Luscious (11 page)

Olivia woke slowly to a sharp rap on her door. Ten o’clock. She hoped whoever was knocking had coffee and lots of it. Her stomach growled. Ditto for food.

As she climbed out of the tangled covers, she realized she was fully dressed. The night before came rushing back to her. She’d fallen asleep on Sean? Absolutely classic.

She hesitated, wondering who was on the other side of her door. Was it her mother or Sean? Her cheeks heated. Had he left angry? She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and opened the door.

Sean stood waiting in the hall and he was smiling. She covered her relief with the first thing that came into her head. “Why is it I always wake up hungry when I stuff myself at dinner?”

He stepped into her room. “I don’t know, but I was starving too. I have croissants and cappuccino.” His eyes held a memory. Did he mean to finish what they had begun last night? Her heart did a lazy somersault in her chest.

He set the tray on the desk. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but your cousin wants you in the spa
immediatamente
. I’m off to the Padua market because my cell phone isn’t working. Is yours?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked,” she said, amazed that it had been so easy to cut the tie to Chameleon.

She crossed the room and dug through her purse. “No signal.”

“I’ll get you one too, then.”

Olivia shook her head. “Marlene and Nonna have the number here. I don’t want to hear from anyone else just yet.”

He shrugged. “Your call.”

She reached for a croissant. “Can you stay and eat with me?”

He shook his head. “Your father is waiting.”

She nearly dropped the pastry.

He grinned. “That was my response too. I was planning to call a taxi, but he insisted.”

Her father had been uncharacteristically rude to Sean at dinner last night and then Sean had followed her away from the table—there was no telling what her father thought about what had happened between them. He would have been right too, if she hadn’t fallen asleep. “Watch out. I haven’t had a chance to tell him to be nice to you yet.” She took a bite of the croissant, chewed, and swallowed. “Listen, about last night—”

“No worries.”

That didn’t make her feel any better, especially when his eyes gleamed. Uh-oh. She dropped the croissant onto the tray and reached for her coffee. She wasn’t having this discussion without caffeine in her system. She took a sip and sighed, sinking down into the desk chair. There was nothing like Italian coffee.

“Well, I can see I’m no longer needed,” Sean teased.

“Coffee first and always,” she insisted, hoping to forestall further discussion.

“I’ll remember that.” He leaned down to brush her hair away from her face and damned if she didn’t lean into the press of his fingers against her cheek. Her anxiety disappeared, replaced with a sense of comfort.

He bent to press a kiss on her forehead. Her body responded, going alert and tingly. She blinked up at him—stupidly, she was sure. What the hell was happening to her?

“I don’t understand it either,” he said a little grimly. “But I feel exactly the same way. I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded and raised her cup to her lips to cover her expression. She watched his back as he left. As the door clicked shut behind him, she lowered her cup and sighed.

Abruptly, she laughed at herself, sitting in her chair and mooning over Sean like a lovesick schoolgirl, like Juliet. She might as well repair to the balcony.

Move
, she told herself. Her cousin was waiting and so was her mother. First coffee, then a shower, because she wasn’t going to present herself to Giovanna with travel scum all over her.

Should she have accepted Sean’s offer to get her a cell phone? Technically, she was still in charge of the restaurant, although she had no doubt Marlene and Joe were doing fine. It was easy to picture them working together like clockwork while the orders flew in and then making out like teenagers when the board was clear, just as they had been doing all summer.

Olivia took a deep drink of cappuccino. She felt a time bomb ticking away inside her head, counting down the minutes until she had to tell her parents she didn’t want the restaurant anymore. Last night at dinner, she had begun her confession, but then Sean had taken her hand and she had decided to wait. She didn’t want to ruin his vacation, and waiting until the end of the week would give her time to chop, dice, stir, and bake her way into her mother’s good favor. She could imagine how it must look to her parents—freshly divorced and arriving at Villa Farfalla with a new man. The femme fatale image was so far from the truth it made her smile. She couldn’t even stay awake to be seduced, let alone do the seducing herself.

She stepped into the bathroom and gazed around with wide eyes at the enormous expanse of pale tile on the floors and darker tile on the walls. Was that a marble countertop? She ran her hand over the smooth, cold surface. The shower was walled in with glass and had dual showerheads and a bench. There was a Jacuzzi tub tucked into an alcove. She sniffed the shampoo and smiled. Lavender.

After a heavenly shower and one more croissant, Olivia made her way to the salon and found her cousin frowning at a computer screen. “Scowling will give you wrinkles.” Olivia held out the basket she brought. “Croissant?”

“Croissants will make you fat,” her cousin retorted. She pushed away from the simple secretary’s desk that graced the tiny reception area.

“This is all the space Mamma gave you to work with?” Olivia asked.

“Just wait.” Gia grinned and led her behind a creamy velvet curtain and into a white room filled with sunlight.

“Oh, much better,” Olivia said.

Clean white sheets and pale wood dominated the décor. Water burbled gently from a fountain of pebbles in the corner. A bathroom with a shower and an even more elaborate tub than the one in her room was off to one side. There were only a few pictures on the walls, black and white photos of stark landscapes that complemented the simplicity of the room.

The only splash of color in the room was a beautiful, tasseled, Oriental rug in jewel tones. Gia caught the direction of her gaze. “I long for austerity,” she said. “But I just can’t quite give up my colors.”

“Nor should you. Where did you find it?”

“Turkey. An absolute steal, but it cost a fortune to have it shipped here.”

“Worth it.”

“I think so too.” Giovanna narrowed her eyes. “Sooo…let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

Olivia took a step back. “Really, Gia, let’s not go overboard. I don’t need all the bells and whistles. I’m sure Mamma wants me in the kitchen as soon as possible…”

“If she wants you, she can come get you. Until then, I’ve got my orders.” She pointed to the bathroom and scooped a lush robe from a pile near the fountain. “By the time I get done with you, you’ll thank me.”

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but her cousin cut her off with a stern glare. “Your man was right. Your stress level is making my teeth vibrate. Consider it an act of mercy and do it for me. Just a massage and a manicure.” She glanced down at Olivia’s feet and added, “Pedicure too, probably.”

“He’s not my man” was all Olivia could muster in reply.

“Right.” Her cousin snorted. “Then I’m sure you’ll say no to a bikini wax.”

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, defeated. When she opened them, her cousin was grinning smugly.

“I want the bikini wax,” Olivia admitted.

“I know. Sugar’s already hot,” Gia said cheerfully. “We’ll do that first so the pain doesn’t ruin your massage buzz.”

Olivia touched her cousin’s arm. “I’ve missed you, cousin.”

Giovanna wrapped her arms around her in a tight squeeze. “Of course you did. Now strip!”

***

Sean found Mr. Marconi waiting for him in the foyer. He nodded a greeting, which the smaller man returned. “Would it be possible to use a computer before we go?” Sean asked.

“Certainly.” Mr. Marconi led him down the hall to an office, typed a password, and gestured at the chair. “Be my guest. Let me know when you are ready to leave.”

“Thank you very much.”

Sean opened Google, and as he began typing, other recent searches auto-filled in. Someone must have been researching osso buco recipes. And gnocchi. A familiar name flashed on the screen. Capozzi. As in Benito, Nonna Lucia’s boyfriend?

He clicked the link and caught his breath at the title of the article, “La Farfalla Dies With Its Maker.” His curiosity had been piqued by Gia’s story yesterday. He scanned the text and discovered Pasquale Capozzi had been the vintner at Villa Farfalla in 1955, the year of the La Farfalla vintage. This particular article had been published six months ago and detailed the life of a man who had apparently done everything in his power to stay out of the spotlight. The Conti family had searched high and low for him after the 1955 vintage had been tasted, but he never came forward. Capozzi had lived out his years alone in a remote cabin in the Alps, apparently deserted by the son who had ruined his career. He never made wine again, and his secret had died with him.

Sean heard Mr. Marconi’s voice in the hall and remembered he was keeping him waiting. He quickly checked his email and found nothing new from Russo, so he Googled the Hotel Loggia Antica. A minute later, he printed a map, then closed the browser.

He found Mr. Marconi in the driveway, waiting next to a black sedan. Sean took the passenger seat. “Sure is hot,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as inane as he thought he did.

“Not for long,” Mr. Marconi’s voice was gruff.

Sean forged ahead. “Well, I appreciate the ride. I have business in Padua, and my cell phone isn’t working. Giovanna suggested I buy another one in the market.”

Mr. Marconi frowned. “I don’t have a use for cell phones. I prefer to stay connected to the earth, not the air. I don’t understand why everyone is always on their phones these days.”

“I need to stay in touch,” Sean said, annoyed that he felt the need to justify himself.

Mr. Marconi nodded agreeably, but his eyes were sharp. He started the car. “So how is it you come to Italy with my daughter?”

Sean felt his lips curve thinly. “A happy coincidence. I need to meet with a client and Olivia was already coming to Italy.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve chased after my daughter,” Mr. Marconi said, leaving Sean in no doubt that he remembered the boy who had walked past his restaurant so many times.

“As her lawyer, you should know she doesn’t need another man to complicate her life.”

“I agree with you there.” Out of politeness, Sean resisted the urge to say more.

Olivia’s father slowed the car to a crawl as they came up to the main road. “I don’t mean to insult you, Mr. Kindred. I’m sure you are an honorable man, but I’m thinking of my daughter. I don’t understand why you booked a room in the villa since you were traveling with Olivia. Surely she would extend our hospitality to you. Didn’t she know you were coming?”

“No,” Sean said tersely. “She did not.”

“Does she want you here?” the man asked bluntly, making a slow turn onto the main road.

“Have you asked her that?” The lawyer in him knew just how to handle cross-examinations.

Mr. Marconi shook his head. “Not in so many words.”

“Well, why don’t you do that first? I’d like to know myself.”

Mr. Marconi snorted.

Sean could understand the man’s plight. He wanted the best for his only child. Sean wanted the best for her too, but their understanding of her needs was necessarily different. He certainly wasn’t going to get into that discussion, so he settled for saying, “I don’t want to hurt Olivia.”

“So don’t. Go back to New York. Leave her alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

Silence settled between them, a silence that Mr. Marconi seemed to have no intention of breaking again. Sean steeled himself. “How long to Padua?”

“About an hour.”

That was a lot of silence.

***

Mr. Marconi pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked. “Here you are.” He gestured at a street lined with green and white umbrellas. The Padua market looked prosperous and welcoming, but Sean was too tense to enjoy the hustle and bustle. The hour in the car had felt like a week.

Olivia’s father cleared his throat. “Mr. Kindred, there is no delicate way to make this offer, so I will just say it. I want you to go back to New York. In fact, I’m willing to pay your travel expenses if you quietly take your leave of my home and my daughter. She’s been through enough, and I don’t want her getting hurt again.”

Sean opened the car door. “Thank you for the ride. I’ll call a taxi for my return trip.” Even if it cost him a small fortune. There was no way he was going to spend another hour in the car with Olivia’s father.

“Your trip to the airport?” Mr. Marconi suggested.

Sean ignored the glint of humor he saw in the other man’s eyes. He did not want to like this man. “No, not today. I think my leaving her would hurt her too.” Sean shut the car door and began to walk toward the market.

He felt a tight knot of frustration in his center. Her father was wrong. He wasn’t going to hurt her. In fact, she was more likely to hurt him. Holding Olivia in his arms last night had been so peaceful, and he hated to be reminded that their affair could be short. What if she decided to stay in Italy? What if he couldn’t convince her to come back to New York with him?

Sean set off into the market, looking for a street sign. According to his map, the Hotel Loggia Antica was near the Piazza Dante. He passed displays of vegetables, scanning the tables for electronics. Finding the hotel was his first priority but if he happened to see a phone he would certainly stop. He paused to admire a stall filled with nothing but different varieties of the red lettuce they had eaten at dinner last night, then slowed in front of a stall displaying so many kinds of cured meat products that it looked like the walls had been papered with sausage. The next stall offered a hard squash that looked like a pumpkin. “
Zucche! Zucche!
” the seller called out to him.

He shook his head politely. “Hotel Loggia Antica?” The woman pointed down the way. Just past a booth filled with artichokes, strings of garlic, and about twenty vegetables he couldn’t identify, he spotted a stack of cell phone boxes. He approached the stall.