Oceans Between Us (A Cinderella Romance)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  "You are walking back now?" He gestured up the hill towards the guesthouse.

  "Yes." She flapped around with her bag and the sweater in her hand, looking flustered. She certainly wasn't like the women who mobbed him outside the venues where he performed. As she started walking, he fell into step beside her. "You're not staying out all day today then?" she asked.

  "The sun is shining. I would like to sit in your garden if that is acceptable."

  "Of course. The weather's weird this winter. It almost feels like spring today." She looked away, then cast him a shy sideways glance. "Would you like me to cook you lunch?"

  He smiled, despite the deep melancholy that still weighed down his heart. She was as eager to feed him as his mother. "Do you think I am too thin?"

  "Gosh, no. I'm just worried that you missed two meals in a row. And you were out for so long yesterday. Walking uses up lots of energy."

  Why would a complete stranger worry about him? He had stayed in the best hotels money could buy, all over the world. The staff members he met were mostly polite, but none of them cared if he chose to eat or not.

  As they reached the top of the street and turned up the lane to the guesthouse, she pointed at the bag containing his purchase. "I'll cook your crab for dinner tonight, if you like. Are you keen on fish?"

  "We eat much fish where I come from. My father and two of my brothers are fishermen. It was good to talk of things that remind me of home. I bought the crab to show my gratitude." Discussing tides, the catch, and the unpredictable weather had taken him back to a simpler time, a time when he'd helped his father at weekends for pocket money.

  "You obviously didn't join the family business," she observed.

  "Ah, Maria, you are right," he said wistfully. They had reached the guesthouse gate. He opened it and stared out to sea as the young woman passed him, wondering, not for the first time, if his life might have been happier if he'd stayed in Riomaggiore, married a local girl, and lived the simple life of a fisherman. But singing was his passion, always had been. His spirit would wither if he could not sing for people. He could never give up performing, not for anyone or anything.

  ***

  While Mr. Rossellini went into the garden, Maria put his crab in a pot in the larder to deal with later. Then she defrosted and cooked some part-baked bread rolls and a portion of homemade mushroom soup. When the lunch was ready, she carried it out on a tray with a napkin and cutlery.

  She paused beneath the arched trellis leading to the sheltered walled garden. In the unseasonably warm weather, her Italian was enjoying the sunshine. Head tipped back and eyes closed, he was listening to something through earphones attached to his phone. Her breath caught at the sight of him, so dark and gorgeous and masculine, his lean muscular body stretched out and relaxed. Little tingles of pleasure raced around inside her. With a sigh of longing for things that could never be, she moved forwards and deposited the tray on the table.

  "I've brought your lunch." She raised her voice so he would hear over his music. His thick, black lashes lifted and the weight of his gaze rested on her. He'd appeared distracted up till then, lost in the turmoil of his thoughts. Now when his languorous, brown eyes settled on her, she felt the intensity of his presence like a physical touch.

  He pulled out the earphones. The faint strains of classical music sounded for a moment before he switched it off. "Thank you, Maria." He straightened his seat and examined his bowl of soup.

  "It's my homemade mushroom." She winced inside at her eager tone. She must stop blowing her own horn over her cooking.

  He unfolded the napkin she had wrapped around the warm rolls and the corners of his lips twitched. "This is perfect, Maria." His gaze rose to her again. For a moment she couldn't breathe, then heat rushed to her cheeks. Heavens, woman, get a grip. She was behaving like a lovesick puppy!

  "I'm going upstairs for a while. When I come down, I'll make you a cup of coffee." She hurried upstairs intent on doing something useful and not thinking about Mr. Rossellini.

  ***

  Dino tasted the soup and his eyelids fell with pleasure. Sublime. She was a culinary angel. He glanced at the upstairs windows thoughtfully. In his home village of Riomaggiore, a pretty young woman who cooked as well as Maria would have suitors lining up at her door. Granted, Dino had not been paying attention up until now, but Maria wore no rings and he had not noticed a boyfriend visiting. The men in Porthale must be blind and stupid not to have snapped her up.

  He had just finished his soup and picked up his napkin when a bloodcurdling scream rang out from upstairs. Dino shot out of his chair, dropping his napkin. Had she fallen from a ladder, cut herself? He raced inside, bounded up the stairs three at a time, and slid to a halt outside the open door of a bedroom.

  Maria was inside, huddled in the far corner by the window. The healthy pink roses that had earlier colored her cheeks were gone, her complexion now chalk-white. Dino glanced around the room at a loss to see anything out of place. "What is the matter?"

  She gnawed her lips, staring at a heap of plastic sheet on the ground in front of her. "It's in there." Her gaze flicked up to him then back to the plastic. "A spider. A really massive one."

  The tension in Dino's shoulder's drained away, and he suppressed a smile. "Ah, cara, cara." He shook his head as he strolled into the room and nudged the folded plastic with his toe. A spider scuttled out.

  Maria's scream rent the air again.

  Dino winced. She definitely did not have a singing career in her future, but she probably had a sore throat coming. The spider secreted itself beneath another fold and was hidden again. "Let me take this out for you."

  "Yes! Yes, please."

  He caught hold of the corners and gathered the plastic sheet into a bundle, then carried it downstairs. Maria's tentative footsteps sounded behind him. He went out the front door to the car park and flapped the sheet.

  "Where did it go? It won't get back in the house, will it?" she asked from the safety of the front step.

  He hadn't seen the spider fall out, but this called for a white lie. If she thought it might still be inside, his culinary angel would probably shut herself in her room, and he wouldn't get his crab tonight. "It is in the hedge, Maria."

  "Oh." She ventured a short way down the front path and peered at the bushes as if they might bite her.

  Dino bundled the sheet up again and headed inside. "Come, cara. I will spread this out for you to put your mind at rest."

  ***

  Maria hurried after her Italian, feeling like a complete twit. What would he think of her now? But at least he seemed happier. If rescuing her from her silly phobia took his mind off his worries, then some good had come of it. When they got back to room one, he spread the covering on the floor, then repeated the process with the other four small plastic sheets while Maria watched tensely from the doorway, ready to bolt if another eight-legged fiend appeared.

  "There you are." He surveyed his work and dusted his hands together.

  "Sorry. I know it's silly being afraid of spiders when we don't have any poisonous ones here. But their legs are just..." She shivered.

  He shrugged. "Do not worry about it. My brother is this tall." He held his hand a few inches above his head. "He is terrified of spiders. And my mamma, who is this tall." He bumped the edge of his hand halfway down his chest. "She has to carry them outside for him."

  He was trying to make her feel better about her phobia. Sweet of him, considering she had disturbed his lunch. "Let me make you a cup of coffee, Mr. Rossellini. I think you've earned it."

  "Now I know your shameful secret, I think you should call me Dino." He had rested a hand against the door frame and was watching her.

  Dino, that was cute and it suited him. She looked down to hide her smile. "Okay, Dino it is then." It wasn't unusual for her to call guests by their first names. They didn't stand on ceremony at the Crow's Nest. So why did this feel different?

  ***

  A few days later, Maria sa
t on the floor in the sitting room, a heap of CDs beside her along with a pen and pad. She was babysitting Poppy and Charlotte, who were both playing happily on the carpet nearby. Poppy was quietly fitting shapes into holes while Charlotte noisily thumped the keys on her small plastic organ.

  Maria turned over a CD that her dad played in the dining room and squinted at the song titles, looking for dates. Did anything on here qualify as suitable for the playgroup hop? She really was hopeless with music. She had no idea what people had listened to in the fifties and sixties. Frustrated, a sigh hissed between her lips. A hop needed dance music, and that wasn't something her family listened to. That meant she would have to search through someone else's music collection, or try to find songs on the Internet.

  She should have asked Philip to give this job to someone else. She needed to learn to say no sometimes. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her look up. Dino stood in the open doorway, a hand resting on either side of the door frame and a frown on his face. "Good afternoon, Maria. These are your daughters?"

  "My what? No!" Her hand rose to her heart at the thought. If only they were. "They're my nieces."

  "Ah!" His expression cleared and he ambled into the room. "They have a resemblance to you, I think."

  "Do they?" Maria had never noticed that the girls looked like her, but then she hadn't thought about it before. As Dino came in, Poppy moved closer to Maria and cuddled against her arm, while Charlotte banged her organ even louder and started shouting, showing off.

  "You have a musician in the family," Dino observed with a wry smile.

  Maria grinned as Charlotte clambered to her feet and toddled across to Dino, presenting him with the organ. "Dance, dance," she shouted.

  His took the offered toy and shot Maria a questioning glance. "She wants me to dance?"

  "No. She wants you to play so she can dance."

  He smiled at the little girl and perched on the edge of an armchair, the organ across his knees. Then he started to play. Maria expected the usual random assortment of notes she was used to hearing. Instead, real music came out of the organ. Charlotte jumped around screaming and waving her arms. After a few minutes, Poppy couldn't resist joining her. Dino continued playing catchy tunes that segued seamlessly from one to another.

  "You can actually play real music on it!" She laughed at the girls' antics.

  "Hmmm." Dino pulled a face. "Maria, not even a maestro would be able to play real music on this toy."

  "Well, it sounds like music to me." Finally Charlotte got overexcited and banged the organ along with Dino, creating the familiar earsplitting racket. Poppy started to cry. "Okay, you two. That's enough." Maria rose and Dino passed her the organ. She hid it behind a big pot on the mantelpiece. "Time for a drink and a nap, I think." She lifted both girls onto the sofa and handed them their cups. They started drinking their milk and sleepy eyelids fell.

  Dino nodded towards the CDs strewn across the floor. "You are searching for something?"

  She flopped into an armchair and poked at the square plastic cases with her toe. "I've got to come up with a playlist for a sixties hop we're running as a playgroup fundraiser. I'm not having much luck."

  Dino went down on his knees and sorted through the music discs, then threw up his hands with a sound of displeasure. "You have terrible taste!"

  She stared at him a little taken aback by his bluntness. Then she laughed. "You're an expert, I suppose?"

  "I most certainly am." He slouched back against the chair he'd vacated, all dark and brooding and thoughtful. Her heart did strange little leaps and bounds as she watched him. "I suggest Dirty Dancing," he offered.

  "Dirty what? Oh, you mean the movie." That was actually a really good idea. If she could find a movie soundtrack or compilation of suitable songs, she wouldn't need to burn any music to CD. And she knew exactly who to ask. Her sister's neighbor, Tina, loved movie soundtracks. "Great idea. You've just earned your dinner." Charlotte and Poppy had both fallen asleep drinking their milk. Maria set their cups on a table and tucked a blanket over them, making sure they wouldn't roll off the sofa. "Watch the girls for a moment, will you?"

  She dashed through to the kitchen and quickly phoned Chris to ask her to stop in at Tina's and bring the Dirty Dancing CD over when she picked up her daughters. Then she made Dino a cup of tea, put a homemade chocolate muffin on a plate, and hurried back to the sitting room.

  He had settled in a chair and was leafing through one of the children's plastic books. As she walked in, the book mooed, and he grinned like a little boy. He quickly set it aside when she handed him the tea. "So, you are going to the hop in old-fashioned clothes?" he asked.

  She wouldn't call her outfit old-fashioned exactly, but she knew what he meant. "Yes, I've got something suitable for the era. I just have to learn to dance now," she joked. Although she didn't really intend to bother. She would be too busy helping with the catering to dance.

  "Let me teach you."

  "To what, dance?"

  "Salsa." He rose and danced across the room with the athletic grace of a man whose muscles were perfectly toned and balanced, a man who knew exactly how to move.

  Maria forgot to breathe.

  He approached her, hands extended. "Come, Maria, it is simple. We will start with the five basic steps, forwards and back."

  "Gosh. I don't know." She was quite likely to end up a puddle of mush at his feet. But he was standing in front of her, hands outstretched, demanding a response. She couldn't just ignore him. "Oh, all right. I'll give it a try."

  With a tingle of nerves, she slipped her fingers into his warm grip and he pulled her up. "Now, cara, watch me." He counted as he stepped forwards and back. "Your turn."

  Maria's cheeks burned as she copied his steps but rather less elegantly.

  "Again," he said.

  She tried again and he repeated his command.

  "You're taking this very seriously."

  "Ay ay ay, Maria. Do you not know that you must practice if you are to learn?" He took one of her hands.

  She glanced up from her feet to his intense expression. This was a new side of him, this concentration and focus. She got the feeling he probably gave everything he did one hundred and ten percent. She was willing to bet that nothing short of excellence would satisfy him. Whatever his job, he must be good at it. After she practiced a few more times, he took both her hands and danced with her.

  At first she stared at her feet, but that was difficult when he was dancing in front of her. She raised her gaze to find him watching her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You see, Maria," he said, drawing her name out in a long, sexy drawl. "You can do it if you want to."

  He showed her another move, a turn, and held her hand above her head as she twirled. His fingers were warm on hers and sensation raced across her skin from his touch. As she looked into the rich brown of his eyes, she realized she liked this man, really liked him. She was in danger of falling for him; in fact, she was already halfway down that slippery slope. But if she lost her heart to Dino Rossellini, she was setting herself up for disappointment. Even if he returned her feelings, a man like him would never want to make his home at the Crow's Nest.

  Chapter Three

  As Maria prepared dinner, her eye was drawn to the Dirty Dancing CD Chris had brought her. Maria had left the disc on the windowsill beside the small player, waiting for Dino to go out before she listened to it. If he caught her playing music, he would have her dancing again. It wasn't that she didn't want to dance with him, quite the opposite. Every time she had a quiet moment, she remembered the feel of his strong hands holding hers, the elegant way he moved. That was exactly why she shouldn't dance with him again.

  The effect he had on her was confusing, blurring the boundary between guest and friend. She needed to draw a line in the sand, keep him on one side and her on the other. Already, she would miss him when he left far more than she should.

  She donned oven mitts and pulled the lasagna she'd prepa
red from the oven. Serving lasagna to Dino, who must be used to the genuine Italian version, was a risk. But the dish was a favorite among their guests, so she had her fingers crossed Dino would approve. She placed the small ceramic bowl on a plate and while the pasta cooled, prepared a mixed salad. Then she wrapped two warm rolls in a linen napkin and nestled them in a basket.

  At eight on the dot, his tread sounded on the stairs. She poured a glass of chilled water from the refrigerator, added it to the tray, then went into the dining room. Usually he was seated and waiting, but tonight he stood at the bay window, his back to the room. The stiff set of his shoulders alerted her something was wrong. As she entered and placed the tray on the table, he pivoted around.

  "Is everything all right, Dino?"

  "This is not right." He gestured at the food, and Maria's heart dropped. She should have known not to serve the British version of lasagna to an Italian.

  "I'm sorry. This is one of our most popular dishes." She hastened to remove it, wracking her brain for another dish she could prepare quickly.

  "No, no, I do not mean the food. It is not right that I should eat here alone while you do the same in the kitchen. Good food should be shared. Mealtimes are for relaxation and talk, a time to savor and enjoy. You will please join me for dinner tonight."

  Maria's heart fluttered like a trapped bird and her hand went to her chest. His invitation simply meant he wanted company. Yet she felt as though she was slipping, falling, her emotions out of her control.

  She glanced around the dining room at the other eleven polished wooden tables, the Victorian tiled fireplace on the far wall, the hearth resplendent with a huge display of dried flowers. She had lived at the Crow's Nest all her life, but she could count on her fingers the number of times she had eaten in the dining room.