by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
“Which way?” Tom asked. Old brick buildings lined the footpath around the edge of the square.
Brianna swallowed nervously and looked around. “Umm… I’m not quite sure.” She pointed across the square. “Maybe that way?”
Tom looked back at her with a quizzical smile. “What’s the address?”
“I don’t actually know.”
He turned with his hands on his hips. “You don’t know? You’ve traveled across the world and you don’t know where you’re going?”
Despite his body language indicating otherwise, his voice was patient and it really annoyed her. “Of course I do. I know the name of the firm. It’s Antoniolli and Bruni. I just don’t have the address.”
“Wasn’t it on the letter they sent you?”
“Yes, Mr. Twenty Questions. It was…but I…ah…I haven’t got it with me.” Irritation burned in her stomach when Tom looked at her, disbelief written all over his face.
“Well, we’ll have to go back and get it.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back toward her hotel, and looked at her with those sexy lips set in a straight line when she didn’t start walking.
“Hurry up or we’ll be late,” he said patiently.
“No, we won’t. I don’t have an appointment either, remember.” Sarcasm laced her voice while she tried to forget about how his lips had felt on hers. “And I suppose you’re never late for anything, are you? I’d take bets on that.”
“Look, do you want me to help you with this or not? I can quite easily spend my time finding an apartment. I’m happy to help, but I can’t unless we actually get there.”
“I’m sorry. Look, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just you are so bloody perfect. I know where to go, we simply have to ask someone where it is because I…lost the letter.” Her face heated when the realization dawned on his face.
“Lost it? Where?”
“It’s in Sydney. It’s a long story.” She looked around and noticed a small store across the street. “It’s not a problem. I’ll sort it out.”
Leaving him standing on the footpath, Brianna stepped into the grocery store and smiled at the short, stout woman behind the counter. Garlands of flowers hung in profusion along each side of the counter, and strands of garlic bulbs were threaded along the front of the counter. Jars of plump olives in all sorts of different-colored marinades tempted her. A huge tub full of the biggest avocados she had ever seen stood by the counter. For a moment she stood and inhaled the mixture of aromas, and then Tom’s shadow filled the doorway and she scurried over to the counter.
“Ah…er…excuse me…er…scusi.” She was determined to show him she could do this without his help. The woman smiled at her. “Er…I need to find…Mr. Antoniollo…and er…Signore Bruni?
The woman tilted her head to the side “Quale?”
“Ah…Signore Antoniolli…the lawyer?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders and lifted both hands, palms turned upward in that expressive Mediterranean way. Tom stepped up behind her and placed his hand gently on her bare shoulder. Her skin burned under his hand as the nerve endings fired. He spoke in rapid Italian to the little lady, and Brianna looked at him in confusion when he said avocado.
What the hell was he doing?
She stepped away from his hand. The woman laughed and replied “Ah…avocatto.”
She stepped around the counter and took Tom by the hand, leading him across to the door before she pointed up the hill and appeared to give him directions with much waving of her free arm.
“Grazie.” Tom reached into his pocket and slipped some money into the woman’s hand before turning to Brianna.
“Come on, Signores Antoniolli and Bruni are up the hill and around the corner.” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “And, Brianna, we may even be early for your non-appointment. They don’t open until eleven o’clock.”
The foyer of the law firm was a tiny room closed in with dark timber lining. A secretary sat at a small desk typing on an old-fashioned typewriter. Her fingers clattered on the keys and the bell rang when she pressed the carriage return with a flourish as she reached the end of a line. Brianna was fascinated to think that in this day and age they would have an old manual typewriter. And the old telephone handset on the desk was an old-fashioned one, with the numbers in a circular dial on the front.
Tom placed his hand on her back and the warmth shooting up her spine took her thoughts away from typewriters and telephones.
“Would you like me to handle this?” he asked.
She didn’t need the warmth of his hand through the thin material of her spaghetti-strap shirt. Her shoulder was still tingling from when he placed his hand on her bare skin in the shop where she thought he’d had too much sun and was buying avocados. She’d soon realized what was happening. Avocatto meant lawyer.
Vivace and avocatto. She was picking up the language quickly. At this rate, she’d be fluent by the end of the week and wouldn’t need Tom to translate.
“Thank you.” She didn’t want to appear rude. After all, he was helping her, and she would certainly find this much more difficult if she hadn’t had the good fortune to meet him on the plane. Maybe he wasn’t such a stuffed shirt after all. There was something to be said for being organized and planning ahead. He’d made her morning a lot easier. If it wasn’t for him, she’d still be wandering around trying to find the blasted law firm. Reaching up, she took his hand and squeezed it gently.
His fingers gripped hers and those sexy, crinkly lines appeared around his eyes.
“My pleasure. We’ll get you organized in no time.”
She laughed softly before she replied. “Don’t hold your breath. My family has been trying to do that for thirty years.” She tilted her head to the side. “They don’t call me Brianna. They call me lightning.”
Before he could reply, the office door opened and a small man with white hair and a deeply lined face reached out and grabbed Tom’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Signore Ballantyne, benvenuto…benvenuto.” He peered over the top of his little round glasses at Brianna and smiled at her. “Signora Ballantyne?”
He nodded his head and he kept smiling as he pumped Tom’s hand. Tom began to speak, and the old lawyer raised his hand and stopped him.
“Un momento.”
He turned to the secretary and pointed to the telephone. “Signore Caranto,” he said before ushering them ahead of him into his office.
A small lamp on the side of the desk shone onto the huge timber desk and provided the only light in the dim office. The heavy dark drapes were drawn, blocking out the morning sunshine. Brianna wrinkled her nose. The smell of mold was overpowering, and she blinked her eyes trying to ignore the claustrophobia that crept over her. The elderly lawyer ushered them to seats in front of the desk, and Tom waited until she was seated before taking the chair beside her.
Tom and the lawyer chatted for some minutes, and Brianna gave up trying to follow the gist of the fast-paced conversation, but it all seemed very social. There was a tap on the door and the secretary appeared with a tray of coffee. All was quiet as she poured coffee for them.
Tom glanced across at her and when she returned his gaze, Brianna caught sight of another elderly man who must have followed the secretary into the room. He sat silently across the room in a chair in the dark corner. She nudged Tom and a look of surprise crossed his face as he also realized there was a fourth person in the room
Probably Mr….no, start thinking Italian, she corrected herself.
Probably Signore Bruni.
Signore Antoniolli paid no attention to the other lawyer and did not introduce him. He stood and crossed the room to a huge wooden filing cabinet and pulled out a sheaf of paper tied with string before launching into a lengthy conversation with Tom.
Tom participated in the discussion, intense concentration etched on his face. He seemed to be doing a lot of frowning, and the smile crinkles she loved looking at were replaced by deep lines on his forehead
. Occasionally, he put up his hand to pause Signore Antoniolli, pointed to Brianna, and asked a question of the lawyer.
She looked from one to the other and then placed her hand on Tom’s arm. She wanted to know what was being said. Tom shook his head and the elderly lawyer frowned at her. A flash of white caught her eye and she looked across to the corner as the other lawyer wiped a tear from his eye. Absorbed in watching the old man wipe his eyes, she jumped when Tom reached out and placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.
He leaned down and placed his lips against hers before she could move. “What the f—” she whispered against his lips.
“Just follow my lead,” he murmured into her mouth.
“Kissing men, crying lawyers. This is bizarre,” she muttered and Tom frowned at her.
She sat straight in her chair and flicked her braid over her shoulder. She concentrated and tried to follow the conversation. Signore Antoniolli directed a comment to the man in the corner, and he gave a cry of distress and jumped out of his chair, launching himself at her. He leaned over and hugged her tightly from behind, his papery skin rubbing against her cheek before he stood and wiped his eyes once again.
“Più tardi,” he said as he walked to the door and left, shutting it behind him.
Brianna turned to Tom, absolutely bewildered. “What the hell was that all about? Translate, please.”
“Later.”
“No, now,” she said in a furious whisper. “Tell me now.”
Tom looked at her patiently. “It means later. Più tardi means later.”
“Oh,” she replied sheepishly. “Thank you.”
The conversation continued around her and the lawyer slid some papers over for her to sign. She choked back a laugh when he passed her a fountain pen and gestured to the inkwell. She looked up at Tom and he nodded.
“It’s an acceptance of the deeds to the house and the conditions of the inheritance. You dip the nib in the ink,” Tom said when she looked blankly at the old-fashioned pen.
“I know.” She clenched her jaw. “What am I signing? Shouldn’t I know first? Do I have to do it right now?”
“It’s an acceptance of the deeds of your mother’s house. It’s called la Casa Bianca…the White House. The conditions are straightforward, but you need to sign them today.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’ve just made it by the skin of your teeth, Brianna. If you’d been one day later, the time for you to claim your inheritance would have run out and you would have had a huge legal battle on your hands.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. Tears filled her eyes and her chest tightened as emotion welled through her. Her hands shook as she dipped the pen in the inkwell.
My mother. My real mother. Rosa’s house.
She fought to stop her chin from quivering as she signed the paper with shaking hands. She’d had no idea it could be sorted so quickly. The lawyer smiled hugely when she pushed the papers across the desk to him. He went to a cupboard and pulled out a heavy brass key and handed it to Tom. Brianna’s throat tightened and she swallowed. Her chest was heavy, and this stuffy room was closing in on her.
I have to get outside.
“Congratulazioni.” Signore Antoniolli shook Tom’s hand and then hers, before he ushered them through the door. “Fino a domani.”
Brianna quickly walked out and Tom followed. The midday sunshine was bright and she covered her eyes, blinking back tears.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” she said taking deep gulps of the welcome fresh air. “I’m starting to realize this is all true. It was an adventure when I got that letter and now”—she reached across and took the old key from Tom—“I am holding the key to my mother’s house.”
She burst into tears, unable to hold the emotion back any longer.
…
Tom looked down at Brianna as she sobbed and grasped the large key to her chest. He stepped over and put his arms around her and patted her awkwardly on the back. The loose hair that constantly unwound from her braid tickled his nose, and the softness of her breasts pressed into his chest. He had been privy to Brianna’s emotions since she had first squeezed past him on the plane. She was open and honest, and didn’t seem to hold back no matter how she was feeling.
Even when she thought I was an ass.
She leaned into him closely for a few seconds, and then she stepped back with a muffled sniff, before childishly wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She held the key and turned it over and over, rubbing her long slender fingers against the gnarled edge. His heart kicked in sympathy as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
She wiped them away. “Okay, Mr. Italian Speaker. Take me to my house.” She smiled up at him through her tears. “I’m sure you asked for the address?”
Tom looked down at her.
“Yes, Signore Antoniolli gave me the address. It’s actually in the next village, and we have to catch the bus. The village is called Canneto.”
He ran his hand through his hair and turned away from her for a moment to gather his thoughts.
How the hell was she going to take the rest of the news he had to tell her?
The content of the conversation that had taken place in the office would floor her. It still floored him, and he needed to take some time to digest what he had done himself.
He grabbed her hand and led her across the street. He’d really become a part of Brianna’s adventures and had given little thought to the reason for his own visit. He had to get back to the marina later in the day, and he had to remember his commitments there. This feisty woman was in the forefront of his mind and he needed to pull back.
“Before we catch the bus, we need to sit down and have a coffee so I can tell you what happened. There were a…er…a few more legal things we have to organize.”
“There’s a café over there by the square.” She pointed past the fountain to an outdoor café. “Come on, I want to hear everything.” Keeping his hand gripped tightly in hers, Brianna marched toward the middle of the square, her boots pounding on the cobblestones as she dragged him along behind her. He glanced down and was far enough behind to admire the long, tanned legs beneath her shorts before he caught up to her.
Tom shook his head. He had never before met a woman who was so sure of herself, yet so soft and emotional at the same time. She had layer upon layer of resilience, and he was getting a fascinating glimpse of her character each time she was presented with a challenge.
“And who was that crazy old man who grabbed me on his way out of the office?” she asked as they passed an old fountain with a statue of Neptune extending his arms in a lordly gesture of stilling the waters. “That was downright creepy. Strangest law firm I’ve ever been in.”
“Ah…he was—” Tom cleared his throat, at a loss for words.
Just tell her.
“He’s your grandfather.”
Brianna stopped abruptly and Tom bumped into her, almost pushing them both into the fountain.
“What did you say?”
“I said he is your grandfather. Come on, I’ll tell you everything when we sit down.”
By the time they sat down and their coffee was brought to the table, Brianna appeared more composed. Her tanned face was unusually pale, and a little freckle he hadn’t noticed before stood out on the side of her cheek. He reached over and took her hands in his, and a jolt of pleasure ran through him when she responded and tightly linked her fingers through his.
“Signore Antoniolli filled me in on your family background and the strict conditions of your inheritance. Now, tell me what you know first so I don’t repeat it all.”
Being devious didn’t come naturally to him. He needed to be sure she hadn’t known the conditions of the will and he wasn’t being conned. He remembered Nick telling him on many occasions that he was a soft touch. Too many women had tried to dupe him, making him look the fool.
“Hello?” Brianna tugged on his arm.
“Oh, sorry. Where were we
?” He straightened in his chair and brought his mind back to the present. “Now, tell me what you know about your Liparian family.”
“My Liparian family?”
Her Scottish burr and the Italian words were an interesting mix. He could listen to her soothing accent all day.
“Nothing, zero, zilch, I know nothing. The first I knew was the letter I got in Australia, and when I rang the number they asked for Brian.” She pulled one hand back from his and grabbed her braid. He was starting to recognize this was a sign she was nervous.
He took a deep breath, wondering why the hell he’d done what he had.
Was he crazy? He’d had taken a lot upon himself in the lawyer’s office, and was more than a bit wary of her reaction, to say the least. Maybe he should have run it by her first, but he didn’t want to give the lawyer any inkling that things weren’t as he thought.
He’d come over here to loosen up and certainly hadn’t expected to get married as soon as he arrived. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to tell her what he’d just promised the lawyer.
Chapter Seven
“You what?” Brianna looked at Tom, wondering if he was the crazy one. “Did you just say we are getting married?” She pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped the last of her tears away.
Tom nodded.
“And you did say tomorrow?”
When he nodded a second time without speaking, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
“Whoa. I said I needed a fiancé, not a bloody husband.” She strode out for the bus top across the square, not caring if he followed her or not.
“Brianna, wait.” Tom hurried after her, catching her as she reached the bus stop. “Don’t go getting yourself all worked up.”
She looked up at the sign above the bus stop at the far end of the square. She could read the sign to the towns the bus visited and it said Canneto, so she was in the right place. At the moment, she didn’t care if Tom was with her. Her temper was firing and she was having trouble being polite.
