Italian Knights (15 page)

Sal was so different from Tony. She could talk to him about anything. He was easygoing and even-tempered. She couldn’t ever remember Sal really losing his temper, or going into a black mood. It was hard to believe at times that he and Tony had been friends all their lives. They were so different.

“Does it bother you to talk about him?” Sal asked gently, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

Annie shivered a bit as the night breeze turned cooler. Goose bumps rose along her bare arms, and Sal instinctively draped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer to his warmth. “No,” she said hesitantly. “It’s just…some things I’ve just never discussed with anyone.”

“I know the feeling,” Sal muttered.

She struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation as Sal steered her around a corner toward her house. She took a deep breath. “Tony was reclusive at times. I was married to him but sometimes I felt as if I didn’t really know him. I know that sounds strange, but—”

“No, Annie,” Sal said softly. “I understand.” He led her up the stairs and sank down on the top step, pulling her with him. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Go on,” he urged.

“I don’t know, Sal. I always thought marriage would be different from what it was.”

“Were you disappointed?” He saw the hesitation in her eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, cradling her against him. “Were you?” he repeated softly.

Annie swallowed hard. “Yes,” she admitted. “And I feel terribly guilty even saying that.” She smiled sadly. “Marriage wasn’t quite what I expected—at least, marriage to Tony.” Her voice dropped, and she glanced away. “Tony proposed right after my father died. It was a rough time for me. My mother had only been gone two years and I suddenly realized how alone I was.” Annie stared off into the distance, remembering the pain she’d felt at the time. “I loved Tony, but sometimes I felt so lonely when we were married. We didn’t really share a lot of things. It was almost as if we were just two people living in the same house, with nothing else tying us together. Can you understand that?” She glanced at him, wondering how he would take her comments. Sal nodded.

He understood it all too well. “Do you think you’d ever want to get married again?” He stared at her a moment, his expression serious, his dark eyes probing. Annie shifted nervously under his scrutiny.

“Sometimes I think about it,” she admitted, smiling softly, unwilling to add that the only person she’d ever thought about marrying was him. “But the next time—if there is a next time—I wouldn’t settle for being shut out.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “If I ever get married again, Sal, it would have to be to someone who would share everything with me. I don’t ever want to feel like I’m giving one hundred percent and only getting ten percent in return. I want a marriage that’s equal. I want to know that I’m as important to my husband as he would be to me.” She chuckled softly. “I know, to a confirmed bachelor like you it probably sounds like a life sentence.”

“No, not at all,” he said quietly, absently stroking circles on her bare shoulder. “It sounds…wonderful. Even confirmed bachelors think about marriage once in a while.” The thought of giving all of that to her, and then getting it in return, sounded like heaven. Sal smiled inwardly, wondering if she knew how delectable she looked.

“Not you, Sal. I can’t imagine you settling down with just one woman.” Annie laughed softly, the tension leaving her as his fingers lulled her into sensuous slumber. Her eyes slid closed on a heavy sigh as Annie laid her head on his shoulder, tired now from the wine and the food.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right woman yet,” he countered, leisurely stroking her arm and shoulder. Her breath came unsteadily as her heart responded to his nearness.

“That’s just what your mother said.” Sighing contentedly, Annie buried her face close to the warmth of his neck.

“Surely an unimpeachable, impartial source,” he teased, kissing the top of her head.

“Sal?”

“Hmm?”

“Do…do…
you
ever think about him?”

His hand stilled on her shoulder, and she lifted her head to look into his eyes. “Sometimes,” he admitted, urging her head back down on to his chest. Absently he stroked her hair, wanting to protect her from what he had to tell her.

“What do you think about?” she asked softly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “A lot of things, I guess.” His voice was gentle, but she thought she detected a hint of sadness.

Sal sighed. How could he explain to her that missing Tony wasn’t the problem. The problem was coming to terms with what he had to tell her. He’d done a lot of thinking tonight, and he’d realized that what Ryce had said was true. He’d been protecting Tony—at his own expense and Annie’s. Ryce was right. She had a right to know the truth about what had happened.

Maybe he’d been wrong in keeping it from her, but at the time he’d thought he was doing what was best for her. He’d seen no point in hurting her any further, and he’d known that she would have been devastated.

It had been two years now; hopefully the pain had dulled. And she had him and his love to help her over the rough spots. But he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough.

They couldn’t have any kind of relationship unless they were truthful with one another. Annie had had enough deceptions from the men in her life; she deserved the truth. He just didn’t know quite how he was going to tell her.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Annie asked, wondering why he was so quiet. She knew Sal didn’t like to talk about Tony. It was the one and only thing he’d never discussed with her. She understood. Some things were too painful. She often wondered if perhaps Sal relived the night of Tony’s death over and over every time he talked about it.

“Sometimes. He was my best friend, Annie, and Tony and I knew each other our whole lives, but that doesn’t mean I approved of everything he did. From the time we were little, I covered for him. No matter what, I always covered his rear. Tony wasn’t a bad guy, he just never really grew up. In a lot of ways, he was still very immature.”

Another crack of thunder split the sky. Annie nodded, burrowing closer to his warmth. “Do you think…” She paused. “Sal, do you think it’s terrible for us to talk like this…about him?”

“No, Annie, not terrible. I think it’s about time. You know, it’s one of the few things we’ve never really discussed.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I always felt like it was the one thing you didn’t want to talk about. I just thought it was too painful. I knew you had to deal with it in your own way.”

Sal knew she was referring to the fact that he’d gone off to Ryce’s cabin in the need to be alone. But it wasn’t Tony’s death he’d had to deal with, so much as the lies. He hadn’t liked it any more then than he liked it now. But he’d done it for Annie. Would she understand that?

Annie took a deep breath as Sal tightened his arms around her, drawing her even closer. It felt so right, so natural to be here in his arms.

She didn’t care what the reasons were for his always being around, for his always being here for her. Obligation, loyalty—she didn’t care what the reason. At the moment the reasons didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was here with her. For now, that was enough.

Sal was a very special person, a very special man. And Annie was just glad she had him as a friend. If that’s all he would ever be to her, she would enjoy him and the time she had with him and be grateful for that.

“Annie,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I think there’s something else we should talk about?”

“Mmm, what, Sal?” she asked drowsily.

“Us, Annie,” Sal said softly, and Annie stiffened.

“Us?” she repeated, drawing back and out of his arms to search his face. “As in you and me, us?”

He ruffled her hair. “Don’t look so shocked. We’ve successfully avoided talking about what’s been happening between us, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I want things to be out in the open.”

“Sal,” she protested, lifting a hand to stroke his face. “You’ve always been open and honest with me. You were always the one person in the world I knew I could trust, could count on.” Her generous mouth tilted and Sal’s heart constricted. She was looking up at him with such hope, such trust. God! She was going to be devastated when she learned that not only had her husband betrayed her, but in his own way, so had he.

“Annie, things have changed between us. It’s got nothing to do with bonding or attachments or chaperoning, or anything else for that matter.”

She nodded, her heart pounding in hope. She loved the feel of being so close to him, having him near, even if it did make her pulse thud and her knees weak.

“Annie, I know you think I’ve just been hanging around out of some sense of obligation or duty. I don’t know, maybe it started out that way. After Tony died, you just seemed so lost, so alone.”

“I
was
lost, and alone. Sal, you have to realize, at the time I felt like I’d lost everything, and everyone who cared about me. My mother, father and my husband all died within three years.” She blinked back tears, remembering how alone she’d felt. It was a frightening feeling, knowing that you had no one to turn to, no one to share things with. “And then you came to the rescue—” she laughed softly, “—my knight in shining armor.” She touched his face again, loving its gritty texture. “You always knew just the right thing to do, the right thing to say. You made me feel so much better about myself, about everything.” Her eyes held his. “Whenever I needed you, no matter what the reason, I knew I could always count on you. I never felt quite so alone when you were around.”

Sal smiled, and Annie paused to take a deep breath. “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Sal. I’m not going to go out with David anymore—or anyone like him.”

“You bet you’re not,” he growled, not liking the direction this conversation was taking. He turned her around to look at her, his eyes lovingly tracing her features.

“Oh, Sal,” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “What would I do without you?”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. Annie sighed deeply, not wanting to sort through the complications of all her emotions.

“So, Annie, tell me, what do you think of this dating stuff?” His mouth twitched in humor. “I know I haven’t taken you to any fancy-pants places, but have you been having a good time?”

She laughed, surprised that he would be concerned. “No maybe about it, Sal.” He looked at her and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. “I definitely had a good time. I always have a good time with you,” she admitted truthfully, and he grinned.

“Does that mean we can make this a habit?”

“It does,” she assured him.

“Annie?”

“What, Sal?”

He reached out, lacing his fingers through hers. Gently he caressed her silky skin with his thumb, sending heated tremors of delight through her. “Annie,” he said, his voice deep and quiet, drawing her gaze to his. “I want to kiss you.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips gently across hers, testing for acceptance.

With a sigh of pleasure, Annie slipped her arms around him, leaning into him and welcoming his touch. Her heart filled with love for him, and Annie knew it that instant: what she felt wasn’t attachment or friendship, or anything else but love.

The thought left her reeling. She loved Sal.
She loved him
, but not as a friend, the way he loved her. She loved Sal the way a woman loves a man. With her heart and her soul and everything within her.

Angling his head, he settled his lips firmly over hers. Her senses thrilled in delight and she caressed him in turn, gently stroking his broad back and shoulders.

She clung to him, whimpering softly at the yearning he awakened in her. His mouth moved relentlessly over hers, possessive and demanding. There was nothing friendly about his kiss. It was purely male, filling her with a need so strong she felt the world spin.

His soft tongue teased her, demanding she respond in kind. Shyly Annie followed his lead, doing as he did and enjoying the sensations he aroused in her. Her breathing came fast, heavily, causing her breasts to rise and fall against his chest. She felt her heart slam against her ribs as he slowly traced the length of her spine.

“Annie,” he breathed, pulling his mouth free. There was a huskiness in his voice she hadn’t heard before. The rapid rate of his breathing matched her own. “You are so beautiful,” he groaned, dropping his lips to her neck to nip at the soft skin of her throat.

Her head fell back with abandon, and Annie moaned softly as Sal planted featherlight kisses up her neck, capturing the lobe of her ear in his mouth.

“Annie.” He pressed his lips gently to her temple, rubbing his hands up and down her slender back. She began to tremble, knowing if she didn’t pull away, Sal would see the love in her eyes, feel the need in her body. She didn’t want that.

“I’d better go—” Annie froze as the sound of glass shattering splintered the night air. She could hear loud voices and someone—several someones—running. “Sal?” She turned to him, her eyes wide with fright. “The deli,” she whispered, clutching his arm.

Sal jumped to his feet, checking his gun. He scooped his suit coat off the step and tugged her to her feet. “Go in the house, Annie,” he ordered, shoving the jacket in her direction and pushing her toward the door.