“Of course not.” He’d thought of everything and sounded in complete control. But Annabelle was pretty sure she had a fever. After worrying for so long about both men’s feelings, the day was almost here. She didn’t want anything to go wrong now.
“Maria phoned me while you were getting changed. She told me Mel is already at the villa. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.”
Mel was already here? That was good. She needed to stay occupied until tomorrow was over. Surely when Lucca found himself the center of attention and realized what Guilio had been planning all this time, there’d be nothing but an Amalfi sun shining on his horizon.
“Since you refuse to relocate here and work for me in my office, you’ll probably want to fly back with him when he leaves. It’s entirely up to you, my dear. If I had my way, you wouldn’t go, but you’re too much like Lucca. No matter how much I might want it, I can’t talk either of you into anything you don’t want to do. You’re your own people and I have to respect that.”
He gave the waiter his credit card. When the other man returned, Guilio said, “Shall we go? I have a dozen details to attend to.”
Guilio was so excited. She was, too, but when it was over, joy would go out of her life.
By the time Lucca had got up on Wednesday morning, Annabelle had already left for his father’s villa. Lucca knew the homecoming party was a mixture of business and pleasure. He supposed Guilio had involved her in some way, but he was disappointed she hadn’t told him her plans for today. He’d wanted her to go shopping with him, but it was evident he wouldn’t be seeing her until the party.
Over the last few days she’d been preoccupied, even elusive at times. Much as he appreciated what his father was planning for him, he would be glad when it was over. With her no longer doing photo shoots for his father’s ad campaign, Lucca was excited to spend whole days with her. Among many things, he wanted her opinion of where would be the best place to add another room on to the house.
At noon Fortunato came by to pick him up so he could buy a new suit. Since his nephew had recently got his driver’s license, he jumped at the chance. After lunch at a teenage hangout, they did some shopping.
Lucca hadn’t had a new suit in ages. He didn’t like to wear them unless he had to. Guilio despaired of his son’s preference for casual clothes. Tonight Lucca decided to surprise him and show up wearing something his father would approve of. Annabelle had never seen him in a suit, either.
Fortunato told him to go the whole route—new shoes, tie, shirt. The works. By the time they got back to his house, Lucca was tired. He hid the pain from his nephew. But when Fortunato drove off with the assurance that he’d be back later to pick him up, Lucca took some painkillers to ensure he got through the evening without anyone suspecting something was wrong.
Annabelle would know, of course. She noticed everything. He’d missed her so much he was half out of his mind.
“Hey, you look all right,” Lucca teased his nephew when he came by for him at six.
“Yeah? You look spiffy yourself.”
“Thanks. Your parents don’t mind my borrowing you once in a while?”
“Of course, not. I heard Mama tell Papa maybe I’d stay out of trouble now. When are you going to go looking for a car?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what kind I want.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Sure.”
Fortunato grinned. “I want a sports car some day and race it along the Corniche. I love driving.”
“And girls.”
“Yeah. That, too.”
Lucca chuckled and pushed him gently on the shoulder. “You’re all right, Fortunato.”
“She’s going to be there tonight. I can’t wait.”
Neither could Lucca.
When they reached the villa, it turned out Annabelle was nowhere to be found. After a while her no-show made Lucca feel as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
The family welcomed him en masse, as did the staff from the plant his father had invited. He gave Maria an extralong hug. Guilio worked his way through the crowd and embraced him. His eyes reflected pure pleasure when he took in Lucca’s new suit.
“Now that you’re here, we can get started. We’re going to begin in the screening room before we have dinner out in the garden.”
Lucca sensed something big was about to happen. His father was actually acting nervous, which wasn’t like him at all. He followed him through the villa to the room his father had added on many years ago. He needed his own place to work and view his designs on a theater screen. This evening the room was packed with at least sixty chairs. Enough to accommodate everyone.
“You sit here, Lucca.” Front row center.
As the others filed in, Lucca felt the hairs lift on the back of his neck. What in the devil was going on?
His father stepped back. “Tonight is really a twofold celebration. It represents two dreams of mine that have come to pass. The first is that my son Lucca would survive the war and come home for good one day.”
Hushed cries of surprise and happiness broke out from the family seated around Lucca.
“The second has to do with the first. You see, I thought he wouldn’t be coming for a visit until August. But he surprised me, forcing me to move up my timetable two months for the surprise I’ve been planning in his honor for over a year.”
What?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YEARS ago I saw the design for a sports car in my dreams. Amalfi has never made a sports car. Except for my wives, Donata and Maria, no one else knew about it. Once it was perfected, I shared it with the engineers and a prototype was made.”
His father’s eyes found Lucca’s. “I’ve called it the Amalfi MB-Viper after the fighter jet Lucca has been flying in combat. I want my decorated son to know how deeply proud I am of him for serving his country so well and nobly. It is a great honor to be your father, Lucca. If your mother could be here tonight …”
The room broke into clapping. Everyone stood up and cheered. It went on and on. Lucca sat there in disbelief, absolutely stunned by his father’s tribute.
“Grazie, Papa. I’m overwhelmed,” he said in a husky voice.
“Welcome home, figlio mio.”
Lucca stood up and approached him. Deep inside of him he felt gratitude that he could walk up to him on both legs. After kissing his father on both cheeks, he put his arm around his shoulders and faced the audience. “Every son should have a father like Guilio Cavezzali.”
“Hear, hear,” everyone shouted.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Mama can see what you’ve achieved, Papa, but she couldn’t be more proud of you than this son. I’m thankful you’re my father, and I’m thrilled to be home with you and Maria.” He gave his father’s shoulders a squeeze before going back to his seat.
After a few minutes of thunderous clapping, the din finally subsided and people sat down. Guilio had to clear his throat several times.
“Tonight you’re going to see the Viper’s unveiling through a slide show. These photographs will go into calendars you will receive in August when the cars go out on the market. Every client who buys one will be given a calendar. Believe me, the calendar will do the word-of-mouth advertising for you.
“The launch will take place in Milan with total media coverage. Those of you dealers here tonight are getting a sneak preview. I’ll send posters back with you. They’re made up from the cover of the calendar. Basilio? If you will turn off the lights and start the show please.”
Lucca had to blink back the moisture glazing his eyes several times while he tried to focus on the theater-sized screen. Suddenly there was a larger-than-life photograph in living color of a fabulous, gleaming white sports car convertible parked in front of an actual fighter jet. The lines were fantastic. His father had created a true masterpiece.
But dominating everything for Lucca was the jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman draped across the pearly-looking upholster
y, twisting her delectable body just enough as if waiting for the pilot to come and join her.
Annabelle!
The blood pounded in his ears.
He could tell the picture had been taken at twilight at the air base outside Rome. His thoughts flew back to that first night in the hallway of the farmhouse when he’d vetted her rather cruelly and she’d said she’d just come from there.
Her skin gave off that magical glow. She was wearing a deep purple cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a diamond necklace around her throat. A matching diamond bracelet was wrapped around her wrist. Her semicurly hair gleamed a silvery-gold over one shoulder. Her eyes shone pure violet.
She was so bewitching, he was dumbstruck. So was everyone else. A hush had fallen over the room. At first there was total quiet. After a moment he heard cries of “bravo” followed by heavy clapping and more cheers. Everyone got to their feet in tribute. They went crazy, as much for Annabelle as for the car.
In his gut he knew a poster of this photograph would be sold by the hundreds of thousands throughout the world. His father had known what he was doing. It filled Lucca with a deep sense of pride at Guilio’s colossal achievement. The knowledge that he’d named the sports car to honor Lucca’s choice of career was so humbling, he couldn’t find the words.
Several of the dealers called out to Guilio in excitement. Soon the questions were flying at him. They wanted to know where he’d been hiding this breathtaking model. Who was she? Would she be visiting the different dealerships? Would she pose for pictures with them to put on their own websites?
The agreement was unanimous. Sales would skyrocket and they all wanted to meet the woman who’d made the launch of this magnificent car a transcendent moment. Guilio simply answered with a mysterious smile.
While Lucca was still trying to recover from the emotions bombarding him, another photo appeared on the screen. There she was, exactly like she’d been that first morning on the terrace, wearing that broad-rimmed hat and white eyelet sun top. The shot had been taken at Positano.
She sat in the black sports car with its black leather upholstery while she gauged the steepness of the terrain. Her appeal reached out to the audience like a living entity. A completely spontaneous, ear-splitting ovation broke from the crowd.
While Lucca was clapping with them, a third photo filled the screen. It showed her reaching for a cluster of grapes growing in a vineyard at the side of the road in Furore, Italy’s own version of the hanging gardens of Babylon.
She was more luscious than the purple fruit that matched her eyes. She wore a cream-colored outfit and leaned against a light jade version of the sports car. Lucca sensed every male in the room wanted to catch hold of her jade scarf and pull her out of the screen into his lap.
He studied the photograph, marveling at the amalgamation of his father’s creative engineering genius and nature’s flawless design of womanhood in all her springtime glory. Everyone sat there mesmerized. A man could be forgiven for buying the car in order to own the photograph that came with it. Lucca could guarantee the calendar would become a collector’s item.
As the next picture lit up the screen, all the oxygen seemed to be sucked out of his lungs. At the side of the gleaming yellow sports car, Annabelle held a basket of sunflowers picked from a whole field of them reflected behind her. They’d shot this in Sorrento. In the three-piece white suit with yellow trim, she looked good enough to eat.
It reminded him of the morning she’d picked the daisies pushing through the grillwork of the terrace. Like his mother, she responded to his world of growing things. He felt his whole body and soul respond to this woman who in a very short time had become a living part of him. The idea of not being able to wake up to her every morning for the rest of his life was unthinkable.
The photo taken in Vietri nailed him to his seat. She looked like some exotic Etruscan princess come to life who was so damn beautiful in those braids, he was hypnotized. You could believe the rich green sports car was her personal chariot. The sight brought another chorus of bravos from the crowd.
His father’s exceptional vision had found Annabelle clear across the ocean.
What exactly do you do for my father, Signorina Marsh?
I’m helping him with his ad campaign.
Guilio had brought her to Italy and now his finished product had been translated into something wondrous to behold. Not until this evening did Lucca fully appreciate his father’s expertise that would blow every other car off the road once it hit the market. With Annabelle’s help, he would succeed in triple spades.
Still staggering from the impact of so much beauty, his eyes fastened on the shot of her dressed in a cheongsam, looking out over the waters of Capri from the side of the metallic-blue sports car. He’d been to China many times, but he’d never seen beauty like hers.
With each photograph, the energy in the room had become electric. The talk had grown louder as they reacted to what they were seeing.
“I saved December’s photo for last,” Guilio finally said.
Oohs and ahs came out unsolicited as every eye was riveted to the bride at the footsteps of the church in Amalfi with the flame-red sports car parked below her. The sudden explosion of excitement in the room went over the top. Everyone was on their feet shouting congratulations to Guilio.
But Lucca couldn’t move from the chair. His lungs were frozen at the exquisite sight of Annabelle in that gown and mantilla. He couldn’t make a sound. He’d had a complete physical before coming home from the hospital, but wondered if his heart could withstand this.
“Basilio?” his father called out. “If you’ll turn on the lights, I’d now like to introduce you to the woman in the photos.”
As the lights went on, Lucca turned in time to see her make her entrance from the back of the room. She was wearing the purple cocktail dress and diamonds. The whole room burst into stunning applause and stood to clap as she walked up to a smiling Guilio.
Lucca’s gaze took in her tremulous eyes, then the other parts of her, bit by gorgeous bit, until it fell to those fabulous legs where the frothy purple fabric danced and teased him.
He watched his father put his arm around her shoulders. “Annabelle Marsh is from Los Angeles, California. She works for Mel Jardine, my best dealer in the States, who’s here tonight. Annabelle is my not-so-secret weapon anymore.” Everyone laughed. “She’s going to put the Amalfi MB-Viper on the map. Ladies and gentlemen? May I present, the Amalfi Girl!”
When the applause finally died down, Guilio quickly led Annabelle out through a side door to escape the crowd. As soon as it closed, she gave him a hug. “I know this night meant everything in the world to him.”
His eyes watered. “I know it did, too. For both of us. Thank you again for not giving my surprise away.”
“As if I would have!”
He wiped his eyes. “It would have been understandable. My son had to have been dying of curiosity since he arrived at the farmhouse. It’s just a miracle you could keep it from him.”
“It was brilliant of you to move up the date of the party. He had to know something unusual was going on. As for your car, it’s sensational, Guilio. I listened in the back during the slide show. Every dealer was bowled over with excitement to start selling them.”
“Let’s hope the sales reflect my belief that we have a winner here.”
“You’re too modest. You already know it is.”
“And you’re too kind.” He walked her over to a table. “We’ve put you out here so you can sign the posters. People are coming through now. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Annabelle sat down, looking out on the garden. The lights had been turned on, transforming it into a fairyland. Guilio’s new sports car sat on a raised platform. It was the one in flame-red. The dealers could examine it, climb in it, check out the engine and take home a brochure with all the specs printed.
While she was looking for Lucca, one of the dealers came up and asked for a signature
of the Amalfi Girl. At that point a line started to form. For the next while she was besieged just as Guilio had predicted. While she answered dozens of questions, she wrote on each poster as fast as she could, losing track of time.
“Sign mine ‘from Annabellissima,’” instructed a deep, beloved voice.
She threw her head back and discovered Lucca’s grey-green eyes staring down at her, liquefying her bones with his intimate gaze. He’d dressed in a formal light grey suit and tie. She didn’t know a man could be that handsome. His eyes swept over her in a restless motion, missing no curve or detail about her. Blood swarmed into her face, making her go hot.
“Lucca …” she whispered in an aching voice.
“I can’t find words, either,” came his husky admission.
She knew what he meant because the sight of him robbed her of breath. Her fingers curled around the marking pen. “Maybe now you won’t be as upset with me.”
He cocked his dark head, gazing at her through shuttered eyes. “Upset?”
“You know—for begging you to let your father know you’d come home early.”
“With a divine surprise like this, how could I be?”
“I’m so glad this night finally came. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.”
“It was perfect. You made it perfect. Now I want my own autograph from you.”
The way he said it in that deep tone sent a thrill through her sensitized body. She unraveled one of the posters and signed it in the bottom right corner. When she’d finished, he rolled it up and tucked it beneath his arm. The look in his eyes set her trembling.
“You have no idea how hard it was not to tell you what your father was planning. Please don’t take this wrong, but under the circumstances, it was a good thing you couldn’t drive a car yet. Otherwise—”
Her Italian Soldier Page 13
