When she looked back at Dino, he had moved to the chair opposite his and pulled it out. "It will be good to share the meal." He smiled.
Common sense told her to decline. But there was no way to turn him down without being rude and hurtful. She gave a hesitant smile. "Okay, then. Let me fetch my plate."
She hurried back to the kitchen and gripped the edge of the sink. How had her wish to help a stranger in distress become so complicated? Her mum and dad would have a fit if they found out she was here alone with a man. It was strange that being alone with him didn't worry her after what had happened in Austria. But Dino was different, not intimidating or threatening. She instinctively trusted him.
With a fortifying breath, she placed her lasagna dish, salad, and roll on a tray and carried it through to the dining room. She half expected to find he had started eating, but he was standing just where she'd left him with his hand on the back of her chair. She laid herself a place, and as she sat, he pushed the chair in for her.
Only then did he take his seat, a smile of satisfaction on his face. "You see." He gave an expansive gesture. "This is much more pleasant. Now we can eat and talk and enjoy this lovely evening." He tasted his lasagna and closed his eyes. "This is delicious, wonderful, sublime. You are a culinary angel, cara. You have a magical touch."
Maria glanced down at her plate, her cheeks heating. She was used to guests thanking her for a nice meal. But she wasn't used to such extravagant compliments.
Looking at Dino's animated expression and sparkling eyes, she could hardly recall the quiet, miserable man who had turned up on her doorstep a week ago. Delighted as she was to see him happy, this vibrant, charismatic man also made her nervous. "So you like walking?" she asked, struggling for something to say.
"Yes, I walk. A lot," he added with a wry smile. "I walk to think, to plan, to dispel anger and frustration, to enjoy the beautiful countryside, for the pleasure of being alive."
"You don't find it too hilly along the coast here?"
"Your hills are nothing to me, cara. Where I come from, the hills are like this." He angled his palm vertically.
"Where is that?" Maria was glad she had joined him for dinner if it meant she could find out more about him.
"Have you heard of the Cinque Terre, the five lands?" When she shook her head he continued. "These are five small towns on the Italian Riviera. It is rocky, very steep. My family, they live in Riomaggiore. Very beautiful, but full of tourists. When I was a boy, there were not so many and it was quiet. But now..." He gave a dismissive gesture and sighed.
"Is it anything like Porthale?"
"Yes and no. Here, I show you." He fished his phone from his pocket and switched it on. The device chimed to alert him to messages, but he ignored them and scrolled through his pictures. "Here, Maria, this is Riomaggiore."
She took the offered phone and examined the screen. The village was like something out of a fairy tale. Narrow, multicolored houses, three and four stories tall, were stacked up the cliffs like children's building blocks. Brightly-colored fishing boats drawn up on the pebbles around the harbor resembled fish laid out to dry. Above the village, what looked like rows of grapevines patterned the terraced fields. "Wow! This is pretty. How could you bear to leave it?"
He shrugged and gestured in a way she was coming to recognize meant he didn't want to answer that question.
"So your family still lives here?"
"My father and two of my brothers are fishermen, as I told you, and my eldest brother, he has a fish restaurant. One of my sisters is at college in Rome and the other is married to a fisherman from Manarola, the next town along the coast."
"That's convenient."
He smiled. "That is how things are there. People are good at providing for themselves. For years the area was cut off from the rest of Italy by mountains. It is only recently that a road was built."
His warm tone of voice betrayed his affection for the place. "You obviously love it."
"I try to return when I can."
"So what took you away from home?"
"I have to travel a lot," he said glancing away. She noticed he avoided answering the question, and although she wanted to know more about him, she let it go.
"And before you came here to Cornwall, were you in London?"
"Ah, London." Dino pulled a face. "London is like Roma, too many people. Always people running everywhere like little ants. I needed a quiet place to think. So I came here." He gestured again, taking in the village and the guesthouse.
She itched to ask him what he'd needed to think about. But she shouldn't pry. She forked in a mouthful of lasagna to help stifle the urge to ask. He became quiet, looking down at his plate as he ate, obviously remembering what it was that brought him here. If only their conversation had not gone in this direction. She hated to see him subdued. He was so vital when he was happy, more alive than anyone else she knew.
"So you, Maria, why are you here in this place? Do you not have college or university to attend?"
"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt," she replied.
He frowned. "A T-shirt?"
She smiled at his bemused expression. "I've been to college, Dino. I studied hospitality management."
"That is right for you, I think, but why are you not the manager of a big hotel now?"
"I like looking after the families with children who stay at the guesthouse. We're one big happy family here."
Their eyes met. A moment of understanding passed between them that stroked across Maria's senses like a caress. Dino appeared to be different from her, but in some ways they were the same.
She broke eye contact and changed the subject, telling him about the village and the playgroup committee and their fundraising activities. As soon as they finished the meal, she excused herself to tidy up, not wanting to draw out the evening as she would if she'd been dining with a friend. It was difficult to keep her distance from Dino, but she had to be careful. She knew from bitter experience that men could easily get the wrong impression.
***
After breakfast the following morning, Maria waited until she heard the front door close then scooted down the hall and peered out the window at the car park. The black BMW started and glided away down the lane.
With a sigh of relief, Maria went back to the kitchen and pressed Play on the CD player. She had thought she would never get a moment alone to listen to the Dirty Dancing disc. The strains of "Be My Baby" flooded the kitchen and brought a smile to her face. She loved the movie's wonderful, romantic plot and soundtrack but hadn't seen it for ages. As she prepared dough for more rolls, she danced on the spot, kneading and humming along with the music. Once she had put the rolls in the warm drying room to rise, she shook her floury apron out the door and danced back into the kitchen, practicing the salsa steps Dino had taught her.
She laid out the ingredients to make peanut chicken and cut up the chicken breasts, then washed her hands and moved on to the rest of the preparation. As she added each ingredient to the slow cooker, she did a twirl, giggling to herself. She had forgotten how much fun dancing could be, how music lifted the spirit.
Once the peanut chicken was in the slow cooker, she retrieved her risen dough and put the baking tray in the oven. She swayed her hips and spun around, flapping the tea towel in time to the music. And nearly collapsed with a heart attack at the sight of Dino in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder resting against the door frame.
Heat flooded her cheeks until they felt like they were glowing. "What are you doing back so soon?" she blurted rudely. But he didn't appear offended. All he did was hold up a newspaper.
He sauntered into the room, wagging a finger at her. "Ah, Maria, Maria. You waited for me to go out before you played your music. Do you not want to practice your dance steps with me?" His tone held a note of censure, but she could see he didn't mean it because he fought a smile.
He dropped his newspaper on the kitchen table and held his hands out to her. "No, Dino. I'm in the
middle of cooking." She glanced over her shoulder at the counter, searching for a good excuse not to dance with him. "I haven't finished preparing your dinner."
He clucked his tongue. "It is morning, cara. You have all day to do that."
"My hands are dirty." She held them out and realized she had just washed them. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he caught her hands in his and backed up, pulling her into the only clear space in the kitchen, in front of the fridge.
"You remember the steps I taught you?"
"Yes, but..." She had run out of excuses, and he was so persistent it probably wouldn't matter what she said.
He shimmied forwards and back, leading her. Maria looked down at her feet, but she didn't need to. She had practiced the steps a number of times that morning and her feet followed his easily. A song ended and another called "Hungry Eyes" started. While the singer carried on about love and desire, she glanced everywhere but at Dino. Dancing with him to romantic lyrics was a great deal different from practicing in silence. Her face was still hot from her earlier blush, and she couldn't see it going away any time soon.
Although she tried not to look at him, her eyes drifted to his face without permission. He watched her, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth. And she couldn't help smiling back. He spun her around and a light, airy feeling invaded her chest as though she could float through the dance.
The song finished and the notes of a slow romantic ballad filled the kitchen. Dino drew her closer. Suddenly there wasn't enough air to catch her breath. Surely he didn't intend to slow dance with her? He hesitated. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. With a small shrug, he released her hands and stepped back. "Now you must practice on your own, and I will read my newspaper." He grabbed the paper from the table and held it up like a prize as he backed towards the door. "Tomorrow, we practice again." Then he pivoted on one foot and headed off along the hall.
Maria leaned back against the counter and put a hand to her racing heart. If he had drawn her into his arms for the slow dance, she wasn't sure what she would have done. But he hadn't. Her relief slowly gave way to disappointment, and she silently chided herself for being silly. Slow dancing with her Italian was asking for trouble, even at eleven in the morning.
***
Dino took his newspaper to the small conservatory at the back of the sitting room and angled one of the wicker chairs so he could see in through the kitchen window. Maria moved around purposefully, doing her chores, her lips forming words he could not hear. Singing to the music, he guessed.
The paper lay forgotten on his knees and he blew out a breath. He should stop flirting with her, making her blush, but she was so charming, so sweet. He loved the way she reacted to him, shy and yet eager. It took him back to his past, before women started throwing themselves at him, when he had to use his charm to catch the attention of a pretty girl. With Maria, he could be himself, just as he was with his family and friends back home. He didn't have to worry about maintaining an image or giving his fans the wrong impression. The pain of losing his son still burned, but Maria's gentle care and this quiet, calming place had helped him cope.
If only he could stay here with her. But this was a dream, time out of time, not his real life. He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Soon he would have to go back to London and tell Freddy things must change. But not yet. He didn't want to stress over his career now. He had a few more weeks before he had to be in New York. He would make the most of this time to forget his worries and enjoy himself. With Maria.
***
Maria prepared homemade vegetable soup for Dino's lunch, and served him in the conservatory. Then she went upstairs to do some painting. She had finished the first re-carpeted bedroom and started the second. Nervously, she repositioned the plastic floor covering, watching for eight-legged fiends, but mercifully none jumped out at her.
She was halfway through washing down the paintwork with soapy water when Dino appeared in the doorway. He leaned a hand on either side of the door frame and cocked his hip casually. "I have done enough walking and thinking now," he announced.
"Oh!" Maria's heart pinched at his words. "Does that mean you're leaving?" Despite knowing it would be best if he left before she got too fond of him, her heart and her head did not agree. Her heart wanted him to stay.
"No, cara. I want to do something useful. I will help you with your painting."
Maria was so surprised, the wet cloth dropped out of her hand into her bowl, splashing dirty water up her leggings. "You can't really want to paint. Why don't you visit some of the sights? Truro Cathedral's interesting."
"I want to be with you." He wandered in and peered at the paint-stained brushes and rollers in the tray on the stepladder.
Maria's pulse raced as she watched him. He couldn't really mean he wanted to be with her. They must be having a language translation problem. "You mean you don't want to go out today?" she suggested.
"Yes. I want to relax and talk and enjoy your company. You take my mind off other things, cara." He held up a brush and swiped the bristles across his palm. "So I help you paint, and we talk."
She blinked at him, wondering for the umpteenth time how this could be the same man she had ushered into the guesthouse, the man who had barely spoken two words to her for the first few days. "Well, if you're sure. But you can't wear those clothes."
He held out his arms and looked down at himself. "You want me to take them off?" he said with a touch of amusement.
"Yes. No!" She cleared her throat. "What I mean is that you need to wear old clothes. Then it doesn't matter if you get paint on them. Dad's things'll be too big for you, but if you don't mind them baggy, you could try his overalls."
Dino shrugged and stepped aside as she moved towards the door. She returned a few moments later with her father's navy overalls and handed them to him. "If you slip them on over your clothes, they'll protect you from splashes."
"I will be a moment." Dino disappeared and Maria washed a bit more wall before he came back. A tantalizing glimpse of bare chest showed where the top two snaps of the old paint-stained overalls were open at his throat. He'd obviously stripped down to his underwear underneath. Maria dragged her gaze from his skin and tried to push away thoughts of him being nearly naked beneath the baggy garment.
She fixed him up with a paint tray and roller and he set to work with the same intense concentration he'd had when he taught her to dance. Maria made them both a cup of tea and brought it up. She had just taken a sip when Dino said: "So, Maria, do you have a boyfriend?" She nearly spat out her mouthful. Then liquid went down the wrong way and she coughed.
Dino came across the room and patted her back, but she stepped away from his ministrations. "Look, Dino. I don't mean to be rude, but that's none of your business."
"Ah," he said wisely. "You do not."
"I didn't say that."
"If you had a boyfriend, you would tell me. Women like to talk about their men."
"What gives you that idea?" Maria retorted a bit crossly.
"Two sisters and six female cousins." He paused and angled his head thoughtfully. "They chatter all the time about boyfriends."
"Hmm," Maria said, still miffed. She could give as good as she got. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Dino's face fell, and he turned away. Maria gave herself a mental kick. What a stupid thing to ask him when he had turned up here so distressed. He'd probably just broken up with the love of his life or something awful and she'd reminded him. Dino returned to painting. For a few minutes neither of them spoke. Then he said softly, "No. Not for many months."
So he wasn't suffering from a broken heart—or not one caused by a girlfriend, at any rate. Did that mean he had lost someone else? She cast him a sideways glance as he crouched to paint a low area. It was none of her business why he'd come here, or why he'd been upset. But she wanted to know so badly it was burning a hole in her brain. If she wanted him to open up to her, she had to go first.
"There
was someone special a few years ago," she started, glancing at him for his reaction. He didn't look at her, just continued painting. The tension in her shoulders relaxed and she sighed as if she'd been holding her breath forever. "I went out with him for three years. We even talked about getting engaged, but it didn't work out. We wanted different things from life. I guess we grew apart."
"What did you want that he did not?" Dino said.
Strange. It was the first time anyone had asked her that. Chris and her parents had tried to convince her she should share Tom's ambition to travel and see the world, to make something of herself. As if staying in Porthale meant wasting her life.
"The truth is…" she said, staring out the window at the blue sky. What she really wanted, but had only confided to Chris and her parents. "I want a family. I want my own home to look after, a husband, and children. Lots of children. I want to cook for them, love them, be there for them when they need me, share their joy and their pain." She usually kept this ambition to herself. Most people didn't even consider it an ambition, just what happened along the way as you followed your exciting career.
"And your boyfriend, he did not want to be cared for and have children?" Dino asked in an incredulous tone.
Maria put down her paint roller and rubbed her sleeve over her face. She and Tom had never discussed children. They had talked about getting engaged. Thank God they hadn't done that. "Tom wanted to travel." She worked hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Eventually he'd have settled into a career, I suppose, but he was desperate to 'see the world and experience life.'"
How many times had he preached that mantra at her as if it were the be-all and end-all? He hadn't cared what she wanted, what her dreams were. All he thought of was himself. She hadn't grasped just how selfish he was until she went to Austria with him. Memories of their stay in Austria ambushed her. Fear prickled her skin and she wiped the back of her hand over her top lip. I'm safe here, she silently recited, until the panicky feelings faded.
She glanced over at Dino who had stopped painting and was leaning on the stepladder watching her. "You are very pale, cara. Are you all right?"
Oceans Between Us (A Cinderella Romance) Page 4