Had the boy come on his own to the preserve hoping for someone to help save it?
She looked all around for any sign of him. Except for the sound of birdsong and insects whirring about, nothing moved.
Tucking the basket under her arm, she walked over to the stroller and continued pushing it to the hospital.
Instead of entering the lodge through the main entrance to the waiting room, she went around to a private side door used by hospital personnel. It opened to an entry way leading into the surgery.
“There you are!” she spoke to the dogs as she opened the door for them to enter. The swinging door to the surgery had a window. She saw Callie over at the sink.
Ann tapped on the glass. When her sister spied her, she came out to the hall with a smile wreathing her face.
“All my favorite people!” She scratched the dogs’ heads and gave her sleeping baby a kiss. Then she lifted her head to look at Ann. “What have you got under your arm?”
With a brief explanation about the boy, she handed her sister the basket. “Obviously he was too shy to come all the way to the hospital. I hope it’s not too late for the squirrel.”
“I’ll check it right now.”
“While you do that, I’ll take everyone home and start dinner. You did say there was chicken in the fridge.”
“Yes. Nicco loves it roasted with carrots and potatoes.”
“Mom’s old recipe?”
Callie nodded.
“That’ll be a cinch.”
“Put Anna in the swing so she can watch you. I should be home in time to feed her.”
“Okay. Let’s go everybody.”
After leaving the lodge, she pushed the stroller back to the palace. The dogs raced on ahead, reminding her of horses who knew where the stable was and couldn’t wait any longer for their oats and water.
Almost to the steps of the west wing, she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Something told her the boy had been following them, which meant he’d seen her drop off the basket at the hospital.
She felt a little tug at her heart. The squirrel couldn’t be his pet because it was still a newborn. No doubt he had visions of raising it until it was full grown and would follow him around.
Through Callie, Ann had learned that people developed attachments to all kinds of undomesticated animals like iguanas and wombats. A squirrel didn’t sound nearly so strange, especially if a boy’s playground was the woods.
Growing up in farm country, Ann and Callie had been enamored of everything from baby chicks and calves to new foals. But if something went wrong with one of them, it was Callie who always wanted to doctor them.
Ann was a little squeamish in that department. One of her favorite pursuits was to spend time in her bedroom with their family dog. It was there she made up little plays she performed in front of him. He had to be a better audience than any human as he sat there watching and listening in adoration while his tail moved back and forth on the floor.
Good old Jasper. First he’d died, then their dad, then their mom. The home she and her sister had once known and cherished was gone.
With a heavy sigh she hurried inside with the dogs to take care of Anna and start dinner, very much aware that this was Callie’s home, Callie’s and Nicco’s. Ann needed to make one of her own.
The problem was, you needed the right ingredients to come together at the right time and place.
So far that hadn’t happened. Maybe it never would…
Getting closer to thirty every day with no man in her life she wanted to be the father of her children, plus a short-lived acting career in serious jeopardy, Ann realized she needed to do something about her situation.
If she were careful, she could live three more years on the money she’d made from her last picture. That would give her time to start looking for a job. Maybe she could teach. Might as well put her English degree and acting experience to some use.
Tomorrow morning she’d get up early and put out some feelers over the Internet in Callie’s office.
On the outskirts of Turin, Riley found a compound of buildings that had to be the Danelli manufacturing plant. However until he saw the name in small letters on the glass door of the main structure, he would never have guessed he’d come to the right place.
Everything was locked up and the parking lot looked deserted. That didn’t surprise him. It was ten after five in the evening. He’d tried to get here sooner, but after his flight from Rome there’d been a long delay picking up his rental car. The only thing to do was find a hotel for the night and return in the morning.
He walked back to the car and drove around the complex hoping to spot a worker or night watchman who could tell him when the best time would be to speak to the owner.
Luca Danelli wasn’t listed in the telephone directory. All Riley could find was the name of the company and a phone number that reached a recording with only one option: leave a message and someone would return the call as soon as possible.
For what Riley had in mind, he needed the right live body. Nothing else would do.
Disappointed because no one was about, he whipped around the other end of the complex to leave the cluster of buildings the way he’d come in. That’s when he caught a glint of red in the periphery and stood on his brakes.
A tall, well-honed male in a black helmet, gloves and leather jacket was just pushing a motorcycle out of a door marked private in Italian. Riley’s eyes fastened on the fire-engine-red bike. It was an NT-1, the pro racing model that was blowing all the competition out of the water according to the article in the magazine Bart had given him.
Riley shut off the motor, grabbed the copy of International Motorcycle World lying on the seat next to him and levered himself from the car.
The man in the helmet had seen him. He raised his shield. As Riley approached him, he was met by a pair of penetrating black eyes that studied him with guarded interest.
“The plant is closed. What can I do for you, signore?”
His Italian, as well as his whole demeanor, spoke of an aristocratic background, especially the way he’d phrased the question in civil tones to couch his demand. Riley was immediately intrigued.
Whoever this man was, he gave off an aura of someone so sure of himself, nothing fazed him. In an instant Riley realized he’d never met anyone like him. Instinct also told him something else. This was a person who welcomed a dangerous situation and would always come out the winner.
“My name is Riley Garrow,” he answered in fluent Italian. “I’ve just flown in from the States to see Signore Danelli about a job. I came directly from the airport hoping he’d still be at work.”
After a brief pause, “I’m afraid that’s impossible now. The Danelli family buried him a week ago.” The pathos in his voice revealed the two men had been close.
Riley’s spirits sank like lead. “I had no idea. There was nothing about it in the news.”
“The family has asked the press to hold the story until his only son who was injured in a serious small plane accident recovers enough to be told the truth.”
“I’m sorry for them, and sorry for me,” Riley murmured. “For years I’ve wanted to meet the man whose genius built the Danelli-Strada bike. My father taught me how to ride on a Danelli. Before he died, he refused to ride anything else and cursed the day the company went out of business.”
He held up the magazine. “When I read Signore Danelli had started manufacturing bikes in Turin instead of Milan, I got on the next plane out of L.A.”
The other man eyed him speculatively. “Who was your father?”
“You wouldn’t know him. His name was Rocky Garrow.”
“Rocky…” he muttered, “as in The Human Rocket?”
“You’ve heard of him?” Riley blinked in surprise.
“Of course. I thought your last name sounded familiar. As far as I’m concerned, he was the star of the Rimini Traveling Circus that came through Turin every spring. When I was a boy I could
n’t wait to watch him do his motorcycle stunts over all those barrels. He looked exactly like a rocket in that shiny silver suit he wore!”
Riley smiled sadly. He’d given that suit and the other costumes to Bart who’d put them in storage for safekeeping. “When I got old enough to realize he wasn’t immortal, I’m afraid I didn’t want to watch.” There were a lot of things he hadn’t wanted to watch…
“I can understand that,” he answered in a low, quiet voice. “I remember reading about his death doing a stunt over Iguasu Falls in Brazil last year. I’m sorry for your loss. He was part of the reason I fell in love with motorcycles in the first place.”
Upon that admission Riley felt an intangible bond with the man.
He could scarcely believe this person had seen his father perform. He looked to be in his thirties, only a few years older than Riley. How strange to think of him as a boy in the audience while Riley waited anxiously behind the tent flap for his father to survive another jump.
“It was his time to go. He died on his old Danelli, doing the only thing that made him happy.”
“Would that we could all bow out of this world the same way. It’s a pleasure to meet the son of the man who gave me so many thrills in my youth. My name’s Nicco Tescotti.” He removed his glove so they could shake hands.
Nicco Tescotti?
“According to the magazine article, you’re the CEO. I presume Signore Danelli’s death puts you at the head of the company now. This is a singular honor for me, but not a good time for you with such heavy responsibilities. Forgive the intrusion.”
As he turned to leave he heard, “Do you ride as well as your father did?”
Riley spun around. “Better!”
They both grinned.
“Have you had dinner yet?”
“What’s that?” Riley fired back, too full of elation to consider his bodily needs for the moment.
“I prefer to discuss important business over a good meal. If you have no other plans for this evening, why not follow me home where we can relax and talk.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t. My wife loves motorcycles as much as you and I do.”
Riley smiled once more. Maybe he was dreaming. “She sounds remarkable, but she still might not want to be surprised.”
“Half the time she surprises me.”
“How so?”
“She’s a vet. When I get home, more often than not she’s brought a baby something or other from the surgery we have to nurse through the night. And then of course there’s our daughter Anna who’s two and half months old. She’s hungry for her breakfast at the crack of dawn which in turn wakes up the dogs.
“I’m afraid ours is not a conventional marriage.” He got on his bike. “But I love it,” he added with enough emotion for Riley to know Nicco Tescotti was one happy man.
“If we should get separated, ask anyone for directions to the Valentino Animal and Bird Preserve. The security guard at the gate will tell you where to go from there.”
After closing his shield, he started up his bike. Riley chased after him in the rental car.
He recognized a pro racer when he saw one.
Though they might not be on the track, Nicco Tescotti rode with the kind of flawless precision and technique only a handful of the world’s top racers demonstrated.
Riley tried to figure the odds of running into the new head of the Danelli company, let alone being invited to his home for a job interview. They had to be in the billion to one category.
“Keep saying those prayers, Sister,” he whispered to the air as he stayed on the other man’s tail.
Their journey followed the river back to the city. They’d been passing several miles of woods and verdant parkland when Nicco slowed down and signaled before making a right turn into a private driveway with a security guard at the gate.
Riley did the same. The guard nodded him on through.
Once past the thick hedge, he marveled at the cathedral-like atmosphere of trees and shrubbery as the path wound its way deeper and deeper into the greenery. But he didn’t know real surprise until he glimpsed a small Baroque palace beyond the dense foliage.
Nicco came to a stop at the entrance to the west wing where several other cars were parked. He climbed off his motorcycle.
Riley blinked. He lived here?
As he got out of the rental car, two dogs came racing out to greet their master. One was a fawn-colored boxer with white feet who jumped up on Nicco’s leg. The other was a toy pug. It stayed at a distance and barked with ferocity until Nicco removed his helmet to reveal hair as black as Riley’s. Then the pug leaped toward him.
Laughter rumbled out of Riley. Nicco’s chuckles joined his as he scratched the ears of both dogs. Riley moved closer.
“This big boy here is Valentino. Put your hand out and he’ll give you five.”
Riley got down on his haunches and did as Nicco suggested. The boxer was almost human the way he hit his paw against Riley’s hand. More laughter ensued from both men.
The pug proceeded to run laps around Riley.
“Chloe, on the other hand, is a complicated lady who hates my helmet and doesn’t trust strangers. Give her time and she might allow you to rub her head, but don’t hold your breath.”
After she’d run out of steam, she sat there panting. Riley had made pets of several stray dogs in his youth. On impulse he put his hand on the ground and started walking it slowly toward the pug with his fingers.
The dog made a strange cry in her throat, then got down on her belly and shimmied toward his hand. Riley kept it going until the pug’s flat nose came up against his fingers. She butted at him several times, then turned over on her back in invitation.
Triumphant, Riley began rubbing her belly. He noticed she was missing a toe from each front paw.
“The man with the velvet touch,” Nicco murmured in awe. “Chloe’s my wife’s dog. She should be out here to witness this.”
“I just did, and still can’t believe it,” a female voice answered in a tone of wonder.
Riley lifted his head, but he received the shock of his life when he found himself staring into the fabulous green eyes of the only woman in the world who’d ever turned him down flat for a date. Her rejection, delivered without the slightest hesitation, explanation or apology, had been a wound to his pride he’d never forgotten.
Annabelle Lassiter as he lived and breathed!
Less than a year ago she’d been the gorgeous American blonde on the set of the latest Cory Sieverts film, a big Hollywood box office hit. At the time there’d been no talk about her being married.
What in the hell was going on?
Nicco had said his wife was a veterinarian who loved motorcycles. They had a daughter Anna who was almost three months old. That meant she’d been pregnant when she’d cut Riley to the quick in front of the film crew.
The unpleasant experience still had the power to twist his gut if he allowed himself to think about it.
Had she become a vet before she’d ventured into acting?
How and where had she met Nicco Tescotti of all people? A man with whom Riley already felt a rare camaraderie.
Why were they living on this palatial estate?
Reeling from a tumult of conflicting emotions, not to mention unanswered questions, he rose to his feet.
“Riley Garrow? I’d like to introduce you to my wi—”
“We’ve already met,” he broke in before the other man could finish.
“We have?” Her expression looked totally puzzled as she clung to her husband.
A wave of anger swept through him.
She was pretending not to remember that incident at the studio, but he knew better. There’d been an attraction between them, a strong chemistry unlike anything he’d felt before. She’d felt it, too. It was something you couldn’t hide, but she hadn’t acted on her feelings.
If it hadn’t been for the explosion on another set that had sent him to
the hospital, he would have found a way to meet her again and break her down.
At the time he’d assumed she’d reacted as she’d done because the force of her feelings had frightened her. If they’d been anything like his, he could understand. She’d shaken his world, too.
If she was carrying Nicco’s child, then it explained why she was so damn scared. Why in the hell hadn’t she just come out and told him she was living with a man, or was secretly married?
This was a day full of shocks, both good and bad. Right now her acting ability was in full evidence. She even spoke passable Italian. No doubt she was praying he would let go of his determination to force a confrontation.
Out of deference to her husband, Riley decided to play along until the moment when he could get her alone to deliver a few home truths.
“If you don’t recognize me, then I guess I’m mistaken. With that braid, you reminded me of someone I once met.”
She hadn’t been wearing her hair in a braid on the set. It had been arranged long and loose, like one of those cascading waterfalls in Brazil that caught the sunlight, robbing him of breath.
Nicco’s eyes held a mysterious gleam. “Could you possibly be thinking of the woman on the cover of International Motorcycle World?”
At the question, something clicked in Riley’s head.
His gaze darted from the other man to Annabelle. “Of course—the mad vet from Prunedale!”
“That’s my wife.” Nicco kissed her neck.
“Up to my knees in mud.” She blushed in her husband’s arms. “I’m never going to live that picture down.”
“It hooked me,” he said purposely in English because he wanted to jolt her.
Her eyes rounded, giving him the reaction he’d hoped for. “You’re an American! I thought you were a hundred percent Italian like Nicco.”
She spoke English now, playing the innocent to the hilt.
Nicco squeezed her. “Like you, my love, Riley’s a man of many talents. He even has the distinction of winning over Chloe on a first encounter. I think I’m jealous.”
“Dr. Wood won’t believe it when I tell him.”
“Dr. Wood?” Riley drawled.
She smiled. “He’s the vet in Prunedale who hired me out of medical school. He was the only person besides me Chloe would allow to touch her.”
Rush to the Altar Page 3
