Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III

by Barbara Lohr

  Wrapping her arms around Amy, Caitlin planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll see. We’ll find a wizard to fix it.” As children, The Wizard of Oz had been their favorite movie. “Mallory’s ten times the man Jason is. Enjoy him.”

  “He’s just a traveling companion.”

  Caitlin frowned as she swept the twin beds with a disapproving glance. “Amy, adults don’t have traveling companions that look like Mallory.”

  “I’m not his type.”

  “How do you know? Kurt and I are headed to Florence tomorrow but let’s not make this a group excursion,” she said pointedly. Jumping up, Caitlin stared Amy down.

  She got the message.

  So she was on her own with Mallory?

  “You are not the poor rejected bride. You're an adventurous, hot woman. I think you’re in safe hands. Now work it.” Caitlin grinned.

  “Oh, Cait. Do I even know how?” Amy thought back to the thumping on the wall that morning. Her sister obviously knew how to “work it.”

  “Of course you do. Mallory was devouring you with his eyes on that boat trip. You could have won the wet T-shirt contest today, hands down. And the short skirt? I won’t even go there.”

  Playing with one of her frizzy curls, Amy blushed.

  Springing to her feet, Caitlin reached back for one more hug. “This week is a gift, a one-week gift. Why not open it? We need to find another doctor for you, Amy, but not this week. This week, just pretend you’re someone else.”

  Someone like Caitlin, Amy thought to herself as her sister swirled out the door in her sundress. Those ruffles sure looked pretty.

  Maybe she should consider some ruffles. But she had that blue-green dress. Where would she wear it first—Florence or Venice?

  Chapter 13

  They were headed for Florence. Mallory had a lot on his mind after dinner with Caitlin and Kurt.

  “Mallory, I am so sorry about yesterday.” Amy had been subdued at breakfast.

  But he didn’t want an apology. Feeling like a palmetto bug squished beneath the wheel of the rental, he squirmed in the bucket seat. “No need to apologize.”

  She gave her head a saucy shake. “Good. Then I won’t.”

  How he wished he could read her like the guys in his poker group. At some points, he thought he knew just where her head was. But not always. This might be a hand he’d never played. “Hate to bring this up, but it could have to do with the cad who decided not to accompany you on this trip.”

  “Maybe.” The sun beamed through the front window. Amy brought out her bottle of sunblock. “You don’t have to take care of me on this trip.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Mallory insisted. Good God, not easy to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to be her hand—traveling up and over that soft skin. After yesterday, he knew how that skin felt. Silky. Mallory tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  “Your profile said you were divorced.”

  “That would be correct” What else had Chad mentioned?

  “Did you take care of your wife? Just tell me if I’m being too personal.”

  Remembering never got easier. “When I actually got to know Rhonda—which unfortunately was after the wedding—care and concern weren’t what she wanted from me.”

  “Oh, dear.” Amy brought one hand to her chest.

  What had they been talking about?

  Oh, right, his short and ugly marriage.

  “Rhonda may have been very independent. Women can be like that, you know.” Definitely a defensive tone in Amy’s voice.

  Was she talking about Rhonda or herself?

  “My ex was used to being on her own. She had a lot of responsibility with her job.” He paused, edging close to an admission that came with a whole boatload of pain. “But it wasn’t her independence that drove her into the arms of Raoul, the tennis pro at our club. Just a matter of habit with her, I’m afraid. By that time, we both realized that this had been a mistake. It was a very short marriage.”

  “Oh, my.” Amy’s hand tightened on her shirt. Downright distracting.

  “My poor judgment.” He was determined to count to ten before he glanced over again.

  “So you just divorced her?”

  “Our parting was somewhat consensual.”

  “You mean you changed your mind?” Amy asked, her voice a soft whisper.

  “It happens.” Mallory shifted in the seat. Now, if he were seated in his board room, he would simply move to the next agenda item.

  Was she aware that her nipples were quite pronounced with her hand tight on that damn shirt? She wasn’t the type of woman who’d try to produce this effect, this much he knew. The pads of his thumbs began to tingle.

  Good God, he needed a cold shower. Hunched over the wheel, Mallory drilled his eyes onto the road in front of him, grateful that he wouldn’t be expected to stand up for some time.

  After a while, Amy dozed off, giving him a chance to see what their rental car could do on the road, which wasn’t much. Pretty soon, he’d have that specialty model of Chad’s and he could play with that on a highway, although certainly it wouldn’t be in Italy.

  Funny, the thought of that “prize” wasn’t as exciting as it had been two days ago.

  He adjusted the sun visor to give Amy some shade. Curled up next to him with one hand nestled next to her chin, she looked like she was sixteen.

  Cars. Concentrate on your collection, you idiot.

  Jerking his attention back to the road, he mentally catalogued the contents of his garage in Savannah, beginning with his Jag and ended with the Rolls Royce he used for touring clients. The Rolls had belonged to his father, which in itself was reason to get rid of it, but for some reason, he kept it.

  The miles fell away as the sun climbed high. Opening a window, he was so damn glad he’d listened to his cousin. Well, part of it. His mind turned to Thornton Enterprises and the rollout for his latest acquisition. For the past two days, he’d been exchanging calls with Miriam. As usual, she had things well in hand. The business deal could wait. This trip and its outcome were more important.

  Strangely, this no longer felt like business.

  Although he was holding himself in check, he was beginning to think she might be the real deal—a woman with scruples, a woman who didn’t lie.

  But wasn’t he doing just that? Queasiness seized his stomach, and he wondered about the scallops he’d ordered the night before.

  Damn this heat. Closing the window, he flipped on the air.

  Had Amy’s story and her obvious distress side-tracked him? As with any business proposal, Mallory wanted to remain objective, free of any emotion that could skew his judgment. He was having a hard time doing that with Amy.

  Why couldn’t he control the air in this car? Rolling down the window again, he inhaled the passing fields. Even enjoyed the smell of diesel fuel that was so European. Today he was feeling happy as a clam at high tide, well, except for his back. After two nights on that twin bed, his back was killing him, a disadvantage of being tall. He hoped to work that out in Florence.

  Everything was possible. Wasn’t that what had earned him his success? He began to hum “Volare,” one of the songs that kept trailing through his mind.

  Mallory didn’t know how much time had passed when the exit to Florence came up. In the noonday heat, traffic slowed to a crawl through narrow streets. Thank goodness, the car, modest as it might be, came with a GPS system, and he tapped in the address of the hotel Miriam had booked. No more small, spare rooms that reminded him he was supposed to be on a travel budget.

  Somehow he had to make this switch to an upscale hotel acceptable. Not easy since Amy was one independent woman. She had to accept what he was doing or she’d never accept him.

  Passing over the Santa Trinita Bridge, he drank in the weathered stone buildings, the bustle of people chattering in other languages, the sparkle of the Arno River—why hadn’t he done this earlier? Of course, the only interest Rhonda would have had in Italy would be th
e Milan fashion shows. Amy didn’t seem to give a rip about clothes. And yet, she’d sure liked the long blue dress in the shop.

  A woman with no interest in designer clothes. He liked that.

  Pulling up in front of the Hotel Helvetia & Bristol, Mallory gently shook Amy’s arm. “We’re here.”

  Stretching, Amy squinted out the window. “Where are we?”

  Rocketing upright, she blinked and then started rummaging through that infernal backpack, bringing out the folder where she kept all her paperwork. He held his breath. Darting a suspicious look in his direction when a doorman bustled out to open her door, she clutched the folder to her chest. The doorman froze.

  “I, ah, have a surprise for you.” Mallory worked to inject just the right amount of doubt into his voice. “After your, well, difficult time in Rapallo, I felt I owed you a treat. I hope you’re all right with this change.”

  Amy’s head craned upward, taking in the impressive stonework. “You shouldn’t have done this.” But she was smiling.

  Springing from the car, Mallory tossed the keys to the doorman, who nodded and opened Amy’s door. They were going to have a fabulous time. He would see to it. Soft silk comforters, heated towels, and spray jets strategically placed in the Jacuzzi—they could make progress here.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Amy stumbled and he caught her, steering her through the entrance. With every step, her eyes grew wider.

  “My word, Mallory. Have you robbed a bank?” She scanned the lobby.

  “Not yet.” He looked around. Yes, this hotel would do nicely. The marble topped tables, original artwork and elegant sitting areas spoke of good taste. His shoulders unwound and the ache in his back eased.

  But he could tell he still had some selling to do.

  “Caitlin would love this place, wouldn’t she? My word, think of the stories you’ll have to tell your family.” Mallory’s dinner with Caitlin and Kurt had been extremely helpful. Very apparent that Caitlin may have been indulged all her life, while Amy was the responsible one. By the time they were laughing over coffee, he’d clearly identified his opportunity. A tiny smile bloomed in the corners of Amy’s mouth. “Wouldn’t this just drive Caitlin crazy?”

  “Sure would. Why don’t you wait over here.” Mallory led her to a damask chair.

  Amy sank onto the cushions, one hand stroking the rich fabric, while he turned to handle check-in. Moments later, they were on their way to the room. When the porter pushed open the door to their suite, Amy was practically speechless. “Oh, my.”

  Miriam had done him proud. She excelled with details. The suite was decorated in shades of moss green. Although it had pained him, he’d given his assistant instructions to request twin beds. And yet, he was beginning to hope they might have need for a queen, at the very least.

  There they sat, two single beds, which would not advance the plan building in Mallory’s mind, but he’d just have to work around them.

  “Oh, Mallory.” Stepping to the window, Amy gazed out over the rooftops of the city. “How breathtaking.” Like a small child in a toy store, she inspected everything thoroughly, pushing back the heavy drapes, opening and closing drawers and doors. She practically skipped into the bathroom while he lounged on the nearest bed. Thank God for firm mattresses.

  “Will you just look at this?” came the yelp from the bathroom. “A marble Jacuzzi!”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Mallory figured they had moved beyond the deciding point. He began to unpack, listening to Amy sing to herself as she darted around the suite like a humming bird. The situation was just so domestic. Her soft, feminine things filled the room—the citrusy perfume, the brushes, combs and makeup bag she stacked on the glass shelf next to the sink in the expansive bathroom that offered every luxury.

  He hoped they’d use every one of those amenities.

  “What now?” When she’d finished arranging things with her customary sense of order, she pulled her map and travel book from the backpack.

  “Explore after we clean up?” Peering down from the window, he tried to figure out where they were. As much as he would have loved to while away the afternoon conducting an exploration of an entirely different sort.

  “Sounds good.” Amy stayed glue to her map.

  Now for that cold shower.

  A little later, he took care of some phone calls while she showered and changed into her mini skirt with a pale pink top. Her hair was caught back in some kind of clip that, thankfully, didn’t hold. Curls escaped and tumbled to her shoulders.

  As they exited the elevator, Amy chattered about the art collections in the Uffizi. The world-renowned museum apparently was on the schedule for tomorrow. Two women stood at the reception desk and Amy’s steps slowed, her excitement replaced by a puzzled stare.

  “Gosh, that woman looks like my mother from the back,” she whispered. “And the other lady… Wait a minute.”

  He took her arm. She damn near looked like she might faint.

  “Is that Aunt Em?” Her tone had turned from mild observation to shock.

  First Caitlin, now her mother and aunt? Had this been in her profile?

  Mallory and Amy approached the desk just as the two women turned. “Mom?”

  The redhead flung her arms wide. “Honey, we were just asking if you’d checked in yet.”

  “What are you doing here?” The color had drained from Amy’s face. “And how did you find me?”

  This family was simply amazing—but fun.

  Ducking her head, Amy’s mother fussed with the back of her hair, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Caitlin. I just gave her a call. Boy, was I ever surprised that she was here in Italy. You girls. Imagine that!”

  Amy looked totally panicked.

  “I may have mentioned this hotel to Caitlin last night during dinner,” he admitted.

  Amy’s poor mother squirmed. “You see, Em and me, well, we just thought we should be here for you. We didn’t know Caitlin was coming with Kurt until we called her yesterday. Those stinkers!” She flashed a sassy grin. Mallory liked her immediately.

  “Right. Very sweet.” Amy managed a daughterly hug, disbelief frozen on her face like the first winter frost on the marshes.

  Still, pretty graceful recovery. One stunt like this and Rhonda would have handed her mother’s head to her on one of Mallory’s silver platters.

  “See, I told you Amy would be tickled to see us.” Her mother smiled at her companion, who must be Aunt Em. The delicate middle-aged woman with faded blonde hair threw a questioning glance his way.

  Mallory stepped up without hesitation. “Ladies, I’m Mallory. So pleased to meet y’all.”

  Chapter 14

  “Mallory, my travel buddy.” Amy’s voice wobbled. Was this really happening?

  “Mallory.” Mom tasted his name, savoring it like the fudgesicles she loved on hot summer days.

  Mallory placed a hand on Amy’s shoulder, the warmth of his hand radiating through her body. “Travel buddy or travel chum. So very happy to meet Amy’s family.”

  Aunt Em stepped closer. “Are you from a foreign country?”

  “Sa-va-yah-nah,” Mallory answered with obvious delight.

  Exasperation swirled through Amy like the wind tunneling between Chicago’s skyscrapers. Wasn’t this the pity party she’d wanted to avoid? Still, she was touched. “Mom…Aunt Em, I can’t believe you came all this way for me.”

  Louise’s smile froze. “Are you mad, honey?”

  “Just very surprised.” Amy chose her words carefully. Wasn’t it enough that she’d disappointed her mother by calling off her wedding? Not that her mom blamed her after what had happened, but she’d been so quiet when they’d talked over the phone. Leaving Caitlin, McKenna, and Vanessa to handle the details of the canceled wedding, Amy had pretty much gone into hiding. Once she’d been matched up with Mallory on Travel Chum, she’d told her mother only that she’d found someone to accompany her to Italy.

  Never in a million years would she have d
reamed her family would come all this way for her.

  “You didn’t tell us your chum was…you know.” Her mother’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I didn’t know Mallory was a man.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Aunt Em clapped one hand to her mouth.

  “An honest mistake, I can assure you.” Mallory’s Savannah-sugar voice rippled with suppressed laughter.

  “We thought we’d surprise you,” Mom said with a sheepish grin. “You know, when things didn’t work out. Emily and me, well, we’ve never seen…Tuscany.” The last word was uttered with childlike wonder that made Amy smile.

  “You'll love it, Mom. Really, it’s great that you came.” But this family thing was very weird—like holding a family holiday in another country.

  Mom darted a furtive look at her sister. “You know, it all happened so fast. Caitlin and I talked, but we like to keep out little secrets.”

  “Right, we didn’t want to tell anyone,” Aunt Em chimed in, as if this was the naughtiest thing in the world.

  “When I called Caitlin yesterday to see where you were staying,” Mom continued, “I couldn’t believe it when she said she was over here. Boy, was she ever surprised that we were coming.” Her girlish giggle was full of mischief.

  “Surprises are such fun.” Aunt Em’s nose wrinkled.

  “As I leave and breathe, absolutely delicious,” Mallory drawled.

  Amy looked from Mallory to her mother and aunt. Excitement quivered in the air. This might be more fun than any wedding. “Caitlin mentioned they were in a hotel near the river. You know she’s with Kurt.”

  Mom’s shoulders came up. “Well, of course, dear. You think I’m not a modern woman? I know about these things.” She circled one hand between Mallory and Amy.

  Frustration knotted in Amy’s stomach. “Mom? We are not one of those things. “We’re just…”

  “Travel chums,” Mallory supplied with a devilish grin. “Seeing the sites.”

  Amy nodded, staring him down and slipping her shoulder out of his grasp—even though it had felt so good. “Exactly. Just sharing expenses…and stuff. This hotel came as a total shock.” The exquisite lobby mocked her words.