by Amanda Usen
For once, being right didn’t make him happy. “So what are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t decided. Travel? Eat, pray, run?”
“Running away isn’t going to solve any of your problems, Olivia.”
“Are you sure? Because it’s a hell of a relief.” Her jaw tightened. “I’m so glad to be out of Norton, I almost feel like a different person. A person who could do…this. But you’re right. Running away doesn’t change anything. And I’d like for us to stay friends.”
“So you think if we make love we won’t be friends anymore?” he asked.
Her lips curved in a wry twist. “That seems to be how it works out for me.”
Sean paused, thinking. “Yeah, pretty much me too.” But that wasn’t how he wanted it to turn out with Olivia. The rules that had applied to other women didn’t seem to apply to her. If she had been any other woman, they would be naked right now. His casual relationships hadn’t suffered from a drunken roll in the sheets, but he owed Olivia more than a one-night stand. And he didn’t want her to have any reason for regrets—or excuses. He kicked off his shoes, then slung an arm around her shoulders in a casual embrace and drew her toward the pillows.
“What are you doing?” she asked, keeping one arm stiff and perpendicular to the mattress.
He pulled it out from under her and caught her to his chest. “Being friendly.” He settled back onto the pillows and wrapped his arms around her. Slowly, her arm crept around his waist. His heart began a steady thump as she fit herself into his side. He hugged her and sighed.
“I’m no pro at this either. I’ve never had a serious relationship because I didn’t want anything to pull my focus away from my responsibilities to my clients or my family.
She snuggled closer. “Tell me more about your family.”
He took a deep breath. How could he explain his childhood? He was trying to make her feel better, not making a play for sympathy. There was no way to put it delicately, so he just laid it out. “My dad died when I was young and that’s when my mom started drinking. There was an insurance policy, so there was plenty of money.” He snorted. “To buy more vodka. She lost touch with what was going on and I figured out pretty quick that if I wanted to go to college then my grades had better be perfect. You may have noticed I didn’t socialize much in high school.”
She nodded. He was grateful not to see pity in her eyes, just acceptance. It made it easier to tell her the rest. “You remember my younger brother, right?”
He felt her nod, so he continued. “Colin’s twenty-one now, but when Dad died he was just a little guy. My mom couldn’t deal with him.”
She raised her head. “So what did you do?”
“Research. I found a universal Pre-K program that was free, and I made an arrangement with his teacher to watch him every day until I got done with school. Whenever mom was sober enough, I took her with me so the teacher wouldn’t ask too many questions. It wasn’t a great solution, but it got us through that year. The next year he went to kindergarten, and it was easier. I was terrified someone would discover what was going on at home and put us both in foster care.”
“Don’t you think that might have been easier for you?”
He shook his head. “I’d already lost my father and most of my mother. There was no way I was going to lose Colin too.”
“When did your mother stop drinking?” she asked.
“A neighbor took her to church one Sunday and she found God. Then he took her to her first AA meeting. She’s been sober for ten years and that helpful neighbor is my stepfather now.”
“A happy ending?” she asked.
“He’s a good guy. Solid. They got married the year I went to law school, so I didn’t have to worry about him trying to play daddy to me, but Colin was just at that age, you know? Teenage boys are crazy, but teenage boys with religious recovering-alcoholic moms and new know-it-all stepfathers are absolutely impossible.”
“How would you know? You didn’t get to be a crazy teenager. You had to take care of Colin.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said. “We were both a wreck, but we held each other together. Taking care of him kept me from exploding, although I guess I’m not the exploding type. Colin, on the other hand, he’s always been a live wire, and when I got a scholarship and moved to Syracuse for law school, he didn’t have anybody to ground him anymore.”
Sean looked away, afraid to see the blame in her eyes. “I thought he would be fine. Mom was doing really well and she basically told me it was time to stop being so territorial about Colin, that he wasn’t my child, he was my brother and it was time to start acting like it.”
Olivia gasped. “Are you kidding me? If you hadn’t stepped up to the plate she wouldn’t have had a family to take care of when she stopped drinking.”
Her outrage made him realize how angry he had been with his mother. “But she was right. She was sober. She was stable. And if I didn’t step out of the way, she was never going to get her son back.” He sighed and looked down at her.
Her eyes were wide green pools. “I don’t like the look on your face. What happened?”
Sean shrugged. “Colin hooked up with a lousy crowd. His grades tanked.” He swallowed, remembering the last straw. “He came home with a tattoo. A piercing a few weeks later—you can imagine, just what you’d expect from a kid trying to get attention.”
“Did it work?”
“Sure, Mom and Dave kept getting stricter and stricter. Colin kept getting wilder and wilder.”
“What would you have done in their place?”
“Probably the same thing, but we had a bond. Mom and Dave didn’t have a prayer. I came home at Christmas and saw it wasn’t going well, but by the time the school year was over, Colin wouldn’t listen to me either.”
“What happened to your bond?”
He shook his head. “He was fourteen, just starting a new school, and I had left him with mom and squeaky-clean Dave and trotted off to law school thinking my work was done. I barely recognized him anymore. He’d practically turned into a thug. He hated the whole world and me along with it.”
“It ain’t easy being a teenager.”
“Or living with one. He got caught driving drunk when he was eighteen. It wasn’t the first time, and Mom and Dave kicked him out. Thank God I’m a lawyer, and I can pull a few strings once in a while. I managed to get him prosecuted as a youthful offender and he got three years probation. He lives with me now.”
“Some people would call that enabling.” Her voice was sleepy.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But he’s a good kid, and I didn’t want him going to jail. I’ve been terrified for three years. Any little mistake would send him to jail, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
“Is his time almost up?”
“This week. His last hearing is Wednesday.”
“Don’t you want to be there?” she asked.
Not as much as I want to be here with you.
He shook his head and she brought her arm up to clasp his shoulder and shifted. Now she was all but lying on top of him. Her body was warm and her breath was slow and even. He held her close and breathed the flowers in her hair. A small smile crossed her lips as her eyes drifted shut and she fell heavily into sleep. His heart ached.
Sean closed his eyes too, wanting to give in to his fatigue. But if he didn’t move now, he’d be out until morning and Olivia’s mother was sure to come knocking. Slowly, one limb at a time, he untangled their bodies, regretting every inch of chill that claimed him.
He covered her with the blanket at the end of the bed and flipped as much of the comforter over her as he could. He turned off the light and picked up his shoes. He walked quietly toward the door. The hallway was empty and the house quiet. He checked to
make sure the door had locked behind him and ghosted down the hall to his own room. Once inside, he dropped his shoes by the door and stripped on his way to the bed. Crawling under the covers, he stretched out on his back and recalled the feel of Olivia, warm and trusting.
Chapter 9
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.
