“Walking.”
“I thought so.” He pressed kisses all the way to her mouth. She couldn’t deny that his hunger was as great as her own. Since his arrival in Ravello, they’d been thrown into an intimate situation. Lucca had never married and wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t want to enjoy his nurse until she’d gone. Annabelle didn’t blame him at all.
Thank you, Guilio, for the heads-up. After their conversation, she was afraid she was in a different place than Lucca emotionally. Guilio had indicated Lucca valued her medical assistance. If that was all, then the trick was to be her wisest self until the party was over and she went back to California.
She eased herself away enough to talk to him and cupped his face. “I have to know. How did it go with your father? He loves you so much.”
His gaze wandered over her features in the semidarkness. “Can’t I tell you later? To be honest, all I’ve been able to think about is getting you alone.” He began kissing the daylights out of her. Annabelle had never felt this alive before. Being with Lucca was like being reborn.
He started to maneuver her into the other room, but the fear that she would go on reading too much into his lovemaking prevented her from indulging herself for long. If he wasn’t starting to love her as intensely as she did him, then she was playing with fire. Slowly she eased out of his arms.
“Why are you pulling away from me?”
“I didn’t eat much today. Do you think we could go to dinner first? Then you can tell me everything.”
Lucca’s gaze swept over her. “I should have realized, but when I saw you come in the door, I only had one desire. Is there anything you need to do before we leave?”
“I’ll just freshen up. Be sure to bring your pills.”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the day I don’t need them anymore.”
“I want that for you, too.”
After he’d held her back for another kiss, she hurried through the house to change clothes and run a brush through her hair. She put on the same sleeveless orange shirtwaist she’d worn the other day. On a warm night like this, the linen breathed.
When next she saw Lucca, he’d just come out of his room, walking toward her with barely a sign of a limp. He wore a pair of beige trousers and a silky white sport shirt, where she glimpsed the dusting of hair on his chest at the opening.
His sudden white smile sent her heartbeat skyrocketing. He was so Italian and attractive, she had to look down for a minute to get a grip. They left the house together and went out to the car. In the next instant he’d climbed in the passenger seat next to her.
“Hi.” He leaned over and kissed her neck. The contact of his mouth against her skin radiated through her in waves. “Remember me?” The exact words she’d said to him last week.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded all breathy. That was the way he affected her. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but to her surprise he squeezed her hand instead. “I don’t dare do what I want to you right now or we’ll never leave the farm.”
“Maybe you should get in the back,” she teased.
He drew in a harsh breath. “I prefer to be right where I am, up close and personal.” So did she. Annabelle wished she could be more like Lucca and go with her feelings without dissecting it and imagining it taking on major significance. “What kind of food are you in the mood for?”
“Anything you choose. Surprise me.” She put the key in the ignition and started the car, afraid to look at him directly. If she did, she’d beg to stay here and crawl into his arms.
“You’re in a different mood this evening.”
His radar never failed. “I think I got a little too warm during my walk.”
“Then we need to hydrate you. I know a place not far from here.” He gave her directions. After that, the pregnant silence on the drive to the restaurant passed in a blur because she was too conscious of his nearness and her susceptibility to him.
Every eating establishment on the coast was a scene of enchantment facing the sea. Lucca led them to a divinely romantic spot overlooking the water. He plied her with juice from the bar. Afterward they were shown to an individual terrace with a table for two, separated from the others by flowering trees for the diners’ privacy. The blossoms gave off their own perfume. In the background a live band was playing Italian love songs for those who wanted to dance or simply listen.
After they’d been eating mouthwatering hors d’oeuvres automatically brought to every table, she found herself gazing into those gray-green eyes staring back at her between black lashes as silky as his shirt.
“I know the reason why you went away and joined the air force, Lucca. But if I’d been born in this particular spot on earth, I don’t think I could have left it.”
He finished the last of the olives the waiter had told them were freshly harvested from a nearby grove. “You have places in Southern California that rival our coast.”
She shook her head. “No. Like these hors d’oeuvres I’ve been enjoying, places like Laguna Beach and La Jolla are merely appetizers compared to Ravello.”
His eyes smiled at her. “That’s a fascinating analogy.”
“But true,” she insisted. “On my walk, I stopped by the Villa Rufolo today. The place is an arabesque fantasy within a fantasy. With those enchanting gardens, it’s no wonder Wagner was inspired for his Parsifal.” She sipped her coffee. “I understand the Wagner festival will be on next month. You lucky people who live here.”
“I prefer listening to Wagner when the town isn’t overrun with tourists.”
“I hear you.” She smiled. “Southern California is like a wall-to-wall carpet woven of tourists. That’s why I’ve loved staying in your home so much.”
“You prefer it over the large villas?”
“They’re lovely, but too big. There’s a cozy warm feeling to your little farmhouse. The fruit trees and flowers surrounding it are like tufts of clouds, hiding it away from everyone. I’m crazy about it. If I were an artist, I’d paint it at various hours of the day.”
“You mean like Monet, who kept turning out his poplar trees?”
She winked at him. “Exactly like that.”
The waiter arrived with their fish entrée.
“I believe you’re an artist in your soul,” Lucca observed after they were alone again.
“I’m afraid I fixate on a subject rather than create from it.” She’d fixated on Lucca from those very first moments and there was no antidote except to remove herself. “How did your day go today? Honestly.”
“Honestly, my father and I are at peace. He told me he’s behind my farming idea a hundred percent. And it seems he’s decided to turn his business party into a homecoming party for me. But it’s going to be on Wednesday instead of Saturday. I’m very touched.”
“He’s incredibly proud of you.” Annabelle didn’t know how she was going to wait that long for the big night to unfold.
As she looked at him, a mysterious gleam entered his eyes. “After Papa dropped me off, I had a visitor who looked shocked when I answered my own door. Care to make a guess?”
“Fortunato?” She’d almost said Cellina, but caught herself in time. Naturally the whole Cavezzali family had to be curious why Guilio had let Annabelle stay in his son’s house.
He nodded. “I hate to have to tell you this, but the latest gossip has put you and the widower Basilio as an item.”
She burst into laughter. “If your nephew had looked closely, he could have seen that your shirt and cargo pants would hardly have fit Basilio.”
“He was too focused on you to notice details like that. I’m afraid he’s smitten. That’s when I informed him I was the other man in the house the other night. I could care less what conclusions he’s drawn. According to him you couldn’t be more than twenty-five.”
“I don’t believe it.” She laughed.
“That’s nice when you do that. For your information he’s wishing he could make the stretch that would put the two of you in
to the category that you might treat him as a romantic equal.”
“I’m afraid we’ve all been there before.”
He leaned forward. “Who was Ms. Marsh’s fantasy?”
“My art teacher in high school. He was probably forty, but I thought that was the perfect age for a man. He was so mature and self-assured. He made all the boys look pathetic in comparison. I used to think up reasons to hang around his class after school.”
“You mean he let you?”
“Yes. Now that I think about it, it was pretty naughty of him.”
Lucca’s shoulders shook with laughter.
“Now it’s your turn.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCCA gave her an unconsciously seductive smile. “Which fantasy would you like to hear about first? One of my father’s secretaries, or the mother of one of my high-school friends?”
“Oh, brother.” Annabelle shook her head.
“No fantasy ever looked better than the one sitting across from me.” There was a tone in Lucca’s voice and a look in his eyes that raised her temperature.
She took another drink of her coffee. “After Fortunato left, what did you do?”
He sat back in the chair. “Looked at the list of notations I’ve made of all the things that need fixing around the house.”
“That’s good you’re staying busy.”
His jaw hardened slightly. “You mean so I won’t brood?” He’d jumped on her remark so fast, her head spun.
“No, Lucca. No …” she placated softly. “I didn’t say that. You know I only meant until your pain was a little better.”
“But you were thinking it. With good reason I might add. There are a lot of things I’d like to tackle, but for my leg.”
“It’s getting better every day.” She knew that after a certain amount of work he got tired. That’s when it started to hurt and made him edgy. “I’ve a hunch patience was never thy name, but you’ll make it through this.”
“I’d ask you to dance, but that’s verboten for a time. So is driving.”
“Lucca…haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? It’s early days yet.” Annabelle put the empty coffee cup back in the saucer.
A faraway look entered Lucca’s eyes. “I’ve been dreaming too much about my plans for the farm. I want it too much.”
“That’s your pain talking. Remember you have a plate in your leg. That’s making all the difference in your recovery.”
“Why?” he snapped at her. Finally he was listening.
“You live with a constant ache and are probably dealing with some arthritis. The plate the doctor put along the side of your thighbone is helping bear your weight and has made early movement possible. However, the plate is shielding your bone from stress, which is not necessarily a good thing.”
He sat forward. “Are you saying the doctor didn’t know what he was doing?”
“No, Lucca …” She shook her head. “After your crash, you needed the surgery immediately to safeguard against further nerve damage. But because some stress on the bone is necessary to strengthen it as it heals, this stress-shielding has had some consequences, like your pain, for example.”
His features broke into a grimace. “The news gets better and better.”
“Actually it does,” she assured him. “Considering that you experience pain when you’re fatigued, I’d advise you to consult an orthopedic surgeon here and see if you’re a candidate to have the plate removed at some point down the road.”
She saw his hands close into fists. “If I thought I could get that thing out of there …”
“I know it’s possible, but I’m not a doctor. Only he can determine if it’s a procedure for you and how soon it could be done. If so, you could probably do most everything you used to do and be free of pain. If nothing else, it will improve the quality of the life you’re living now.”
He stared at her through new eyes. “You’ve given me hope I thought was gone.”
“Hope is everything, isn’t it? But if the doctor advises against it in your particular case because it could leave your bone with a residual weakness, I know you’ll handle it. You’re not an ace pilot for nothing.”
She didn’t have to look at him to feel his energy. Something earthshaking was going on inside him. “Do you want dessert?”
“After that fabulous meal, I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“Then let’s go home, unless you’ve decided you’d rather stay at the Casa Claudia.”
She wouldn’t desert Lucca now. The possibility that something could be done for his leg meant he would want to talk about it. Since she’d brought it up, she needed to see it through.
“No. Much as I think it would look better to those on the outside, I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with your house.” With you.
“Good, because I already canceled your reservation and paid your bill.”
While Annabelle sat there astounded, he got to his feet. She followed suit. There was a new gleam in his eyes.
“Papa had something delivered to the farmhouse earlier today. I’d like you to help me christen it.”
Her heart thumped. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”
One side of his seductive mouth lifted. “It’s not a mattress, although that item is going to be next on my shopping list.” He left money for the bill and ushered her out of the restaurant.
She walked out to the car with him. “The word christen has a definite connotation. I’m intrigued.”
He squeezed her around the hip. “It signals that something new has been launched.”
Lucca’s choice of words reminded her of Guilio’s plans for his fabulous new sports car. But she could hardly concentrate because Lucca was touching her and now her legs felt like mush.
“Sort of like your new life when you thought the other one was over after you landed in that war zone?” It was a miracle she could start up the engine and pull out on to the main road without having an accident.
His arm rested across the back of both their seats, creating havoc with her body. She felt him finger the ends of her hair. Electric currents shot through her. “That, and other things,” he murmured, sounding the slightest bit cryptic.
“Shall we drive to Solerno for some more torta?” She couldn’t take much more of his attention. It was driving her mad with desire. They needed to stay busy.
He angled his striking face toward her. “Are you afraid to go home with me? The nerve at the base of your throat started throbbing before we got up from the table.”
His eagle eye didn’t miss anything. You idiot, Annabelle. He had to have eagle eyes to be a pilot, so it shouldn’t have surprised her. “Maybe. Having agreed to stay with you, this is all new to me.”
“Your honesty is refreshing.” He tugged on a strand. “I promise not to do anything you don’t want me to do.”
“Signore Cavezzali—” Her mouth had gone dry. “We can’t sleep together.”
She heard him suck in his breath. “If you’re telling me you don’t want me, you’d be lying.”
“I want you very much,” she confessed with total candor. “But I’m sure your doctor told you it’s too soon after your surgery.”
“If he did—” Lucca’s words came out like a growl “—I was probably too drugged to hear him.”
“Then all the more reason to consult a doctor here. If this plate can be removed, then you don’t want to injure what has been repaired to this point. It’s not worth the risk. We can thank Fortunato for showing up before any harm was done the other morning.”
She pulled into the drive and shut off the motor. Before he touched her, she sprang from the front seat, eager to see what he wanted christened.
Lucca moved ahead of her and opened the French doors to the terrace. “It’s out here.”
She followed him and looked to the left. “A swing!” It was long and roomy, just his size, with padded arms and extra cushions. The floral pattern matched the colors of the farmhouse’s exterior. “Ho
w perfect for you!”
“For us,” he corrected. “If you’ll sit at this end, I can put my head in your lap and stretch my legs.”
He had her royally caught, but it was where she wanted to be. As soon as she’d seated herself, he sat next to her, then lay down, extending his hard-muscled length where he could prop his feet on the cushion.
Lucca caught her hands and kissed the palms. “Since this is our favorite place in the house, I decided I wanted us to be comfortable. Our family used to have another one, but it got old and died.”
The reality of Lucca made this her favorite place on earth. She looked down into his eyes and got lost in them.
“Come closer, Annabelle.”
She needed no urging, but the awkward position made it difficult. “I have a better idea,” she whispered against his lips. “Sit up for a moment.” When he did, she slid off the swing. “Lie down so I can kiss you the way I want.” She would indulge herself for a little while longer without hurting his leg.
Annabelle got on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their mouths fused at the same moment in an erotic explosion of need. No experience in life could have prepared her for this kind of ardor. The giving and taking transported her. His exploration of her features and mouth sent her into another realm of pleasure too exquisite to describe. She gasped softly because her emotions were brimming over.
He plunged his hands in her hair. “I could eat you alive, Annabelle.”
She buried her face in his neck. “I thought that was what I was doing to you. It’s a good thing I’ll be going back to California soon. Otherwise you won’t be safe from me,” she joked, but was hoping with all her heart he might tell her he wanted her to stay with him permanently.
Instead he said, “Back to what?” He sounded upset. His free hand still cupped the back of her head.
“My job with Mel, at least for the foreseeable future. I’ll have to ease him into the idea that I’m returning to nursing.”
Still no hint from Lucca that he wanted her to be in his future.
Her Italian Soldier Page 11
