by Annie Seaton
“Oh, sorry, Gabe”—she knew he hated the diminutive of his name—“I forgot I was supposed to be unhappy.” She dug him in the ribs as she walked past with a tray of cutlery. The same as when they were children, her big brother had to have the last word. “You can do outside tonight. That group of authors is out there. And don’t be sour. Make sure you talk to the customers. Make them feel welcome.”
“Love to.” She sashayed out the door and grinned again as his words followed her. You’d never guess he’d gone to Hospitality College to learn how to be a manager.
“Yes, boss.” She laughed as she glanced back and caught the look exchanged between her father and brother. It did not bother Gia in the slightest—for a change.
The restaurant was busy—as usual—and she enjoyed serving the table of women. The enjoyment the authors from the writing retreat took in their meals made the night a pleasure for her. She answered their questions about the local area and intercepted several worried looks between her father and brother as she chattered away with them.
When she was serving the dessert, Gabriel called her over, and Gia lowered her eyes to the floor, reverting back into her usual demeanor. She’d overdone it tonight; she didn’t want Papa delving into the reason for her animated behavior.
But it was Gabriel who looked at her quizzically. “Are you all right, Gia?”
She looked up from beneath her lashes with a shy smile and kept her voice soft. “Yes. Why?”
“You are talking to the customers a lot more.” He waved his hands. “But I am not angry. That is good. I would like to see more of it.”
She nodded and turned away, but Gabriel called her back.
“There is a late customer out on the terrace. Can you take his table, please?’
“Yes, not a problem.” She picked up the order pad and turned away. If talking to the customers made Gabriel more pleasant to her, maybe she should try harder.
As she stepped through the door to the courtyard, she smiled at the women at the writer’s table. She paused to speak to them again on her way to the late customer. They had sampled an unending supply of Limoncello and Vin Santo with their desserts. Papa had excelled tonight. There were many more desserts than usual, and the women groaned as they stood, but promised to return for another meal as they prepared to trudge back up the hill. “Bye, Gia. See you tomorrow,” one of the women called out.
Gia waved back and waited for them to cross to the gate in the high, rose-covered wall that led to the pathway alongside the road.
The single table was tucked into a shadowy corner at the back of the courtyard and she hurried across. The sooner she was out of here tonight, the sooner she could see Nic again. Her heartbeat picked up when she saw the customer sitting at the table Gabriel had directed her to. That slow sexy smile sent a shiver straight to her belly.
“What are you doing here?” She kept her voice low in case her brother was hovering.
“I thought I’d come back and ask the lovely waitress who served me last night if she could suggest another special course for me.”
Heat flared into Gia’s cheeks as she looked back at him. “What exactly do you fancy tonight, sir?” She knew her tone was cheeky, and she glanced around at the now empty courtyard. “I can suggest an excellent dessert after your meal. Maybe I could add chocolate to it?”
She leaned forward and he whispered close to her ear. “Forget the chocolate, you minx. You look beautiful, good enough to eat.” The hidden meaning in his words sent even more heat spiraling, and she covered her confusion by passing him a menu. She might be feeling a bit more confident but not that confident. Maybe she’d taken the wrong meaning of his words. Her legs trembled as she imagined what Nic hinted at.
Papa as usual, despite his size, was as stealthy as Mou-Mou, the restaurant cat who resided in the courtyard. Gia didn’t hear her father coming until his voice boomed beside her. She jumped and dropped her order pad to the cobblestones. She tried to compose herself as she bent to pick it up and her face flamed. How long had he been there?
“Gia, you are flushed again. You are not ill?” He turned to Nic. “Welcome back, sir. It is a pleasure to see you again at our little establishment.” Papa frowned. “Did you ask Gia about her little drawings?”
She rolled her eyes behind her father’s back as Nic stared at her, looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Papa was overdoing it again.
“No,” Gia said.
“Yes,” Nic said at the same time.
Papa glanced from one to the other with a frown and then shook his head with a confused expression, but he didn’t comment. “Well, Gia, when you have taken Mr.…” He turned to Nic with his eyebrows raised in question.
“Battistoni. But please call me Nic.”
Her father must be making him feel uncomfortable. God, she stifled a giggle. If only Papa knew. He’d be more than uncomfortable; he’d be run out of the village.
“Nic it is. After you bring Nic’s order to the kitchen, I am happy for you to talk to him about your paintings.” Papa leaned across to her and lowered his voice. “But I think he was just making conversation. Don’t you go on talking about your art too much. Don’t bore him.”
Gia gritted her teeth when Papa patted her cheek gently, as though she was a small child.
“Okay, bella?”
“Yes, Papa.” She nodded. Obedient as always. One comment and her confidence disappeared in a flash. She slumped her shoulders as her father ambled across to the only other table where guests were still seated, and then jumped as Nic grabbed her hand and held it.
“Get that look off your face.”
“What look?” Temper fizzed in, replacing her disappointment at her father’s attitude.
“The look that says your art is worth nothing. Don’t let your family dismiss your talent like that.” Nic squeezed her fingers. “Don’t give up so easily.” Those dark blue eyes sent little jolts along her nerve endings, and she pulled her hand away. “Now go and order me something in the kitchen and come back so we can talk about your paintings—with your father’s blessing.”
She held out the menu to him. “What would you like?”
His steady gaze sent a shiver down her back. A slow, sexy smile was the only answer she got. “Hmm. Let me think.”
“Tell me something.” Her pen was poised over the order pad, and she was surprised to see her hand shaking. “Please.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Well, seeing as I enjoyed a wonderful meal on Siena at lunchtime with a beautiful woman, I’m not really very hungry.”
“Okay, how about a small pizza?” She fought the smile that was tipping at her lips.
“Small would be good, and that will save room for the dessert I have in mind later.”
Oh my God. Her knees were trembling so much she barely made it across the courtyard back to the kitchen. She slipped the order up on the board and turned to go back outside, but Gabriel blocked her way.
“Gia, there’s a group upstairs who need some attention. I’ll take over in the courtyard.”
She turned to follow her brother’s directive as she always did. Took two steps toward the stairs and then stopped.
“No.” She turned back to face her brother. “Papa asked me to talk to Signore Battistoni—the customer from last night. He wants to buy my paintings.”
There! She’d said it and she waited for Gabriel’s usual argument, but to her surprise, he looked at her intently and then nodded.
“Battistoni?” He looked from her across to Nic and frowned.
“Yes, he was here last night, too, and he likes my paintings.” There was no need to say that he’d seen any more than the landscapes on the wall here. What she did away from work was her business.
Gabriel paused, his gaze darting between her and Nic. After a few seconds, he nodded. “Hmm, Battistoni? Very well. I’ll handle upstairs.” He kept his gaze on Nic as he crossed to the stairs.
Her mouth dropped open as Gabriel bolted up the
stairs. What a day for surprises.
With a smile on her face, and anticipation filling her chest, she walked back out to the courtyard.
…
As Nic expected, Gia argued about the amount he said the four small landscapes on the wall in the restaurant were worth. In the end, she sat at the table with him, and they negotiated a figure agreeable to both of them. He grinned. She didn’t have a chance. Her paintings were outstanding, and he wouldn’t let her dismiss them for less than the value they deserved.
“So we’re agreed?” He held out his hand across the table. She reached across, took his hand, and he shook it in a businesslike handshake. She removed her hand and pushed her chair back. He reached for his wallet and she shook her head. “Give it to Papa when you pay the bill. My bag is in the kitchen, and I still have to clear some tables. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Can I wait for you and drive you home?” He knew he should go back to his villa, but the thought of spending more time with Gia appealed more than the blank canvas. Just spend time with her, maybe watch her paint. Nothing more, no matter how much he had teased her about dessert. It was all business between them from now on. They had done the first deal.
“That would be nice.” A lock of her curls fell and brushed against his face as she leaned down to whisper to him. “Wait up around the corner at the top of the hill. I’ll walk up there. But I’ll be an hour or more.” The smell of strawberry shampoo swamped him as Gia frowned. “If you want to go home, you don’t have to wait around.”
“I’ll be there.”
…
Mauro took the four landscapes down from the wall while Nic waited. He paid his bill in cash for the second night running, and he’d made sure he had enough cash in his wallet to pay for the paintings. There was no sign of Gia as her father placed the cash in an envelope for her, before slipping it into the pocket at the front of his apron.
“I’ll collect them tomorrow when I am going straight home.” There was no sign of Gia, and he didn’t want to look as though he was waiting for her.
“You’re going out for the evening? There won’t be much open in the village now.” Mauro frowned as he walked to the door with Nic.
He covered up his discomfort with a cough. He knew Gia didn’t want her family knowing her business. “Er…just for a drive. It’s such a nice evening.”
“Thank you very much for your purchase.” Mauro folded his arms across his ample stomach. “But I do think you have been way too generous for Gia’s little hobby.”
“Mauro, surely I’m not the first person to offer to buy Gia’s landscapes…”
The older man shrugged. “No.”
So why had he been willing to discuss her art now, why with him?
Mauro gave another shrug. A cryptic pursing of his lips. “Buona sera.”
Nic looked at him curiously. He would do his best to convince her of her talent over the next few days; and when he launched her into the art fraternity in Florence, her doubts would disappear.
Especially when she was mentored by the newest member of the Board of Trustees of the Uffizi Gallery.
A young artist beneath my wing. And perhaps in my bed. He couldn’t understand this attraction to Gia. He could still feel her slim body pressed up against his. He was used to having beautiful women on his arm—confident women who knew their place in the world. She intrigued him. He understood her passion for her art, and he appreciated her amazing talent. What she put onto the canvas made him realize that his commitment to his art was nowhere near as strong as it could be. Nic loved to paint, and he loved to see the final products, but for him, his creations were structured like his business plans. He was never totally lost in it. His self-control was legendary, even while painting. He was always thinking and planning as he worked on his canvases.
What he craved was to see Gia in action. He wanted to watch as she got those intense emotions onto the canvas. What did being taken over by the creative muse look like for her? Nic frowned. Maybe he could learn something from her. How ironic would that be? All Gia wanted was to go to Florence to learn, and Nic was pretty sure he could learn more from her in a week at her studio then he would ever have learned at the Academy.
How she worked. The intensity of her expression while she worked. And that made him think of this afternoon and the expression on her face when he’d been inside her. Just thinking about being with her, in the entryway of her old cottage, was causing another physical reaction. Fortunately, the courtyard was softly lit. Never before had a woman filled his thoughts and his senses like this. The new studio and his paintbrushes waiting for him back at the villa were far from his mind.
Nic strolled out to the car and looked up into the night sky. It was clear, and the brilliance of the myriad of stars lightened the velvet darkness of the deep blue. The colors of the night touched him and to his deep relief he now knew what he would paint on those waiting canvases.
Later.
Chapter Seven
Nic didn’t have to wait long before Gia ran up the hill and stood beside the roadster. Her hair was in disarray and there was a smudge of something on her chin. He stood beside her, reached up, and tucked her hair behind her ear, and when she turned her lips into his palm, it sent an electric jolt up his arm. She was full of surprises.
“What would you like to do now?” He pulled her closer. “Ice cream? Or go straight home?”
“Home, please.” She leaned into him and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I need to paint.” She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes dark and wide. “Did you notice the stars? I have this idea—”
“Yes, I did…and so do I.” He smiled. They were on the same wavelength. “And I was thinking. I would like to watch you work. Would you mind? I understand if you prefer to be private.”
Her laugh tinkled away on the still night air. “I would be happy to have the company. It gets very lonely at times.”
“Come on, then. I’ll take you home.”
“Sometimes I paint all night, so you don’t have to stay long if you would prefer to go back to your villa.” Her shyness touched him.
“I want to stay. Even if it means all night.” In fact he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.
Nic smiled when they walked into Gia’s cottage. She strode ahead of him, straight past the wall where they had spent a very enjoyable half hour earlier. She pointed to the table in the small kitchenette.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll just get changed.” Before she walked into the bedroom, she pulled an envelope from her pocket and held it up. “You do know you are my first customer ever, don’t you?”
“I’ll be the first of many, you wait and see.”
She grinned and disappeared into the other room. He walked around the room slowly, looking at the canvases. He would never get tired of admiring her work. The colors she mixed were incredible.
“Would you like a coffee or a drink?”
He turned as she came out of the bedroom. She’d changed into a cropped T-shirt and a pair of loose cotton pants that sat low on her hips. She moved quickly around the room, picking up brushes and filling jars. He sensed her eagerness to begin and knew that she would be the same whether he was here or not. He was used to women fawning over him, and knowing that she accepted, but pushed aside, his presence was a new feeling.
“No, I’m fine. You just do whatever you’d normally do, and I’ll watch you work.”
“Nic?” She tipped her head to the side, and he watched as the tip of her tongue touched her top lip.
“Have you had a chance to do any painting yet? You seem to have been looking after me ever since we…met…on the hill.” A smile played about her lips.
He shook his head. “No, I’ve been unexpectedly distracted from my easel.”
“If you’d like to…if you wouldn’t mind…” Her voice trailed off and he stared at her. Maybe she was going to send him home after all, but she rushed on as she leaned her elbows o
n her work table. “I know you’re not in your place, but if you’d like to use one of my canvases and my paint, you’re more than welcome.”
He looked over at the easel, which held her half-completed painting. There were two other easels in different parts of the room. Each situated beneath a large window. The tingling that had buzzed though his fingertips when he’d been waiting for her at the top of the hill returned, and he nodded slowly. “That’s very generous of you. I might just take you up on that—after I watch you work for a while.”
He pulled up a chair and sat away from her as she stood and looked at the painting she’d begun that afternoon. She chatted as she mixed colors on the old wooden board on the bench.
“Why do we paint, Nic?”
“What do you mean?”
Gia brushed her hair back with the back of her hand and the first smudge of paint stained her cheek. He smiled as she looked down at him. He was leaning back with his legs sprawled out in front of him. It was the most relaxed he’d been for many months. No business pressure, no one calling him wanting decisions made, and best of all, spending time with this fascinating woman.
“This is why I want to go and learn. I know what I feel and I know I must paint, but why do we express ourselves with images rather than words? You know, like that group of women in the restaurant tonight.” She turned and stared through the window. “They were laughing and having fun, but the intensity of their conversation when they were talking about their books reminded me of how I feel when I think about my work.”
Her forehead wrinkled into a frown as she stared at him. “And then I think of my father and my family’s attitude and think, am I kidding myself to even think of it as work?”
She turned to the canvas, and a bold slash of scarlet stroked the center. Her voice dropped lower. “That’s why I want to go to the Academy. To understand why.”
He leaned forward. “I don’t know if I can really call myself an artist, but for me, when I look at a piece of art, it speaks to me.”
She nodded as he stared at the canvas. “That good old—What is the word?— I have it! That good old chestnut—a picture paints a thousand words.”
