by Raye Morgan
And he kissed her.
All her wildness dissolved at his touch. This was what she’d been waiting for—living for. His mouth on hers was hot and his tongue was rough and his arms were hard with masculine strength that took her breath away. She could feel his hunger and it sent a sense of relief through her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She could let go. She could sink into this feeling without fear, and she did, opening up her soul as she opened her heart. Her fingers sank into his thick hair, pulling him up harder against where she was arched, trying to feel as much of him as she could.
With her mouth, her tongue, her hands, her body, she was telling him, Here I am. Take me. I’m yours.
His hard, beautiful hands slid down her sides to her back and then cupped her bottom, pressing her even closer into the refuge of his hips. He knew it would take only seconds to lose himself in the heat of her kiss and let it build into something more serious. The urgency he’d been keeping under such tight control was stirring and he knew just how dangerous that could be. He should pull back and let her understand what she was risking.
But he couldn’t do it—not yet. He’d had dreams about how it could be with them, and to have her in his arms like this made it all seem so much more possible. As he explored her mouth, her skin, her ear, she seemed to melt at his touch, as though she were made to love him.
“Bella,” he moaned, his mind foggy with desire. “Cara mia.”
She murmured something but he didn’t know what she was saying. He was lost in the vortex. In another moment, he would be over the edge. He had to turn this back. He pulled his head away, groaning from a place deep inside. His vision was blurred, but she looked like a goddess, too tempting to resist. Still, he managed.
“Bella, no,” he muttered against her ear. “We have to stop.”
She sighed, but she didn’t argue. She pulled back away from him so that nothing was touching, but then she leaned her face close again and kissed him. Lips to lips, heart to heart. How could he turn that away? They’d gone from sweetness to searing fire and back to sweetness again.
The kiss went on and on. If she had her way, it would never stop.
She knew it now—she knew he was hers, at least for the moment, and she was flooded with a feeling of lightness and joy, as though a thousand angels were singing a Beethoven chorus in her heart.
This was good. This was the way things ought to be.
But the beautiful singing ended abruptly, like a scratch on a record, when Max’s sister Angela entered the room.
“Well, excuse me,” she said, but she didn’t go back out again. Instead, she stood where she was and waited for them to compose themselves.
“Angela,” Max said, turning reluctantly and straightening his shirt and not looking the least bit uncomfortable. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”
“I don’t know how it can be unexpected when I told you I was coming back here this weekend.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “That’s right. There’s been so much going on around here, I’d forgotten all about that.”
“So it seems.” She pretended to smile. “So nice to see you again, Isabella. I hope the restaurant is doing well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Isabella answered, trying to play this as cool as Max was, but knowing she wasn’t quite as unruffled as he. She’d finally got Max to throw away his inhibitions and really kiss her, and now this!
“Very good.” Angela gave her brother a scathing glance. “Well, I’ll just go unpack my things. It seems Renzo forgot I was coming as well.” She started out the door, then looked back and said with a touch of amused irony, “I’m beginning to feel downright unwelcome.” And just before she disappeared, she made a face that almost made Isabella like her.
“You’d better go,” Max told her. He touched her cheek and looked as if he might kiss her again, but then he didn’t. “See you tomorrow?” he asked, regret in his eyes.
“Of course,” she responded.
But she was the one who harbored the most remorse. Something told her this kiss hadn’t really started a trend, and it was going to be just as much of an effort on her part before she got him to do it again. If only he could believe in something good between the two of them. If only she could convince him it might work.
But even thinking that surprised her, because it meant she’d begun to hope—maybe a little too much? Time would tell.
Angela stayed for three days but Isabella only spent time alone with her once. She was polite enough, but she seemed very skeptical about Isabella’s place in the scheme of things.
“I understand you’re lobbying for some big changes around here,” she said as they came face-to-face in the kitchen one morning.
Isabella lifted her chin. “Yes, in fact, I am.”
Angela raised one sleek eyebrow. “We all know Max has been lonely for a long time. It wouldn’t be difficult for a pretty young woman like you to cast a spell that led him into something he wasn’t prepared for. Something totally inappropriate.”
Isabella took a deep breath. Angela seemed to think she could be cowed. How interesting. Angela was going to have to think again.
“I think you underestimate your brother. Of course he’s as capable of a flirtation as any man, but he’s as careful and cynical as any man I’ve ever known as well. He’s certainly nobody’s pushover.”
Angela’s eyes widened. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to imply any such thing.” She frowned. “But, Isabella, it’s plain as the nose on your face. You two are crazy about each other right now. The air fairly sizzles between you.” She hesitated and looked suspicious. “You’re not…?”
“No. No, we’re not.”
She nodded, looking relieved. “Well, I’m sure you understand that his family will have a say in any major decisions he makes about his future.”
Isabella blinked. Did she mean what it sounded like she meant? “Angela, if you’re worried we’re going to run off and elope or something, I think you can rest easy on that score. I have no plans to try to snare your brother.”
Angela nodded skeptically. “Plans are one thing, the heat of passion is another.”
Isabella was trying hard to hold her temper.
“I don’t think you should worry. I understand that he has duties and responsibilities to a larger universe than the relationship he and I have together. A different universe than the one I come from. I don’t have any fantasies on that score.”
Angela nodded. “Well, I’m pleased to see you have a head on your shoulders.”
Isabella smiled. “On the other hand, if Max decides to do something, I don’t think you will have a hope in heaven of stopping him.”
Angela winced, then gave Isabella a penetrating look. “Tell me this. Do you think you are in love with my brother?”
She drew her breath in sharply. She could be blunt, but that would be offensive. So she rounded the edges a little. “Honestly, that is not something I’ve been thinking about. Much, anyway,” she added softly.
Angela’s eyes flashed. “So you won’t tell me one way or another.”
Isabella finally let her anger spill out. “Angela, I don’t actually think it’s any of your business how I feel about Max. I owe you a certain regard and a certain common courtesy, but I’m not going to spill out the inner workings of my heart and brain for you to pore over. Those are mine alone.”
Angela stared at her for a long moment, then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
“Good answer,” she said. “And I like you the better for it.”
And that was the end of that encounter.
They all breathed a sigh of relief when Angela decamped. It allowed them to go back to the comfortable atmosphere they’d had before she came and it gave Isabella a bit of room to try to convince Max he should renovate the vineyards.
“Just look at the majesty of all this,” she said as they walked through a portion where the grape plants still had green shoots and looked recoverable. “Can
you imagine what it would be like?”
“There’s something to that,” Max mused as they strolled along. “There is something rejuvenating about plants that lose their leaves and then come back like the phoenix to show off their glory again.”
“The rebirth of hope,” she agreed.
“Yes.” He nodded, his head to the side thoughtfully, and she smiled. She was winning. She could feel it.
“Watch out.” His arm shot out to protect her from a broken stake, and then he was curling her into his arms. “Isabella,” he said warningly.
She laughed, pressing against him with sheer joy in the body contact. “I didn’t do this,” she protested. “It was all you.”
He kissed her softly and let her go and she sighed, wanting more, knowing she was going to have to wait. “Let’s sit here by this little rose garden,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. “It’s hot out here today.”
They sat in the shade and looked out over the plants again. “Have you thought about the estimate Giancarlo gave you?” she asked.
He nodded. “I could buy a new yacht for what he wants,” he said. “A racing yacht and a racing crew to go with it.”
“Oh.” She was disappointed. “Is it really too much?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tell me this, Bella. If you had a lot of money, what would you use it for?”
She thought for a moment. He probably expected her to say she would throw it away on his vineyards. Or help the poor. Or some other noble gesture. But she had another project in mind.
She looked at him and wondered if she dared say it. Taking a deep breath, she prepared for the worst.
“Max, if I had enough money, I would hire the best surgeon in the world to do something about the scars on your face.”
He stared at her, shocked. “What?”
She reached out for his hand. “Not because I want you to change,” she told him quickly. “I’ve told you before that I think you are the most beautiful man in the world, and your scars only make you more precious to me. But I would like to see you lose them because I want you to stop punishing yourself. Ten years is long enough. You deserve a pardon.”
Picking up her hand, he brought it to his lips and opened it so that he could kiss her palm. “I don’t need a pardon,” he said softly, looking up at her through her spread fingers. “Bella mia, I have you.”
Her heart seemed to swell at his words. Were they only meant in play? She couldn’t be sure.
“Tell me, Max. Have you ever looked into surgery?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I knew it. You haven’t even tried.”
“You’re right.”
“I’ve seen some amazing things done with—”
“No.” He dropped her hand and looked almost stern. “I could never do that.”
She searched his eyes. “Why not?”
He shrugged and looked away. “You said it yourself. This is my punishment.”
His voice hardened as he turned back to look deep into her eyes.
“Bella, I slept while my wife and child died in front of me. Don’t you think I deserve a little pain for that?”
“No.” She was passionate about that. “No, not at all. You’ve had enough pain to last a lifetime.”
Their gazes held for a long moment. Finally, Max tried to smile. “So you see, we disagree.” His smile widened as he studied her pretty face and took up her hand again.
“Bella, Bella, you take these things too hard.” He kissed her fingers, one by one. “Maybe I should get a mask like that fellow in Phantom of the Opera. Do you think that would suit me?”
She’d settled down by now and could joke with him if that was what he wanted.
“I don’t know.” She pretended to consider it, then looked at him sharply. “How well do you sing?”
He looked surprised. “Oh, you have to sing?”
“Sure. It goes with the territory.”
They laughed together. It was good to laugh. Laughter took some of the sting out of the pain. And Lord knew she was ready to do anything she could to do that for him.
“Okay, Bella,” he said finally, dropping her hand again. “Call your friend Giancarlo. We’ll see if we can work something out on renovating a portion of the field.”
“Oh!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Oh, I’m so glad!” She stopped. “But wait, only a portion?”
He nodded. “For now, greedy little lady. We’ll just take this one step at a time.”
“Oh. Of course.” She calmed herself down. Naturally he wanted to see how having a few workmen around worked out for him before he committed to a huge operation. It was only logical. She was just happy he’d decided to take this step at all.
“Okay.” She sighed happily. “We’ll do it your way.”
He gave her an adorably crooked grin. “What other way is there?”
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER spending so much time with Max, Isabella finally had to admit that she needed to concentrate on just how much her own family was making her crazy. Everything should be going swimmingly. They had the herb again. People were flocking to the restaurant just as they had in the best days of the past. You would think everyone would be happy with that—but no. There was a constant drumbeat of concern for her relationship with the prince, from her family and from everyone else, too.
Everyone in town seemed to know about it now, and each and every one had to stick his nose into it and give her the benefit of his or her great advice.
“Isabella, don’t you think it is time to get over this obsession with the Rossi prince? He’s not for you. You know how these things turn out, every time. You may be happy with it now, but in the end he’ll want another sort of woman, a woman he can marry, and you’ll be stuck with the consequences of your time with him.”
That trend of thought was the most annoying, because it was very difficult to answer. She could either get mad, or walk away. She usually did the latter.
Her father was the most troubling because she knew he really did care about her and was genuinely worried.
“Where are you going?” he seemed to ask every time she came near a door. “When will you be back? You’re not going to go see him again, are you?”
She was very careful not to take too much time away from the restaurant. She knew he needed her help and she didn’t resent that at all. In fact, she wanted to make him feel less anxious, if only she knew how. Talking didn’t seem to do it. And she decided a lot of it was based on his worry about the threats from Fredo—and those were beginning to worry her, too.
“Papa, what does he have against you?” she asked him again and again. “Why is he doing this?”
“He worked with me when I first had my stand on the Via Roma. We argued. He went off to start his own place, which failed. For years he’s claimed I stole his recipes. Even after he opened his ice cream store, he told everyone my success was due to his recipes.”
“Does he have even a tiny, tiny justification for thinking that?”
“Not a bit. He never even knew where I got the basil. He’s just a crazy, angry old fool.”
But crazy, angry old fools could do a lot of damage.
She went to a planning committee meeting with her father. He was too weak to stand up and speak his mind, so she did it for him and the arguing got pretty heated for a while. Even after all that, she wasn’t totally clear on what the issue was and she didn’t have a good feeling about things.
“What is it that you want?” she demanded of Fredo at one point. “Do you want us to admit guilt? Do you want money? What?”
Fredo was sitting in his chair at the long table and giving her his evil look. “I want Luca to lose his business like I lost mine.” That was all he would say.
“The problem is,” her father said as they were walking home from the meeting, “now that he has the mayor’s ear and a seat on the planning commission, he thinks he can put the screws to me.” He shook his head. “At
first I was wondering if your aunt Lisa might not be behind it all. But he’s gone further than even she would now.”
“Oh, Papa. Aunt Lisa loves you deep down.”
“Hah!” He shook his head. “A lot you know about it.”
Luca’s sister Lisa was a very different type from plain, sweet Luca. Isabella knew her well, though she had a way of flitting in and out of life in Monta Correnti, despite having a very successful restaurant right next to the one her brother ran. Lisa also had a habit of bestowing different fathers on each of her three daughters, all cousins to Isabella. Scarlett, who was just her age, had been a close friend when they were young. But the two of them had been involved in some childish antics that had put a pall on their friendship and to this day their secret was like a barrier between them and they seldom spoke.
But her aunt Lisa did enough talking to make up for it.
“Well, I hear you’re flying high these days,” she said, meeting Isabella in the courtyard outside their respective restaurants.
Isabella decided to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“Running with royalty, they say.”
She bit her tongue. She couldn’t explain to Lisa how it had all come about, because that would be giving away the secret of the basil, something only a few people knew about. When you came right down to it, Lisa was the last person they would want to know. In many ways, she and Luca were in direct competition and had been for years. If Lisa found out about the basil, Isabella knew she would get her hands on it immediately and hire the best chefs from Rome to come try out new recipes. As if they didn’t have enough trouble with declining revenue at Rosa as it was. If Lisa took over the basil and began to promote it as only she knew how, they would be sunk.
“I’ve always heard he’s such a recluse he won’t even allow tradesmen at the palazzo. But suddenly he’s hobnobbing with our little Izzy.” Lisa gave her a flippant look. “If I’d known he was so easy to get to, I’d have been out there to see him myself.”
A flare of panic rose in Isabella’s throat. What if she tried it? “What would you want to see him about?” she asked, frowning.
