Italian Knights

by Sharon DeVita

  “I didn’t have lunch,” he explained, leaning against the wall.

  “Do you want a sandwich? I can fix you one.”

  Sal shook his head and finished off his cheese. “So, tell me, how is David?” The man’s name was beginning to get on his nerves. He didn’t like him, and it wasn’t just because he was interested in Annie, although that was part of it—a large part.

  Sal cocked his head and studied Annie. Something was happening to him, something he didn’t understand. Ever since he’d kissed her, he’d had an uneasy feeling in his gut. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  He had his lifestyle down pat—no commitments, no strings. He’d been happy, or so he’d thought, until a few days ago. Now he wasn’t so sure. Holding Annie in his arms, he’d realized something had been missing from his life. Love.

  Ever since he’d kissed her he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Last night he had lain awake all night, wondering what it would be like to have her with him. His thoughts scared the hell out of him, yet filled him with a strange and wonderful buoyancy. She was no longer just the widow of his best friend, but a beautiful, desirable woman.

  Smooth, Suave Sal. He smiled to himself. That wasn’t him, not really; it was an image, not the man inside. The man inside was scared as hell right now because what he was feeling for Annie was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

  Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes lit with pleasure, everything about her was so familiar and yet so achingly new. He wanted more than just a few kisses, more than a few caresses; he wanted Annie, and he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

  “David is fine,” Annie said glumly, wondering what was going on behind Sal’s dark eyes.

  “What did he want?”

  “He wanted me to have supper with him tonight.”

  “And?” One dark brow rose in question.

  “And that’s it,” she answered, knowing her evasiveness would annoy him. It did.

  “So are you?” he asked, after thoughtfully chewing his cheese.

  Annie sighed. “Am I what, Sal?”

  “Having supper with Dancing David?” Sal’s eyes tracked her, watching as she nervously pinched a piece of her apron between two fingers.

  “No.” She shook her head, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ve got too much to do here today,” she lied, not wanting Sal to know she had no intention of dating David again. “I have to wait for the glass repairman, and fill out insurance forms and—”

  “Did you discover anything else missing?” Sal asked casually. Two candy bars were hardly worth breaking in for. He had a feeling the burglary was something more than it seemed, but he hadn’t yet figured out what it was.

  “Sal, do you know something?” Annie asked suspiciously. “Something that you’re not telling me?”

  “I don’t know.” Sal shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “There’re probably a lot of things I know that I haven’t got around to telling you. Anything specific you had in mind?” Until he had some concrete proof of his suspicions, he didn’t want to tell Annie anything. There was no point in alarming her any further. He was certain she was safe, but just in case, Sal intended to stick close to her—very close—just to make sure she was. He wasn’t about to let anyone or anything harm her. He’d waited too long for her.

  “The burglary, Sal? Do you know something about it you’re not telling me?” A chill of fear washed over her again, and she shivered.

  “No, nothing definite,” he assured her, shaking his head and wanting to change the subject. “So, tell me, how did David find out about the burglary?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, frowning. “Someone from the neighborhood must have told him.”

  Sal doubted it. He added it to the list of things to check out. David was a stranger, and strangers weren’t easily welcomed or trusted. David was no exception. He stuck out like a pair of brown shoes with a tuxedo.

  “He was quite concerned,” she added, wanting to prove to Sal that David was harmless. “It’s funny, because just last night, before you joined us, David was trying to talk me into moving out of the neighborhood because he doesn’t think it’s safe.”

  Sal straightened abruptly as warning bells began to clang ominously in his head. “He what?” Sal grabbed Annie’s elbow and dragged her into the back room so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Sal,” she cried, trying to get free. “What on earth are you doing? What has gotten into you?” Annie yanked her arm free, staring up at him in astonishment. “What on earth has come over you the past few days?”

  “Annie,” he said gravely, dropping his hands to her shoulders. “I want you to tell me exactly what David said last night. Do you hear me? Everything. And don’t leave anything out.”

  “Everything?” she repeated in alarm. “How can I possibly remember everything we talked about? And what difference does it make? Sal, if you’re going to start acting like a deranged father ag—”

  “Annie, please.” Sighing, Sal dragged a hand through his hair. He needed this information, but he didn’t want to alarm her. “Could you please just indulge me?”

  “But why?” She’d never seen Sal so intense, so serious. This wasn’t just some macho inquisition, this was something else altogether.

  “Annie, please?”

  Sal never asked her for anything. If he wanted a blow-by-blow account of her boring conversation with David, she would give it to him. “Last night,” she began carefully, “David was giving me a lecture about his stocks, his bonds, his Remingtons—”

  “His what?” Sal frowned.

  “Remingtons,” she repeated with a heavy sigh. “They’re paintings. When he took me to his apartment, I was admiring his—”

  Sal’s jaw tightened. “He took you to his apartment!”

  “No,” she snapped, growing annoyed at his interrogation. “He changed his clothes in the back seat of the car! Of course he took me to his apartment. And stop scowling like that, Sal.”

  “All right, all right. Go on. Then what?”

  “We drove to the restaurant, and we talked about—” She stopped, not wanting to tell Sal that they’d talked about him. She had a feeling David’s rather caustic comments about Sal wouldn’t further endear David to him. “We talked about the neighborhood,” she hedged. “He said he was concerned about my welfare. You know, the poor widow woman living alone.” She tried to make light of it, but apparently Sal’s sense of humor was out of joint this morning.

  “Is that all?”

  “Well,” she fumed, “I’m sure there would have been more if we hadn’t been so rudely interrupted!”

  He grinned. “Are you implying that I was rude?”

  Annie glared at him. “What would you call muscling in on my date, and getting us thrown out of a restaurant?”

  “A smart move,” he quipped, his grin widening. He glanced at his watch. He was waiting for a call that would answer some questions about Dancing David.

  “Sal, why all this interest in David and our date? I know you don’t like him, but—”

  “Do you?” he asked abruptly. His eyes held hers until her knees felt weak. “Do you like him, Annie?” he asked again, tipping her chin up until her gaze met his. Annie took a deep breath as his clean male scent washed over her.

  Utterly disgusted at the sudden flare of hope in her heart, Annie made a heroic effort to control her feelings. Sal was just asking because he didn’t like David and he was concerned for her welfare. Not for any other reason, she assured herself. And she’d better not start thinking any differently.

  But last night after she’d crawled into bed, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sal, or his kisses. She kept reliving it over and over in her mind. She realized that Sal was everything a woman could ever want—patient, kind, loving, giving. But just because the man had kissed her was no reason for her to start entertaining thoughts she had no business entertaining.

  They’d been through so much together the pas
t two years, it was only natural that he felt an emotional attachment to her, and she to him.

  But that was all it was, nothing more. It was common for people who’d gone through something tragic together to form an emotional attachment. Grief had a way of binding people together, but, she reminded herself, she couldn’t read anything more into it.

  Sal ran his thumb over her chin, gently touching the racing pulse point in her throat. Annie swallowed hard. All her defenses seemed to crumble when he was near.

  “Do you?” he repeated, gently teasing the tender skin of her throat, and Annie’s mind shifted into panic.

  “He’s…nice,” she hedged, trying to ignore the fact that Sal had slipped his arms around her waist.

  “Are you going out with him again?” he asked, drawing her close. Despite her resolutions to keep her feelings about Sal in perspective, Annie laid her head on his shoulder, sighed, then gave in to the sensations of the moment. It certainly would help matters if she didn’t feel so right in Sal’s arms. It was nothing, she assured herself. Her emotions were only natural, considering the circumstances. But at the moment, locked in Sal’s arms, she was having a hard time keeping things objective.

  “Sal…would you like to come over for dinner tonight?”

  He tensed. “I’d love to, Annie, but I can’t. I’ve…I’ve got a date.”

  Annie stiffened and stepped out of his arms. “I see,” she said, trying not to show her intense annoyance. She couldn’t go out without a chaperone, but it was all right for him to continue his carousing! She wasn’t jealous, she told herself. Why should she be jealous? Sal had gone on hundreds of dates over the past few years, so why should this one be any different?

  “Annie.” Sal grabbed her arm, knowing she misunderstood. “I promised Mrs. Altero I’d come over for dinner—”

  “And meet her granddaughter?”

  Sal nodded. He had to talk to Mrs. Altero. She was the only one who’d been around last night and she was the only clue he had. She’d even taken a walk past the deli just about the time of the burglary. If it meant eating her cooking and meeting her granddaughter in an effort to obtain the information he needed to protect Annie, then he would do it. He would worry about explaining to Annie later. Right now, he just wanted to make sure she was safe.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “and meet her granddaughter. I shouldn’t be late, though, and I’ll be right across the street if you need me.”

  “Need you,” she fumed. “Sal, come on, I told you, I’m a big girl and it’s about time I start handling my own life and my own affairs. Now, I’ve got to get back to work.” She shrugged off his arm and headed out front.

  “Annie?”

  She stopped, holding her breath. “What, Sal?”

  “You never answered my question. Are you going out with David again?”

  Annie turned to him with a grin. “You’re right, I never did answer your question, did I? Have a good time tonight,” she called, giving his cheek a friendly pat before turning and heading back to her waiting customers.

  Chapter Six

  Annie paced the length of the living room, not knowing what to do with herself. She kept going from window to window, peering at Mrs. Altero’s house, wondering what Sal was doing, and knowing he was there—with the infamous granddaughter.

  She’d already drunk four cups of herbal tea, finished filling out all the forms that needed filling out, washed all her floors, and still she kept pacing. Lord, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Sal was supposed to be worried about the men she was dating—not the other way around.

  Sighing at her own behavior, Annie went into the kitchen and poured herself another cup of tea. She wasn’t thirsty, she just needed to do something to keep her mind off Sal.

  She didn’t want to think about him. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The more she thought about Sal, the more confused she felt.

  Sipping her tea, she went back into the living room and sank down in the rocker. What was she going to do? She had to think about this problem rationally, she realized, glancing around the familiar room.

  She’d spent hours refurbishing the old brownstone after Tony died. They had bought the house right after they’d gotten married because it was close to the police station and the deli. She’d grown up in an almost identical house not two blocks away.

  After Tony’s death, with nothing but grief and time on her hands, she’d stripped all the woodwork, refinishing it to its original beauty. Sal had helped her do some of the heavy work, spending his days off and vacation time hauling wood, scraping off paint and just lending a hand wherever needed. They’d discovered they both had a fondness for country furnishings and flea-market finds, so they’d spent many a Sunday getting up at dawn hunting down bargains.

  Everywhere she looked now, she saw the touch of Sal’s hand. The pineapple stencil he’d carefully painted around the perimeter of the floors; the blue print wallpaper he’d helped her hang; the old chandelier—one of their flea-market finds—that he’d purchased for a song and then carefully rewired and hung. The house and deli had been her comfort, something to hang on to, something safe and secure after Tony’s death. It gave her a way of easing the lonely hours. With Sal around, her loneliness didn’t seem so acute, so hard to bear.

  But for some reason, tonight, the loneliness was back, and worse than ever.

  Sal. He invaded her thoughts again. They’d had such a wonderful relationship—a friendly relationship—until she’d announced she had a date. Sal had changed from a warm, caring, concerned friend into a man who seemed obsessed with protecting her virtue.

  Then he had to go and kiss her, she thought with a frown. And not just a friendly peck on the cheek, but a man-woman kiss, the kind that shook her to her soul. Annie’s lashes lowered and a great fountain of warmth washed over her as she relived the touch of Sal’s lips on hers.

  That certainly wasn’t a friendly kiss; it was a kiss filled with yearning. So what was he doing with Mrs. Altero’s granddaughter? Trying to drive her crazy, probably, she decided.

  Annie rocked faster, feeling restless. Sal was a man who was used to this type of thing. Kissing one woman one day, and dating another the next. He’d dated women galore and had lots of experience.

  But she hadn’t. Despite the fact that she was twenty-six, married and widowed in the space of two years, her knowledge and experience with men was nil. She’d never really even kissed anyone except Tony. And now that seemed so very long ago, she could hardly remember. At times she couldn’t even picture Tony’s face.

  She’d come to her marriage a virgin, and since Tony’s death there had been no one else. She’d never even wanted anyone else. Until now.

  Setting her cup on a table, Annie stopped rocking and abruptly stood up to go to the window again, letting the air cool her flushed face. She wasn’t falling in love with Sal, she told herself firmly. What she was feeling was an emotional attachment. She was just having a hard time separating the two.

  A faint breeze rustled the curtains, filling the room with the night’s sweet aroma. The pungent smell of sausage and peppers drifted through the open window, the remnants of someone’s dinner, no doubt.

  The street was quiet tonight. In the summer, it wasn’t unusual to find lawn chairs scattered up and down the block, with neighbors gathered to gossip or watch a baseball game on a television that someone had dragged out. The kids would run free, playing baseball or tag. Invariably someone would bring out a pitcher of lemonade or a jug of wine, and they would sit discussing the day’s events or just listening to music long into the night. Tonight the street was empty except for an occasional car. Even Mr. Benedetto hadn’t taken his nightly walk.

  It was strange to see the street so quiet. Annie sighed. Perhaps the burglary had had more of an effect than she realized. Shivering, Annie wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Hey, Annie, waiting for someone?” Sal stood beneath the window with a wide grin on his face. Her startled gaze flew to his. Oh, L
ord, he knew she’d been watching—waiting for him. Her heart began to pound and her face flooded with heat. Now she’d done it, really made a fool of herself, standing here pacing back and forth from window to window, watching and wondering what he was doing.

  And he’d caught her.

  She glanced down at him, gathering her dignity. He’d dressed for his dinner with Mrs. Altero and her granddaughter, she noted, taking in the gray pinstriped suit. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and his silk print tie was at half-mast. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. He looked, in a word, wonderful.

  “I wasn’t waiting for anyone,” she replied coolly, determined not to let him know she’d been waiting for him. From the look on his face, she had a feeling he knew.

  “You sure?” He grinned, and she stiffened indignantly, aggravated that he was so arrogant as to guess exactly what she’d been doing.

  “Positive,” she snapped succinctly. “I was just getting a breath of fresh air.”

  “Are you busy?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Come on out. We can sit on the porch for a while.”

  “It’s…it’s…late,” she stammered, not knowing if she trusted herself to be alone with him. It was odd—all this time, she’d never given it a second thought. They’d been alone many, many times in the past then, but she’d never been so aware of Sal as a man before.

  Sal generally stopped by after his dates. Usually she was sitting out front with the neighbors, and he would tell her all about his evening, where he went, with whom. But that was before she needed to keep a safe distance from him—at least until she was certain she could separate her emotions and keep things in perspective.

  And she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to sit and listen to Sal discuss what a wonderful evening he’d had with another woman, any more than he’d enjoyed her going into detail about her evening with David!

  “It’s not that late, Annie. Come on, you can get a breath of fresh air out here. Besides, I’m lonely.”

  “Lonely,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you stay with Mrs. Altero’s granddaughter? I’m sure she would have been more than happy to ease your…loneliness.”