Corsica Gate

by Robena Grant

  He glanced around the cozy kitchen. What had he been thinking? He cleared his throat. “Tuesday. You’re leaving on Tuesday?”

  Dia nodded. She went back to rinsing the pans in the sink.

  Two days. She’d be gone in two days. He shook his head, trying to comprehend. “For how long?”

  “Two weeks.”

  Two weeks! He didn’t know what to do with his hands and looked around for Cat, but the animal had left the room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Dia rested her hips against the sink.

  Frank stood and then strode across the room. “Rosetta, come. I need to show you that problem outside.”

  Rosetta glared at Frank. “What problem? We don’t got no problem—”

  “We do.” Frank yanked her by the elbow, whispering about something that he had to show her in the garden. He hustled her down the hall to the front door.

  “You know,” Dia said, her voice soft and calm. “Until last night, I had thought the wedding date was a way for Tony to get his lover there without arousing suspicion. Why would I tell you about my trip? I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “What?” He stepped toward her.

  She held up a hand to ward him off. “You’re overreacting. We’re not dating, we’re—”

  “Well, we would be if I hadn’t been moving slow,” he grumbled. She hadn’t intended to see him again? Hadn’t he meant anything to her? He missed the support of the doorframe behind him, and stood, exposed and vulnerable in the middle of the kitchen. “I took you to dinner. You met my family, and Angie—”

  “Why would you move slowly?” She frowned.

  “Didn’t want to spook you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  “Well, you’ve sure spooked me now with your attitude, and your damn Italian temper.” She assessed him for a few moments. “That’s a great way to win a heart and influence a girl.”

  He laughed. “I’m sorry. I thought…I guess I built things up in my head. I thought I was romancing you. I wanted to. But I didn’t want to rush things, because of Jason.”

  “I intended to tell you today, about the trip.” She made a face. “But my guess is my nosy Mama beat me to it.”

  Carlo pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “And you got all steamed up? That’s crazy.”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Ever hear of making a phone call, and asking someone for an explanation?” She turned away to stack the dishes in the dishwasher.

  Right. Of course she was right. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. How the hell did he handle this mess now? He’d screwed up. She’d never give him another chance.

  “I mean, Carlo.” She faced him. “This is why I’ve chosen not to date Italian men in the past…so much volatility. So much interference from family…it’s, well, it’s claustrophobic.”

  Carlo felt the heat in his cheeks from the sting of her words. He’d never had a temper problem. He’d never acted this crazy in his whole life. He was the sane one in his family. The go-to guy, the one who calmly fixed everything. Maybe when he’d cried at the cemetery last week he’d dislodged something in his brain. He’d certainly forgotten about his vow to David that he’d never get married. Never have kids. Hell, he wanted the whole nine yards, and he’d known Dia for less than a week.

  But still, she’d said she had “not chosen to date Italian men in the past.” What did that mean? Had she chosen to now? His heart pounded. He pressed his hands, still in his shorts pockets, hard against his thighs. “I really am sorry,” he said softly. “And for what it’s worth. I’m not usually like this.”

  “Yeah…right.” She slammed the dishwasher door.

  He figured that was it. His last thoughts of hope were dashed. He turned to leave. There was nothing left to discuss.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He put on the brakes. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

  “You know what, Carlo? I think you think too much.” She walked across the room and linked her arm with his. “Let’s take a drive to the beach.”

  “Sure. Sure,” he said. “The beach…ah…sounds good.” His heart gave a quick jolt to remind him that maybe it would all be all right. She removed her hand from his arm.

  “I’ll get my purse. Be right out. Go say goodbye to Mama and Frank.”

  Rosetta and Frank were seated on the porch. They looked up when he stepped outside. Rosetta’s eyes looked worried. He put a finger to his lips and winked. Rosetta nodded. Frank smiled. He smiled back.

  “I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be two minutes,” Dia called.

  “Take your time. I’ll go start the car.” Carlo shot Rosetta and Frank a grimace. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry about in there.”

  “Pish.” Rosetta waved him away with both hands. “Go. Have fun.”

  He jogged to the car, not caring what anyone thought any more. He bit back on the grin that threatened to spread across his face. Dia asked me out.

  He slipped on his sunglasses, even though there was barely a glimmer of sunshine. Then he turned on the CD player. Soft, classical music floated around him. It might be best to play it cool. Let Dia set the pace.

  Chapter Eight

  This would be a walk on the beach on a cool and windy Sunday morning. Nothing more. It wasn’t a date, just two friends talking and coming to a better understanding.

  Despite that thinking, Dia pulled off the oversized tee-shirt, and slipped on a snug fitting three-quarter-sleeved plum-colored Henley. It looked good with her black yoga pants. She tied the laces of her sneakers. A jacket, sunglasses, purse, and she was good to go.

  The mistakes she’d made in the past had been because of physical attraction. And that frightened her. But she’d always been a loyal girlfriend. Once she entered into a sexual relationship, you had to pry her out of it with a forklift, even if the warning signs were there that the guy wasn’t worth the effort. Or that the love had faded. Or the guy had cheated on her. In that way she supposed she was like Mama, tenacious, forgiving, blaming herself, or making herself work harder in an attempt to make the relationship work.

  She stopped in the hall—as she always did—and checked her reflection in the mirror with the old glass. Somehow that distorted mirror reassured her that looks were fleeting. It kept her grounded.

  “See you later, Mama. Frank,” she said, as the screen door closed behind her.

  Mama and Frank were holding hands, seated side by side on the porch chairs. They looked up and smiled. She didn’t want conversation, or questions, and headed for the front steps as swiftly as possible. Carlo sat in the car with the driver’s side window down, and her heartbeat skipped when he waved. She hurried down the path.

  “Have fun,” Mama called after her.

  Dia gave a backhanded wave, thankful there’d been no interrogation. How strange.

  “Hey.” Carlo jumped out of the car and strode around to open her door.

  She liked his manners, although was quite capable of getting her own door. Still, those little gestures touched her. She tossed her purse onto the floor and settled into the plush leather seat.

  “Warm enough?” he asked, as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  “Where should we go?” He reversed the car out from under the tree.

  Cat slept on top of the Honda. Fancy Cat letting Carlo pick him up. That was a first. He’d normally hiss and claw if anyone ventured near. She smiled. “How about Coronado? We can walk on the sand, get some lunch at the hotel deli—”

  “Perfect. I haven’t been inside the Del Coronado for years. She’s a grand old lady.”

  “Yep. I thought about the hotel when we went to dinner the other night. I’d promised myself a visit soon.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “I did too.”

  There it was again, the familiarity of thought, that sense of connectedness. She had to be careful not to let it sway her. He was love
ly, but he was everything she’d always told herself she didn’t want. She reached over and patted Carlo’s knee. “What did you say to Mama to keep her out of my business?”

  “Nothing. I swear. I just apologized for being an asshat.”

  Dia laughed. “What did she say to that? Did she give you a rap on the knuckles?”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly use that phrase. But I did apologize. She brushed it off and said for us to go have fun.”

  “Yeah, she said the same to me. It’s so unlike her.” They drove in companionable silence for a couple of miles and soon were zooming down the freeway. Dia felt odd. Like a kid again on a Sunday outing. “We used to go to the island a lot when I was a kid. Before Dad passed.”

  Carlo’s eyes locked with hers for a second. She turned away to stare out the window at the passing cars. Had her voice changed when she’d mentioned her father? She seldom talked about him. His memory had blurred some, but she could still pull up his face. She’d loved him so much. He was the first man to break her heart. He’d died without saying goodbye. Not that he could help it.

  “Yeah. We went there a lot too,” Carlo said, softly. “We used to come over on a friend’s fishing boat and anchor it at the old boathouse.” He laughed warmly.

  “Oh, I’d forgotten all about the boathouse.” They had so much in common, and a shared history in a lot of ways. “How old were you when you moved away?”

  “Twelve, close to thirteen.”

  “I would have been what, five?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Carlo said. “You were a good kid. Marco adored you, and he looked out for you all the time.”

  “Weren’t you the same with Susan?”

  “Yeah, we’re closer in age than you and Marco. Susan is two years older than you.”

  “I don’t remember her from elementary school. But your family must have moved back when she was in the last years of high school.”

  “Right. I was in college.”

  “She was so pretty with all that wild red hair.” Dia smiled, and then sobered. “It must be hard for her…raising Angie alone.”

  “Yeah.” He was silent for a bit. “She has us though. The family rallies around her. The folks dote on Angie. Well, you saw that. I get on Dad’s case about them spoiling her.”

  Might as well push it and see what he’s made of. “Does she date?”

  “What?”

  “Susan. Does she go on dates?”

  Carlo let out a puff of air. “She hasn’t shown any desire to meet anyone.”

  “Oh? She’s a gorgeous young woman.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, she is. I guess none of us have encouraged her—”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His voice had a sudden sharpness to it. Dia knew she was treading on difficult ground. It might shift beneath her, and she’d be left sprawled on her face on the side of the road if she continued. But she kept pushing. She’d seen the hunger in Susan’s eyes when she’d watched her and Carlo talking at her parents’ home, and then again last night at the wedding.

  “She seems lonely. I don’t mean for family love, because obviously she has that by the bucketful. She yearns for something else, though…maybe the love of a good man.” Dia stopped talking. Carlo looked baffled. But he didn’t make any comment. “It’s not my business, of course, but she might be waiting for approval. For the go-ahead from her brother. You and her husband were best friends, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. We were. And hell, you might be right.”

  That was a surprise. She’d thought he’d bristle. Get all huffy and overly protective of his sister. He looked like this suggestion had never occurred to him.

  “Well, let’s not talk about Susan. We have our own stuff to deal with.”

  “Save that until we get out of the car. We’re almost there.” Carlo swiftly changed lanes. Then he shot her a quick smile. “We’ll walk and talk. Clear the air. Grab some food.”

  “Okay. Good idea.” Dia looked out at the water. “I can see the top of the Del.”

  “Ah, hell.” He looked her way for a second. “I forgot what I’m wearing. I came from the gym. I’m not dressed for—”

  “The deli is casual. We’ll be fine. In fact, we’ll look like guests who’ve taken a jog on the beach. Believe me, they deal with much worse: kids with sand in their shoes, damp bathing suits worn beneath shorts…not to mention temper tantrums.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced. He looked into the backseat. “Maybe there’ll be some clothes in the trunk. Sometimes I hit the gym after work, and forget to take things into the house.”

  Dia laughed. He was so persnickety about his dress that he could be gay. She hadn’t ever seen his condo. It was most likely immaculate. She wondered if it was designer decorated, or perhaps one of those ultra-modern, black and white bachelor pads, giant flat-screen TV taking up one wall.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “You. You’re a fusspot.”

  “Not really. Just don’t like to offend people.” He gave a short laugh, gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean I should have taken a shower and changed.”

  “What is your place like?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “How is it decorated?”

  “Decorated?” He snorted. “I’m a guy.” He exited off the Coronado Bay Bridge and merged into the traffic keeping his eyes on the road for a while. Then he flashed a smile. “Susan doesn’t even let me babysit Angie at my place. She makes me go to her apartment. Not that she needs me much. Just every once in a while when she goes out with friends.”

  “Is your place filled with dangerous things?”

  “No swords or firearms. No frayed electrical cords.” He laughed, and pulled into the parking lot. “Papers mostly…big stacks of them…I’m guilty of taking files home from work.” He shrugged. “The place is clean. I have someone come in once a week, but it’s disorganized and…I don’t know. Plain, I guess.”

  “And it’s in such a gorgeous building.”

  He laughed again. “Yeah, a good condo. It’s a nice layout. Susan says it needs a woman’s touch.”

  “It probably does.”

  “Okay, so, here we are.” He parked the car and looked at her. “It’s time for a walk…and a talk.” Carlo frowned a moment, and then he hopped out and jogged around to get her door. She wondered what bothered him now. Was he nervous? She reminded herself to go easy on him.

  They stood by the side of the car for a moment, both inhaling the scent of the sea. Dia felt her heart expand with a flood of memories of days spent here with family. The sun popped out through the gray clouds. It was windy though. She caught the glint of sun shining on Carlo’s dark hair. Saw the faraway look on his handsome face. Had he last come here with his best friend, David?

  He’d suffered from that loss. She’d have to remember to speak softly, be honest, and to let him down easily. No bruising. She really did care about him. But before she would give her body, or her heart, to any man again she had to know herself. All this angst of Carlo’s had been her fault; she hadn’t told him of her plans. He’d said last night, “You started this.” She could have stopped it right then, but had let the moment sweep them both away.

  She took his hand, and that lost little boy look was replaced by a smile.

  “Lead on.” He squeezed her hand. His mouth tweaked into that lopsided smile she’d come to love. She squeezed back, and they walked to the sand. Dia sat on a bench and took off her sneakers, walking a couple of feet onto the beach and enjoying the cool sand beneath her feet. Carlo did the same.

  He tied their sneakers by the laces, and tossed them over his shoulder. “It’s easier to walk this way.”

  “Give me mine.”

  “Nope. I’ve got them. Besides, now I get to hold your hand.”

  The wind whipped hair around her face. Carlo’s hair stood on end like he’d had a fright. She s
moothed his hair and yearned to kiss that gorgeous mouth, but confused by her warring physical and mental battle, ran ahead of him to the water’s edge.

  “Lead on,” he’d said. She hoped she could.

  Chapter Nine

  Carlo caught up with her halfway to the water’s edge, and laughing, pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. Dia smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. She slipped her hand into his and started walking backward, pulling him along with her.

  “Come on,” she said, grinning.

  She turned to look out over the Pacific, and then back down the stretch of sand. A woman and her child, in matching pink baseball caps, jumped in and out of the waves. The child shrieked with pleasure. A man jogged with his black dog. Further down the beach, a couple with two youngsters built a sandcastle.

  “Let’s get our feet wet.”

  “Last one in is a rotten egg!” Carlo dropped her hand and sprinted away.

  The woman looked in Carlo’s direction. Dia caught up to him.

  The woman and child hurried toward them. “Fancy running into you guys.”

  “Susan.” Carlo hugged her tight.

  Angie had bolted from the water’s edge, and darted across the sand like a disturbed sand crab. Uh-oh. Dia smiled at Susan. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Susan lifted her sunglasses and grinned. “I guess great minds think alike.”

  “Yeah,” Carlo said. “We figured we’d shake off some of the effects of last night. There’s nothing like sea air to clear away a hangover. Oof! What’s that?”

  Angie threw herself at Carlo’s legs, knocking off her baseball cap. She looked up at Dia and her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t dance wiv me.”

  Dia made a sad face. “Sorry. I didn’t know you wanted me to—”

  “I told Uncle Carlo.”

  “Oh.” Dia shot Carlo a glance. He raised his eyebrows.