“You can always eat at my place. Go.” She shooed him out of the kitchen. “Guillermo brought in some beautiful sea bass this afternoon. I’ll be out with today’s menu in a moment.”
“Mind if I raid the wine cellar while we wait? Or grab that bottle of Prosecco I saw on the sideboard?”
Her eyes fairly twinkled in merriment. “As long as you don’t mind it on your bill, do whatever you like to impress your lady friend. Who am I to say no?”
Chapter Three
“What’s the story, Gaspare? Should I be worried?” Kelly reached down to scratch the dog’s dark head. She’d probably need to wash her hands again before dinner, but petting Gaspare thrilled the dog at the same time it gave her an outlet for her nerves.
What in the world had she been thinking, going out to dinner with a stranger?
Then again, he’d given her no reason to worry. Yet.
Massimo had waited patiently by his car while she went to the villa to change—she’d peeked out from behind the curtains to see if he was still there while she’d tossed her bikini and towel into the bathroom and selected a clean sundress from her suitcase—and he didn’t seem threatening, despite having shoulders and arms that could crush her if he put his mind to it. He’d even taken the time to pull a thermos from his car and pour water for the dog. A man who had no sense of responsibility—or who had no heart—wouldn’t have thought to do that. And a man who’d wanted nothing more than sex likely wouldn’t have brought her to a place like Giulia’s.
She studied the trattoria as she continued to run a hand through Gaspare’s coat in lazy strokes. Describing the place as a home hadn’t been far off the mark. There were only six tables in the dining room, all of them made of sturdy, timeworn wood. Two of the tables were situated on either side of a stone fireplace that looked as if it enjoyed frequent use while the other four tables—including the one where she now sat—ran along the window. Another two tables, each constructed of metal hefty enough to withstand the elements, occupied a narrow stone patio outside. She stood for a better look and immediately sucked in a deep breath. Good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights, given the drop not far from the patio’s edge. Construction on the trattoria must have been nerve-wracking, given its position hundreds of feet above the Mediterranean, though with a marvelous visual payoff. The island’s capital city of Cateri sprawled in the distance, beyond the crazy curves they’d navigated on the way from the beach. Closer in, trees and brush clung to the hillsides over the water, birds swooped along the coast, and boats of every description passed on the water far below.
“That’s a long way down, Gaspare,” she told him. “Not sure I’d want to eat out there on a windy day.” A misplaced napkin could fly forever.
“We can sit out and enjoy our aperitivo,” Massimo’s accented voice came from behind her. Before she could turn, he reached around her to offer a narrow flute filled with sparkling wine. “Giulia happened to have a fabulous Prosecco ready and waiting, and I do I owe you a drink.”
She accepted the glass with a smile, amazed she hadn’t heard him approach. Perhaps quiet movement became ingrained during his military training. “Will I be safe out there?”
A wry smile lifted the edge of his mouth, making him seem completely trustworthy, yet utterly dangerous to her self-control at the same time. “Perfectly,” he assured her. “As long as one glass of Prosecco doesn’t turn into four.”
“No worries there.” It amused her that his answer addressed both of her safety concerns: the astonishing drop to the sea and the company.
He moved to a glass door beyond the row of tables and paused to regard Gaspare, whose eyes were now closed. “We’ll let him nap.”
They exited to the patio, and once again, Massimo held out a chair for her. The motion gave her a flashback to Ted doing the same thing when they’d dined at one of Dallas’s fancy hotel restaurants. He’d always gone out of his way to impress her, sending oversized bouquets of flowers to her at work, nabbing front-row seats to concerts and sporting events, and—his favorite—taking her to high-profile restaurants.
Well, she’d been impressed. So had all her friends. Now she knew better. He’d done it all for the sake of appearances. He’d won her heart, he’d won over her friends and family, and she’d sworn never again to be swayed by fake chivalry.
Yet when Massimo pulled out the chair for her, it was different. There was no showmanship about it, no apparent attempt to impress her. Rather, the movement seemed habit to him, as unconscious as breathing or walking.
It threw her off-balance.
Massimo set his Prosecco on the table and turned his gaze toward Cateri. “I love the view from here. You see the city, you feel its energy, but you don’t need to be a part of it. You can relax, enjoy a good glass of wine, and breathe the sea air.”
She looked past him, toward the city, and nodded her agreement, but found her attention drifting back to Massimo himself. Now that his face was partially turned, she could study him more closely. His white shirt set off his smooth olive skin and brownish-green eyes in a way that had likely driven more than one woman mad with want. The collar was open just enough to give her a glimpse of the base of his throat. Somehow, he seemed sexier now than he had standing before her on the beach in only his swim trunks and the thin white shirt that emphasized his torso more than it hid it. And that view had been plenty sexy.
She was about to comment on a bright blue fishing boat gliding toward Cateri when the patio door opened and a short woman with graying hair piled into a loose bun came out carrying a tray of vegetables, crackers, olives, and cheeses. After she greeted them in Italian and set the appetizers and two small plates before them, she turned to Kelly and introduced herself as Giulia. “Here are today’s menus,” she said, pulling two narrow laminated pages from the front pocket of her apron and handing one to each of them. “We also have fresh sea bass served with a light basil cream sauce and grilled tomatoes.”
“Caught today,” Massimo said with a wink.
“By my husband, Guillermo.” Pride filled the older woman’s voice. “Our other special today is ravioli stuffed with spinach and goat cheese.” To Kelly she added, “All our pasta is made by hand from my great-great-grandmother’s recipe. No big machines, no shortcuts. Best pasta on the whole island. And the goat cheese comes from a family farm down the street. All natural.”
Kelly’s stomach rumbled at the descriptions on the handwritten menu. Each looked divine, like a dish one might be served at a luxury resort’s fanciest restaurant, yet the prices were surprisingly reasonable. “I think I want everything.”
“Then have what you want today and come back tomorrow for another dish. This one” —she actually pinched Massimo’s cheek— “always returns for my food. He knows where to find the best. And sometimes, he prepares it himself.”
“No!” Kelly couldn’t imagine this man in a kitchen, at least not one the size of the kitchen in her Dallas apartment. He’d barely fit.
“It is true!” Giulia laughed as if expecting Kelly’s stunned reaction. “He begged me so many times for the secret to my tiramisu, I finally taught him. Better than listening to a grown man beg, yes?”
“I have never begged,” Massimo retorted, and Kelly had to agree. She couldn’t picture it.
“Wait until you see what I have for dessert tonight. You will beg.”
Massimo shook his head while Giulia turned to Kelly and asked if she had any questions about the menu.
“None at all. The sea bass is very tempting, but after your description, I have to try the homemade ravioli.”
“In that case, I’ll take the sea bass,” Massimo said without bothering to peruse the menu. “We can try each other’s dishes that way.”
“Wonderful!” Giulia took their menus and urged them to enjoy the patio as long as they liked. “Watch the sunset while you wait and help yourselves to more wine. Massimo knows where to find it. And this” —she pointed to one of the cheeses on the tray— “is Massim
o’s favorite. So you must try it.”
His face lit as he looked at the tray. “The Roncal?”
Her hand flew to her heart. “You think I would forget? I keep it just for you.”
“And I’m very grateful.”
“She’s wonderful,” Kelly commented once Giulia departed for the kitchen. She took a long, decadent sip of her Prosecco and leaned back in her chair. “This is exactly why I came to Sarcaccia.”
“For Giulia?” Massimo raised an eyebrow and shot her a dimple-inducing smile. Man, but she loved dimples, and she hadn’t noticed his until just this moment. He was probably so used to being forceful, the way he was on the beach, that it took awhile for him to relax enough to let them appear. Sitting this close allowed her to see other details she’d missed before. A tiny white scar ran from the edge of his left eye to his hairline. And his eyes—while she’d certainly noticed the color and shape—she now realized weren’t quite identical. The right appeared slightly larger than the left, as if he were deep in thought and about to squint with one eye. Oddly, she found the minor imperfection reassuring. It made him all the more human.
She met his smile with one of her own. “Sort of. I came to experience life in a way I haven’t before. Seeing new places, meeting new people…it gives a person perspective.”
If there was anything she needed after her Ted fiasco, it was perspective.
“That it does, for better or worse.” She thought there was a note of regret in his tone, but it disappeared as he pushed the platter toward her. “The square crackers on this side of the tray are from a local bakery. Can’t find them anywhere but Sarcaccia. Try one. They make a great palate cleanser.”
She plucked one of the crackers from the tray, then watched as Massimo did the same. As they each bit into the thick, wheaty crackers, an unexpected frisson of heat passed between them, as if the breaking of bread constituted foreplay to a more intimate encounter.
A palate cleanser, as it were.
“So tell me,” he said, swishing the last of his Prosecco, “how is it that I found a beautiful woman like you alone on the beach? Did your friends abandon you to the surf while they went to party back in your villa? Or had they already been whisked away by strange men and their wandering dogs?”
“All very mysterious, isn’t it?” she teased, not quite ready to admit she had no friends in the country, let alone back at her villa. “I mean, how is it that a good-looking man like you came to be alone on the beach?”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Gaspare.”
“Actually, I had Gaspare. So let me rephrase.” She cleared her throat, then made a show of leaning across the table to interrogate him. “How is it that a good-looking man like you came to the beach with only your dog? Or had your friends already left with strange women?”
He seemed amused by that. “I see your point. I was out on my boat enjoying the sunshine and fresh air. I had spent the day…gaining perspective.”
“And Gaspare?”
“Gaspare could care less about perspective. He only wanted to swim to shore. Though perhaps he thought I could use a dinner companion and decided to find one for me.” He gathered their empty Prosecco glasses, holding them by the stems in one hand, then stood and rounded the table. “Come on. You said you wanted to see new places. Let’s explore Giulia’s wine cellar.”
Before she could say a word, he grabbed her by the hand and helped her from her chair. Not that it mattered. She suspected Massimo would lead her on an adventure whether she agreed to it or not.
Right now, she was definitely in the mood to agree.
* * *
The wooden stairs leading from the main dining room to Giulia’s wine cellar creaked with age as Kelly descended behind Massimo. Only the tiny antique chandelier hanging near the top kept the narrow space between the stone walls from delving into creepiness.
“This is like a movie set,” Kelly told him, straining to see to the bottom. “How old is it?”
“Very.” His voice was matter of fact. “The lower level of the house was built beside the entrance to a cave that’s been used as cold storage for centuries. Eventually, Giulia’s ancestors converted the cave to a wine cellar. They enclosed the area around the entrance and added the staircase to connect it to the main level about two hundred years ago.”
She ran a hand along the wooden railing, which was shiny and worn smooth from use. “I suspect these are the original stairs, then. The centers of the treads even dip. I love that she’s kept them. They suit the house.” If this had been a cellar in the States, the stairs inevitably would’ve been replaced with something light, bright, and new that would pass safety inspections, but kill the romantic atmosphere.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Massimo flipped a switch to illuminate the room. She drew in a sharp breath at the sight. To their right, in the direction of the cliff’s edge, stood three rows of wooden shelves containing hundreds of wines. Stone walls extended from the house’s lower level to surround the shelves and seal off the room from the elements. To their left was the opening to a shallow cavern. It had been left in its natural state, with freestanding wooden wine racks placed in front of the rough rock walls. She imagined the temperature stayed cool and constant, summer and winter, making it the perfect location for the trattoria’s wine collection. Beyond the wines, at the back of the small cavern, a large wooden shelf held several wax-encased wheels of cheese.
The cellar was exactly the type of romantic spot Kelly had hoped to explore when Ted mentioned Sarcaccia as a possible honeymoon location. Granted, as the CEO of a global communications company, Ted had been invited to attend a glitzy charity ball on the island. While he’d liked the idea of combining business with pleasure, Kelly had wanted to see the island for its history, its cuisine, and its gorgeous beaches and architecture. Having Massimo show her this ancient cellar felt like being given a precious gift.
“If there’s ever an apocalypse, this is where I want to be,” Kelly said as she admired the unique space.
“As long as it’s not today. I want dinner first.” Massimo gestured to the bottles filling the shelves. “You have a preference? Whatever you like, Giulia is bound to have it.”
Intrigued by the cavern area, she turned to the left and bent to glance at the bottles, being careful not to brush against them.
“Afraid you’ll break them?”
“A bit.” Cautiously, she used her index finger to wipe a light layer of dust off the nearest bottle. Her eyes widened fractionally as she scanned the label. “I’ve never heard of this winery, but judging from the date, the bottle’s been stored here awhile.”
He moved closer to look over her shoulder. “A twenty-year-old Barolo. If you like reds, this is a very good one. It’s one of my father’s favorites.”
“And expensive, if I had to guess.” Kelly stepped back, nearly bumping into him. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not enough of a wine connoisseur to tell the difference between a twenty-year-old wine and a five-year-old wine or if it even matters. As tempting as it might be to try, I don’t need fancy.”
“Perhaps you could try the other side of the cellar?” He angled his chin toward the area opposite the cave. “Those are all good, but not as ‘fancy,’ as you say.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Everything Giulia stocks is of the best quality, so you can’t go wrong.”
She scanned the shelves while he waited near the bottom of the staircase and ran a hand along the old wooden railing. Though his stance was casual, there was something almost too casual about it. As if being in the cellar made him nervous. She wondered what brought it on, especially given that selecting a wine was his suggestion. Was it her? The tight space? A fear of offending Giulia if their dinner arrived while they were exploring the cellar?
She put it out of her mind and scanned the shelves, unsure what she sought. She withdrew a bottle at random from hip level, then slowly turned it to show Massimo the beige label with black letter
ing. “How about this? Would a Spanish wine offend your Sarcaccian sensibilities?”
He approached and wrapped his hands around hers as she cradled the bottle so he could better see the label. “Torre Muga, La Rioja,” he read aloud as she tried not to think about the feel of his hands on hers. “No, this wouldn’t offend my sensibilities at all. It’s a great choice.”
“Then we’re set.” Desire ripped through her as she raised her face to his. The man had the most sensuous eyes, even—perhaps especially—in the dim light. Though the flicker of attraction in his gaze was unmistakable, she still sensed he didn’t care to linger in the cellar.
Just as he indicated that she should lead the way upstairs, footsteps thudded overhead and the door creaked open. Giulia descended and clapped her hands together and said, “Ah, I thought I might find you here. Tell me, what have you discovered?”
Kelly turned the bottle so that Giulia, who now stood on the bottom step, could read it. “Good, good. Did you make the selection or did Massimo?”
“I did, but he assured me this will be wonderful.”
“And he is right. I have no bad wine in my cellar.” She beamed at them even as another set of footsteps sounded on the staircase behind her. Without turning she said, “Dinner is ready, but I can serve you only if this man behind me moves out of my way.”
A squat man with a close-clipped gray beard, brown slacks and a dark brown vest worn over a long-sleeved cream-colored shirt descended. Clunky leather shoes, the type reserved for those whose gait wasn’t entirely stable, encased his feet. He deliberately ignored Giulia—though not without a mischievous lift to his lips meant for her to see—and greeted them. “My dear wife said you were home again, Massimo. Should I be jealous that she is hiding you in our cellar?”
“I asked her to run away with me, but she only has eyes for you.” Massimo put one hand on the railing and leaned past Giulia to give the older man a warm hug and slap on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Guillermo. I understand you provided tonight’s dinner. Brought in some good sea bass today?”
Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) Page 3
