Ten Days in Tuscany (5 page)

The sports car purred along the road, and the silence was companionable while he waited for directions to her cottage. “I met your brother tonight.” He flicked a glance over to her. She was leaning back, letting the breeze rush over her face and her hair was in even wilder disarray. Untamed. His fingers tingled as he thought of running his hands through that wild mass of curls. Had he thought her hair a messy cloud? The lush curls were gorgeous.

“Lucky you.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Poor Gabriel, he doesn’t know when to stop. Usually I don’t let him bother me, but tonight—”

Nic was aware of her studying his profile as he focused on driving up the hilly road.

“Tonight?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.

“No matter. I was just out of sorts.” She waved a hand. Nic was hard pressed to keep his eyes on the road. Her lips were naturally a deep rosy pink and slightly parted as she rested her head on the leather headrest. He wondered if she had any idea of the beauty simmering beneath the shy facade she presented.

Gia pointed to an opening just beyond a stand of trees, and he slowed the car and turned in to park beside a low wooden gate. Before she could open the car door, he stepped over the low door on his side and walked around to open hers. He held his hand out to help her up from the passenger seat and satisfaction ran through him as she dropped her gaze. She was reticent, but the sparks were smoldering beneath the surface. Her fingers lingered in his for a few seconds after she climbed out.

“I’ll be quick.” She ventured a shy smile as she pulled her hand from his and turned to the gate.

As he waited by the car he appreciated the view of her long, shapely legs as she hurried across to the stone cottage. He didn’t want to scare her off, even though she did appear more comfortable with him. He was anxious to see the rest of her paintings, and he was keen get to know her on a different level, but he would bide his time. Many of the business deals he’d pulled off in the last year had called on his patience, and often involved playing a cat and mouse game. So he wasn’t going to appear overeager to Gia. He had a feeling she’d run like the startled rabbit he’d compared her to before.

First priority. Win her trust. See her art.

He leaned back against the car. The moonlight was bright enough to see the buildings beyond the gate Gia had closed behind her. An old stone farmhouse with a couple of small outbuildings sat on the side of the hill, with a magnificent view over the valley and the village below. Everywhere he looked, there was a landscape waiting to be painted. A few minutes later, when the door closed behind Gia, an outside light came on, bathing the building in bright light. The faded pink stone had the aged look of an original Tuscan farmhouse, and the weathered shutters hung crookedly from some of the small windows. Other windows were missing their shutters. The only thing that was well maintained was the yard. From the other side of the gate, to the door that Gia had disappeared through, the lawn was dark and lush, but clipped neatly along the edges.

A paved area next to the small building was filled with weathered, half wine casks and flowers spilled over their sides. Small circular gardens were planted around the bases of the tall spreading trees that dotted the lawn. It would make a wonderful subject for a still-life piece. Despite his mind being focused on the landscapes he had seen tonight, Nic’s fingers tingled with the need to hold a paintbrush and replicate what was in front of him. The moonlight made the scene even more enticing. What would make it perfect would be Gia as the focus of the painting, her classically beautiful face turned up to the moon. Nic jerked his thoughts back to reality and stifled a laugh.
The moon
. His mother would have been most impressed. Neither he nor his brother had held regard for her obsession with the star signs; but she’d made sure he knew all about the Cancerian behaviors she believed would guide his life. A pang of sadness ran through him. He thought he’d grieved long and hard enough, but memories of his mother had filled his thoughts since he’d arrived in Tuscany.

Nic shook off his feeling as the door closed. He watched Gia walk slowly across the lawn to him.

Or at least he thought it was her. The woman who opened the gate looked very different from the young waitress who’d left him waiting beside the sports car. Nic’s breath caught and he managed to ask, “All set?” before he dragged in a deep breath. The baggy clothes, the wild hair, and the black spectacles were gone.

Gia looked at him from beneath her lashes as she closed the gate and slid into the passenger seat while he held the door open for her. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” Her voice was hesitant. “If Gabriel finds out I went out tonight after going home ill, I’ll be in trouble.”

“But doesn’t your father own the restaurant?” Nic had regained his breath and his voice was steady.
But not so the rest of him.
A tremble ran down his spine. Gia was more than attractive; she was beautiful.

“Gabriel is the manager. He wouldn’t be happy. They were very busy tonight. I should’ve stayed.” Her voice was resigned.

“Do you like working there?” Nic fought the need to keep his eyes on Gia, so he focused on starting the car. Her sweet, delicate perfume—something fruity—drifted over to him.
Strawberries.

“No, I hate it.” She folded her arms across her chest and Nic tried to keep his eyes away from the soft shadow between the swell of her breasts. Despite her tall, slender build, there was certainly nothing lacking beneath her low-neck, fitted T-shirt.

“So why do you stay there?” Nic put the car into reverse and backed out onto the narrow road. He put his arm along the back of the seat and his fingers accidentally brushed against Gia’s skin. She’d pulled her curls up into some sort of topknot, and it had left her neck bare. Nick ignored the urge to run his fingers down the slender curve to that sweet hollow at the base of her throat.

“Sorry.” He put his hand back on the steering wheel and turned the car toward the village.

“I have to pay my rent.’ She gave a rueful shrug. “Although it is not much, it’s an old farmhouse and it’s run down. I also have to buy my canvases and my paints.” Her reply was soft. “And it makes my father happy—having me work there with the rest of the family.”

They didn’t speak again until they’d passed the restaurant and taken the last hill down toward the village. Gia pointed to a building on the left side of the crossroad. “Over there.”

Nic parked the car across the road from the brightly lit
gelateria.
He’d intended to do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for Gia again, but she was out and waiting on the curb before he could shut his door. Certainly not what he was used to. The women he usually took out expected to be pampered and looked after by their escorts. But then, they were usually with him at the theater or a fancy restaurant, not an ice cream shop in a little village in the Tuscan countryside. But he never took a date on his gallery visits. That was one place he always went alone. He didn’t want to have to pander to someone else when he was absorbed in appreciating the latest exhibition. Despite her hesitancy, there was an aura of confidence about Gia—Nic couldn’t quite figure out the two different sides he was seeing, but he was sure going to enjoy finding out. He checked the car was secure and joined her at the edge of the curb and smiled. “You must be hungry.”

She walked ahead of him as they crossed the road. She wore a short black skirt and her legs were bare. Her feet were slipped into colorful sandals. Her T-shirt, molding the curves he’d checked out in the car, was a dark scarlet. The curves hadn’t been apparent beneath the waitress uniform.

He was surprised again when she paused outside the shop and checked out the crowd inside. He frowned. She really was intimidated by her family. Maybe this idea of his wasn’t such a good one. He could see complications arising if it was such a big deal just to go out and buy ice cream.

Then he thought of those paintings he’d seen in the restaurant. It would be worth it.

Chapter Three

Gia did not regret ditching her eyeglasses. So things were a bit blurry; she would cope. For the first time in ages, she wanted to look…well… she wanted to look sexy, and those damn square black glasses were ugly. She’d rather go without them and get by as best she could. After all, they were only eating ice cream. She was well aware of Nic standing beside her, even though he was a tiny bit blurred. She’d already taken her fill of looking at his face tonight when she still had her glasses on, and even if she’d closed her eyes now, she’d be able to picture the color of his eyes, the curve of his sexy full lips, and that glorious dimple in his chin. The woodsy aftershave was enough of a dead giveaway as to how close he was to her, and the warmth tingling on her skin warned her that he was close enough for her to lean into him—if she’d wanted to.

And she did.

It had been a long time since she’d taken so much care with her appearance, and Gia was still trying to figure out why her commonsense had fled. Maybe it was because being out with a sexy man—one who was interested in her art— was so different from her usual boring life? Maybe it was because Nic looked so…so perfect? He appealed to her artistic eye; that was all. The only stimulation Gia got in her predictable days was when she was painting. It was the only time she felt truly alive…and happy. There was nothing like the anticipation of looking at a blank canvas, imagining her thoughts and feelings and letting them fill the emptiness as bright splashes of color. In a way, it filled the emptiness that she always carried inside. She was alone in the midst of her vibrant family, but independence was important to her.

Independence? Standing on my own two feet?

Now she turned to Nic and tried not to squint as she looked up at him. If she peered closely, she’d be able to see him more clearly, but she didn’t want to frighten him off by pulling faces.

She grinned.
Not until I’ve had my ice cream, anyway.

“What are you smiling about?” Nic’s breath brushed the nape of her neck as he leaned closer to speak to her. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’m happy.” She reached out and touched his arm.

His deep voice rumbled through her. “Then you’re easy to please, if all it takes is ice cream.”

They strolled into the
gelateria,
and Nic raised his eyebrows at the crowd of people inside. A small group of women with a mix of accents were deliberating over their choice. Gia recognized them from the restaurant the other night. They were authors from all over the world staying at the local hotel just a little way up from the restaurant. Gia had enjoyed serving them, but she knew they didn’t recognize her as the plain waitress from
Giannino’s
now
.
She leaned forward and spoke to one of the women.

“I recommend the fig and ginger,” she said, pointing to a tub of white ice cream at the front of the display.

The woman turned to her with a smile; her accent was broad Australian. “Nothing beats local knowledge. Come on, gals, hurry up and choose. We’re holding up this sweet young couple.”

Couple?
Gia stepped back a little way from Nic. She hadn’t been part of a couple since Stefano, and she had become used to her own company. But it
was
nice to have company tonight, to have a good looking man at her side.

Enjoy it while I can
. It beat the hell out of clearing dirty dishes in the restaurant, which was what she should have been doing right now.

Heat rushed up Gia’s neck when she caught Nic staring at her. She looked at the colorful ice creams on display before turning back to him. Tipping her head to the side, she tapped her chin with one finger. “
Hmm
. Let me guess. You’ll choose the chocolate flavor?”

“Uh-uh. Hate the stuff.” Nic’s eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her.

She chuckled. “How can anyone hate chocolate? My stash of chocolate means I don’t have to cook.”

“You don’t like to cook?”

Gia shook her head. “Waste of time. Takes up time when I could be painting. What about you?”

Those sexy eyes crinkled again. “I love to cook.”

She pondered what she knew of this man, his penchant for both the sophisticated and simple, as he ordered their gelato, hers, the recommended fig and ginger, while he opted for the strawberry. Nic insisted upon paying after she pulled money from her pocket. She appreciated his offer, but she was accustomed to taking care of herself.

“The invitation was mine,” he said. “Allow me to pay. It’s my pleasure.” He reached down and pulled a dark burgundy wallet from his jeans pocket.

Something in the way he said “pleasure” had her thinking things that would’ve melted the cone in her hand. Covering her reaction, she nodded and whispered, “
Grazie
.” She stared at his wallet. It was almost her signature color. “What a beautiful color that leather is. My sister has nothing so vibrant in her store. May I?” After he had pulled out a bill, she held out her fingers and smoothed the soft leather of his wallet. It was soft and pliant, and his initials were cut into the leather in a graceful swirl. She realized she didn’t even know his full name. “What does the
B
stand for, Nic?”

He handed the money over to the young girl behind the counter before he answered her. He took her arm and they stepped back to wait as she filled the order.

“Er…ah, my name… ah, you mean my last name? Yes. Battistoni. Nic Battistoni.” He looked away from her and reached for a wad of napkins from the dispenser on the counter. “We might need these.”

The ice creams were handed over, and they stepped past the queue to the door that opened to the narrow street. They strolled back across the road with their ice creams, laughing as their conversation turned into a guessing game.

“So you hate chocolate. What’s your choice? Coke or Pepsi?” she asked as she bit into the ice cream.

“Coke,” Nic said and Gia pulled a face at him.

“Horror or comedy?” he said.

“Comedy, of course.” She laughed and led him over to a park bounded by a low stone fence at the edge of the hill. A vista of farmhouse lights spread across the valley in front of them.

He shook his head sadly at her answer. “Batman or Superman?”

“Neither. Hate superheroes.”

“There’s no hope for you then, if you ever need rescuing.”

A tremor ran through Gia as she imagined being a damsel in distress rescued by Nic. She hated superhero movies, but she’d loved all those fairy stories when she was little. Just like he’d tugged her into his arms on the road this afternoon. Being swept into his arms again, her head tilting back as she stared into his eyes and her neck exposed to his lips as he lowered his head…closer, closer. Her eyes closed as the flavor of the ice cream burst on her tongue as sweet as she knew his kiss would be.

The laughter of the women walking up the road ahead of them broke into her thoughts. She ignored the heat that crept through her body as she imagined Nic’s lips on hers. Fairy tales didn’t happen in real life. You had to work to achieve what you wanted. And that was what she had to focus on.

The women’s voices grew fainter, and the evening air was still as they both focused on eating the ice cream before it melted. Eventually, the group disappeared over the crest of the hill and all was quiet.

Nic lifted his ice cream to his mouth, and Gia resisted the urge to reach up and wipe away the spot of strawberry she could just see on his top lip after he lowered the cone. She wasn’t going to touch him. Although she wanted to. Badly.

Gia pushed the thought aside and tipped her cone up and bit the bottom off.

Nic stared at her lips and that shivery feeling engulfed her again, but this time it traveled down to the warm juncture between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” His voice was full of laughter, but his eyes were fixed on her lips.

“It’s the only way to experience
gelato
. Before the ice cream melts and the cone goes all soggy.”

“Ah, an expert. Local knowledge.”

“I do sound like a guide. Anyone would think I loved this place.”

“Don’t you?”

“Not really. I can’t wait to escape if the truth be known.”

“Away from the restaurant?”

Gia licked the last remnants of the ice cream from her lips, aware that Nic’s eyes were still fixed on her mouth as he handed her a napkin. Slowly, she moved the tip of her tongue over her top lip before she sighed.

“The restaurant. My life here. My family. They don’t get what drives me. They don’t get what’s
inside
me. I’m just Gia to them. The baby of the family who needs looking after. I can wear boring clothes, leave my hair untidy, and wear my ugly glasses, and they don’t see
anything.”

Nic reached out and touched her arm. His fingers were sticky with ice cream as they lingered on her wrist.

“I sometimes think I could walk into the restaurant stark naked and they still wouldn’t notice me.”

A blush warmed her cheeks when she saw the little smile play around Nic’s lips. The air was humming with expectation, and she felt like she had entered fairy tale land. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and she held his gaze as he spoke, but his words surprised her.

“If it’s any consolation, my father doesn’t trust me to know what I want out of life, either.”

She swallowed and dropped her gaze. She wasn’t used to this intensity of feeling when she was with another person. These were the feelings that filled her when she was painting. The warm glow, the keen anticipation, the wonder of how it would turn out.

She licked her top lip again and caught Nick’s gaze as he followed the movement. He lifted his own napkin.

“May I?” His head was close enough to her now, and she could focus on that dimple that was imprinted on her memory. She nodded and he dabbed at her lip. When he had finished, she rushed into conversation, filling the tense silence that had hovered between them after he had lowered the napkin.

“It’s okay, I suppose. It’s where I was born, and where I grew up. My family has been here for many generations.” Gia stared out over the quiet valley. “But I want to
live
life. I want to paint more. I want to learn all there is to be learned out there in the world.”

She twisted her hands together. God, she was telling her life story to a stranger. But a stranger who made her come alive, just like when she was painting. In a way, she was pleased he had almost run into her this afternoon. It was the first
real
conversation with anyone apart from her family and customers she’d had in weeks.

As though he was reading her thoughts, Nic turned to her and pointed to the old stone bench at the edge of the park. “Come and sit down with me. You can tell me all about you. I know some…” He counted off on his fingers as he led her to the sitting area. “Loves chocolate, doesn’t cook, loves to paint, hates superheroes—“

Gia cut him off with a laugh. “Me? It’s a boring story. There’s not much to tell. In fact, I think you know it all already. Like I said, I’ve lived here all my life. I work in the family restaurant. My parents want me to get married, settle down, and provide them with many grandchildren.” She brushed the crumbs from the cone off her fingers before she lifted her head and held his gaze. “I want to move to Florence and paint. A short and not very interesting life story.”

Nic moved closer to her on the seat, and she finally leaned in closer. She lifted her finger and dabbed the pink spot of strawberry on his lip. She couldn’t help herself as she put her finger in her mouth and licked the tangy sweetness. He looked down at her and smiled, and she fought the little shiver that shimmied down her spine.

“Thanks. I love the way you concentrate so hard on everything you do. It must translate to your art. That must be how you get that magnificent detail into your work.”

Gia couldn’t help letting out the laughter that bubbled in her chest. “Do you want the truth?”

“The truth?”

“Yep. The vain truth. I didn’t wear my glasses…so”—her laugh tinkled away over the valley in front of them—“I am squinting so I can see your face more clearly.”

Nic’s rumble of laughter touched Gia somewhere deep, and the cold block of nothingness inside of her began to splinter. It had been a very long time since she had enjoyed someone’s company so much and been her true self. She’d almost forgotten who she was. She’d become so used to pretending to be the person her family wanted; she’d almost morphed into the drab, meek waitress that they expected her to be. It was fun to laugh with somebody.

“I don’t know
everything
about you.” Nic reached across and put his arm along the back of the bench. “So tell me, do you always go to the restaurant with paint on your fingers?”

Gia leaned against his arm. His grin was a tiny bit blurry, but Gia could see the amusement on his face the closer she got. “Most days. That is me. I’m not a very clean artist. And I am always running late.” She shrugged. “So you get me. You get the paint. My family is critical enough of me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Nic’s arm brushed her shoulder as he stretched out more comfortably. “Well, I think you are a very beautiful woman, paint and all. When I almost ran into you as I came over the hill, I thought you might have been a gypsy. You reminded me of someone I met when I was a teenager.”

“No gypsies in the village anymore. They’re all in the cities now.” Gia rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin on her hands. “Okay, let me try to explain. I guess dressing like that started off as my way to rebel.”

“Rebel?”

“Against my family. They see what they want to see. I’m the youngest of three, and the other two are both hugely successful, and my parents are very proud of their achievements. Papa has always sheltered me. He thinks I’m the quiet one. He wants me to stay here.”

“So you fulfill his expectations?”

“I guess it’s like a reverse rebellion. They think I’m the quiet mouse in a loud family, so I decided it was easier to be what they wanted. Saves a lot of disagreements.” She sighed. “Papa believes that staying in the village is for my own good. He honestly believes I wouldn’t survive in a city only forty miles away. I suppose if he tells me often enough, he thinks I’ll give up the idea of moving away.”