Italian Knights (11 page)

They’d been through so much together the past two years, it was only natural that he felt an emotional attachment to her, and she to him.

But that was all it was, nothing more. It was common for people who’d gone through something tragic together to form an emotional attachment. Grief had a way of binding people together, but, she reminded herself, she couldn’t read anything more into it.

Sal ran his thumb over her chin, gently touching the racing pulse point in her throat. Annie swallowed hard. All her defenses seemed to crumble when he was near.

“Do you?” he repeated, gently teasing the tender skin of her throat, and Annie’s mind shifted into panic.

“He’s…nice,” she hedged, trying to ignore the fact that Sal had slipped his arms around her waist.

“Are you going out with him again?” he asked, drawing her close. Despite her resolutions to keep her feelings about Sal in perspective, Annie laid her head on his shoulder, sighed, then gave in to the sensations of the moment. It certainly would help matters if she didn’t feel so right in Sal’s arms. It was nothing, she assured herself. Her emotions were only natural, considering the circumstances. But at the moment, locked in Sal’s arms, she was having a hard time keeping things objective.

“Sal…would you like to come over for dinner tonight?”

He tensed. “I’d love to, Annie, but I can’t. I’ve…I’ve got a date.”

Annie stiffened and stepped out of his arms. “I see,” she said, trying not to show her intense annoyance.
She
couldn’t go out without a chaperone, but it was all right for him to continue his carousing! She wasn’t jealous, she told herself. Why should she be jealous? Sal had gone on hundreds of dates over the past few years, so why should this one be any different?

“Annie.” Sal grabbed her arm, knowing she misunderstood. “I promised Mrs. Altero I’d come over for dinner—”

“And meet her granddaughter?”

Sal nodded. He had to talk to Mrs. Altero. She was the only one who’d been around last night and she was the only clue he had. She’d even taken a walk past the deli just about the time of the burglary. If it meant eating her cooking and meeting her granddaughter in an effort to obtain the information he needed to protect Annie, then he would do it. He would worry about explaining to Annie later. Right now, he just wanted to make sure she was safe.

“Yes,” he sighed, “and meet her granddaughter. I shouldn’t be late, though, and I’ll be right across the street if you need me.”

“Need you,” she fumed. “Sal, come on, I told you, I’m a big girl and it’s about time I start handling my own life and my own affairs. Now, I’ve got to get back to work.” She shrugged off his arm and headed out front.

“Annie?”

She stopped, holding her breath. “What, Sal?”

“You never answered my question. Are you going out with David again?”

Annie turned to him with a grin. “You’re right, I never
did
answer your question, did I? Have a good time tonight,” she called, giving his cheek a friendly pat before turning and heading back to her waiting customers.

Chapter Six

Annie paced the length of the living room, not knowing what to do with herself. She kept going from window to window, peering at Mrs. Altero’s house, wondering what Sal was doing, and knowing he was there—with the infamous granddaughter.

She’d already drunk four cups of herbal tea, finished filling out all the forms that needed filling out, washed all her floors, and still she kept pacing. Lord, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Sal was supposed to be worried about the men
she
was dating—not the other way around.

Sighing at her own behavior, Annie went into the kitchen and poured herself another cup of tea. She wasn’t thirsty, she just needed to do
something
to keep her mind off Sal.

She didn’t want to think about him. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The more she thought about Sal, the more confused she felt.

Sipping her tea, she went back into the living room and sank down in the rocker. What was she going to do? She had to think about this problem rationally, she realized, glancing around the familiar room.

She’d spent hours refurbishing the old brownstone after Tony died. They had bought the house right after they’d gotten married because it was close to the police station and the deli. She’d grown up in an almost identical house not two blocks away.

After Tony’s death, with nothing but grief and time on her hands, she’d stripped all the woodwork, refinishing it to its original beauty. Sal had helped her do some of the heavy work, spending his days off and vacation time hauling wood, scraping off paint and just lending a hand wherever needed. They’d discovered they both had a fondness for country furnishings and flea-market finds, so they’d spent many a Sunday getting up at dawn hunting down bargains.

Everywhere she looked now, she saw the touch of Sal’s hand. The pineapple stencil he’d carefully painted around the perimeter of the floors; the blue print wallpaper he’d helped her hang; the old chandelier—one of their flea-market finds—that he’d purchased for a song and then carefully rewired and hung. The house and deli had been her comfort, something to hang on to, something safe and secure after Tony’s death. It gave her a way of easing the lonely hours. With Sal around, her loneliness didn’t seem so acute, so hard to bear.

But for some reason, tonight, the loneliness was back, and worse than ever.

Sal. He invaded her thoughts again. They’d had such a wonderful relationship—a friendly relationship—until she’d announced she had a date. Sal had changed from a warm, caring, concerned friend into a man who seemed obsessed with protecting her virtue.

Then he had to go and kiss her, she thought with a frown. And not just a friendly peck on the cheek, but a man-woman kiss, the kind that shook her to her soul. Annie’s lashes lowered and a great fountain of warmth washed over her as she relived the touch of Sal’s lips on hers.

That certainly wasn’t a friendly kiss; it was a kiss filled with yearning. So what was he doing with Mrs. Altero’s granddaughter? Trying to drive her crazy, probably, she decided.

Annie rocked faster, feeling restless. Sal was a man who was used to this type of thing. Kissing one woman one day, and dating another the next. He’d dated women galore and had lots of experience.

But she hadn’t. Despite the fact that she was twenty-six, married and widowed in the space of two years, her knowledge and experience with men was nil. She’d never really even kissed anyone except Tony. And now that seemed so very long ago, she could hardly remember. At times she couldn’t even picture Tony’s face.

She’d come to her marriage a virgin, and since Tony’s death there had been no one else. She’d never even
wanted
anyone else. Until now.

Setting her cup on a table, Annie stopped rocking and abruptly stood up to go to the window again, letting the air cool her flushed face. She wasn’t falling in love with Sal, she told herself firmly. What she was feeling was an emotional attachment. She was just having a hard time separating the two.

A faint breeze rustled the curtains, filling the room with the night’s sweet aroma. The pungent smell of sausage and peppers drifted through the open window, the remnants of someone’s dinner, no doubt.

The street was quiet tonight. In the summer, it wasn’t unusual to find lawn chairs scattered up and down the block, with neighbors gathered to gossip or watch a baseball game on a television that someone had dragged out. The kids would run free, playing baseball or tag. Invariably someone would bring out a pitcher of lemonade or a jug of wine, and they would sit discussing the day’s events or just listening to music long into the night. Tonight the street was empty except for an occasional car. Even Mr. Benedetto hadn’t taken his nightly walk.

It was strange to see the street so quiet. Annie sighed. Perhaps the burglary had had more of an effect than she realized. Shivering, Annie wrapped her arms around herself.

“Hey, Annie, waiting for someone?” Sal stood beneath the window with a wide grin on his face. Her startled gaze flew to his. Oh, Lord, he knew she’d been watching—waiting for him. Her heart began to pound and her face flooded with heat. Now she’d done it, really made a fool of herself, standing here pacing back and forth from window to window, watching and wondering what he was doing.

And he’d caught her.

She glanced down at him, gathering her dignity. He’d dressed for his dinner with Mrs. Altero and her granddaughter, she noted, taking in the gray pinstriped suit. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and his silk print tie was at half-mast. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. He looked, in a word, wonderful.

“I wasn’t waiting for anyone,” she replied coolly, determined not to let him know she’d been waiting for
him
. From the look on his face, she had a feeling he knew.

“You sure?” He grinned, and she stiffened indignantly, aggravated that he was so arrogant as to guess exactly what she’d been doing.

“Positive,” she snapped succinctly. “I was just getting a breath of fresh air.”

“Are you busy?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Come on out. We can sit on the porch for a while.”

“It’s…it’s…late,” she stammered, not knowing if she trusted herself to be alone with him. It was odd—all this time, she’d never given it a second thought. They’d been alone many, many times in the past then, but she’d never been so aware of Sal as a man before.

Sal generally stopped by after his dates. Usually she was sitting out front with the neighbors, and he would tell her all about his evening, where he went, with whom. But that was before she needed to keep a safe distance from him—at least until she was certain she could separate her emotions and keep things in perspective.

And she wasn’t entirely certain she
wanted
to sit and listen to Sal discuss what a wonderful evening he’d had with another woman, any more than he’d enjoyed her going into detail about her evening with David!

“It’s not that late, Annie. Come on, you can get a breath of fresh air out here. Besides, I’m lonely.”

“Lonely,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you stay with Mrs. Altero’s granddaughter? I’m sure she would have been more than happy to ease your…loneliness.”

“Are you jealous, Annie?” he asked, his lips curling up in a bemused smile that only aggravated her more.

“Jealous!” she fumed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll have you know, Detective Giordiano, I don’t have a jealous bone in my body.”

“I brought you a present,” he said, trying to entice her. She looked down at him in surprise. The streetlight cast a golden glow on his hair, making it appear even blacker.

“What kind of a present?” she asked suspiciously.

“Tell you what. You come down and check out your present.” He grinned suddenly. “And I’ll check out your bones—just to make sure you don’t have any jealous ones,” he assured her, his grin sliding wider.

The man was impossible. Charming but impossible, and she had absolutely no intention of going outside to see him.

“I’ll be right down,” she called. Turning from the window, Annie grabbed a sweater and went out, letting the screen door slam behind her.

Sal was sitting on the porch, leaning against the railing with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up at her and smiled. “Pull up a step.” He patted the space right next to him, and against her better judgment she sat down.

“So, where’s my present?” she finally asked, forcing her voice to remain neutral.

Sal turned to look at her. His eyes were twinkling with mischief. He dug into his suit jacket, which was folded neatly on the stairs. Frowning, Annie stared blankly at the hard white mass he dropped into her hand.

She frowned. “What is this? A baseball?”

Sal laughed. “It’s a dumpling. Or at least that’s what Mrs. Altero claimed it was. You should have seen me trying to smuggle it out of there.”

She laughed softly. “What on earth did you have for dinner?”

He groaned and rubbed his stomach. “Indigestion.”

Annie laughed. “Poor thing.” Served him right, she thought smugly. “It’s your own fault,” she scolded. “You could have had dinner with me.” The moment the words were out, she was sorry. He tilted his head to look at her, a curious expression in his eyes.

“I would have much preferred to have dinner with you, Annie,” he said quietly, looking directly into her eyes until she glanced away. Oh, Lord, he was back to the industrial-strength charm again, she thought in alarm.

Sal reached out and laced his fingers through hers. “So, what did you do tonight?”

Annie shifted uncomfortably. She’d never felt awkward or uncomfortable talking to Sal before. But now, sitting so near to him, having her hand encased in his, she felt an air of electricity between them. It was as thick as syrup and just as hard to ignore. She was just so aware of him beside her, looking at her, smiling at her.

“Paperwork, housework.” She shrugged.
Thought about you.

He tightened his fingers on her hand and tugged her closer. “Why are you sitting so far away? I won’t bite.” His thigh brushed against hers and she trembled.

“How’s Dancing David?” he inquired, trying to sound casual.