Italian Knights

by Sharon DeVita

  “Oh, Salvatore, if only Papa were alive,” his mother said wistfully, dabbing at her eyes. “He would know what to do, how to handle this.”

  “Papa knew how to handle everything,” Florina added. “Like our Salvatore, here. Right, sister?”

  “Right.” Rosina nodded. “My son, he’s such a good boy,” she told Annie, who smiled. Sal was hardly a boy. He was a man, all man, as she’d discovered tonight. But Florina was right. Sal could handle everything. Annie had never felt so grateful for his company or comfort.

  “Come on, sister,” Florina instructed, heading toward the back room. “Let’s get our aprons and clean up this mess.”

  Annie knew it was useless to argue with them. She needed their help, and to refuse their offer would be an insult. Ever since Tony died—no, even before—they’d been so good to her. They’d taken her under their wing and been the family she didn’t have. Annie couldn’t love the twins any more if they were family.

  “Sal,” Annie said quietly, watching as he righted a small display stand. “Thank you.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. “For what?”

  “For everything.” Her eyes met his, and she quickly looked away. When Sal looked at her she felt her pulse pound recklessly. She could no longer look at Sal as just a friend, but had to see him as a man. A deliciously desirable, handsome man. Annie knew there was no place in her life—or his—for such feelings. He was just a friend. And she was just his obligation, she reflected sadly. In order to quell her disturbing thoughts, Annie grabbed a broom and began sweeping up a pile of loose pasta scattered along the floor.

  “Salvatore,” his mother whispered, coming up behind him so Annie wouldn’t hear. “Florina and I—we’re worried.”

  Sal straightened. “Ma, don’t worry,” he said, patting her shoulder. “It’s over now. We’ll have this place cleaned up in no time.”

  His mother shook her head. “It’s not that,” she said with a worried frown.

  “What, then?”

  Rosina and Florina exchanged glances. They said more with one look than most people said with a thousand words. Long ago Sal had learned to trust their intuition.

  “There’s this man,” his mother began, glancing at Annie cautiously. She was busily sweeping, not paying the least bit of attention to them.

  Florina grabbed Sal’s arms and steered him around. “Salvatore. We didn’t want to bother you, but…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced at her sister.

  Sal looked from one to the other. “Ma, Auntie Florina, what is it? What man?” If there was something suspicious going on, he wanted to know about it.

  “Salvatore,” his mother began. “This stranger, he’s been coming around and—”

  “What stranger?” Sal asked. He knew his aunt and his mother would get to the point in their own good time. But right now, his patience was strained.

  “Rosina, you’re too long-winded,” Florina scolded, peering at her sister over the rims of her glasses. “You know Papa always said you were long-winded. You’d better let me tell him.”

  Rosina nodded. “You tell him, sister.”

  “Salvatore,” Florina whispered. “This man, he’s been coming around by Annie for the past week, and we don’t like it. He’s up to no good. We can just feel it, right, sister?” Florina touched a hand to her heart.

  Rosina looked at her son and nodded solemnly.

  Sal felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. “I don’t understand. Who is this guy? And what does he have to do with Annie and the deli?” He glanced over his shoulder at Annie. She’d moved to another aisle and was busily cleaning up. “Do you think he has something to do with the burglary?” he asked quietly.

  The twins exchanged knowing glances. “That’s just it, Salvatore,” his mother offered. “We don’t know what he’s up to.”

  “But we know he’s up to no good,” Florina interjected firmly “Right, sister?”

  “Right,” his mother confirmed, bobbing her head.

  Florina leaned close. “Salvatore, you know all those big developers have been moving into the neighborhood. They’ve been trying to buy up all the little stores to build skyskuppers.”

  “Skyskuppers?” Sal repeated blankly.

  “Scrapers,” his mother corrected, patting her twin’s arm. “Skyscrapers, sister. Why, just last week those developers offered Mr. Benedetto ten thousand dollars for his fruit stand.” His mother looked shocked, and Sal stiffened. The piece of land the Benedetto fruit stand sat on was worth at least ten times that amount.

  “Salvatore.” His mother sighed. “What would we do if Mr. Benedetto sold his fruit stand? They have the best tomatoes in the city. Firm but not too sweet. Hardly any acid, either. And it’s the only place in the city where we can get good Swiss chard—”

  “Not now, sister,” Florina scolded, causing Rosina’s mouth to click shut. “Not now.”

  “Anyway,” his mother went on. “We’re worried. This man is a—”

  “Mascalzone, Scatsumato,” Florina raged, waving her hand in the air. Sal remembered enough Italian to know his aunt wasn’t nominating the stranger for sainthood. “Your mama and I, we don’t like him and we don’t trust him.” Florina patted her sister’s arm in comfort. “We want you to talk to this man. See what he’s up to.”

  “Yes,” his mother agreed, brightening. “Talk to him, Salvatore.”

  Sal was silent, digesting this information. His cop’s instincts suddenly took over. “What does this guy look like?”

  “Humph!” Florina exclaimed, nodding her head. “Blond hair and a funny nose.”

  “What kind of a funny nose?” Sal asked, knowing his aunt had just described about a half a million people in Chicago.

  “Small,” his mother huffed. “And he smells funny.”

  “He what?” Sal repeated, mentally trying to translate his mother’s and aunt’s information.

  “And he talks loud,” Florina injected, covering her ears with her hands and scowling. “He thinks because we don’t speak English so good that we don’t hear so good, either. But we hear fine, don’t we, sister?” His mother nodded.

  Sal mentally tried to form a picture of this strange man that had his mother and aunt so worried. Dancing David’s image immediately came to mind. But Sal dismissed it. Why on earth would David want to burglarize the deli? He was obviously affluent. What could he possibly hope to gain? Sal was puzzled. “Ma, do you think you’d recognize this man again, if you saw him?”

  She slowly nodded her head. “You know your mama, she never forgets a face.”

  “I still want Annie to have my bat,” Florina insisted, going to retrieve the weapon. Sal gently took it away from her.

  “No, Auntie Florina, no weapons. I told you. The police will handle it. I personally will find out what’s going on.”

  “You be careful, Salvatore,” his mother cautioned, looking worried. Sal smiled, trying to appease her fears.

  “Ma, I’m always careful.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “And you’ll look after Annie?” his aunt asked skeptically. Sal smiled. Looking after Annie had become uppermost in his mind. And until he found out more about Dancing David and the mysterious stranger who had his mother and aunt so worried, he planned to stick close to Annie. Very close. He didn’t like the sudden circumstances unfolding around her. But how on earth was he going to convince Annie she needed him around, when all she was trying to do was prove she didn’t need him? He’d have to think of something—quick.

  “I promise I’ll look after Annie.”

  “And this man, this stranger, you’ll see what he’s up to?”

  “I promise,” Sal said solemnly.

  “Good,” his aunt and mother caroled in unison. “Then let’s get to work.”

  “Tired?” Sal asked, sinking to the now clean floor and pulling Annie close. It had taken nearly four hours to clean up the deli in order for her to open in the morning. There were still some things left to be done: new co
ld cuts had to be ordered, the front door and the windows had to be replaced, new glass had to be made for the deli case, but at least the interior was presentable enough for the public. Florina and Rosina had finally gone home, and exhausted, Annie wearily sank down on the floor and leaned against Sal.

  She knew she should probably keep her distance, considering her growing feelings for him, but she was too tired to do anything but gratefully accept his comfort.

  “I’m dead. What a night.” Closing her eyes, she burrowed closer to him. Wrapped in the cocoon of Sal’s warmth, she forgot her fears. She felt safe and protected, cared for in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She was letting her emotions run away with her, and she knew it. Just because Sal had kissed her once—twice, her mind corrected—was no reason to let her imagination run away with her. She was still the same old Annie to him. The poor widow of his best friend, whom he had to look after.

  “Annie?” Sal laid his chin on the top of her head. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  She stiffened, not liking the sudden seriousness of his tone. They’d successfully avoided talking about what had happened between them all evening. Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it now, not until she’d had a chance to sort out her feelings.

  “What?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I don’t want you to go out with David anymore,” he said bluntly. He wasn’t ready to tell Annie his suspicions about the man, at least not before he’d done some checking. Annie was frightened enough as it was already, and there was no sense adding to her fears unnecessarily. Until he’d thoroughly checked this guy out, he wasn’t about to let him anywhere near Annie.

  “I know,” Annie said softly, too tired to argue.

  “Then you won’t see him anymore,” Sal said in relief, tightening his arms around her.

  She turned her head to look at him, and was caught up short by his nearness. He had the most beautiful eyes, she thought absently. And his mouth—it was soft, warm and inviting, beckoning her closer. She longed to lean forward, to brush her lips across his. Need rippled over her, dulling her senses. No matter how much she longed to kiss Sal, to hold him in her arms just once more, Annie knew she couldn’t. She still had some pride left. She wasn’t going to be Sal Giordiano’s personal burden anymore.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t see him again,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to avert her gaze. “I said I knew you didn’t want me to see him again.”

  “You mean you’re going to go out with him again?” He turned her around to face him, his eyes searching hers.

  “Why shouldn’t I continue to see David?” she asked, knowing she didn’t care if she ever saw the man again. “He’s very nice, Sal,” she protested. “I don’t know why you don’t like him.”

  Sal muttered an oath under his breath. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I like David. I don’t. I think he’s scum.”

  “Sal!” Annie stared at him. It was so unlike him to lose his temper—at least with her. He had always been calm and easygoing. She was seeing a different side of Sal tonight. Many different sides. “I think you’re being unfair to David. He’s really a very nice man.” She never would have defended David so strongly if Sal hadn’t been so obstinate. Never would she admit that David gave her the creeps. If only Sal would understand that she was doing this for his own good.

  “Nice is hardly the word I’d call him,” Sal growled, his eyes darkening. “We had a chat when you went to take those aspirins. It seems that David thinks you’ve been without…” Sal searched for a delicate way to phrase what he had to say. “David thinks you’ve been without a man’s…attention too long, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his brows suggestively and Annie blushed.

  She knew what he meant, all right, and it infuriated her to no end to think that the two of them had talked about her lack of…“attention” from a man.

  When she was first widowed some of Tony’s so-called friends had offered her the same kind of “attention” just to help her through the long, lonely nights. But what Annie missed more than physical closeness was love and affection, the close intimacy that two people who were in love should share. Not even to Sal would she admit that she’d never had that kind of closeness with Tony.

  While she’d loved Tony, he’d never really opened up to her. There’d been a part of him she couldn’t reach. Their marriage looked ideal from the outside, but inside at times Annie had felt very alone and lonely. Even after nearly a year and a half of marriage, she sometimes had a feeling she never really knew her husband. Next time—if there was a next time—she was going to find a man who could share everything with her, be a real, equal partner; someone who would give his all to her, both physically and emotionally. Men like that were hard to find.

  She glanced at Sal. He was the kind of man who didn’t give his love, physically or emotionally, very often. But she had a feeling that when he did, it would be encompassing and overwhelming. Forever. That’s what she was looking for.

  Oh, Lord, she had to stop thinking about Sal in those terms. Sal wasn’t the marrying kind, she reminded herself. And not about to be domesticated, so she’d better not let her imagination run away with her; she would only be looking for trouble.

  Her temper flared. “Do you mean to tell me that the two of you were discussing my…my…lack of…?”

  “Yes,” he said, smiling in spite of himself at the horrified look on her face.

  Despite her gratitude for Sal’s help and his presence, she wanted to whack him. Again. “My ‘attention,’” she said stiffly, trying not to die of mortification, “or lack of it, is hardly what I consider polite dinnertime conversation, for you or David.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe you two!”

  “Oh, you can believe it,” Sal assured her with a wicked grin, visibly bracing himself for another outburst. “David seemed to think you were in dire need of—”

  “That’s enough,” she cried in alarm, covering her ears in fear that he would tell her, specifically, what she didn’t want to hear.

  “Ah, Annie, don’t tell me you’re mad at me again?” He cocked his head to look at her, his eyes once again going over her features.

  She looked into his eyes and felt her stomach drop. Watch yourself, Annie, she cautioned, knowing she was feeling particularly vulnerable now. She didn’t know if it was his kiss, or the evening’s events, but she was feeling things she shouldn’t be feeling.

  “Sal, look, I know you don’t like the idea of me dating again. But I can’t lean on you the rest of my life. Sooner or later you’re—” He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, mesmerized by his touch. At the moment, the idea of Annie leaning on him for the rest of her life sounded wonderful.

  At the moment she couldn’t think of one solid reason why she couldn’t lean on him—forever. The thought was comforting, easing some of her fears. Annie mentally shook the thoughts away. She would think of several good reasons as soon as she’d collected her wits, a difficult task with him so near.

  “If I’m not complaining,” he added, “I don’t see why you should be.”

  No, Sal would never complain. In his mind, what he was doing for her was all wrapped up in his sense of honor and loyalty—admirable qualities, but certainly no reason to take advantage of him. She cared about him too much for that. And until tonight, when he’d kissed her, she hadn’t realized how her feelings for Sal had changed. What she was feeling for him now had nothing to do with friendship, and it frightened her.

  “Maybe you’re not complaining right now, but what about in the future? Sooner or later one of those buxom blondes is going to catch you. Then what?”

  “I don’t like buxom blondes,” he whispered, gently stroking her cheek.

  She wasn’t going to tie Sal to her out of some far-fetched, old-world notion of honor. “I know you feel a certain amount of obligation, but—”

  “You think I’m with you now because of some…obligation?” he growled,
letting his temper overrule his tongue.

  She laughed, the sound thin and harsh. “Of course. Why else? I know you feel a great sense of loyalty to Tony.”

  “Loyalty has nothing to do with it,” he corrected. His gaze dropped to her generous mouth, which was softly parted. As if to prove her a liar, Sal dipped his head, slowly brushing his lips across hers. Annie’s eyes widened for a split second before her lashes lowered and she greedily accepted what he offered. Her senses reeled as his mouth fiercely coaxed a response from her.

  He knew her so well. She couldn’t hide anything from him, not even her deepest feelings or thoughts. He slowly withdrew his lips, his eyes holding hers.

  Sal slid his hands to her throat and her eyes closed. He touched the pulse point in her neck, and Annie’s breath fled. Her body quivered as he gently caressed her throat. Sal bent and slowly brushed his mouth over hers again, tracing the tender sweetness of her lips with his tongue.

  Her pulse went wild at Sal’s touch. Sighing with pleasure, she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him as his mouth gently nuzzled her lips. His mouth took hers, possessively, intimately, exploring its honeyed sweetness. There wasn’t anything friendly or obligatory about his kiss. It was purely possessive and male, arousing her own feminine instincts in response.

  Slowly Sal drew his lips free, resting his forehead against hers, overcome with feelings and emotions. He wanted to keep her safe, and away from anything and anyone that could ever hurt her. “What you need,” Sal whispered, hoping he could carry this off, “is a chaperone.”

  Annie blinked. Chaperone? She stared at him in dumb silence. She’d heard the word, she just didn’t quite believe it. Sal couldn’t be serious.

  “A what?” she asked dully, drawing back to look at him in confusion. Sal drew her closer, tucking her into the warmth of his arms.

  “A chaperone,” Sal repeated helpfully. “You know, someone to look out for your interests. My mother had one, and even Aunt Florina.” He grinned at Annie, who looked at him as if he’d just lost his mind. “In our culture it’s quite customary.”