by Barbara Lohr
“Great. We’re right behind you.” Caitlin and Kurt clambered up after them.
Sun glanced off the water. Gulls circled overhead, crying a welcome. Wasn’t this day just perfect?
The perfect day to be a babe.
Chapter 9
Mallory tipped his face toward the sun. Man, this felt good.
“Will you just look at how beautiful Rapallo looks from the water?” Amy dug into her backpack for her camera. The breeze tossed her curls as they grabbed space on a long bench seat. He liked the natural look. Rhonda had always sprayed her hair into submission.
“No camera?”
He shook his head. “Stopped taking pictures a long time ago.”
That first Christmas with Chad’s parents, Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Cyrus, had done it for him. What had his aunt been thinking? Hearing her prattle about his mother losing her will to live after Dad’s death had done it. No more trips down memory lane for him.
Amy continued to snap photos, enthusiastic as a kid. The women who graced the gaming tables of Monte Carlo and other cities along the coast might be immune to the beauty of the Italian Riviera. It had become wallpaper for them many husbands ago. But not for Amy.
Mallory’s eyes shifted to the spectacular shoreline. Craggy trees clung to the steep hills, hanging on for dear life. He’d felt a little like that after his divorce.
How could he execute mergers and acquisitions that leveraged Thornton Enterprises into an international presence that rivaled Bulgari and still be taken in by a woman? The thought dogged him like a persistent hound. Next time, he had to be careful.
If there was a next time. Every man should meet a woman’s family before the wedding. He’d been skunked, plain and simple.
As the breeze played with Amy’s hair, she pulled some sunblock from her backpack. Watching her apply the lotion to her arms caused every nerve in Mallory’s body to stand at attention. Her preoccupied half smile teased him, sexy as all get out. Looking up, she caught him staring.
Jumping to his feet, Mallory shifted his attention back to the water, planting his feet firmly on the deck. The shore was safe.
“How about this sunshine?” he asked, but he still felt off balance. The persistent forward movement of the boat brought other thrustings to mind. Listening to the couple in the other room that morning—the pair that turned out to be Caitlin and Kurt—had just about driven him up the wall.
Amy tapped his arm with the bottle of sunblock. “Want some?”
“Yes…no. I’m fine.”
“Okay, but you'll crisp like toast in this sun.” She shoved the bottle back in her bag.
“Maybe.” Mallory wasn’t used to having a woman fuss over him. At first Rhonda had simpered, and then she’d fumed. Finding his footing as he faced the wind, he welcomed the cool rush of air. His travel chum was having an unexpected effect on him.
This was a wager, nothing more. But it was becoming a mite difficult to keep that in mind.
Sitting down again, Mallory decided he liked being part of this group. As the boat cut through the water, the four of them were rocked into sunlit silence. Not a bad feeling, this family solidarity. Being an only child had certainly not been any fun.
“Look. This must be Vernazza.” Amy pointed to a small cove. Amazing how many buildings were crammed along this curved shore. Colorful four-story structures rose from a small square in terraced ridges that gripped sharply angled hills. She pulled a book from her backpack and began to page through it. “There’s a wonderful fort in this little town.”
“Fort? What about the people? Are they fishermen or farmers?”
“Maybe both. Look.” She pointed to the fishing boats pulled up onto the sand like slices of colorful fruit—yellow, red and green. When Mallory had visited the Cinque Terra with some hiking buddies in college, they’d been more interested in Italian wine than the view. Today, he wanted to see what this town was all about. A fort? Not on his list, but Amy kept her finger in the book.
The boat pulled into a short pier. Two crew members jumped onto the dock and began wrapping the heavy towlines around thick white posts. The gangplank slid into place with a resounding thunk. Making their way back down the narrow stairs, the four of them joined the passengers spilling from the boat. The air in the cove smelled of wet sand and fish, overlaid with the tantalizing aroma of early morning cooking. Fanning out, the tourists scattered like ants.
“See you later,” Caitlin said as she walked off with Kurt, who slipped one arm around her waist. “We’re going to wander around.”
Amy watched them leave.
“Want to go with them?” Mallory asked.
Her eyes widened. “No, I’d miss the fort.”
Mallory imagined her classroom, every book in its place. Here every street led to a new adventure. Amy had pulled the map from her backpack and was turning it this way and that, squinting at the cobblestone lanes that led from the plaza.
“I think the fort is this way.” Pointing to the right, she set off like a Girl Scout leader who expected her troop to follow.
“Okay then. See you later.” Mallory turned to the left. Shopkeepers were setting out their wares in the early morning shade—fresh produce and flowers to attract the tourists.
“Hey, where are you going?” Amy called. He turned to find his travel chum staring him down. Hands on her hips, she huffed a strand of hair from her face.
“Think I’ll see what the locals are up to.” He smiled at her above the rims of his sunglasses. “Don’t you want to wander around?”
Amy looked over her shoulder toward the street that probably led to the fort. “One of the tour books said the fort’s been here for centuries. Don’t you want to learn more about it?”
“Learn? Amy, with all due respect I’m not one of your students.” School had never been his strong suit. Mallory began to back away.
Arms flailing, she looked positively exasperated, and he fought a laugh. Chad had chosen well. The wager flashed bright in his mind, but he zapped it. He was going to have a good time. But he didn’t want her to get lost. “Do you want me to come with you? I think you’ll be safe…in the fort.”
With a sniff, she dismissed his concerns. “I’ll be all right.”
Mallory checked his watch. “They said we have an hour.”
“Fifty-five minutes now.”
His lips twitched as he backed away. “How long does it take to tour a fort?” Sounded about as exciting as watching paint dry.
Her cute nose wrinkle almost made him relent. “Depends on what’s up there to see.”
Still didn’t sound inviting. In Savannah, the squares were filled with wonderful characters. They breathed life into any city. Sucking in more sea air, he backed away. “Later, then.”
“Sure. Fine.” Turning on her heel, Amy trudged off as if she were on a holy crusade, the backpack pulling at her shoulders.
McKenna would not approve. Amy could hear her friend’s advice hissing in her ears. Be a babe. But Vernazza held so much history. To ignore it would be criminal.
Amy marched toward the nearest set of stairs that led up and began to take the steps two at a time.
Maybe Mallory was used to taking care of women. Maybe he “saved” them all the time. Her hamstrings stretched as she increased her stride, landing on every other step. Sure, he’s saved her at that restaurant, but she could take care of herself.
Distracted, she caught her sandal on a step and went sprawling. The sharp stone edge grazed her shins. A ball of pain, Amy collapsed. For a second she sat there, glad no one had seen her fall. A tissue or two blotted the blood. Hurt like heck. Standing, she flexed both legs before starting to climb again. Heat ricocheted off the walls with furious intensity. So darned hot and it wasn’t even noon.
Stopping to catch her breath, she leaned against a tan stucco wall but quickly pushed away from the burning surface. She needed shade. Above her flapped laundry. Shirts, work pants and skirts hung in the still morning heat, flapping limply
every few seconds.
Any breeze seemed so far away.
Maybe she should have stayed with Mallory, where it was cool.
Where she could be a babe.
Right now, she was hot, sweaty and bleeding. Definitely not babe material. Shoving off, she began to climb again. Where was the blasted fort? She pictured Caitlin and Mallory somewhere below, seated at a fountain where the air was moist and cool. Maybe they were sipping one of those lemon drinks that were so popular in Italy. Her mouth felt like a cotton ball dispenser.
Amy checked her phone. Only fifty minutes. She kept climbing. When she heard footsteps behind her, she wheeled around, a tactic she’d learned in a self-defense class. A young couple from the ship was taking the steps at a leisurely pace. When the girl giggled, her companion silenced her with a kiss. Amy turned away. Head down, she concentrated on the endless steps.
Was she even headed in the right direction?
When her thighs were burning as bad as her shins, the stairway opened out into an observation area. Up here, the sea breeze cooled Amy’s skin. She sucked in the damp air with relief.
Down below, the water sparkled, the deep Ligurian blue that she wished she could capture in a scarf or sweater to have this trip with her always. Wasn’t that why she’d considered coming on this blasted honeymoon alone?
To the right, hillsides led down to Vernazza, ringed with walking trails. Olive trees clung to the hillsides. Digging out her book, she began to read until she noticed a group of seniors clustered around a man who spoke in a loud, authoritative voice.
A tour guide. What luck. She inched closer.
“Lookouts would be posted to alert the town.” The tour guide swept his hands toward the wall. “You can still see the openings in the brickwork for the cannon.”
Amy followed the eyes of the group to the slits in the aged gray brick.
“Over one thousand years ago,” he continued, “Turkish pirates would attack Vernazza, sending the women and children running in fear through the narrow streets, searching for a safe place to hide. The men tending the grape vines would rush down to defend the city, but they were, after all, peaceful farmers, not warriors.” A dramatic pause allowed everyone to fully appreciate the sad consequences.
Amy gripped the edge of the crumbling stone. What had she been thinking, planning this trip for Jason? He’d never been one for history. When she’d explained the options to him after visiting the travel agent, Jason had nodded, fingering the remote control. “Sure, I like Italian food.”
All her idea. And here she was up here, all alone.
Italy was meant to be shared.
She jammed the guidebook back into her backpack.
What was she doing up here by herself?
The young couple came up behind her. A diamond sparkled on the girl’s hand. “Oh, Jerry, isn’t this grand? Look at this view.”
Smiling, the man came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head.
A lump swelled in Amy’s throat. She glanced around. All couples except for the tour guide, whose wife was probably at home preparing lunch. Sadness engulfed her, and she pulled out her phone. She had to talk to McKenna.
Her friend answered immediately. “Amy? What time is it?”
She glanced at the phone. “I’m so sorry. Almost noon here...so it’s five there?”
“No worries.” McKenna yawned. “Just got home from delivering a baby. So you and Mallory took a boat trip, huh? That sounds romantic. Where are you now?”
“In a fort.”
“Did he drag you there? Sounds like a guy thing and totally boring.”
“No, he’s down in the town.”
Silence was followed by, “Amy, you can always look at pictures of a fort. You are in Italy with a southern hottie. What are you doing right now, lady?”
“The view is spectacular up here.”
Amy could hear McKenna’s restrained breathing, then a sigh. “Girl, you need some adventure. Climb down out of that damned fort.”
“Got it. Maybe I needed a good kick in the pants, as Vanessa’s Grandpa Joe would say. What I really need is a cool drink of water and then some wine.”
“There you go. Be a babe. Have some wine. Do whatever babes do in Europe.”
They said good bye. Moments later, Amy was skimming down the narrow steps, past pink petunias spilling from planters and bougainvillea climbing the cream walls. Her shins stung like crazy.
But she wasn’t thinking about her legs. She wondered what Mallory was doing.
Chapter 10
Mallory strolled inland, nodding to shopkeepers setting out their wares to snag the early morning tourists. A baker was hosing off the stone walkway in front of his shop. The scent of rich earth and fresh bakery filled Mallory with a sense of well-being. Every breath brought him more contentment.
This was really where it all happened. Not the elegant, impersonal boutiques that sold the jewelry he handled.
Worldwide, the Thornton Enterprises jewelry stores made an elegant statement…and were impersonal, he now realized. Maybe he’d have to do something about that.
“Buon giorno.” He greeted an older gentleman positioning bouquets of flowers in deep pails in front of his shop.
“Buon giorno.” The shopkeeper’s leathered skin folded into parentheses around his mouth when he smiled. The few missing teeth only added to his charm. Mallory loved old people. His grandparents had died way too young.
Heaps of colorful fruit and vegetables marked the next store as a grocery. Entering under the bright blue sign, Mallory let his eyes readjust to the dim light. A few shelves held dry goods—cans of peaches, bottles of lotion that could have been there for years. What kind of traffic did this little town have? The top of the wooden counter was scored by decades of transactions. A woman rustled out from the back, drying her hands on a checked apron. “Signore?”
“No, thank you.” His store of Italian phrases had run out. “Nothing.”
Back on the cobblestone street, he caught sight of Caitlin up ahead. She was looking at scarves, holding out the colorful lengths for Kurt to admire. Looked like he was in over his head. Mallory knew how that felt.
“Having fun yet?” Mallory asked Kurt, joining them.
Kurt gave Mallory a wry grin. “Want to buy a scarf?”
“Think I’ll pass.”
Caitlin folded the lengths back on the table. “Oh, honestly, Kurt, I just wondered which color you liked. The blue pattern or the yellow? You know, to wear over my bathing suit. They’re pareos.”
“Definitely the blue.” Mallory spoke up. “That is, if I could offer an opinion.”
Both Kurt and Caitlin turned to him in surprise.
“Why the blue?” she asked.
“It doesn’t take a fashion designer to realize that a blue-eyed blonde would look fantastic in blue.”
Kurt nodded as if he were taking notes. Mallory wasn’t about to mention that his company had several high-end jewelry stores where salespeople often chose gems to bring out a customer’s eyes.
Caitlin handed the blue pareo to the young woman who stood waiting.
“Caitlin, mind if I meet you at the boat?” Kurt ran one hand over her shoulders. “I want to check out those fishing boats.”
“Not a problem. Don’t be late. We’d hate to leave you behind.”
They were so darn cute together.
Kurt gave her a quick kiss. “See you there.”
Watching Kurt set off, Mallory felt torn. Those boats looked cool. He’d love to talk to the fishermen. But how often would he have a chance to get Caitlin alone?
Caitlin was handing the sales girl a credit card.
“Seems like a nice guy.”
“He is. And they don’t come along every day. Trust me.”
Mallory burst into laughter.
“What?” Caitlin turned to him, her eyebrows rising with that slightly indignant look Amy could wear. The shop girl handed Caitlin h
er package, and the two of them ambled down the street together, the cobblestones bumpy beneath his shoes.
“Nothing,” Mallory said. “Just that you sounded so world weary when you said that and you must be all of…”
“Twenty-five,” Caitlin said without hesitation. “Two years younger than Amy and, yes, I’ve been around the block enough to know that guys like Kurt don’t come along every day.”
He’d love to be a fly on the wall when Caitlin and her sister discussed men.
“So, I guess you came to surprise Amy when her friend canceled on her for this trip?”
Caitlin’s eyes became wary. “Seemed like the very least we could do.”
Mallory hesitated. Southern gentlemen did not ask personal questions, or so he’d been taught.
“What about you? Why are you doing the Travel Chum thing?”
Ah, the tables have turned. “Guess I just wanted to travel. Break the routine.”
“That’s it? With a strange woman?” She cocked her head to one side. Lordy, she was as cunning as her sister.
“I can assure you, my intentions are honorable.” Partially true.
“Come on. Obviously you’re not hard up for company.” She seemed to be waiting for an explanation.
Mallory forced a laugh. “My last minute decision was suggested by a good friend. He thought I needed a change.” He hoped he looked suitably subdued.
“Aaah.” Caitlin’s eyes brightened. “Women problems?”
“You could say that. Relationship issues.”
“There’s a lot of that going around.”
“Obviously.” Was she talking about Amy? Mallory waited for further details, but the subject seemed closed.
The sun beat down, now almost directly overhead. The cool shadows of early morning had disappeared.
“I’m dying of thirst.” Caitlin scanned the storefronts. “Wonder if they have water in any of these stores?”
“Everyone sells water, even in these small towns.” Stopping in front of a counter heaped with bananas, oranges, apples and cherries, he carefully tore off a banana and followed Caitlin into the store. Shelves held boxes and cans, but not in massive quantities, like in the states. This was definitely a shop, like the one he’d passed earlier, and not a super store.