by Daisy James
‘I hope so, Alex.’
With visible effort, Alex inhaled a long breath, straightened his shoulders and pushed himself up from his wooden seat, slotting his hands into the front pockets of his chinos and flapping his elbows.
‘I don’t suppose you know of any hotels or B&Bs around here that might have a spare room for a guy who’s keen to find their own little slice of the solace you’ve discovered here in Italy, do you?’
Izzie laughed, going over to stand at his side as he admired the panoramic view. On the hilltop in front of them, the village of San Vivaldo slumbered under an electric blue sky, with its hotchpotch of terracotta roofs, the lone campanile, the wriggling tramlines of vines, all interspersed by pencil-thin cypress trees so typically Italian it could grace any tourist magazine. Yet, on the far horizon, a bank of silver-grey clouds gathered, and the temperature had dropped by several degrees.
‘Actually, I do. Riccardo Clarke, the guy who owns the B&B next door, arrived back from his trip to London this morning and I’m sure he’ll have no problem putting you up in one of his guest rooms. I think you’ll like him.’
A smile twitched at her lips as she imagined Alex and Riccardo bonding over a love of detective novels and a glass or two of Vecchia Romagna brandy. Then something else sprang into her mind and she realised how she could thank Alex for everything he had done to support her whilst they had been together, and to soften the effect of her refusal to return to her old life.
‘And there’s someone else I’d like to introduce you to whilst you’re over here.’
‘There is?’
‘Yes, her name’s Carlotta Bellini – she lives in San Vivaldo and she’s a…’
Izzie paused. How was she going to describe Carlotta to Alex? A superb cook? A staunch supporter of Villa Limoncello? A trusted and valued friend? Or the reason she wanted to introduce them – a matchmaking maestro?
‘Well, she’s a good friend of mine and you’re going to like her, too.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ said Alex, politely, with no idea what he had in store. ‘Thanks, Izzie.’
‘There’s no need to thank me.’
A flutter of excitement passed through her body as she anticipated Carlotta working her particular brand of magic on Alex and for some unknown reason an image of Oriana floated across her vision. She almost laughed out loud. Perhaps Carlotta’s skills included telepathy, as well?
When Alex turned to face her, she hadn’t realised how close he was. She met his pale blue gaze, and, when he placed his hand gently on her shoulder, for a moment she thought he was going to lean forward and kiss her. His mouth was inches from hers and she could smell the spicy cologne he had always worn, but instead of the anticipation and desire she had experienced a long time ago when he’d looked at her like that, she felt the same as she did when Jonti greeted her with a friendly kiss. She raised herself onto her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with her lips.
‘We’ll catch up later, Alex.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Izzie,’ he whispered, his voice heavy with regret as he drew her closer and hugged her to him with such unbelievable tenderness she almost burst into tears.
As she pulled out of his embrace, she saw a flicker of movement behind the foliage of the rhododendron bush that guarded the entrance to the terrace. Perhaps it was the mounting breeze tickling at the leaves, or the rustle of an animal making its way back to its underground home, but then the fierce revving of a high-powered engine sliced through the air and a flash of scarlet shot down the driveway, through the gates and out to the road beyond.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Antonio’s Trattoria, San Vivaldo
Colour: Love-heart red
‘Oh, my God! No!’
The tumult of emotions that exploded inside Izzie left her in no doubt where her heart lay and she couldn’t wait a moment longer to tell Luca how she felt about him. If Alex could travel all the way from London to San Vivaldo to talk to her face-to-face, despite the risk of being turned down, then she could hop onto the little pink Vespa hibernating in the shed and drive as fast as she could to Antonio’s.
‘See that gate over there? The one hidden by those cypress trees?’
‘Erm… yes?’
‘That’s the entrance to Riccardo’s B&B. Sorry, Alex, you’ll have to fend for yourself – there’s something I have to do.’
Ignoring the look of incredulity on Alex’s face, she dashed across the terrace, yanked open the door of the delipidated outbuilding next to the limonaia, and wheeled out her trusty steed. Once she’d reached the front steps, she shoved the helmet over her curls, cocked her leg over the seat and started the engine, smiling when it caught first time. With a whoosh of exhilaration, she was down the driveway in a flash and out onto the open road, navigating the twists and turns with care.
As she leaned low over the handlebars to squeeze the last gasp of speed from the Vespa to make the final climb into San Vivaldo, she saw for the first time that the clouds had morphed from silver-grey to a dark ominous pewter, and the air temperature had dropped considerably, causing her forearms to prickle with goosebumps. But she hardly noticed her discomfort because her heart was hammering a concerto of determination as she practised what she wanted to say to Luca when she caught up with him.
She arrived in the cobbled piazza in record time, jumped from the seat of the Vespa, tossed the helmet over the handlebars and sprinted towards the trattoria, pausing to catch her breath on the top step of the wooden veranda from where she could see Luca’s scarlet Spider parked in the alleyway nearby. She peered into the restaurant, relieved to see the choir had already departed for the airport, leaving just a smattering of diners lingering over their post-lunch coffees, then pushed the door open and took a step inside.
Her eyes locked onto Luca’s immediately, drawing her to him as if by a magnetic force. For the briefest of moments, the rest of the world seemed to recede into the inconsequential and all that mattered was the way Luca was looking at her, his expression serious, his dark chocolate gaze scorching deep into her soul.
‘Luca, I…’
Suddenly, everything she had rehearsed on the journey over there drained from her mind and she was left with a blank. As if in slow motion, she watched Luca stride the length of the restaurant with every single patron’s eye following him, their conversations on hold as they settled back in their seats to watch the drama that was taking place in front of them unfold.
‘I’m sorry, Luca, I had no idea… about… he just turned up… he just…’
Luca reached out to place his hand gently on her arm.
‘I’m sorry, too, Izzie. I should have talked to you about what was going on a lot sooner. I should have told you how I felt about you, how much you mean to me. When you went back to the UK in September, I missed you so much it felt like someone had torn my heart out. I realised then that life without you by my side was not an option. But I understand why you’ve decided to go home to Cornwall, I really do, and…’
‘Luca, I’m not going back to Cornwall.’
‘But I thought… when I saw you with… I assumed…’
A burst of joy exploded in Izzie’s chest and she didn’t care if they had an audience, because the way she feeling she would have happily shouted her love for this wonderful man from the terracotta rooftops!
‘Yes, that was Alex, and believe me, I had no idea he was coming over to Italy. And yes, he did make the trip across to try and persuade me to take up Harry’s offer. Alex also told me that he’s been offered a job at one of the local surf schools in Newquay, that he intends to chase his dreams, too. I’m happy for him, but his dreams will have to be pursued without me. I’ll be forever grateful to him for steering me through the most painful period of my life, and I still have a great deal of affection for him, but I don’t love him. What you saw on the terrace at the villa just now was me telling him exactly that – and sending him round to Riccardo’s to see if he has a spare room.’
Luca stared at
her as he assimilated everything she had said. Silence expanded into all four corners of the restaurant as everyone held their breath, waiting for the next scene in the story to be played out. Even Carlos had appeared at the kitchen door to see what was happening, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face.
Holding his gaze, Izzie took a step forward and murmured, ‘Ti amo, Luca.’
‘Ti amo anch’io,’ Luca whispered back, his lips curling upwards to form those wonderful dimples that had featured in every one of her dreams since arriving in Tuscany.
When Izzie saw the depth of feeling in his eyes, her stomach bounced to her toes and back again, and when she felt his breath on her cheek, inhaled the familiar fragrance of his cologne, and heard the faint strain of an Italian aria rippling through the air, a surge of unbridled pleasure spread through her veins.
‘Luca, I…’
‘Shh…’
And suddenly Luca’s lips were on hers, his fingers lacing through the tangle of curls at the back of her neck so he could pull her closer to him. She kissed him back, trying to express every single emotion that was cascading through her body in that one kiss. Luca had introduced her to a profusion of amazing things: glorious food, delicious wine, the spectacular sights and sounds of San Vivaldo and its many wonderful people, but he had also taught her how to open her heart and let the Tuscan sunshine pour in.
Eventually she pulled away, breathless, a giggle erupting when the whole restaurant burst into applause to celebrate the epilogue of the impromptu romance that was playing out in front of them, a story that reaffirmed in every heart that, no matter the distress, the pain, the grief or the sadness that life bestows on its participants, in the end love will conquer all.
Luca laughed and took a bow to accept the applause for their kiss, and then obliged with a quick encore, before grabbing Izzie by the waist, lifting her in the air and spinning her around and around and around until she begged him to stop. The diners returned to their desserts and their conversations resumed, the level of their voices drowning out the background music as they discussed what they had just witnessed.
‘Come on,’ Luca murmured, guiding Izzie towards the door, pausing briefly to snatch a coat and scarf from the hanger and drape them around her shoulders. She followed him outside to a table on the veranda next to a patio heater, but stopped abruptly.
‘Oh my God! Look!’
She tipped her head back in delight as snowflakes as light as feathers drifted down from the leaden sky, transforming the whole scene – usually awash with golden sunshine – into a winter wonderland. She laughed, then ran down the steps to the piazza, her palms held upwards, pirouetting like a ballerina in an attempt to catch just one of the perfectly formed flakes, joy exuding from every pore. Luca caught up with her outside Oriana’s bakery, producing a knitted hat from his pocket and jamming it down on to her corkscrew curls.
‘Life is certainly a rollercoaster with you at the helm!’
‘Isn’t it magical?’
Luca reached out and pulled her close, so close she could feel his heart beating through his flimsy chef’s jacket. When he lowered his mouth to hers she felt as if she was melting into his arms, and now she was able to take her time to relish the discovery of every contour of his lips, savouring the feel, the taste, and all the tingling sensations that were spreading through her veins like wildfire. Eventually, she pulled away and Luca ushered her back to the veranda, where they took refuge from the increasing flurry of snow and his expression turned serious.
‘I’d better get back inside or I might get fired!’
Izzie laughed. ‘Fired! What are you talking about? You own the place!’
‘Not any more.’
‘What?’
She stopped in her tracks, staring at Luca, who was a few paces in front of her.
‘Luca?’
But he kept on walking, forcing her to run to catch up with him.
‘Luca? What do you mean “not any more”?’
They’d reached the door of the trattoria, shaded from the worst of the snow by the overhead canopy proudly sporting the colours of the Italian flag.
‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.’
‘Think of what?’
‘I’ve sold the restaurant.’
‘You’ve… Oh my God! Luca, why? You love Antonio’s – it’s always been your dream to be a chef in your own trattoria!’
‘Dreams change.’
‘Who’s the new owner?’
‘Carlos.’
‘Carlos?’ she laughed.
‘And his brother Filippo. I’ve promised to stay on for a couple of months until the Christmas rush is out of the way, but then it’s all theirs.’
‘But Luca, if you’ve sold the restaurant, what are you going to do? Oh, my God, are you… are you going back to banking?’
‘No way!’ He looked horrified. ‘I’m going to chase a new dream.’
‘What new dream?’
‘I’m going to put all my efforts, and the money I make from the sale of the restaurant, into finalising the renovations at Villa dei Limoni so we can promote it as a luxury retreat for discerning travellers who want to expand their minds as well as enjoy a taste of the real Tuscany – with the woman I love by my side. What do you say, Izzie? Will you be my partner?’
For a moment she couldn’t speak. Stay on at Villa Limoncello? It was the best offer she’d had all year! As the snowflakes morphed from gentle flurry to leisurely tumble, she stared at the man who had changed her life from snoring boring monochrome to exciting vibrant Technicolor, her heart pounding out a melody of joy.
‘Yes! Yes! Yes! I’d love to stay at the villa, Luca!’
She flung her arms around his neck, the turbulent torrent of emotions she’d experienced in the space of thirty minutes threatening to overwhelm her.
‘Isabella Grace Jenkins, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to run off the road into a field of sunflowers and donkeys. You’ve filled my world with chaos and confusion, but also with an abundance of creativity and colour. Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo!’
‘I love you too, Luca,’ she murmured, slipping her hand into his.
Izzie glanced up to the snow-laden clouds, picked out the fluffiest of them all and sent up a prayer of thankfulness. It might have been the tears gathering along her lashes, but she was sure she saw its silver-coloured lining curl upwards into a smile of approval and she knew it was a sign that her beloved sister was beaming down at them, bestowing them with her blessing.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Villa Limoncello, San Vivaldo, Tuscany
Colour: Glittering crystal
‘Hey, Izzie, darling!’
Jonti jumped out of the back seat of the taxi before it had even drawn to a halt at the front steps of the villa.
‘Hi, Jonti, welcome to Villa Limoncello!’
‘Oh, my God, you look absolutely amazing!’ he declared, squeezing Izzie so tight she squealed in objection. ‘Where’s Luca? I can’t wait to meet him. It’s all Meghan talked about on the plane on the way over. Gianni this, Luca that, Gianni this, Luca that. God, it’s enough to make a poor guy turn green with envy. Hey, where do you think you’re skipping off to,’ he called after Meghan as she scampered away towards the garden in search of the man who had stolen her heart. ‘What about the luggage!’
‘It’s okay, Jonti. I’ll help you, and Luca’s in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to lunch. Come on.’
The snow of the previous day had vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and that Saturday morning had dawned with a crisp cerulean sky and not a cloud in sight to welcome Jonti and Meghan for their weekend of rest and relaxation before the Christmas shopping hordes descended on the most prestigious store in Knightsbridge
‘And there’s someone else who wants to meet you, too.’
‘Who? Oh, what a delightful little dog!’
Jonti paused to fondle Pipo’s ears as the littl
e dog snoozed in the wicker basket hooked over the handlebars of an ancient silver bicycle parked next to the pergola. Then he stopped, mid-stroke, and turned to stare at Izzie, his hand flying to his lips as he let out a gasp.
‘Oh my God! No way! Are you sure? Oh, Izzie, darling, thank you, thank you, thank you!’
She giggled as Jonti smoothed his hand over his bleached blonde quiff, straightened the lapels of his chunky emerald cardigan depicting a Christmas tree resplendent with real baubles and embroidered gold tinsel, then checked that his orange winkle-pickers were free of blemishes.
‘Do I look okay?’
‘You look fabulous!’
‘Oh, my God! I actually think all my Christmases might have come at once! Okay, breathe, breathe, calm, calm. Right, lead the way!’
Izzie linked her arm though Jonti’s and guided him across the terrace, where she paused briefly to point out the village of San Vivaldo on the hilltop, but she knew he wasn’t interested in the various merits of the Tuscan landscape.
‘Yes, lovely, darling…’ he muttered.
Smiling, she took pity on him, and pushed open the kitchen door, inhaling the aroma of warm focaccia infused with rosemary and garlic, mixed with a soupçon of Christmas spices from the panettone Luca had baked that morning especially for Meghan and Jonti’s arrival.
‘Jonti, this is Luca Castelotti. Luca, this is one of my best friends in the whole world, Jonti Montgomery.’
Luca stepped away from the table, where he’d been putting the finishing touches to a four-tier cannoli cake smothered in rich vanilla buttercream and decorated with curls of orange zest, to offer Jonti his palm and a welcoming smile. Izzie saw from the playful glint in her friend’s eye that he approved and when Luca turned back to collect a batch of serviettes, Jonti placed his hand on his heart and performed a theatrical swoon. Izzie rolled her eyes at him then giggled.
However, whilst Jonti had been keen to meet the man who had healed Izzie’s broken heart, it wasn’t Luca he was desperate to meet.
