“You wouldn’t do that, Annie—” his smile was quizzical as he cocked his head to look at her, “—would you?”
Smiling, Annie called his bluff, nodding slowly. “Now what’s it going to be?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest. “Are you going to behave or do I snitch to Mrs. Altero?”
“You’re cruel, Annie,” he complained, smiling in spite of himself. “And you drive a hard bargain.”
“Remember what I said,” she called as Sal clumped dejectedly down the stairs. “Behave yourself.”
Why couldn’t Annie understand he was just concerned about her? Hell, she was going out with some guy she didn’t even know. A round of jealousy seized him.
What did this David guy know about Annie? Nothing. Sal knew her better than anyone. He’d seen her mischievous smile, the way her dark eyes lit up with wicked amusement when something tickled her, the way her eyes drooped when she was sleepy. He knew her every nuance, knew every little facet and characteristic of her personality.
After Tony’s untimely death, it was only natural for him to step in to help Annie. She’d been left all alone. All she had was him and his mother and Aunt Florina. They’d taken her under their wing, drawing her into the fold of the family.
But Annie was far from being the helpless widow, Sal thought with a smile. She could hold her own with anyone—including him. Sal liked that. Annie didn’t take any guff from anyone. She had character, integrity, and a feistiness about her that was very attractive. No wonder Tony had fallen in love with her. Sal’s jaw tightened. Tony had been his best friend, but that didn’t mean he approved of everything he’d done. Sal dragged a weary hand through his hair.
For two long years he’d hidden the truth from Annie, shielding her and protecting her, knowing that if she ever found out what really happened the night her husband was killed, she would be devastated. He could talk to her about anything—except that. It was bad enough that he had to live with it. He didn’t want her to go through the same anguish. What was the point? Tony was dead, and nothing could bring him back. Annie’s knowing how he died wouldn’t change anything; all it would do was hurt her, and Sal would never intentionally do that. So he’d covered for his friend, in death, just as he had in life. Sal always thought that someday he would tell her the truth, but someday never came, so he carried the burden alone, knowing he would do anything to protect her.
Sal sighed. He’d been so patient, biding his time, trying to ease Annie over the pain of Tony’s death. He’d never failed at anything, but over the past two years he’d failed to stop his growing affection for Annie.
He’d dated lots of women, trying to blot out the feelings he had for her, but it didn’t work. He would go out with a woman once or twice, and then move on. It wasn’t fair to encourage anyone when he knew he couldn’t return their affection. The only woman he wanted was…Annie.
Sometimes at night, he would lie in bed thinking about her, wanting her so badly that he couldn’t sleep. He could not possibly tell her how he felt, so he’d carefully kept a veil on his emotions. She was his best friend’s widow, for God’s sake!
He knew eventually she would start dating again, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly. An unexpected wave of possessiveness and protectiveness washed over him and he shook his head.
What the hell was he going to do? Guilt and jealousy warred within him. If he didn’t do something—and quickly—she would be waltzing out into the night with a man neither of them knew a thing about. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen. He had to find some way to discourage her, as well as some way to keep an eye on this guy and his intentions. What was he going to do?
“Sal?” Annie called from the top of the stairs. Her soft voice jolted him back to reality. “Is something wrong? Why are you just standing at the bottom of the stairs?” Maybe he really was ill, she thought in alarm. That would certainly explain his bizarre behavior.
“I was just thinking,” Sal said, turning to look at her. His breath withered in his throat. “Annie,” he breathed softly, stunned. Although petite in stature, Annie was exquisitely proportioned. She had on a slinky, black something-or-other that bared her arms and shoulders and draped softly over her full breasts, falling to gently swirling pleats just above her knees. She also wore high-heeled sandals that emphasized the feminine shape of her legs. Even in her high heels, she barely reached his shoulders. She was so beautiful, she almost took his breath away.
Recovering from his shock, Sal frowned. “Where did you get that dress?” he demanded, resisting the urge to cover her up with something. She was all dressed up to go out with some other guy!
“It looks terrible, doesn’t it?” she said softly, tears quickly filling her eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought—”
“No, no, no,” he quickly assured her, taking her hand the way he had done thousands of times. He was achingly familiar with her, but never more aware of her femininity than at this moment. “It looks…it looks—” Sal swallowed hard, “—it looks beautiful.” His eyes met hers and he gently lifted his finger to wipe away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. He never wanted Annie to cry again. “Don’t cry, you look beautiful.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She twirled on the steps, and Sal’s muscles tightened as her soft, silky skirt flared out, giving him a first-class view of her legs. The corners of his mouth turned down.
“Really,” he said grumpily, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs. David was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. His eyes lit up when he saw Annie. Sal watched David carefully, not liking the sudden gleam in the man’s eyes. He looked like a starving Doberman who had just gotten his first glimpse of a rare filet.
“Don’t you look wonderful,” David commented, causing Sal to scowl furiously. “If you’re ready, Ann, we’d better get going. I’ve made reservations at Fairchilds, and if we’re late, they won’t hold our table.” He looked Sal up and down, instantly dismissing him. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“Why?” Sal growled. “What are you planning on doing?”
“Sal!” Annie shot him a warning look.
Shaking his head, Sal went to the closet and extracted Annie’s raincoat. “We don’t want you to catch cold,” he explained helpfully, draping the garment over Annie’s shoulders and firmly snapping it closed all the way up to her chin.
“Sal,” she began ominously, slapping his hands away and shrugging out of her rain gear. She clenched her teeth together so tightly they hurt. “It’s the middle of June. It’s eighty degrees outside and there’s not a chance in hell of me—”
“Don’t swear, Ann Marie,” Sal scolded, and Annie rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was one thing for Sal to be concerned about her reentry into society, but quite another for him to embarrass her to death. She’d had just about enough of his overprotective attitude.
“I don’t need my raincoat,” she persisted, her dark eyes flashing fire. “And I’m not going to catch cold. Now, Sal, I’m sure you have plans tonight, with Mrs. Altero,” she said, grimly reminding him of her threat. “So if you don’t mind, David and I will just run along.” She tried to push past him, but Sal didn’t budge.
“Will you go away?” she whispered under her breath. “David and I will be perfectly fine, won’t we?” She turned to David, who grinned.
“Don’t you worry, Sal, ole boy,” David quipped, reaching out to slap Sal soundly on the shoulder. “Our Annie here will be in good hands,” David assured him with a wink, causing Sal to take a threatening step closer. “Very good hands.”
“You’d better just watch where you put those hands,” Sal warned, wondering where this fool got this our Annie stuff from.
“Good night, Sal,” Annie said firmly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
He really hadn’t intended to follow them, Sal thought as he glanced around Fairchilds. What he wanted to do was make sure David
was treating Annie right. He strode to the bar and ordered a beer. Fairchilds was located in one of the priciest sections of town, and was just the place for a quiet seduction, Sal thought sourly.
The dimly lit bar was set off to one side of the restaurant, giving him a prime view of not only the doorway but the entire restaurant. The walls were decorated in heavy silk paper in shades of muted gray and beige. The carpeting was so thick, one could probably lose their shoes in it. The small, intimate tables were adorned with white linen cloths and tiny sprays of white roses in cut-crystal vases. Waiters dressed in tuxedos moved silently about, catering to the every whim of the well-heeled patrons, as a string quartet quietly filled the air with the sounds of soft, romantic tunes.
A wall of mirrors faced the bar. From his perch, he could see the entire restaurant, yet not be seen. Lifting his beer to his lips, Sal widened his eyes and almost choked as he spotted David and Annie sitting at a quiet table in the corner.
David must have taken Annie to his apartment! The kilt was gone, replaced by an obviously expensive gray pinstriped suit, white oxford-cloth shirt and silk foulard tie. Sal grimaced as his gaze shifted to Annie. She looked rather pale to him, except for the twin spots of color on her cheeks. He looked at her carefully, resisting the urge to dust her for fingerprints. If Dancing David had laid a hand on Annie, he would wring his skinny little neck.
Turning his back to them, Sal watched them in the mirror, feeling his guts twist as David leaned close to Annie. If the man was hard of hearing, why didn’t he get a hearing aid? Sal wondered in disgust.
“Really, Ann,” David droned on, oblivious to the glazed expression on her face. “I don’t know what I would have done without my bonds, what with the current stock crisis and all. But at least I’ve still got my Remingtons.” He sighed heavily. “Not that I’d ever sell them, mind you. They are after all much more than investments; they’re works of art. Now, really, Ann, I think you should reconsider my proposition. A woman like you, all alone with no one to look after you, running a store in that neighborhood. It’s a disgrace, I tell you. And I’m sure I could get you a good price for the deli…”
With sinking spirits, Annie forced herself to tune David out. She should have known this was a mistake. This was the third time—at least—since they’d arrived at Fairchilds that David had brought up the fact that she was a woman living alone.
Poor Annie, the little widow woman. She sighed in annoyance. What was it all of a sudden? First Sal. Now David had insisted on treating her as if she were Heidi the little goat girl, instead of a grown woman capable of handling her own life.
She hadn’t really wanted to start dating again, anyway, Annie realized, feeling unaccountably awkward and uncomfortable. Even though David hadn’t really done anything—except manage to touch her whenever the opportunity arose—she wished she was anywhere but here—with him.
She’d forgotten how strained conversation could be with a man you barely knew. They had already covered the weather, David’s investments, David’s art, and now, David’s views regarding the subject of safety in her life—a subject she was not in the least bit interested in pursuing. Resentment bubbled over at David’s attitude. The way he was talking, he made her feel as if she lived in a cardboard shack in the very worst part of town.
He would never understand why she still chose to live in the old neighborhood. To her, Little Italy was home. In fact, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Ever. It was a small community where everyone still knew everyone else, more like an extended family. But she didn’t expect David to understand. They came from totally different worlds.
“Please,” she finally said, pleating her linen napkin with a vengeance to air her sudden frustration. “I’m perfectly happy with my life and my home.”
“Yes, I know, Ann. But you must realize the neighborhood is no longer the safe haven it once was. Surely you’re aware that the area surrounding Little Italy is declining. You’d be much safer—”
Annie held up her hand. She didn’t want to hear another word. “David, please.” She rubbed a throbbing spot between her brows. David’s cologne was cloyingly sweet, almost nauseating. Nothing like Sal’s musky, male scent. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him. The expression on Sal’s face as she’d waltzed out the door on David’s arm had haunted her most of the evening. He’d looked so perplexed, it filled her with a sad sense of longing that closed around her heart like a fist.
Just because it was time for her to get on with her life was no reason to deliberately hurt Sal. He’d been too good to her for that. He was just upset about her date with David, she assured herself. It would take some time for Sal to get used to the idea. Annie had to admit it looked as if it was going to take some time for her to get used to the idea of dating, as well.
“I’m sorry.” David smiled and patted her hand. “I don’t mean to nag. It’s just that I’m concerned about your welfare.”
“Well, you needn’t be,” she assured him, forcing herself to be polite. “As long as Sal’s around, I’m perfectly safe.” Annie smiled, realizing how true the statement was. He was the whole reason for this dating ritual, to begin with. That was the problem: Sal was always around, always there for her to lean on. She’d grown too dependent on him, knowing no matter what, he would be there. It was time she learned to depend on herself. Leaning on Sal had become an expensive habit Annie knew she could no longer afford—for his sake as well as her own.
But this wasn’t quite how she expected her first date to be. She thought it would be fun and light, not a chore with forced conversation, tense silences and awkward smiles. She didn’t know why, but she was acutely uncomfortable with David. Perhaps it was just that she was used to Sal’s company. With him, conversation just flowed, with no awkward moments or long, tense silences. She felt comfortable with him. Maybe she was spoiled, Annie mused. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt as if she had to impress someone, and for some reason she had the feeling David was waiting to be impressed.
She knew it wasn’t right or fair to compare David to Sal, but she couldn’t seem to prevent herself. Sal was such fun, no matter what they did, whether it was going for a walk in Peanut Park or having Sunday dinner at his mother’s, they had fun. She was comfortable with him, and never felt as if she had to put on airs, or pretend to be someone she wasn’t.
But Sal was just a friend, she reminded herself. Tony’s best friend. Yet, earlier this evening, before David had arrived, the feelings she’d felt for Sal had nothing to do with friendship, but a whole lot to do with male-female relationships.
“Yes, dear, but…”
Annie blinked, realizing she’d drifted off into her own thoughts again and wasn’t listening to one word her date said.
“I’m sorry, David,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. The throbbing in her head was getting worse. “What were you saying?”
A frown seemed permanently etched between his bushy blond brows. “Yes, well, I was saying I can’t believe that man actually wears his weapon everywhere he goes. It’s positively indecent. He struts about like some ancient barbarian.”
Annie bit back a smile. There was no doubt who “that man” was, but boy, would she love to see Sal’s expression if he could hear David’s rather vivid description of him. “Ancient barbarian,” indeed! A sense of loyalty caused her skin to prickle. David might not like Sal, but that was certainly no reason for him to be critical.
“David,” she said carefully, trying to hide her annoyance. “Sal’s a cop. He doesn’t carry his gun just for show. He has a very dangerous job.”
“Dangerous,” David sniffed, lifting his drink to his lips. “How quaint.”
Annie lifted her head to issue an angry retort. The breath withered in her throat as she saw a large male presence moving toward them. Sal. Oh, Lord, what was he doing here? She couldn’t help the rush of relief that washed over her.
“Uh-oh,” David said ominously, catching sight of Sal. “Looks like we
have company.” He nodded in Sal’s direction, and Annie felt her heart take flight. She wished she didn’t feel quite so happy, or relieved, to see him.
David’s eyes flicked over Sal dismissively, as if he were something unpleasant crawling toward them across the plush carpet.
She watched Sal approach, looking as if he owned the world. David was right about two things: Sal did strut about and he did remind her of an old-fashioned man from days gone by. She smiled in pleasure. Not a barbarian exactly, but more like a sexy pirate, or a renegade. With his dark olive complexion, his glittering, intense eyes and self-assured style, Sal could have stepped right out of the pages of an eighteenth-century historical novel. No wonder women found him so attractive, she thought, feeling her own response to him.
She glanced at David, noting the tense look on his face. Oh, Lord. She hoped they didn’t create a scene. She could handle this, couldn’t she? Looking at David again, she wasn’t so sure.
“David,” Annie began, sensing a problem.
“Please.” David covered her hand and flashed her a toothy smile. “Let me take care of this,” he said confidently.
Sal stopped just inches from their table, an engaging smile on his face and a bottle of wine in his hands. Annie tried hard to drag up some annoyance to replace the relief she felt as she gently retrieved her hand from David’s. Sal had no right to follow her, but she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life, and her smile showed it.
Italian Knights Page 3
