by Annie O'Neil
Somewhere between the crackle of “I dare you to fail” and the burn of “she’s all I’ve got,” Fran found what she needed. The answer. How she knew that Luca was hiding a good man deep within that flinty exterior of his was beyond her—but she did.
“Luca, I just wanted—”
Of all the times for her backside to vibrate!
“Can you excuse me for just a moment?” Fran tugged her cell phone out of her back pocket, instructed the dogs to stay with Pia and Luca, then scooted off to the far end of the village’s central plaza, where their tour of the “humble abode” was just wrapping up.
“Beatrice?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “You are truly the evilest friend I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”
Bea’s wicked cackle trilled down the line. “I guess you’ve met the baron, then?”
“The baron?”
“Luca. Il Barone Montovano di Marino. Didn’t I tell you he was a baron?”
She’d been at her lippiest, sassiest best with a baron?
“Princess Beatrice, you know blinking well you didn’t tell me anything! And, yes. Since you ask, we have met, formed an instant kinship, become blood siblings and vowed to be the absolute best of friends forever and ever.”
There was a beat.
Too sarcastic?
“Well, make sure you use an antiseptic wipe. It would be a shame if your new BFF had to chop off your finger because of a case of sepsis,” Bea said without a hint of apology. Then she added, “I knew you two would get along.”
“Yeah. Like water and oil.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. He enjoys being a baron as much as you love being sole heiress to Martinelli Motors, so cool your jets. You two will hit it off. Mark my words.”
Hmm... Time would have to be the arbiter on that one.
“Everything okay with you?”
“What do you think of Mont di Mare? Pretty impressive, eh?”
“Nice dodge, my friend.” Fran tugged at her ponytail before deftly knotting it into a bun at the base of her neck. “Tell me you’re all right and then I’ll tell you how meeting Luca really went. Thunder and lightning are your two clues.”
She glanced across at Luca and her eyes went wide. He was kneeling beside the dogs, calling out half-hearted protests as Edison gave him a good old-fashioned face cleaning while Freda kept trying to put her paws on his shoulders for a hug. Pia’s eyes were lit up bright. Not so brooding and glowering after all, then...
“Everything’s fine, Fran. I’m planning an escape under the cover of darkness!”
Hearing Bea add melodramatic dum-dah-dum-dum noises was all the reassurance Fran needed. She was smarting, but she’d be fine.
“Any clues about where you’re headed? I hear Transylvania’s nice this year.”
“Ha-ha. Vampires aren’t my style.”
“No one has your amount of style. Or class,” Fran insisted.
“No need to fluff my ego, Fran. I’m going to be fine.”
“You’re amazing, Bea. Seriously. I don’t think I’d be as calm and collected in your shoes.”
“It’s...it’s a relief, really. My only goal is to get through the next few months with no paparazzi. Yours should be to get Luca to cook his stuffed pumpkin flowers for you. Delicioso!”
“He cooks?”
“Like a dream.”
Fran grinned at the sound of Beatrice kissing the tips of her fingers.
“And just remember, Frannie, his bark is worse than his bite. He’s a pussycat, really,”
Fran muttered a few disbelieving words to the contrary, but something in her fluttered as she caught sight of Luca trying—and failing—to get the dogs to stop chasing him.
Maybe he was just taking out his frustration about Marina on her. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d met who’d dealt with a broken heart by taking it out on her.
Dads are different, Fran.
Besides. Something told her Luca wasn’t exactly brokenhearted about Marina.
“Steel exterior. Molten heart,” Beatrice insisted. “You two’ll be friends before you know it.”
Humph. Doubtful.
She looked over and saw Luca, lying flat on his back, with the dogs appearing to give him some sort of chest compressions. Seeing him all silly and smiley made him...
“Beautiful...”
“He is a hottie, isn’t he?” Bea teased.
“The place—not the man,” Fran swiftly corrected.
“As I said,” her friend teased, “time will change all that. You’ll be fine. Just remember—Luca’s the hawk... Pia’s his fledgling. She’s his number one concern. You get that right, your summer will be golden.”
Fran shot a look up to the pure blue sky, hoping there was someone up there watching out for her. She had a feeling she’d need all the help she could get this summer.
“You sure you don’t want to come up here to Mont di Mare? Luca told me he’d offered you an invitation.”
“No, chiara. I’m all right. Just be there on the end of the phone if I need you?”
“Always.”
“Un bacione, Fran. Ciao!”
“Ciao, ciao! Be safe.”
She clicked the phone off and cast a final wish up to the heavens that Bea would find somewhere beautiful and private to heal. When she dropped her gaze, her eyes met and clashed with Luca’s. Goose bumps ran across her arms as she watched the shutters slam down, cloaking the warm, loving man she’d just caught a glimpse of.
Never you mind, Il Barone. I’ll show you everything I’m made of and then some.
* * *
“Bea.” Fran held up the phone, toward him, as if it would prove their mutual friend had been on the line.
“Ending your friendship after yesterday’s debacle?”
From the sharp intake of breath and the hollowing of Francesca’s cheeks Luca knew he’d pushed it too far. Been too brusque. Again.
“Quite the opposite,” she replied evenly, her eyes darting about the courtyard until they lit on some bloodred roses. A beautiful contrast to her honey-tanned skin. She bent forward, then stopped herself, giving him a sidelong glance. “I trust there aren’t any rules against smelling the roses here?”
Her blue eyes widened, daring him to say otherwise.
He looked away as she called the dogs to heel, only to catch a don’t-be-so-grumpy glare from his niece. A sharp reminder of who he was doing this for. All of it. When life ripped your entire family away from you except for one precious soul you cherished it. And he was making a hash of that, as well. Too out of practice. Too many of his earlier years spent being intent on the wrong goals. If he’d known the learning curve to making things right would be so hard...
He’d still be doing it. Even if it meant putting up with Little Miss Ray of Sunshine for the next two months. Pia seemed smitten and that was what counted.
Despite himself, Luca’s eyes were drawn to Francesca like a feline to catnip. The fullness of her lips was darkened to a deep emotional red. Not a speck of any other makeup. Jeans and a baseball shirt that teased at the edges of her shoulders. Her blond hair was pulled back from her face in a thick ponytail that swished between her shoulder blades when she walked. Not that he’d been watching her closely... Her shoes were practical leather ankle boots, similar to the boots horsey types wore. Funny... He could easily picture her riding a horse along the mountain trails. Something he and his sister had often done, disappearing for hours at a time, stuffing themselves with wild berries and drinking straight from the mountain streams.
Those days were gone now. Long gone. Just as Francesca’s fripperies from yesterday’s wedding had all but disappeared. No more soft pink nail polish. No eye shadow, mascara. All of it cleared away to show off her distinct natural beauty. The count
ryside suited her. Mont di Mare suited her—as if an Old Master had painted her there and just changed her clothing with the passage of time...
“Freda. Edison.” Fran commanded the dogs to sit with a gesture, shot Luca an over-the-shoulder wait-for-it-look, then a mischievous grin to Pia. She whipped out her fingers pistol-style and “shot” each of the dogs, who instantly rolled over and played dead.
Pia was consumed by gales of laughter and Fran’s lips had parted into a full-fledged smile. One a movie star would have paid a lot for.
“Is there anything useful they can do?”
“Zio Luca!” Pia swiped at the air between them. “What has got into you today?”
“I’m just waiting to see if Francesca has something helpful to show us. What was it? An hour, she said, and we’d see a change?”
“She made me laugh,” Pia growled.
He opened his mouth to protest. Surely he and Pia had laughed... No. Not so much. Especially in the weeks since the bank had slapped the deadline on him. Six months or finito.
“Pia—” Fran took a couple of steps forward “—could I use your binoculars for a minute?”
“Si, of course.” She untangled the strap from her plaits and handed them to Fran.
Without a second glance at Luca, Fran took a scan around the plaza.
“Can you distract the dogs for a minute?”
Pia obliged as Fran jogged over to a small olive tree and hung the binoculars on a low branch, then jogged back.
“Freda.” She signaled to Pia’s neck. “Where are the binoculars?”
Luca watched wordlessly as the dog took a quick sniff of Pia, did a quick zigzag around the courtyard, abruptly loped over to the olive tree, spotted and tugged down the binoculars by their strap, then padded back, offering the binoculars to a delighted Pia.
“Impressive,” he acquiesced. “But hardly a life changer.”
Fran pushed her lips forward into a little moue. One that said, You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cowboy.
He folded his arms and rocked his weight back onto his heels. Go on, his stance said. Prove it.
A flare of irritation lit up her eyes, bringing a smile to his lips. He got to her as much as she got to him. A Mutual Aggravation Society.
In quick succession Fran ran both dogs through a number of tasks. She had Pia wheel around the courtyard, dropping various items. The dogs picked them all up. They found exits from the courtyard on command. The dogs pushed the wheelchair from one point to another, navigating it around the low-slung branches of the various fruit trees dappling the area.
Fran slipped each dog into a harness and had them take turns pulling Pia on various routes around the courtyard, stopping at one point to pick up a set of keys that had slipped from Luca’s pocket. The display culminated in each dog barreling out of the courtyard and returning two minutes later, triumphant, with their water bowls tucked in their mouths, and then dropping them at Fran’s feet.
She turned to him, arms crossed in satisfaction. “Proof enough for you?” The arc in her eyebrow dared him to say otherwise.
He made a noncommittal noise, his eyes glued to Fran’s, as sharp hit after hit of connection exploded in his chest. He rammed the sensations to the background. Work and Pia. His only two concerns. Francesca brought chaos in her wake. She teased too cruelly at his instinctive urges to pull her in close and taste exactly what those full lips of hers—
“They’re amazing, Zio! Aren’t they amazing? We should get dogs for all the patients! Wouldn’t that be just the best?” Pia reeled off her praises, failing to notice the crackle of electricity surging between her uncle and Fran.
He took a step back to break the connection. “Bravo, Francesca.” Luca gave a stilted clap, trying to ignore his niece’s ebullient response. “I’m sorry to bring the display to an end, but I’m afraid my niece has to spend some time with her tutor.”
“It’s English lessons, Zio. I could practice with Francesca, si?”
“No,” he answered in his most pronounced Italian accent. The role of cantankerous uncle was coming to him a bit too fluidly, but needs must. Their world had mayhem enough without a canine-training Mary Poppins running around the place with fairy dust and moonbeams.
Although it was better than Marina’s preference, that the village be revamped into an exclusive hotel. Little wonder she’d chosen Marco. He had glitz and glamour down to a T.
Pia gave an exasperated sigh but turned her wheelchair toward the arched stone passageway that led to their private quarters before abruptly spinning around. “Can they—will the dogs be able to come with me?”
“Absolutely.” Fran nodded with a quick backward glance to check that it was okay with Luca.
He nodded.
“They are your buddies now. Freda is the one I thought might best suit your needs, but it’s a good idea to spend time with both of them. We can meet later and talk about things you specifically need help with and start to set up a training routine. Sound good?”
“Cramp!” Pia screamed suddenly, her hands seizing into gnarled fists. “Cramp!”
Without a second glance Fran was on her knees in front of Pia, cupping her hands together, kneading one, then the other, tension knotting her brow as tears formed in Pia’s eyes.
“Do you have any heat wraps?” She glanced up at Luca, completely oblivious to the shock in his eyes.
“Let me.” Luca reached out to take his niece’s slender hands, noting as he did the expert efficiency with which Fran massaged Pia’s fingers.
“I’m a physiotherapist. It’s fine,” Fran said.
“Certified by the University of Life?”
“Harvard,” she snapped back. “Good enough for you?” She continued massaging Pia’s hands. “You’d be best getting those heat wraps.”
“I decide what’s best for my niece—not you.”
“Zio, please,” Pia pleaded through her tears. “Francesca is doing fine. Please can you get the wraps?”
“I’ve got a sock filled with rice in my car, if there’s a microwave nearby. You just throw the sock in for a—”
“I have appropriate heat wraps. I just—” I just don’t want to leave her with you. Though unspoken, the words crackled in the air between them.
Francesca continued her fluid movements, but turned her head to face him. “She will be safe with me,” she said, more solidly than he’d thought possible. “I will take care of her.”
He looked at his niece, her features crumpled in pain, and made the decision.
He ran.
The sooner he left, the sooner he would be back.
A dog trainer and a physio? There was a story there. But it was one that would have to wait.
A few minutes later he returned, astonished to see Pia’s face wreathed in smiles, her hands lodged in the Bernese mountain dog’s “armpits.”
“Stand-in heat pads.” Fran shrugged, pushing up from her knees at the foot of Pia’s wheelchair.
“Rendering these unnecessary?” Luca held up the hot packs he’d already cracked so that they’d be ready for action.
“Sorry.” Fran shrugged again and turned to her dogs with a grin, seemingly oblivious to the thousands of dark thoughts that had run through his head as he’d raced to the clinic, pawed through the storage cupboards, then raced back only to find his efforts had been for naught.
“I brought you some electrolyte water, too, Pia. In case you were dehydrated.”
“Is she on any medication?”
Luca’s eyes widened. “I have brought her what she needs. Pia’s on a couple of things for her paraplegia, but other than that has made the choice not to start on any medication until she absolutely has to.”
“Right here, Zio Luca. No need to talk about me as if I’m invisible!”
“I
’ve got some great cream recipes we can make up that might help,” Fran said to Pia, barely acknowledging Luca. “I bet there are loads of medicinal herbs and flowers growing out there. The dogs and I can forage for you!”
“That’d be great!” Pia enthused.
“Here.” Luca took his niece’s hands in his and wove the heat pad between them. “Better?”
Pia nodded, then turned away.
“Fran?”
Luca watched as Pia looked up at Fran with a shy look he rarely saw from his niece.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Fran replied straight away, then looked up, her azure eyes meeting Luca’s as powerfully as a bolt of lightning. There was a connection there. A vivid, primal, deep-seated connection.
One he was going to have to bury in order to survive.
* * *
Once Pia had left, her hands wrapped around a heat pad, the tutor in control of the wheelchair and the dogs trotting merrily behind, Fran and Luca eyed each other warily.
A lion and a tigress vying for supremacy. Or a truce?
Fran broke the silence “It’s very beautiful up here.”
“Far too much room for improvement,” he countered, wincing when he saw she’d taken it personally.
Luca put on his “bright” voice, knowing it would sound a bit strangled, but he wasn’t ready for making nice with Fran. Might not ever be.
“Shall we get you and your things to your quarters?”
“If that means I’m staying?”
He shot her a noncommittal look. “It’s a long walk. Plenty of time to change my mind.”
The incident with Pia had shaken him. He was his niece’s warrior—her defense against the countless aches and pains she’d had to tackle and overcome since the accident. Getting her an assistance dog was one thing. Seeing her reach to someone else for help...
It hurt.
More than leaving his exclusive reconstructive surgery clinic in Rome to bring his niece here had hurt. More than discovering, once he’d arrived, that his father had leveraged Mont di Mare to within an inch of its life. More than staring daily at the scar he would never fix, keeping it as a reminder—a vivid, daily reminder—of the promises he’d made to do his very best for Pia.