Her Italian Soldier

by Rebecca Winters

  She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Lie there and relax. This swing is perfect for you to lounge on. While you do that, I need to get ready for bed.”

  He frowned. “It’s not that late.”

  Lucca needed company. She needed more than that. “It is for me. Tomorrow I have to be in Capri early. On my return I’ll pick up some groceries and fix us dinner. How does that sound?”

  By the expression on his arresting face, he needed appeasing. “You’ll cook me something American?”

  She kissed his jaw. “The kind of food my family loves.”

  That seemed to cheer him up to an extent. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

  “I’m not sure. Capri is only twenty miles from here, but with the traffic, it could be several hours.” She kissed his lips. “I promise to hurry.”

  “If I’m not here, just let yourself in with your key.”

  Naturally he had his own life to lead. Now that he didn’t need to worry about being seen, he could call on his family to get him around, or take a taxi. “Do you need anything before I go to my room?”

  “Only you.” He gave her one last ravenous kiss until she could hardly breathe.

  It would be so easy to forget everything and climb on that swing with him. But she resisted the impulse and eventually pulled away. When she stood up, she had to rub her knees after being in that position for so long.

  “You look comfortable lying there. Stay put and enjoy the beautiful night.” She turned to leave, but he caught her hand.

  “Please don’t touch me anymore tonight,” she begged.

  “Just one more kiss to help me get through it. I don’t mind being alone through the nightmares if you’re there to bring me awake.”

  “Oh, Lucca.” She had no will when he told her things like that. She leaned down and clung to him while her heart steamed into his. He’d become her whole world.

  When she finally stood up, her desire for him was so strong that if he’d called her back, she would have stayed in spite of all her good intentions. But he didn’t say anything … Was it because he was being the Italian male who still reserved a part of independence for himself?

  She gave the swing a little push to rock him. “Good night, Lucca,” she whispered.

  “Sleep well, bellissima.”

  Capri metallic blue described the Amalfi sports car gleaming in the sun. The white sailboat on the water formed the perfect backdrop. Even Annabelle could see that and she was no photographer.

  The car had been parked at the Marina Piccolo. Annabelle found the little harbor enchanting and she loved the outfit Marcella had chosen for her. It was a white silk cheongsam with an all-over medium-sized print of flowers in various shades of blue. Heavenly.

  Her hair had been put up in a loose knot, caught with real blue flowers. On her feet she wore a pair of high-heeled sandals in metallic white. Her wrist was encircled with three rows of light blue sapphires. The same sapphires adorned her ears.

  “Mama mia—” Giovanni exclaimed when she stepped out of the van ready for the shoot. “You have never looked this beautiful before. I wonder why.”

  Lucca had everything to do with it. Her heart was bouncing all over the place.

  Basilio nodded with a wide smile. “Bellissima, signorina. Bravo, Marcella! The Chinese style is bella bella. Annabella? Today you will stand at the front of the car with one hand on the bonnet, the one with the jewels. Look out toward the boat. You are waiting for your lover.”

  Annabelle got into position. She would give anything if Lucca were at the helm of that boat. When this shoot was over, she would swim out to him and kiss them both into oblivion.

  “That’s the look!” Giovanni cried a minute later. “Don’t move!”

  This morning she was definitely a woman in love. If that was the look Giovanni wanted to capture, he shouldn’t have any trouble no matter which angle he wanted to take.

  “With these photographs, Guilio won’t be able to keep his calendars in stock.” He moved around her snapping one picture after another.

  She smiled. “Are you trying to butter me up, Giovanni? If so, you’re doing a good job.”

  “You are the easiest model I ever worked with and you’re not even a model.”

  “Nope, and I don’t want to be one. I’m only doing this for Guilio.”

  “When his son sees this picture, he will fall instantly in love.”

  How about permanently? The words hadn’t passed Lucca’s lips. They might never.

  “Hey, Annabelle—where did the Amalfi Girl just go? I want a few more shots.”

  “I’m doing my best.” For the rest of the shoot, she focused on the meal she planned to make for Lucca.

  “All right. That’s it. Tomorrow we meet in Vietri at nine before the shops open and we’re overrun with tourists. It will be our last day of shooting.”

  Annabelle was of two minds. Part of her couldn’t bear for it to be over because it meant she had to go home to Los Angeles and leave Lucca. The other part was glad that the modeling would be over. She wasn’t meant for this business. But she’d worry about that later as she raced back to the van to change and remove her makeup. She couldn’t wait to get to the grocery store and do her shopping. When she stepped outside again in jeans and a pink T-shirt, Giovanni made a face.

  “A woman who looks like you shouldn’t run around dressed like any tourist.”

  “But I am a tourist. In a few days I’ll be back in California doing my old job.”

  “Do you know how many would-be models would sell their souls to do what you’re doing here?”

  “Yes. Though it has been a wonderful experience for me, they are welcome to it. By the way, do any of you know if there is a supermarket around here? There isn’t one in Ravello.”

  “Sì,” Basilio said. “On the Via Matermania.” He gave her directions.

  She pecked his cheek. “Marvelous! Thank you, Basilio. A domani, everyone!”

  Lucca saw the caller ID and clicked on. “Prego?”

  “This is Dr. Cozza’s office calling. The doctor is on the line.”

  “Grazie.”

  “Signore Cavezzali?”

  “Sì. Your nurse said you would phone me back when you weren’t busy. I appreciate it.”

  “Sorry it’s so late in the day. She told me about your surgery and the pain you’ve been having. That could be the irritation of the tissue from the plate causing tendonitis for example. Then again it could be caused by something else. There’s no way I can make a judgment until I’ve seen you and taken X-rays. I have an opening next Monday.”

  “That’s fine.” Another week. Lucca would have to live with it. “But it is possible to have it removed?”

  “Yes. In patients who have pain that is clearly coming from irritation caused by the metal, the chance of pain reduction is much more likely. However, you must keep in mind that if the pain is more generalized, and not clearly an irritation, the chance of pain resolution with the metal removed is more difficult to predict.”

  “I understand.” Lucca gripped the phone tighter. “What are the risks?

  “Obviously there are potential complications with this type of surgery. The most common problem is that metal removal can lead to a weakening of the bone where the implant is removed. Sometimes fractures form through the holes where the screws were implanted. But that may not have happened in your case and a certain amount of normal stress is necessary to keep the bone strong.”

  Annabelle had said the same thing.

  “The point is we want to cut down on your pain and hopefully alleviate it all together. I’ll put my nurse back on to give you a time for your appointment and I’ll see you then.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He hung up, excited to tell Annabelle the news. For most of the day he’d been making phone calls to various contractors for bids. The house had sat empty for fifteen years and called for a lot of repair work to be done. The bathroom needed a total remodel into a master ba
th. He made a list of items he wanted replaced or installed, like a dishwa—

  The phone rang before he’d finished the thought. He grabbed for it. When he saw who it was, his pulse accelerated to a feverish pitch. He clicked on. “Annabelle?”

  “Hi! How are you?”

  “I’m waiting for you. That’s how I am. When can I expect you?” He didn’t want to hear that there was a problem and she wouldn’t be able to make it.

  “I’ve finished the shopping and am on my way home.”

  “How long do you think that will be?”

  “About forty-five minutes?”

  He would have to live with that. “Make it a half hour.”

  “Hmm. You really are feeling closed in. I’ll hurry.”

  “Not too fast. I want you to arrive in one piece. You’re an excellent driver, but you’re in Italy now.”

  “I’ve driven the freeways of California all my life and so far have lived to tell about it,” she informed him with a laugh.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m sorry. See you soon.”

  He clicked off, but it couldn’t be soon enough.

  Thirty-five minutes later, Annabelle pulled into the drive. He got off the swing and hurried into the house. Once he’d opened the kitchen door, he helped Annabelle with the groceries she was carrying. “It’s about time you got here.”

  He put the bags on the counter, then reached for her. He must have taken her by surprise because she let out a cry. Her gorgeous violet eyes searched his. “I know I’m a little late. What’s gotten into you? That’s quite a welcome after the way you greeted me the first night we met.”

  “Forget that man. He no longer exists.” Needing her like he needed air to breathe, Lucca crushed her against him and started kissing her in earnest. They were both trembling when he lifted his head.

  Lucca couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld. “What took you so long?”

  “It’s because the only corn you sell here is for the pigs and you can’t buy it in a grocery store. I had to stop at a farm along the way. The woman said it was for the animals, but I talked her into letting me buy half a dozen ears. I heard her mutter something about Americans that I’m positive wasn’t flattering.”

  Lucca burst into laughter. “You’re fixing me corn on the stick?”

  She laughed out loud. “Not exactly. It’s called corn on the cob. Have you ever eaten it?”

  “No, but there were some Americans guys I flew with who dreamed about eating it.”

  “Then you’re in for a special treat.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I need a big pot. Fill it a third of the way with water. I also need a saucepan filled halfway with water. Then I need a frying pan and masher for potatoes. Could you put some flour in a bowl for me and hand me the olive oil, pepper and salt?”

  Lucca couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Maybe never. He got busy helping her. Within minutes she’d started frying chicken and peeling potatoes. Once everything was cooking, she drew out the corn.

  “I’ll cook four of these because I can’t stop with just one corn on the cob. I’ll want at least two, maybe more. This is called shucking.”

  He watched in fascination as she denuded the corn and dropped it in the boiling water.

  “I bought butter for everything and some cream to mix in with the potatoes. We’ll be ready to eat in a minute, then I want to hear about your day.”

  Before long, they sat at the table on the terrace. She watched with avid interest as he took his first bite of chicken and mashed potatoes. “Now butter and salt your corn and just start munching away.”

  When he’d eaten half the cob she said, “You’ve now had your christening of American food Annabelle-style. What do you think?”

  “I’d tell you it was delicious, even if I didn’t think it. But the truth is, it’s delicious. All of it. You’re a terrific cook.”

  Her full smile lit up his universe. “Thank you. Coming from the famous Chef Cavezzalli himself, that’s a real compliment.” She looked at him over her second piece of corn. “Judging from your mood, I take it this was a productive day.”

  He nodded. “Very.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “So is your food.” Not able to get enough of her mashed potatoes and chicken, he reached for the last of everything, including a fourth piece of corn. “Before you drove in, I was on the phone with an orthopedic man from the hospital in Naples. He’s going to fit me in on Monday.”

  She went still for a moment. “For him to accommodate you this fast is the best news I’ve heard to date.”

  “If he can operate, I want you stay on and be my nurse. I realize Mel Jardine wants you back, but I need you more and will pay you whatever you ask.”

  That was twice she’d heard that Lucca needed her for medical assistance. She was afraid that what she needed from him wasn’t in her stars, but it was a little too soon to tell him yes or no. The doctor might decide not to operate. It was possible Lucca wouldn’t make a good candidate for the removal of the plate.

  “Why don’t we talk about that after you’ve had your initial visit with the doctor? In the meantime I want you to lie down on the swing and rest your leg while I do the dishes.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No, no. Have you forgotten the rule? Whoever cooks in this house does the cleanup.”

  Annabelle could understand why Vietri was called the pearl of the Amalfi Coast. The seaside village was dominated by St. John’s 17th Century church. On the top was an elegant dome in majolica that stood out and provided the background for the shooting.

  The rich jewel colors on an opaque white base forming the dome were symbolic of the art form developed by the artisans of Vietri. Their ceramics were sought by collectors from all over the world.

  Guilio was supervising this last shoot. She had to admit she coveted the huge vase he’d chosen from one of the studios to place in the passenger seat of the sports car. It was worth thousands of dollars, decorated in colors of greens, oranges and browns on white.

  The rich lagoon-green of the vase matched the painted green exterior of the Amalfi convertible. This model had been upholstered in a light tan to pick up the other colors.

  Annabelle wore a sleeveless Etruscan print dress. A cape, denoting royalty, was fastened at the back of the shoulders and fell to the hem of the pencil-slim skirt. The outfit had been coordinated to match the design on the vase. Her light brown high-heeled sandals had straps wrapped to the ankle.

  The hairdresser had taken a long time to form Annabelle’s hair into braids, like the Etruscan women wore. The braids were caught at the back of her neck with a gold clasp. It matched the bracelets on her arms. These pieces represented some of the most fabulous jewelry she’d ever seen.

  Marcella explained they were reproductions of Etruscan jewelry. Gold had been soldered to wide metal bands in hundreds of little dots. They glittered like gold dust in the sun.

  For this shoot, her makeup had been applied in more dramatic fashion. They’d given her elongated eyes in darker eyeliner and she wore a dark bronze lipstick. The whole crew let out a collective cry of astonishment when she emerged from the van ready to pose.

  “My dear—” Guilio walked toward her “—your hair rivals the jewelry. I knew you were the one to help me launch my new car, but not even I guessed how far you would surpass what I had in mind when I approached you.”

  Annabelle couldn’t swallow for the emotion. “Don’t tell me that now or I’ll smear my makeup.”

  She noticed he had to clear his throat. “Today you’re here on a buying spree and have stopped to pick up this treasure.”

  “Please don’t ask me to hold it. I’d die if anything happened to it.”

  He chuckled. “Nothing so potentially dangerous. Pretend you’ve just bought it and are putting it in the car.”

  “All right.”

  The shoot b
egan. Giovanni tried it from several angles and kept snapping away. Marcella rearranged the cape several times for the best effect.

  Tourists had gathered round at a distance. They always did, but even with the security Guilio provided, they came closer than usual. When Giovanni announced he’d gotten the pictures he needed, the crowd broke into spontaneous applause. A lot of them wanted an autograph, but Guilio, along with the security people, waved them off with a smile.

  She hurried back inside the van and began removing clothes and jewelry. Once that was accomplished, she got rid of the makeup, then checked her cell phone. She’d been hoping Lucca might have called, but he was probably busy with workmen who were supposed to be coming to the house today.

  Heartsick because her days with Lucca were numbered if she went home, she emerged from the van sober-faced. Guilio had been waiting for her and picked up on it.

  “Come with me. We have much to discuss and we’ll do it over a late lunch. The seafood here is excellent. See that little restaurant farther along the sea wall? We’ll just walk over there.”

  They both said goodbye to the crew. Within a few minutes he’d ordered scampi for them with scallops for hors d’oeuvres. He eyed her with affection. “Did you hear that applause today, and at the hotel in Amalfi?” She nodded. “We’re going to be taking orders for so many cars, we won’t be able to keep up with the supply.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.” He poured them a little wine. “Now let’s get down to business. Tomorrow Marcella will come to the villa with her team to get you ready. You’ll be wearing the outfit you wore during the shoot in front of the jet. We’re going to do two launches. The big one in August is going ahead as planned with the media people from the television studios.

  “Tomorrow night before dinner will be a sneak preview in front of the dealers and the family. It will be for Lucca, of course. I’ll give my speech to honor him. We’ll do it in the screening room with a slide show of all your shoots including today’s.

  “Giovanni is going to have to do a rush on this last shoot so it will be included. I’ll explain that these slides will represent the pictures in the calendar we’ll be sending out in August.

  “When it’s over, I’ll ask you to come into the room and introduce you as the Amalfi Girl who will help launch the full-scale blitz in August. Be prepared to be besieged. The picture of you in front of the jet has been made up into three-by-five posters for them to take back to their places of business and display as a teaser. I’m afraid you’ll be signing a bundle of them as the Amalfi Girl. Will that be a problem?”