A Year and a Day (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Cooper, Inglath

  A car rolled down the gravel drive. Audrey no longer jumped at the sound. As trivial as it was, it felt like progress, evidence that one day she might actually live the life of a woman who did not have to look over her shoulder.

  A car door slammed. “Sammy, go in the house. Take George with you.” Celine’s voice held a high, unfamiliar pitch.

  Audrey got up, wiped her paint-splotched hands on the apron around her waist. She stepped out of the shed. Celine ran around the side of the house. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair half escaped from the knot at the back of her head.

  Something was wrong. “What is it?”

  Celine’s face crumpled, tears filling her eyes. “A man at the store in Florence. He was looking for you, Audrey. He was looking for you.”

  AUDREY’S KNEES literally gave way beneath her.

  She dropped to the ground, this new existence she had already grown to love crumbling around her.

  “Oh, Audrey. I’m so sorry,” Celine said. “I should never have suggested taking the pots into Florence.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She was still dazed and only just beginning to assimilate what her friend had said. “The man. What did he look like?”

  Celine rubbed her arms, regret etched in her expression. “Good-looking. Tall, dark hair.”

  It could be Jonathan or someone he had sent after her. Either way, she couldn’t take a chance. “We have to leave. I should start packing.” Even as she said the words, she tried to get up, but her limbs weren’t responding. She felt locked up, frozen with shock.

  She should have had a backup plan. This had always been a possibility. She had known from the moment she’d left Atlanta. She had just felt so safe here. Allowed herself to believe they would be okay.

  “What did you say to him?” she asked.

  “I told him he was mistaken.”

  “Do you think he believed you?”

  “I don’t know,” Celine said, self-blame evident in her tone.

  “Did he follow you?”

  “I don’t think so. He left the store before I did. I’m sorry, Audrey. I was just so caught off guard.”

  Audrey got up and crossed the short stretch of grass separating them. She took Celine’s hand and said, “It’s not your fault. You have been wonderful to me.”

  “I can make some calls, find somewhere else for you to go.”

  “We’ll find a place, Celine. We’ll be all right,” Audrey said, feeling strangely calm. Hadn’t it been too much to hope that this moment would never come? Because deep inside, hadn’t she known that it would?

  AT NICHOLAS’S REQUEST, the taxi had followed the woman’s small car out of Florence and onto the Autostrada, hanging far enough behind to stay out of sight.

  She had taken the exit marked Certaldo and followed the next road for five or six miles. When she’d made a right-hand turn onto a smaller hard-top road, Nicholas had asked the driver to pull over and wait a minute. They followed the smaller road for a mile or so, taking a few right-hand turns. They came to a gravel driveway, dust still hanging in the air.

  Nicholas asked the driver to let him out there. The man gave him a strange look but stated the fare. Nicholas paid him in Euros and got out. The taxi made a U-turn and left.

  Huge old cypress trees lined either side of the road, throwing shadows across the sunlight. There was still time to let this go. He could be wrong again. Maybe he had imagined the woman’s distress earlier. But something told him he hadn’t. That same feeling pulled him forward, down the dusty road, his pace quickening with every stride.

  AUDREY DIDN’T BOTHER with folding anything. She yanked their clothes from the drawers and dropped them in the suitcases.

  Celine had gone back out to the shed to pack up her paints and brushes.

  Sammy stood in the middle of the living room, his hand on George’s head. “Why do we have to go, Mama?”

  “I can’t explain now, honey. We just have to hurry.”

  “But I don’t want to leave.”

  Audrey stopped for a moment and looked at her son. “I’m sorry, baby.” And she was. Sorry to have given him the kind of life she had dreamed of giving him, only to yank the entire thing up by the roots. But she had no choice. Would there ever be a time when she did have a choice?

  Sammy turned away, his cheeks wet with solemn tears. He went to the living-room window, his back straight and tall as if he knew he had to be strong for her.

  “Mama, there’s a man standing outside in the yard.”

  Audrey dropped the suitcase. It made an awful clattering sound that reverberated through her like nails on glass. “Come away from the window, Sammy.”

  Sammy turned and ran to her side. “Who is it? Why are you so afraid?”

  Footsteps sounded on the flagstone walkway and then a knock at the door. “Hello? I’m looking for someone. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  George barked.

  Audrey went completely still. That voice. It couldn’t be. She remembered Celine’s description. Good-looking. Tall, dark hair. A wave of disbelief rolled over her, and she had to force herself to move. Still holding Sammy’s hand, she crossed the living-room floor and opened the door.

  NICHOLAS BLINKED and stepped back. “Audrey.”

  “My God,” she said, her face white with shock. “Nicholas. What are you doing here?”

  The words held anything but welcome. “I’ve been looking for you,” he replied. As if he could express why he had come.

  “Looking for me,” she said.

  The woman he had seen at the shop earlier walked into the room. She pointed a small gun at him, her mouth set with the resolve to use it.

  Audrey glanced over shoulder. “It’s okay, Celine. This is—”

  “A friend,” he said.

  Celine looked at Audrey for confirmation. Audrey nodded. “Do you think you could take Sammy to your house for a little while?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Celine gave Nicholas another assessing look, then took Sammy’s hand and said, “Are you sure, Audrey?”

  “Yes, it’s okay.”

  Celine and Sammy left through the back door, the yellow Lab following behind them.

  “May I come in?” Nicholas asked.

  She nodded. He stepped inside and closed the door. One glance at the small living room made it clear that she had been leaving.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said. “I never intended that.”

  She swung around then, color slashed across each cheekbone. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

  “Audrey, I’m sorry—”

  “You’re sorry!” She came at him then, her hands balled into fists, pummeling at his chest. The blows stopped as suddenly as they had started, and great, heaving sobs shook through her.

  “Audrey. I never meant to put you through that. You have to believe me.”

  Her weeping nearly tore him in half. It was as if years of sorrow had burst forth from her, a dam flooding land for the first time. Nicholas thought he could drown in the sound of it.

  She looked up at him, her cheeks wet with tears. And he saw the shadow of horror as it flitted across her face, her disbelief at what she had done. “Oh, God,” she said. She placed her palms on his chest, spreading her fingers wide as if she could take back what had happened.

  Nicholas wrapped his arms around her then and held her there, not knowing what else to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AUDREY HAD no idea how long they stood that way. She only knew that she had been fooling herself to think she had felt safe before. Here, she felt safe. Here in the arms of a man who, for some reason, had gone to great lengths to find her. Who looked at her with something in his eyes she had never seen before, but that she felt deep within herself.

  She pulled back, staring up at him, needing suddenly to see if she had imagined that look. It was still there, and it lit her up inside. He leaned in then and kissed her. A gentle touch that said more than any words possibly could.


  She opened her mouth to his and returned his kiss, her arms slipping around his neck, a small sigh of longing melting into the kiss.

  His hands were at her waist, one thumb stroking the skin beneath her sweater.

  “Audrey.” Her name on his lips said so many things. She heard them all. And yielded. He dipped his head and kissed her chin, the line of her jaw, her ear, his tongue flicking inside. Sensation skidded through her.

  He stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets as if otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep them off her. It was not an easy thing for Audrey to believe. She had long ago lost any vision of herself as attractive.

  She turned away from him, went to the window and folded her arms across her chest, her body stiff and straight. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m not sure I have an easy answer for that question.”

  She glanced over at him then. “Is this a game to you? Some whim you couldn’t resist following?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Audrey, no.”

  “What, then?”

  “Jonathan came to see me after he discovered you were gone.”

  Audrey’s heart thudded. “He didn’t—”

  “I’ve seen that kind of rage,” he said. “And I’ve seen the result of it. I wanted to find you before he did.”

  “So you found me. That means he will, too.”

  He was quiet for a moment, as if he wanted to deny it. “I don’t think he’ll give up until he does.”

  “So what is your conclusion? That I should give up and go back? Accept that there is no place I can go where he can’t—”

  “Audrey.”

  His tone stole the rest of her response.

  “I don’t have any conclusions,” he said. “I just needed to see for myself that you were all right.”

  The ticking of the clock by the door grew louder in the silence, the bald honesty in the admission undeniable. She let the words hang, not having the least idea what to do with them.

  He came over to where she stood. “I know this must sound crazy, but from the moment I met you, there was this click inside me, like something I had expected for a long time finally happened. From that moment, it was like I didn’t have a choice, Audrey, no matter how many times I told myself a smarter man would walk away and not look back.”

  “You should have,” she said, but even to her own ears, the words did not sound convincing.

  He reached out and touched her hair with the back of his fingers. “If you want me to leave, I will.”

  She felt as if she stood now at one end of a bridge, and once she crossed it, there would be no turning back.

  But for the first time in a long, long while, Audrey wanted something for herself.

  SHE CALLED Celine and asked if she could borrow her car to drive him back into Florence. Audrey felt her friend’s curiosity through the line. “Can we talk about this later?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Celine said, worry etched on her forehead. “Just one question. Is he putting you at risk?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Just don’t forget what you’ve been through to get this far.”

  “I know,” Audrey said.

  “Having said that, a man would have to go to an awful lot of trouble to track down a woman who didn’t want to be found. That must mean something.”

  But Audrey didn’t know what it meant. Only that she felt an unrelenting need to find out. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

  “Take your time. And don’t worry about Sammy. He’ll be fine with George and me.”

  “Thank you, Celine,” she said, and inadequate as the words sounded, they were heartfelt.

  AUDREY DROVE.

  Nicholas sat in the passenger seat, a look of determined indifference on his face.

  She glanced at him and felt a smile overcome her, a lightness in such utter contrast to her normal self that she hardly recognized it. “I thought you liked fast cars.”

  A Mercedes blew by them in the left lane, the air blast whooshing into Celine’s small car like a bully throwing an elbow jab.

  “Maybe this one’s a little out of its league?”

  “Would you like me to slow down?”

  “Do I get points deducted if I say yes?”

  “Not this time,” she said.

  Once they were in the city, Nicholas directed her down a few narrow streets to the Savoy Hotel where he was staying. They pulled up in front. Audrey left the engine running.

  “Any way I can talk you into going to dinner with me?” he asked.

  She was silent for a few moments, and then said, “You just did.”

  AUDREY WAITED in the small sitting area adjoining Nicholas’s room while he showered. A pair of well-worn running shoes sat by a leather chair. A hardcover novel lay on the round table next to it. She stepped over to glance at the jacket. Faulkner.

  She moved to the window, looking down on the street outside the hotel where Florentines lingered outside shop doors, chatting. It was nearly twilight, the sun slipping slowly beneath the city’s horizon. Nicholas had left the door connecting the two rooms ajar, and she could hear the shower, a sudden thud as if he’d dropped the soap. There was an intimacy to being here in his hotel room that made Audrey realize just how far along this road she had come. She could not see what lay ahead, nor could she deny her desire to find out.

  The water stopped. A door opened. She pictured him reaching for a towel, and imagined the bareness of his wide shoulders, the muscles in his long legs.

  She closed her eyes, hoping to obliterate the image, but it was still there, along with a low burn of attraction that, if she were honest with herself, had started on New Year’s Eve, the night they’d met. She felt, somehow, as if from that moment, she’d had no choice. Just as Nicholas had said. No choice.

  It was crazy. Beyond crazy. And yet here she was in his hotel room, the last place in the world she would have pictured herself when she’d gotten up this morning. Undeniable, too, that it was where she wanted to be.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  She turned from the window. He wore khaki pants and a blue-jean shirt with a white T-shirt showing at the neck. His hair was still damp, and he hadn’t taken the time to shave, the dark stubble on his face adding to his appeal. “Your view is wonderful.”

  “A great place to people-watch.”

  “The pace of life is different here, isn’t it?”

  He came to the window and stood beside her so that their shoulders touched. Below, people wandered in and out of shop doors. Laughter tinkled up, caught in lovely echoes between the old buildings.

  “I envy that,” he said. “Sometimes I think we go at everything as if the clock is ticking. Days and whole months go by in a blur, and we can’t possibly see the details of anything.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Maybe people get so focused on being something that they forget to just be.”

  He turned to her, his eyes serious. “Do you think we could do that for a while, Audrey? Just be, and see where it takes us?”

  It was a wonderful thought. And for once, Audrey didn’t let herself dwell on the impossibilities of it. Their time here felt cut out from the rest of their lives, as if it had no before and would likely have no after. Only now.

  THEY LEFT THE HOTEL and simply wandered, turning in whichever direction suited them, passing the Mercato Nuovo, a sixteenth-century straw market at the corner of Via Porta Rossa and Via Por Santa Maria where the vendors had packed up their leather goods for the day. They admired the wild boar fountain at the south end of the market, threw some coins in for luck and then walked on.

  Night had fallen, and the streets were bathed in soft light. At some point, Nicholas reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. And his touch felt good and right.

  Most of the restaurants had menus posted on wooden stands outside their doors.

  “Say when something looks good,” Nicholas said.

 
; “How about this one?”

  They stopped at a small trattoria to glance at its daily menu. The smells wafting from inside were sales pitch enough.

  The interior was low-lit with wall sconces, a vaulted ceiling and fresco walls. Round tables were covered in white tablecloths. A gray-haired woman with a kind smile appeared and welcomed them in Italian before directing them to a table tucked into a corner near the front window.

  Nicholas held Audrey’s chair and then sat down across from her. The woman handed them a set of menus which they studied for a few minutes. He ordered a bottle of wine. A young man brought it out right away, popped the cork, poured some into Nicholas’s glass, then waited for his approval.

  “Very good,” Nicholas said.

  The waiter smiled, then filled Audrey’s glass before topping Nicholas’s.

  Once he’d gone, Nicholas clinked the edge of his glass against hers. “To you, Audrey. A very brave woman.”

  The words caught her off guard, locking her throat so that her wine barely went down. “I’m not sure courage had anything to do with it.”

  “It has everything to do with it,” he said gently.

  She dropped her gaze, having long ago grown used to being torn down, to hearing her inadequacies cited again and again.

  Nicholas asked about Sammy then, what he thought of Italy. Audrey began to talk, telling him how crazy Sammy was about George, about Celine and what a wonderful cook she was, about how she’d helped Audrey market her pots.

  It was wonderful to be able to talk about her son. And Nicholas listened. Really listened. As if he found it all fascinating. As if he found her fascinating. No one had ever looked at her quite like this, as if she were the most interesting person in the room. Like the wine, the feeling was intoxicating.

  The waiter returned with a salad of baby greens dressed in olive oil and sprinkled with grated Asiago cheese. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and even that was comfortable, as though they had done it before, and had no need to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter.