Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III

by Barbara Lohr

  “So you really know this artist’s work?” Pretty impressive.

  Mallory threw her an aw shucks look. “Yes, ma’am. Took that art class to please my mother.”

  “I think I would have liked your mother.” His pinched look made her feel terrible. “Sorry, Mallory.”

  “Not a problem.”

  But it was. After all, he didn’t have much family. Shoulder to shoulder, they viewed the painting. How could one woman look so innocent and so seductive at the same time? Venus balanced on the open shell, reddish blonde hair spilling to her feet, delicate hands covering key areas of her body.

  Almost nude but not quite. Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Her own body tingling, she dug her camera out of her pocket.

  The guard stationed in the corner jerked toward her at the same time that Mallory grabbed her hand. “Sorry,” he said to the guard, who fell back.

  “Oh, of course. What was I thinking?”

  “Not a problem.” Mallory handed the camera to her. “If everyone took pictures, the paintings might be damaged.”

  “I just wanted something to remember this by,” she explained in a shaky voice. “The painting, I mean.”

  “Hmm, yes. Beautiful.” But Mallory’s eyes were on her, not the painting.

  “All that hair.” Pulling her gaze back to Venus, she wondered how long it took to grow hair that touched the floor.

  “Flowing over her body,” he whispered.

  “And her delicate hands…”

  “Unfortunate but necessary placement.”

  “She’s, well, beautiful.” Stuttering, she dropped her eyes. “I mean, the painting. The painting is beautiful.”

  “So you…like it?”

  She swallowed. “Oh, yes.”

  Crazy, but the conversation sure felt like foreplay, only better.

  A large group of Chinese tourists entered the gallery, their guide launching into commentary. Mallory turned to leave, and Amy stumbled after him, reaching for his hand.

  In a nearby section, they discovered the reclining Venus. “More strategic placement of the hands,” she murmured as they stood before the painting, looking at the work with fresh eyes.

  Would she have felt this way if she were here with Jason? Somehow, she doubted it.

  They exited from the last room in the long corridor. “We could spend all day here, but we probably should leave to meet my family.” She took out her phone and checked the time.

  “David, it is,” Mallory said, looking around. “Staircase this way.”

  Together they made their way from the Uffizi to the Academy Gallery, which housed the statue of David.

  “Amy!” Louise bustled toward them when they entered the long hall. At the end, David rose majestically, surrounded by gaping tourists. Mom looked from Mallory to Amy with open curiosity. “Where've you been? You’re missing it, honey.”

  “The Uffizi. You’ll love it,” she told her mother.

  “Hi, chickadee.” Her aunt hugged her and then put one cool hand on her forehead, like she was ten. “You okay? Look a little feverish.”

  Unzipping her sweatshirt, she slipped it from her shoulders. “I’m fine. Temperature in these buildings keeps changing.”

  “Isn’t he impressive?” her mother gazed at the seventeen foot sculpture with awe.

  Mallory looked up. “Nothing to criticize here.”

  All parts of David were huge.

  Caitlin and Kurt arrived a few minutes later. “We decided to sleep in. After all, we are on vacation.”

  Right. People always flew across the ocean to hole up in their room.

  But maybe Caitlin had a point.

  Maybe a trip shouldn’t be all about museums.

  Chapter 17

  After the museums, they wandered about the city and settled into a cozy trattoria for lunch. Mallory loved watching the family dynamics, including Amy’s attempts to deflect any personal questions he might ask.

  Damn shame, because Louise seemed to be eager to tell all.

  After lunch, it was off for more shopping. Mallory and Kurt trailed behind and became the “beasts of burden,” as Mallory put it. Amy made a point of hanging onto her own bags, even though he’d offered to carry them. She was not one to trust anyone, Mallory decided—and maybe with reason. He wanted to punch out Jason.

  Before they all went their separate ways, they agreed to meet for dinner. No comment was made about “time alone.” Hot damn. Not wanting to wander around the city looking for a suitable restaurant, he’d done a little research earlier and asked questions of shopkeepers while the ladies were busy at the counters.

  “La Nandina has good reviews,” he suggested.

  “Sounds dandy.” Louise checked her family circle for agreement.

  “Fabulous.” Caitlin gave Mallory a sideways glance. “You are definitely a man who knows his way around.”

  “Let’s wait until after we taste the food.” Mallory hoped the restaurant was all the man in the pottery shop had promised.

  Amy had been so quiet. More than once, he’d looked up to find those gold-flecked green eyes on him, warm and appraising. When he smiled, she looked away. Would be a dead giveaway at a poker table.

  With all their eccentricities, Amy’s family was growing on him. As an only child, he’d missed out on the teasing between siblings. Like Amy and Caitlin, Louise and Emily engaged in sisterly sparring. Lots of inside jokes, half-finished sentences. Fascinating.

  Is this what it might be like if he had a family of his own? Would this be possible instead of the stiff formality of his own upbringing? Might have been different if he’d had siblings. His mother had been grateful when Mallory came along. That’s just how she put it.

  Owen Thornton had not been at all happy with the small size of his family. Not large enough for the Thornton Dynasty. In a lot of ways, Mallory was never enough.

  Looking at the Shaw group, he’d choose this easy openness anytime. No expectations. No disappointments—at least that he could see.

  And Amy? His stomach clenched every time she gave him one of her mysterious smiles.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said as they headed back to the hotel.

  “A lot to think about.”

  “Those paintings, huh?” Her smile tilted with mischief.

  He took her hand. “Reality is always better, don’t you think?”

  Nipping her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded.

  “Something you can actually see and touch.”

  Her shiver reverberated to the tips of her fingers. He tightened his grip.

  Getting dressed for dinner wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been in Rapallo. Sure, they traded places, but it worked. That is, until she came out of the bathroom in the slinky, sea green gown from Monterosso. Then all bets were off.

  “You look beautiful…gorgeous.” Words failed him. That didn’t happen often.

  “Thank you.” She ran one hand over the skirt that accented her curves.

  The dipping neckline and clingy skirt made him want to loosen his tie. He’d actually dressed for this dinner, hoping to make a good impression.

  Since when had that mattered?

  “Shall we?” He stepped to the door. They had to get out of this bedroom.

  On their way to the restaurant, they picked up Louise and Aunt Em and then continued on. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Caitlin teased as they met at the front door of La Nandina. “Great dress, Amy.”

  “Something new,” Amy murmured.

  Catching sight of a black shadow across her hips under the fabric, Mallory’s imagination ran wild.

  The thong? Damn, this was torture.

  “We’re not that late, Caitlin, are we?” Louise reached up to fluff her hair.

  “On vacation, there’s no such thing as being late.” Kurt opened the door.

  “My man, I do agree.” Mallory ushered the ladies inside. Low lights glowed in the center of circular tables. The spicy scent of tomato sauce and grilled veget
ables hung heavy in the air. From the comfortable look of the diners, the shopkeeper who’d recommended La Nandina had been right on target. Looked like a local haunt.

  “When I get back to the room tonight, I have to write out my postcards,” Louise said after they ordered. She showed no signs of being tired after tromping all over Florence.

  Amy’s mother was amazing, but then she couldn’t be that old. He really missed his mother. Anne Thornton might have been just this uninhibited if she’d married another man. Much to his father’s disgust, his wife had been happy with quiet pursuits, like gardening. Owen Thornton preferred his wife to be at the club, positioned as a recognized society woman, playing golf and tennis. His mother had never been interested in that role.

  “You’ll be home before the postcards, Mom,” Amy pointed out.

  “The boys’ll get the point.” Louise took another sip of her wine. “What’s the use of going away if you don’t remind people that you’ve been gone?”

  “Boys?” Sometimes it was hard keeping up with this group. Mallory loved it.

  “Mom has three male friends…escorts, really—Ralph, Wally and Fred,” Amy explained with an impish grin.

  Louise gave her daughter a small nudge, her eyes flashing with mischief. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of wild woman.” She turned to Mallory. “I square dance with Ralph, play bridge with Wally, and go to the movies with Fred. Can you beat that? Can’t get a man who’s got everything, I guess.”

  “Is that the secret?” Would Amy be a card like Louise when she got older? Probably. This unasked-for review of her family was priceless. By rushing to her rescue, Amy’s family had given Mallory a rare opportunity.

  “What about you two?” Mom’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “What’s on tap for you tomorrow?”

  Amy’s shoulders squeezed together. “Venice.”

  “Venice,” Louise breathed. “My, how grand.”

  “We’re going to San Gimignano tomorrow,” Aunt Emily offered.

  “Beautiful hill town. Fabulous towers.” Mallory began to describe the town when he felt Amy’s eyes on him. Too late, he remembered he was Mallory Schuster, a man of limited means. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “Next time, I’m going to apply for a travel chum,” Louise clucked. “This has worked out just great for you.”

  Amy played with her silver necklace. “Nothing’s really worked out, Mom.”

  But only because they hadn’t had a chance. This family time had been great but a bit of an interruption. Twirling his wine glass in his fingers, Mallory planned on regaining ground. Every time he looked at her, he liked the view more. Maybe it was that dress and the way it clung to her luscious curves. Maybe it was the glint of the silver earrings against her hair, or the pink tongue that flicked out to wet her lips.

  Every time he looked at her tonight, Mallory lost his train of thought.

  His body didn’t.

  In the background, music played. Didn’t understand a word but no mistaking “O Sole Mio”—such emotion. He turned to Amy. “Isn’t this the same guy our waitress mentioned at the trattoria?”

  She listened, her lips curving upward. “Definitely. Mark Masri, wasn’t it?”

  “Talk about throwing your whole heart into it.”

  Louise pulled out a little notebook and jotted down the name. He remembered his own grandmother always having a notebook with her.

  “Honey, those earrings look great on you,” Louise commented as they continued with dinner.

  Amy touched one of the beaten silver ovals. “Made by the best.”

  He leaned closer. The style was simple but elegant and matched the pendant suspended between Amy’s breasts. “Lovely.”

  Amy’s eyes widened, following his gaze to her cleavage.

  “And where are these sold?” Mallory adopted his professional tone.

  Louise waved a hand. “Oh, art fairs, flea markets.”

  Sure sounded like a haphazard distribution plan. “Why not market them in one of the larger retailers?”

  Louise stared at him blankly. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “Mom, we’ve talked about it.” But even Amy sounded perplexed.

  “I have a small display of Mom’s and Aunt Em’s jewelry in my shop,” Caitlin offered.

  “Tell me a little bit about your shirt shop.” His mind started spinning.

  “T-shirts.” Caitlin motioned toward Amy. “All those cute shirts my sister wears.”

  “Ah, yes. Read it,” Mallory mused, remembering his first encounter with Amy when he couldn’t keep his eyes off the quaint saying stretched across her chest.

  So both Amy’s mother and sister were involved in small, female-owned businesses. The board’s suggestion came back to him. This trip could accomplish more than one goal. Mallory settled back. His stomach churned while his earlier bet locked horns with the sweet, sexy woman next to him.

  At some point, he had to resolve this situation.

  “What about you two?” Amy asked Caitlin and Kurt as they sat with their coffee after dinner. “You stay here too?”

  “Headed to Venice but don’t worry. We won’t be dogging your trail. I’d copied your itinerary before, you know…” Caitlin glanced toward Mallory and then dropped her eyes.

  Mallory might have Amy all to himself in Venice. Brought a rush of heat. He wanted to make the most of every minute. Time seemed too short.

  ~.~

  Amy felt super sexy in her new dress as they walked Louise and Aunt Emily back to their hotel. The air was surprisingly soft for fall. Kurt and Caitlin had gone their way. This evening had been pretty near perfect. Would she ever wear this dress again? It might hang in her closet next to her wedding gown.

  But for tonight, she wore the dress like hope.

  “Ask the man at the desk if you have any questions. Don’t go out after dark.” Amy began to list her safety rules for her mother and aunt as they said good night. She felt more than a little nervous at the thought of the two of them on their own in Florence.

  Mom waved her concerns away. “Don’t you worry, honey. Em and me, we’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll take care of things, dear.” Linking arms with Mom, Aunt Em winked at Amy.

  “Let me give you my card.” Mallory reached inside his jacket. Then he stopped, a curious expression on his face. “But I don’t seem to have any. Louise, would you by any chance happen to have a piece of paper?”

  Mom lived for these moments. In seconds, she’d produced her tiny blue spiral notebook along with a pen.

  Mallory scratched something on one page and handed the notebook back to Mom. “If y’all have any questions, any concerns, I want you to call me. Is that clear?”

  “Aren’t you a sweetie?” Louise tucked the notebook back in her purse with a sly smile. “Really, Mallory, we wouldn’t think of bothering you two.”

  Sometimes Amy wanted to strangle her mother.

  “Most of our time will be taken up with the bus trips we have lined up,” Aunt Em supplied.

  “In any case, ladies, call me at this number if the slightest question arises.” Mallory’s voice held a decisive edge. Amy hadn’t heard this tone, except when he asked for the car keys. “Any time, day or night.”

  Both women nodded. The air cleared, and Amy kissed them both on the cheek. Not the trip she’d planned but this family time had been special. Mallory and Amy saw that the two were safely inside before continuing on to their own hotel.

  “What characters,” Amy murmured.

  “Charming.” Mallory fell into step next to her. “You’re lucky.”

  When had things changed with Mallory? She’d tried to put the stranger from Savannah in a box when she first realized he was her travel chum. The kiss when they arrived in Rapallo had taken her by surprise. Saving her life in the Rapallo restaurant? A real game changer. He’d been so sweet with her family today. That’s when she’d felt the real tug on her heart.

  He knew her and liked her.

  And
they had so little time left.

  Chapter 18

  The streets of Florence held the hush of evening when Amy and Mallory pushed on to their own hotel. Street lamps cast deep shadows over her travel chum’s features, and an unwelcome shiver passed through her. Hard to read Mallory in broad daylight. Night shadows? Impossible. When Amy stumbled, he steadied her. “Everything okay?”

  “Perfect.” She wanted to sink into his arms. They both hesitated and then pushed on to the Ponte Vecchio. A brisk night breeze was blocked by the shops now shuttered along the bridge. The cool blast of air when they reached the other end made Amy wish she’d brought a shawl.

  “You’re freezing.” Slipping out of his jacket, Mallory draped it around her shoulders. The soft wool smelled like him, and she cuddled into it. When she glanced up, his eyes were liquid navy pools. “All better?”

  She nodded, and Mallory pulled her closer. “Thanks for sharing your family with me.”

  “Not what you expected when you signed on…my relatives, I mean,” she stuttered. “I didn’t need to be, well, rescued.”

  His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Most certainly not. But it’s been fun.”

  “At least I didn’t choke today. Or fall into the water.”

  “Saints be praised and amen.”

  She started to laugh but stopped when Mallory bent closer, his body heat welcoming her. “Amy Shaw,” he whispered, tracing her cheek with one finger. “Who would have thought?”

  “Thought what?”

  “Just having a better time than I expected.” His hand traveled to the back of her neck.

  “You’re not the only one.” She lifted her face.

  The first kiss barely brushed her lips. “More, please.”

  Mallory’s hands cupped her face, like she was one of the delicate Lladro figurines they’d seen that day. With a strangled groan, he rained slow kisses on her face until she was in full-out tremble. Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him to her with a kiss, lips open and searching while he tasted.

  “Yum. You still taste like merlot.”

  “Are you partial to red wine?”

  “Think I’m partial to you.”

  “Take a sip,” Mallory urged, voice ragged.

  Amy pressed into him with a sigh.