Ten Days in Tuscany (9 page)

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 on 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.”

“I guess it is the way we express our true selves. Are you familiar with Picasso’s words?” Nic asked.

Gia took her attention from the canvas and turned to him. “Words or works?”

“Words. He once said, ‘I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful.’” Nic pushed himself to his feet and picked up a brush and looked around for the other palette he had noticed earlier. “That’s what it’s like for me. Art lets me express what I see, in a way that I can’t put into words.”

Gia had turned back to the canvas, and he watched as the brush quickly filled in the few white areas left. “That’s why I want to go to the Academy. To learn all those sorts of things. To find a reason for what drives me.”

“I don’t think you need to go anywhere to find that out. You have it already, Gia. To paint the way you paint is to show a little bit more of your soul on every painting you do.” He picked up the palette and moved across to the easel near the highest window. He could see the night sky from there. “How do you feel when you have finished a painting and you stand back and look at it?”

“Outside of it. In a way, I hate the feeling. It is confusing for me. Everything I’ve put down on the canvas is there in front of me. It’s me but it’s not
in
me any longer. It takes a while after I finish before I can look at what I’ve done and see past what I felt, and actually see the picture I’ve created.”

She stepped back and looked at him as he began to mix his colors. “Thank you. You have no idea how good it is to talk to you like this.”

“My pleasure. And I’m looking forward to getting your exhibition together. Tomorrow I’ll make some calls, and we’ll make some firm plans. Okay?”

The last thing he was aware of before he turned to the canvas was the beautiful smile on Gia’s face.

…

“Nic?”

Gia’s voice interrupted him at the same time he noticed the rosy glow to the east. As he watched, a golden ray of light split the cloud, and the rising sun broke the horizon. A fine strand of cobweb linking two scarlet geraniums shone in the soft golden light.

“Nic?” This time Gia’s voice was louder, and he put down his brush, rubbing his eyes before he turned around. Talking to Gia about what art meant to him last night—was it really morning already?—had released something inside him. The hours had passed silently as each of them had been immersed in their own work. God knows how much longer he would have worked if she hadn’t spoken. But even as he’d painted, his mind had been working and he’d made a plan for her exhibition. All he had to do was make some calls today to set it in motion. It was as easy as that. His thoughts turned to his own painting as he’d worked. It was her passion and that passion spilled over to the bedroom. He knew now he didn’t hold that passion for art. Yes, he loved it and wanted to be involved with it.

Being on the Board of Trustees for the gallery would fill that need.

Why do I still paint?
After spending time with Gia he suspected it was really more to do with that promise to his mother. As much as he’d dreamed of leaving the family business, Nic knew his passion was not enough to sustain life as an artist. He was an organizer who was gifted with some talent.
Art doesn’t drive me.
Not like he’d seen it drive Gia as he’d watched her work.

He yawned, stretched, and slowly turned around. He barely remembered taking his shirt off in the early hours as he’d become focused on his painting. Gia’s face filled his vision and he grinned. Scarlet, golden-yellow, and a long slash of cobalt blue paint covered the right side of her face where she’d obviously been pushing her hair back. He dropped his gaze lower; her cropped T-shirt was covered with paint and he let his eyes linger on the peaked nipples that were standing out through the thin cotton.

“You look like one of the characters from
Avatar
.”

…

Her heart raced as Nic slowly walked across the room to her. Her mouth dried as he lifted his arms and stretched, his muscles rippling across his back. When he turned around, her breath caught. A broad chest, lightly dusted with dark hair, with a tattooed word across the center took her mind far away from the work she had been engrossed in all night.

“
Avatar
?” She frowned as he drew closer, trying to keep calm but the thudding of her heart was filling her ears.

“The movie.” He reached up and brushed his fingers down the side of her face. And a grin lifted his lips. “The one where their faces are blue. But yours is blue and yellow and scarlet.”

She laughed and reached to the workbench for a rag. “So I’m a messy artist. But look at you.” Not that she wanted to, she was having trouble keeping her eyes off Nic’s bare—but clean—chest. “How on earth do you paint without getting covered in paint?” Gia kept her face straight as an idea flitted through her head. “Look, even your hands are clean.” She shook her head sadly and let out a fake sigh. “Not a real artist, Nic.”

Nic’s smile was teasing. “I guess my technique is a tad superior to yours.”

Gia turned casually and picked up her paintbrush, which was loaded with the last of the blue paint. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Let me help you.” Before he could guess what her intention was she lunged at him with a laugh and painted a splotch of bright blue on Nic’s cheek. “Now you look like a professional.”

Nic reached for the hand she held the brush in, but Gia was ready for him and slipped beneath his arm. She ran around to the other side of the workbench as laughter overcame her. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist. You are a blank canvas waiting to be painted.”

His eyes narrowed as he picked up another brush from the table and dipped it into her signature scarlet paint. “You are so going to pay for that.”

Gia took a step backward. She waited until Nic was almost close enough to reach her before she ducked down and crawled beneath the table, coming up on the other side with a triumphant cry.

“A bit slow, Nic? You’ll never catch me.”

His eyes danced with mirth, and Gia grinned back at him.

“We’ll see about that. If you think you are going to get away with that, you are in for a big shock.” Nic put one hand on the sturdy bench ready to jump over it. “You think you know macho? I don’t like to lose, Gia… In fact, I
always
win.”

Gia threw the brush down so she could make a quick getaway. Keeping Nic and the paintbrush he held in her sights, she backed toward her bedroom where there was a shower in a tiny en suite bathroom. If she could just get to the door… She turned and ran.

“Not so fast, madam.” Nic dived around the edge of the bench, and Gia ran toward the door with a shriek.

She almost made it, but his hand descended on her shoulder before she could turn the handle. He twirled her around and kept his hand firmly on her arm as she stared up at him and the paintbrush he held above her head. His dark blue eyes were alight with laughter, and Gia couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from her lips. Life had been too serious for way too long. A warm rush of happiness flooded through her as she stared at his hand poised above her.

When did the joy of living disappear from my life?
There was more to life than immersing herself in her art.

She avoided Nic’s gaze and kept her eyes fixed firmly on the brush as it slowly inched closer and closer to her face. Her stomach fluttered—those damned butterflies had swooped back in, and she forced herself to stay still.

“
Hmm
. Let me see. Can I find a spot that needs attention?” Nic’s voice was low, and he was so close to her it vibrated through her skin. Gia looked down at his chest and her eyes lingered on the beautiful script that was embedded into his skin.

Coraggio.

“So that is the tattoo. Courage, Nic?” She grinned up at him as she placed both of her hands on the word that was inked on his skin. “I have no doubt you have plenty of that.”

Slowly he lowered the brush, and for a moment, Gia thought she’d escaped retaliation for daubing his cheek with paint.

“Maybe you need a little courage. Do you think,
bella
?”

He grabbed both of her hands with one of his and held the brush high with the other. Her breath caught as Nic used his body to gently push her back against the wall. She watched, fascinated, as he lowered his head and caught the thin straps of her singlet top in his teeth, and the stubble of his chin brushed her shoulder as he slid the strap down with his teeth. A shaft of pure desire ran from her shoulder and honed straight between her legs. If Nic hadn’t been supporting her with his body, Gia would have slid down the wall into a useless heap; her legs were trembling with anticipation.

She swallowed and lowered her voice. “Courage for what?”

Nic lifted his head and held her gaze. “To have faith in yourself and your exhibition.” His eyes were half-closed, but Gia watched with fascination as he leaned back and lowered the brush. The first strokes on the top of her breast were feather soft. A half swirl for the
C
and her fingers tingled with the need to touch Nic, but he still held her hands firmly in his. His brow was creased with concentration as his eyes remained firmly fixed on her breasts as the brush tickled her. The circle for the
O
was painstakingly slow, and she was sure he was deliberately taking his time to complete each letter. The
R
was completed just as slowly, and Gia closed her eyes when Nic began the next letter. The paint was cool on her skin, and the sensation of the tip of the fine brush was sending quivers to her belly.