Miracle for the Girl Next Door (4 page)

The temptation to tell him he was leaving right now and wouldn’t be back got stuck in his throat. “Long enough to help you.
Ciao
, Papa.”

Though Valentino had been a grown man for quite some time, Luca had the power to make him feel small and unnecessary. He left the restaurant and headed through town to the piazza to wait for Clara. He wanted to be here ahead of her, in case she came early.

During their conversation he’d purposely brought up Silvio’s name, knowing she’d always defended Valentino to her brother in the past. His gambit had worked enough for her to feel guilty and agree to meet him.

After ordering a cup of coffee in the pastry shop, he took it to one of the tables outside and drank it while he watched for her. At twenty to ten, Clara got off the bus.

He took a second to study her womanly figure encased in hip-hugging denim capris. She wore a three-quarter-sleeve blouse in a yellow and orange print that buttoned down the front and tied at her waist. The knockout picture she made caused male heads to turn in her direction.

Without doing anything, she elicited wolf whistles and remarks from the drivers in the heavy morning traffic circulating around the piazza, but she appeared oblivious to the attention.

He put the mug down on the table and started toward her. “Looking for someone,
signorina
?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She heard him and turned her head in his direction. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting him yet.

A tiny cry escaped her throat. “Tino—” Her green eyes played over him.

Good. In that unguarded moment she hadn’t forgotten after all. His lips twitched. “Do I dare confess you look good enough to eat this morning?” His comment caused color to seep into her pale cheeks. “Come inside with me. There’s a
torta setteveli
with our names on it.” She could do with gaining a few more pounds.

“Oh, no, not mine,” she said with the infectious laugh he remembered. It made him want to provoke that response from her as often as possible. “Those days are over.”

Valentino hoped not. She’d always been so happy before, but he decided not to push it. After they walked in, the woman at the counter smiled at them. “What can I get for you?”

“A large slice of that.” He pointed to the
torta
. “Put it on a plate with two forks, and we’d like two cappuccinos,
per favore
.”

They always used to drink it together. When she didn’t demur, he assumed she still liked it.

“
Bene
,
signore
.”

After pulling some Euros out his wallet to pay the check, he cupped Clara’s elbow and steered her toward a table for two in the corner away from the window. “We’ll hide over here.”

“From the paparazzi, you mean?”

“From Leandro Romaggio actually. Is he the jealous type?”

She looked stunned. “How did you hear about him?”

“Restaurant gossip. You can’t avoid it. Would he mind?”

Once they were seated across from each other she said, “If he knew I were here with you, he’d ask me to get your autograph. You’re so famous you’ve become a household word in Italy.”

For some reason her comment irritated him. “Does my supposed fame impress you?”

“Of course. It makes me a little sad for you, too.”

His brows met. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you were always such a private person. It’s quite ironic what’s happened to you when I know how much you hate to be recognized everywhere you go. I honestly don’t know how you’ve dealt with it for this long.”

Her comment pleased him in ways she couldn’t imagine. “Perhaps now you understand why I wanted to see you again. While the rest of the world makes the wrong assumptions about me, you alone know the real truth.”

She flashed him a wistful, yet beguiling smile. “You used to complain on a regular basis that you always minded your own business, so why didn’t everyone else mind theirs instead of yours!”

A chuckle came out of him. “That doesn’t sound so good. I must have been pretty impossible to be around.”

“Not at all. You were your own person who spoke the truth. I liked that as much as I enjoyed watching the genius at work.”

“Genius—” he scoffed as the woman placed their order on the table.

“Don’t be modest, Tino,” she said after they were alone again. “All those drawings and experiments you did on that scooter made your fortune. A lot of the guys were jealous of you, my brother among them.” She paused. “He was the reason you never stepped on our farm, wasn’t he? Mamma always wondered why you stayed away.”

“I didn’t want him to get upset with you because of me.”

“Papa told him to watch over Bianca and me. I’m afraid he took his job a little too seriously.”

He took a deep breath. “That’s all in the past. I’m sure Silvio does very well for himself these days.”

“I’ll admit he’s a great help to Papa. Out of my three brothers
he
will be the one to take over the farm one day.”

“Unlike me,” he muttered. “I just came from being with my
father. When I offered to do the inventory with him, he told me to run along. I’m a no-account in his eyes.”

“You’ve been away a long time. He’s probably so thrilled to see you, he’s terrified you’ll leave again if he says something you don’t like.”

Her observation surprised him. “You think?”

“I know.”

She said it with such authority he almost believed her. “In his eyes I’m not the dependable type, not like Silvio.”

“You’ve already proven you can be whatever you make up your mind to be.” She studied him thoughtfully. “If you’re here to help your father, just give it a little time and he’ll start to believe it.”

Maybe she spoke the truth, but right now Valentino didn’t want to talk about his father or her brother, who’d given them both grief growing up. He pushed the
torta
toward her. “The cake of the seven veils. Why don’t you eat the top layer, I’ll start at the bottom and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.” He handed her a fork.

With a mysterious smile, she took it from him. “Maybe one bite.”

While she toyed with a couple of mouthfuls, he didn’t waste any time making inroads. After swallowing some of the hot liquid he said, “So that’s the secret behind your weight loss.”

A little chocolate remained at the corner of her pliant mouth, tempting him to taste both. The errant thought took him by surprise. Before he could blink she wiped it away with her napkin.

“The Rossettis have always been a hefty bunch. Three years ago I saw a diet plan in a magazine and decided to try it. Bianca had just gotten married and she went on it with me.”

“Does she have an hourglass figure, too?”

Again he watched the blush fill her cheeks. “She looks good. Now she’s pregnant again.”

“Bianca has a baby?”

“Yes. Little Paolito. He’s so sweet. I wish he were mine.”

The throb in her voice didn’t escape him. “How old is he?”

“Six months.”

So much had gone on while he’d been pursuing his dreams. “So tell me what you got up to after I left Monta Correnti.”

“You mean besides running the fruit stand?”

“Anything you want to divulge.”

She studied him for a minute. “Do you remember Lia?”

“Of course. She was your favorite cousin who had a little white fox terrier named Horatio.”

“Yes. I’m afraid he finally died of old age. Anyway, she met a man from Naples who has his own construction company. They got married five years ago and live there with their two children. Last year she begged me to come and stay with them.

“I accepted her invitation thinking I’d only be gone from the farm two weeks. Instead I got a job in his office and started business classes at college.”

His dark brows lifted in surprise. “Business? What aspect of business were you thinking of going into? You told me you would never leave the farm.” He’d thought he knew all of her dreams.

“The inspiration didn’t come into my mind until after you left for Monaco.”

“Which meant I stunted your growth.”

“Don’t be silly.” Though she broke into gentle laughter of denial, Valentino realized he really didn’t know all there was to know about her at all. That bothered him. In the past he’d taken everything about her for granted. For the first time it hit him what a shallow man he’d been. That bothered him even more.

“You’ve got me intrigued.” Mystified was more like it.

“As you know, I spent my life in our lemon groves. One day I got this idea for doing something with lemons besides selling them.”

“But not lemon furniture polish since it had already been invented, right?”

More laughter rumbled out of Clara. “Actually I came up with my own recipe for limoncello.”

“Limoncello—?” In his opinion her mother was the best cook on the planet, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Again it showed him he’d been so consumed by his own thoughts and interests back then, he hadn’t taken the time to explore hers. “Is it good?”

“My business teacher thought it was the best aperitif he’d ever tasted. He urged me to work up a model for its manufacture and distribution to present in class.”

Valentino felt a sudden onset of adrenalin. “I’m jealous he got to sample it first. When am I going to taste it?”

“There’s some left at Lia’s, I think. I’ll phone her and ask her to bring it when she comes for a relative’s party tomorrow. You’re welcome to try it.”

“I’m going to hold you to that offer. So tell me how your project went?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’m behind schedule now and have to go.”

He stifled a protest of exasperation. Just when he was enjoying this conversation more than anything else he’d done in years, Clara was running off again. Her announcement was unacceptable to him. “Where are you going?”

“Shopping.” She took one more bite of
torta
, then drank the last of her coffee.

“I’ll come with you. I need to pick up a few things myself.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid this is an expedition for women only. You stay and finish the
torta
.” She stood up. “It’s been wonderful talking to you again, reminiscing. Thank you for the treat.”

Valentino couldn’t believe she was ready to leave so fast.
“Why don’t we meet up later and I’ll drive you back to the farm?” He got to his feet.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I’ve made other arrangements. Now I really do have to run.”

To Leandro?

He walked her to the entrance, knowing better than to try to detain her. “Thank you for meeting me, Clara. It meant a lot. I’ll be in touch.”

She darted him a breezy smile. “That would be lovely.”

His body tautened. That would be
lovely
? Clara, Clara. What’s going on with you? “
Ciao
,
piccola
.”

“
Ciao
!”

Frustrated by her hurried departure, he watched her progress. She had an enticing little walk that fascinated him before she disappeared around the corner. Once she was out of sight he took off in the other direction for the villa.

His father had dismissed him, and the too brief interlude with Clara had knocked him off balance. He needed to get out of Monta Correnti in the Ferrari. Opening it up always cleared his head. Why not strike out for Naples?

He could look up some old sailing buddies and visit a few tour operators to drum up business for his father. Some entrepreneur he was when he
knew
better than to approach Luca before he had something concrete to present.

The change in Clara since their first meeting must have affected him more than he’d realized, or else he was losing his edge.
Diavolo
!

B
EFORE
breakfast was over Bianca had asked Clara if she wanted help at the stand, but Clara had turned her down. Her sister suffered from bad morning sickness and helped with their grandmother and took care of Paolito while their mother did the cooking and the dishes. Her sister-in-law Maria did the house-cleaning. Everyone had their chores. Clara liked running the stand.

Their farm did big business with outlets all over the region. Trucks came and went from as far as Naples and Rome. As for the fruit stand, it existed for locals and the occasional tourist wanting a small amount of the spillover fruits or olives they could take with them in a bag. The daily intake of money from the sold produce bought the family’s groceries.

After dressing in jeans and a filmy light-orange blouse with a ruffled neckline and three-quarter sleeves, Clara went to the kitchen. On the days she worked at the fruit stand, her mother always packed her a lunch.

Once she’d grabbed it and a bottle of water from the fridge, she headed out of the farmhouse. There were only a few wispy clouds above. The air was soft, just the right temperature so she wouldn’t overheat while she waited on customers.

Clara felt brighter than usual today. She could attribute her energized condition to Valentino, who’d made yesterday morn
ing magical for her. He would hate it if she told him he’d been like Cinderella’s fairy godmother, transforming her life for that hour they’d spent together. It had been liberating to be treated like a normal person.

With her thoughts so full of him, she didn’t realize it was Silvio, not Tomaso, who’d done the setting up with the produce from his truck and was waiting for her at the stand.

That was why he’d left the breakfast table early. Now that they were alone, she braced herself for what she sensed was coming. The knowledge cast a shadow on the beauty of the morning.

His dark eyes squinted at her. “I heard you were at the
pasticceria
with Valentino yesterday morning. Signora Bonelli’s son was in the back working and saw you.”

“So?”

After a sustained pause, “You shouldn’t be letting that scum hang around you.”

She took a deep breath. “Don’t talk that way about Valentino to me. You know nothing about him. Furthermore, you don’t have the right.”

His scowl grew more pronounced. “You spent your whole life being his shadow. When he went away, he never gave you another thought. Now that he’s back and has seen how beautiful you are, he’s decided to make you his next conquest before he leaves town again.”

Clara rubbed her temples with her fingers, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. If she put herself in her brother’s place, she could understand where he was coming from except for one reason. “We’re friends, Silvio. He doesn’t feel that way about me, nor I him.” Valentino doesn’t try to protect me.

Silvio’s face looked like thunder. “A man like him is capable of using a woman whether he has feelings for her or not. It infuriates me that he has suddenly shown up and taken over like he used to do.”

“What do you mean take over? We were close friends all the years we were growing up. Is it so terrible that he wants to see me and catch up while he’s in town?”

“What about Leandro?”

“What about him? I wasn’t interested in him after our first date.”

His features grew hard. “No one wants you to find love more than I do, but we’re talking about Valentino Casali, who isn’t capable of it, Clara. You realize it’s all over the media that he’s been living with that French actress.”

“I know, but while he’s here to see his father, he has decided to take time to renew some old friendships. We met on the staircase near the Piazza Gaspare by accident the other day. You make this sound so sinister when it’s nothing like that.”

Her brother wasn’t listening. “You’re risking your happiness to be with him again. Are you out of your mind to let him come around you?”

“If I am, it’s
my
business.”

“Clara—” he cried, and put his hands on her shoulders, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I know you didn’t.” Silvio’s heart was in the right place, but he’d forgotten she wasn’t a child he could order around anymore.

“Don’t you know I’d do anything for you? I love you. That’s why I don’t want to see Valentino take you for a ride and then dump you like he’s done all the other women in his life.”

She eased away from him. Valentino had never shown her anything but friendship. But the implication that her brother had only ever thought of her as someone to be exploited by him, rather than be considered a lover, carried its own cruel sting.

To her relief a car pulled up the to the covered stand, preventing further conversation. It was a former customer who got into a lively conversation with her. By the time the man drove away again, Silvio had already taken off in his truck for another part
of the farm. Much as she loved her brother, she was glad he’d been forced to get back to work.

For the next five hours business was fairly brisk. Clara sat at the small wooden table with the cash box and ate lunch while she waited for more customers. She’d brought a mystery book to read, but the conversation with Silvio had shaken her and she realized her mind was too focused on Valentino to get into it.

Around two-thirty she saw an old blue half-ton pickup truck coming closer. It lumbered up to the stand. The gears ground before it pulled to a stop. She got to her feet.

“
Buon giorno
,
signore
!” she called to the man in the straw hat and sunglasses climbing out of the cab. With his burgundy T-shirt and jeans covering his well-honed physique, she thought he looked familiar.

“It
is
a good afternoon now that I’ve arrived and see you standing there.”

That voice—like running velvet over gravel. “
Tino
—”

“I guess my disguise isn’t so bad.”

She laughed so hard she almost cried. He threw his head back and laughed with her. Only Valentino would come up with something so completely outrageous. Beneath the brim, his sensual mouth had broken into a heart-stopping smile she couldn’t help but reciprocate.

Everyone else wrapped her in cotton wool, but not Valentino. He was such an original and so charismatic, her heart took flight around him. Right now it was racing too fast and made her slightly dizzy. “Until you got out, the old truck and the kind of hat my grandfather used to wear had me completely fooled.”

“Then it’s possible I’ve eluded the usual horde of paparazzi.”

Before she could countenance it, he went around to open the truck’s tailgate. The next thing she knew he’d produced about twenty new bushel-sized baskets that he stacked near the table.

“Is this all that’s left of today’s produce?” He motioned to the few remaining baskets of fruits and olives.

“Yes.”

Without saying anything else he loaded them in the back of his truck and shut the tailgate. Then he pulled out his wallet and put some bills in the cash box. They represented double the amount she would have received if she’d sold everything by the end of the day.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reading the question in her eyes. “The produce I’ve purchased won’t go to waste.”

She shook her head in amusement. “What are you up to?” The sunglasses hid a lot from view.

“What do you think? I intend to spend the rest of the day with you. Now that you’ve been bought out, you’re free to take the time off and enjoy yourself.
Vieni com me
! I’ll drive you up to the house so you can take the money inside, then we’ll go.” He opened the passenger door.

He’d put her in a position where she could hardly refuse. In truth she didn’t want to no matter how tired she was already, no matter how loudly Silvio’s warnings rang in her ears. “Will the truck make it that far?” she baited him.

His dark brows lifted. Under that hat he looked devastatingly handsome. “Shall we find out?” He helped her inside, then handed her the box after he’d climbed behind the wheel.

“Where did you get this truck?”

“From Giorgio, the sous chef at the restaurant. He has agreed to let me borrow it for a while. I’ve given him the use of my Ferrari whenever he wants.”

“That’s a trade he’ll never forget, but he’ll probably be terrified to drive it.”

“You don’t know Giorgio. Before the day is out we’ll probably see him whizzing around the countryside racking up speeding tickets.”

She laughed. “No doubt with the press hounds in hot pursuit.”

“Exactly.” He drove them up to the farmhouse, then handed her the metal box after she got out.

“I’ll take this inside, then I’ll be back.”

“There’s no hurry. I’m planning to feed you after we get to our destination.”

“That sounds exciting, but I hope it’s not too far. This evening I have plans I can’t break.” It was the truth. After a day’s work she was too tired to do anything but rest. “I’ll need to be home by five-thirty at the latest.”

“Message received,” he muttered.

She jumped down from the cab with the money box and hurried inside the farmhouse to freshen up. Luckily her mother wasn’t in the kitchen at that moment. After the run-in with Silvio, she couldn’t take defending her actions to anyone else, least of all her parents, who killed themselves trying to remove the stumbling blocks from her path.

While Valentino waited for Clara, his jaw hardened in frustration because she continually kept him on a short leash. Yet the minute she emerged from the farmhouse the sight of those translucent green eyes lighting up as she smiled at him broke through his borderline anger to mesmerize him.

When she climbed in the cab, he turned his head toward her. “You’re meeting Leandro later?”

She averted her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for a while. For your information I’m going to watch the children while the rest of the family attends my great-uncle’s birthday. It’s the party Lia’s coming to. None of them gets a break very often. My family wants to go early so they can get home early.” She flashed him an impish smile. “Both Bianca and Maria get morning sickness at night.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that, since he had
nothing else to do with his evening, he’d be more than happy to help her with the children. However, he thought the better of it when he remembered that, besides Paolito, the other three were Silvio’s offspring. Clara’s brother would probably explode in a fine fury to discover Valentino in the house. That in turn would place Clara in hot water.

“I had something else in mind for us, but under the circumstances I’ll drive us to the Trattoria Alberto. They’re supposed to give quick service.”

“That’s the place where a lot of tour buses stop. It’s not too far from here. I haven’t been there in years.” She sounded so relieved he wondered what in blazes was going on with her.

He started up the truck and they left the farm. “How would you like to play spy?”

A chuckle escaped her throat reminding him of the old Clara. “At the trattoria?”

“Yes. One of the reasons I’m in Monta Correnti for the summer is to see what I can do to help improve business at Rosa.”

“You’re here for the whole summer?” The shock in her voice wasn’t feigned.

“Your comment yesterday decided me.”

“What comment?”

“That it will take time to get anywhere with my father.” He could also see that he was going to need that much time to get back in Clara’s good graces. Nine years away without checking in had done its fair share of damage.

“But what about your bike business and your racing?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I can run it with my laptop and phone calls. Missing a few races is of little consequence right now. Papa is heavily in debt. Something needs to be done before he plunges any further. Isabella’s doing her best. I need to do my part.”

A hand went to her throat. “I had no idea.”

“Yesterday I met with some tour operators who gave me their itineraries. They all stop at the Trattoria Alberto when they pass through Monta Correnti. I’d like to find out why they think it’s a better place than Rosa. While we’re eating, let’s make a list of what’s good and bad about the place and the food. We’ll check prices and the number of menu items.”

Her face lit up. “This is going to be fun.”

Valentino laughed in pure delight to see her act excited. “I thought it might appeal to you.”

It didn’t take long before they reached the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking area at the side of the trattoria. He showed her inside and they took a seat that gave them visual access to all areas of the dining room. Without a tour-bus crowd, there were quite a few empty tables because it was still early.

Clara chose chicken and he opted for the veal, the two dishes most tourists ordered. They tested two house wines and ordered the most popular desserts. “Your father will be impressed you went to this much trouble in the name of research.”

Valentino let out a caustic laugh before swallowing the last spoonful of his gelato. “To tell you the truth, his opinion of me is so low, I doubt he’ll give me the time of day to present my findings, but I have to try. He raised me, after all.”

She looked at him in seeming consternation. “Why do you say that? What father wouldn’t be the proudest man in the world to have a son who has accomplished so much?”

“You’d be surprised.” He studied her through shuttered lids. “You’re very sweet, Clara.”

He had half a mind to unload his secrets on her, but she seemed to have run out of steam. Her eyelids fluttered like someone who was exhausted. When he saw her glance at her watch, he knew the drill. Defeated for the moment, he laid some money on the table and ushered her outside to the truck.

On the way back to the farm she tried to keep up her end of
the conversation, but the spark she’d shown earlier had fled. After he turned onto the road leading up to the farmhouse he said, “Will you have coffee with me at Bonelli’s in the morning and we’ll compare notes before I head to the restaurant to see my father? I’ll pick you up.”

“No—I mean y-you don’t need to do that,” she stammered before opening the door. “I’ll come on the bus, but it will have to be early, say nine o’clock. I have a dentist appointment at ten.”