by Robena Grant
He froze for a second. No?
“I’ll meet you out front. I’ll drive, if you can stand to be seen in my old car.”
“I love your car.” He dropped his voice as the memory of them fogging up the windows on the night of Marco’s wedding flashed before him. “I have fond memories of that car.” Hell, more than fond memories if the crotch of his jeans was any indicator. He moved around in the chair telling himself not to be such a teenager.
“Yeah, well…right.”
He smiled when Dia went quiet for a minute. Maybe she had fond memories too.
“I realized this afternoon that I need gas in the Honda. You know how that is. I don’t want to come home to an empty tank.”
“No problem.” Well, that burst his bubble. “I’ll be there in one hour.”
“I’ll be ready.”
****
“Is Carlo, no?” Mama got up to take the dishes from the table.
“Yes,” Dia said.
“He’s a-coming?” Mama asked. She waited, her face wreathed in smiles. When there was no answer, she dropped the dishes into the sink and clasped her hands to her chest. Frank looked from her to Dia then back again. Mama tossed a tea towel over one shoulder, and grabbed more dishes off the table.
“He’ll come over for a little while,” Dia said. “I still have to talk to Nico. And then I have to update Susan. You want to put through a call to Nico now, Frank?”
“Sure. In five minutes.” Frank gave a slight shake of his head and barely saved his wine glass from being swept off the table. “Hey. It’s half full.”
Mama laughed and swatted his head with the towel. Dia thought she looked like Angie, a kid about to get a big present. Better to set her straight right off, so she wouldn’t fantasize a family group that included Carlo. Or run upstairs to change her clothes.
“We’re going out for ice cream.”
“See, I tell you he wants to help. To make nice for you.”
Dia squinted. “You didn’t somehow arrange this?”
“No. No.” Mama shook her head emphatically. “I say nothing.”
“I need to make this a short visit, Ma. Don’t be offended, but I’m not inviting him in.”
“You go. Have fun.” Mama’s smile widened even further. “Me and Frank, we go to bed early, watcha movie. Right, Frank?”
“Whatever you say, Rose.” Frank looked at Dia and winked, and then drained the last of his wine. He stood up and walked to the phone. “Don’t leave yet.”
Much yelling, laughing, and tear wiping occurred during that phone call to Corsica. It seemed to last forever. Dia listened to Frank, but the only things she could make out were Nico’s, Susan’s, and her own names. She hoped Nico spoke English. Her Italian needed some refreshing.
Frank beckoned, but kept his hand over the receiver. “I told him everything. It’s all good. Susan is very welcome—”
“Does he speak English?”
“Perfectly, and also Italian, French, and Corsi…maybe even Spanish.”
Dia took the handset. “Hello, Nico, this is Dia.” She had to hold the handset three inches from her ear he was so exuberant. At first he spoke in English. When he switched to super rapid Italian she had a hard time keeping up. What a pity she’d been so adamantly against all things Italian, including the language, except of course when Carlo whispered those hot words in her ear…not going there. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “My Italian is rusty, Nico.”
He apologized and changed back to almost perfect English. She loved his accent, the little inflections on certain words. She’d forgotten to ask Susan about her Italian language skills, but obviously they would have no problem communicating. Good. Nico spoke English, and as they’d be travelling the Mediterranean on a yacht—not that she expected bad weather in the middle of summer—she felt vastly relieved that her captain would give all commands and warnings in her spoken tongue.
She refocused, listening to him describe the villa, his mother, and the aunts.
“It will be the adventure of a lifetime: two beautiful American women on my boat, and two women to stay at the villa for one whole week.”
Dia laughed. “I’m flying in and out of Rome. But I’m renting a car and driving to Florence, and—”
“Bueno. It is much shorter by sea from Livorno. I can do either. But normally I berth the boat there, sail to Bastia, and then we drive back to Calvi.”
“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. “Isn’t this a lot of trouble? I mean I could take a ferry and even bring my own car.”
“No. No. You would never get a booking this late. It’s the season.”
“Well, how long would it be by sea?”
“You are in a hurry to see my country, eh?” He laughed a rich honeyed laugh that reminded her of the Mediterranean. Dia thought about Susan. She supposed she could have her change planes in London and fly direct to Pisa, or Florence.
“Well, yes, but no.” She smiled. “It’s just that I don’t want you to go to such trouble. It’s lovely that you will accommodate us.”
“You are family,” Nico said. “Villa Ventimiglia is grande. Is no problem.”
He continued to chat about their journey by land and by sea. Dia finally gave in and just agreed with everything. Livorno it is. She could hardly get another word in, and had to repeat her contact numbers several times. She made him promise that he’d written them down. “If you forget them, call Frank. Okay? I mean I don’t want to be in Livorno with Susan and stranded with no boat.”
“Yacht.” Nico laughed. “It is no fishing trawler that I’m bringing to transport my princesses.”
“Okay, then, yacht it is.”
“Email me for final meeting arrangements when you get to Rome,” Nico said. “Frank has my email address.”
“I will. Good night, Nico. See you in a week, and thank you so much for your generosity.”
“Arrivederci. Safe travels.”
Dia smiled when she hung up the phone. She gave a little shake of her head. He sounded like a real charmer. “He’s really something. A lady’s man, I think.”
Frank nodded. “Did he tell you where he’s going to meet you?”
Mama scowled.
“Yes. We exchanged numbers. I’m taking my laptop so I can do some writing about places for my history students. Carlo’s parents have Skype. So does Nico, so we can communicate that way, or by cell phone.” She wondered why Mama frowned, but glanced back at Frank. “It’s expensive to talk by cell phone. But I’ll see when I get over there.”
“Good idea.” Frank sat back down. “He’s no Lothario, Rosetta. Relax. The ladies will have fun.”
Ah, so that’s what had her mother upset. She didn’t want her daughter to forget about the man waiting for her at home. Better call Susan first, then Anna with final plans.
“I’m to email Nico as soon as I get to Rome,” she said. “I’ll need his address, Frank.”
Mama nodded. Frank wrote it on a scrap of paper and slid it toward her.
“I’m leaving you my itinerary, hotel numbers and all. I’ll bring it to you before I go out with Carlo. I’m staying for the first three days at Hotel Sonya, in Rome. It’s modern and has all of the in-room conveniences at no extra charge.”
Mama’s face brightened all of a sudden. She waved her arms around. “That thing. Does Carlo have a thing?”
It took Dia a moment, and then another moment to squash the dirty comment she wanted to make. Yeah, he had a thing. He was not behind the door when they handed out things. She started to choke with suppressed laughter, and her eyes watered.
“What thing?” Frank asked.
“Do you mean Skype?” Dia blotted her eyes with a paper napkin.
Mama nodded.
“I don’t know. But I’ll ask him. His parents have it set up. I’m sure he’ll be at their place a lot.”
“Good. Good. Then you talk and see everything is fine. This boy, Nico—”
Mama was determined to protect Carlo on e
very level. Dia would bet she was already planning a wedding. She stared at Frank. “Nico’s a boy?”
“A young man. Somewhere between yours and Marco’s ages. Thirty maybe.”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized. I thought much older. You know…the estate, the private villa, the yacht.”
“Inheritance.” Frank shrugged. “He works hard. He’s not a playboy, but very handsome.”
“He will behave?” Mama asked.
“Oh, sure. He’ll watch over the ladies like a brother.”
Dia had led Carlo to believe Nico was much older, and no threat. She shrugged off the thoughts, pulled out her cell phone, and called Susan with the latest plans.
“Okay. So, I’m going to get my purse,” Dia said.
When she came back downstairs with the itinerary, Frank and Mama were still in the kitchen. “I’ll see you both in the morning. Don’t get up to see me off. I’ll stick my head into your room and whisper goodbye. It’s going to be early, like 4 a.m. The plane departs at 6:30.”
Mama nodded looking thoughtful. “If Carlo wants, he can stay tonight.”
Damn. Mama hadn’t let go of the idea of Carlo taking her to the airport. Dia pressed her lips tight to prevent comment. Did the woman never give up? What the hell is wrong with her? She had a one-track mind. What didn’t she understand about minding her own business?
Dia pulled in a deep breath and held it a moment. She wouldn’t fight with her tonight. Not on the eve of a trip. That would be asking for bad luck. But where the hell was Carlo supposed to sleep—in her single bed in the purple room, or on the forty-year-old sofa?
“Marco’s room is made up.”
What? Last time she’d looked in there, Mama had been turning her brother’s old bedroom into a sewing room. “I thought you were making that into a special room for you?”
“I change my mind. I tell Frank bring back the furniture from the attic. I like to keep it a bedroom, for grandchildren.” She shrugged dramatically. “Sewing can be done anywhere.”
“I gotta go.” Dia stretched her eyes wide and hurried to the door. She looked back at the table. Mama smiled, caught up in her dreams and fantasies.
Dia held onto the doorjamb for a moment of support. “Ma, he’s not staying,” she said firmly. Then she let the front door slam behind her and stomped on her way down the front steps.
Chapter Thirteen
Carlo pushed the ice cream around in the bowl, not really looking at her but off in some land of his own. Neither of them wanted or needed ice cream. The sexual tension alone was hot enough to melt the double scoop of vanilla she’d ordered. She spooned in another mouthful, mostly of the chocolate fudge, and allowed it to coat her tongue and the inside of her mouth with its luxurious texture and sweetness.
Scoops had to be about thirty degrees inside. She’d only thrown on a strappy sundress and sandals. Goosebumps rose on her forearms, and she shivered.
“I can’t finish this.” Carlo pushed the small glass bowl away from him.
“Me neither.” Dia shrugged. “It seems such a waste, but—”
“Let’s get out of here.” He reached for her hand and hoisted her up.
“Good idea. My fingers are frozen.” Dia dropped the car keys. She laughed and bent to pick them up; a loose curl brushed the side of her cheek. She’d taken a shower and washed her hair before Carlo arrived. It was still damp and a bit curlier than she liked, but at least she’d be travelling fresh. She pushed the loose hair behind her ear.
“No. Leave it.” Carlo pulled the hair forward and twirled it a little between his fingers. “My mother used to tell Susan this was a ‘catcha boy’ curl. It’s sexy.”
“If you say so.” Dia laughed. Like she could catch a boy with the way her hair looked.
“What are you thinking about?” Carlo slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the door. He held the door open for her and followed her outside.
“Doing a mental check list.” She looked up at him and smiled. The warm night air felt wonderful and she stood still, enjoying the thaw of her body. “Thinking about what I’d lay out to wear tomorrow morning: sweats, slip-on shoes, nothing that will set off alarms.” She shrugged. “It’ll be early, but at least I won’t have to drive.”
“My offer is still out there.”
“Four-thirty in the morning? I don’t think so.”
He laughed, pulling her close to his side and dropping a kiss on top of her head. “You smell delicious. I could eat you up.”
“Thought you weren’t hungry.” Dia bumped him with her hip.
He bumped her right back. She laughed, and sort of fell into him as if drawn by a magnet. They half-walked, half-hugged, and then his mouth met hers and she melted into him. They kissed, and then kissed deeper. He tasted of vanilla and fudge.
A horn honked. Grinning teenage boys hung out of the open windows of an old car. “Get a room,” one yelled. Another whistled. Another made catcalls. Someone yelled, “You’re too old for that.”
Dia laughed, and so did Carlo. He put an arm around her shoulders again, and they walked in silence to her car.
“Gas,” he said.
She looked up at him blurry-eyed. It took a moment before she remembered that, yes, she did have to fill the tank at the gas station down the road.
“Will you drive?” She handed him the car keys.
“Sure. No problem.”
She didn’t trust herself. She felt dizzy, partly from the bright overhead parking light she’d looked straight into, and partly because her body was doing some wild and crazy inner dance at the thought of kissing him again. She wanted him so badly. Driving would not be wise.
Dia didn’t speak until they pulled up at a gas pump. “It won’t take me—”
“I’ve got it. Stay, relax.” Carlo already had his credit card in his hand, and his long legs were slung through the open door. “Need anything else?”
Dia shook her head. She blinked hard. “No. Thanks.”
He certainly was the sweetest guy she’d ever known, so thoughtful and well-mannered. But she didn’t like him paying for things that were hers. She dug out a twenty and put it in the ashtray. She blinked hard again and peered through the window. They would make gorgeous babies. Stop that. That’s crazy talk. She shivered, gripping tight to her upper arms.
“Are you cold?” Carlo jumped back into the driver’s seat. “I can put the windows up.”
“No. I was just thinking.”
“Okay, then.” He started the engine and looked at her, his eyes bright, eager. “Where to?”
“Home, I guess.” Dia stared out at the road. Her heart pounded, and her voice had gone dry, almost hoarse. She really, really wanted to make love to him. But they had nowhere to go for an amorous adventure. His apartment was too far away. Besides, it was getting late. She kept her gaze off Carlo and fixed on the shops they drove past, as if she’d never seen them before. They were almost home when Carlo made a sharp turn toward the fishing docks.
He looked over at her. “It’s not lover’s lane, but fishermen retire early.”
How did he do that? How did he always seem to know what she wanted? She nodded, afraid to say a word. No way would she break the intensity of the moment. Her entire body seemed lit from within as a fire surged through her, and she went wet with anticipation. They’d barely parked the car before they were in each other’s arms, panting, kissing, and peeling off what little clothing they had on that proved to be of any inconvenience.
“Could we, you know, get in trouble for this?” Dia whispered against his mouth.
“What? Indecent exposure?”
She laughed and thumped his chest. “Hey. Who are you calling indecent?”
He rubbed his chest, grinned, and dove in for another kiss. “Nobody ever comes down here.” He traced from her earlobe to her neck and down over her chest with the tip of his tongue. “We came in to the docks from a lesser known side entrance. The security guard gate is up the other side.”
> “And you know this because…”
“Because I’m a guy, and I grew up here. Guys go exploring at night when they sneak out of the house, or tell their mother they’re going to a friend’s place.”
“Really? But that was a long, long time ago. Things have changed.”
“Not down here they haven’t.” He waved an arm around and she looked out the window at the dark quiet boats, the inky water, and empty docks. She supposed he was right. It had probably been exactly the same when Frank came here from the old country more than fifty years ago.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yeah. Stinky, too. Want me to put up the windows?”
She shook her head. Across the water, the light from a small boat winked as it made its way home. Airplane lights blinked in the dark night sky above them, reminding her she would soon be on her way to a completely different adventure. She’d stand at the Corsica gate and make a wish that would come true and change her life forever. She grinned at Carlo.
“What’s so funny?” he murmured, as his hand stole up underneath her sundress and over her abdomen to claim a breast. “No bra?”
“It’s built in.” She tried yanking his tee shirt over his head. He dropped his hands from her body to let her do what she’d set her mind on then quickly repossessed her breast.
“Ahh.” He attempted to move a leg over the gear shift. “The Honda isn’t designed for this.” He laughed. His legs were way too long.
Dia caught his bottom lip between her teeth and pulled gently. “Back seat?”
“Last one in is a…”
She didn’t hear his last words as she yanked on the rear door and tumbled in. They met somewhere in the middle of the seat, breathless, laughing, and half naked. They immediately re-tangled their limbs. His fingers gently kneaded her breast and rubbed at her nipple. Fireworks went off in her body. Dia pressed in closer, needing the softness, the warmth of his skin against hers.
“Take the dress off,” she said, as he captured her mouth with his.
He shook his head. “Better not to. Just in case.” He pushed her dress higher, so it bunched around her neck. She grabbed at his shorts, undoing the button and the zipper. She held the weight, the warmth of him in her hand and almost shivered with pleasure.