?”

“It sounds nicer in Italian, but yes. And you are quite pretty.” He was smiling widely now, and covered the fingers she had tucked in his arm with his free hand. They settled on a bench under a street light, just a little way from the entrance to the club.

“Does that make you the wicked witch of the west?” Libby laughed at the mental picture of this very masculine man in green face paint.

“Scusi?” He frowned.

“Like from
The Wizard of
Oz
—in the movie the witch says I’l get you my pretty and your little dog too!”

Everything she said seemed to be funny to this man. He laughed loudly
“
I can’t say I have ever seen that movie.” Touching her face briefly he continued. “You make me laugh. Perhaps I should cal you mia risata? I would rather cal you by your name.”

“Libby—it’s short for Elizabeth.” Duh like he realy need that clarification. Why was she so nervous?

“Elisabetta.” His eyes crinkled like he was stil laughing at her. “You see everything sounds nicer in Italian, Betta”

“Oh.” He was right; her name was much prettier in Italian. “Umm what’s your name?”

“Gio, it is short for Giovanni.” He was teasing her! Libby laughed and the tension broke.

It was very late when Gio and Libby shared a cab, and he let her out in front of her building. Consumed by each other’s company, they had barely noticed the hour.

Gio wasn’t a student. As a matter of fact he was a teacher at the culinary institute. Not for the pastry classes and Libby was glad because that would have been awkward.

He was 30 years old and the difference in their ages hadn’t even fazed him. In addition to teaching classes Gio also owned a bistro. And this led to talking about her mother’s bakery/ café, and Libby’s own aspirations.

They talked about her program at the university, and he was impressed that she was keeping up with two sets of courses. And they discussed what sightseeing she had managed since arriving in Rome. Another round of laughter folowed when she lamented that she hadn’t had a motor bike tour.

“Like Audrey Hepburn!” He exclaimed.

“I’m not sure… did she ride a motor bike?” This elicited more laughter. Gio laughed a lot. Libby hadn’t decided yet if she was insulted, or not.

“In Roman Holiday… it is very famous. You must see it.”

And that was how they spent the evening: getting to know each other. Libby alowed herself only a smal moment of comparison, and reflected that this was an experience she was missing with Tony. Because they would never have a need to stay up al night exploring each other’s lives and personalities. When the cab stopped in front of her building Gio had smoothly waved away her attempt to pay and he instructed the driver to wait until she was inside the building.