If Wishes Were...Daddies

by Jo Leigh

  “We’re in Rome. And since we’re here, I think we should go to the fountain.”

  “What fountain?” Gina asked.

  “The Trevi Fountain. Like in that movie. Three Coins in a Fountain. You know, those three women were in Rome and they threw a coin in the fountain and made a wish? And Rossano Brazzi was in it, too.”

  Jessica had to smile. Such faith. Such innocence. To believe in wishes and old legends.

  “There was that French guy, too,” Gina said. “He was a count or something.”

  “Jessica,” Libby said, turning to her. “Didn’t you see it?”

  Jessica nodded. “Sure I did.”

  “Then what do you say?” Libby didn’t wait for an answer. She opened her purse and signaled the waiter. He came over and they got the money straightened out. Then he told them how to get to the famous fountain. It was actually very close.

  Gina got up, and so did Libby. Jessica thought about turning them down, but when she saw their faces, so hopeful, just hours after being royally dumped, she couldn’t say no.

  She got up and followed Libby outside. The afternoon sun was bright and the streets were crowded with pedestrians, bicycles, Vespas and little tiny cars. It was so unlike Los Angeles. Jessica tried to see everything, from the street vendors to the little shops and the outdoor cafés, but Libby and Gina were walking very fast. In only a few moments, she got her first glimpse of the fountain.

  There was a crowd standing around the magnificent landmark. She’d read all about it, of course. How it was one of the most beautiful and fanciful examples of Roman baroque. There was Oceanus on a seashell chariot drawn by two sea horses. There were the Tritons. And the statues flanking him, Abundance and Salubrity. On the plane over, she’d been impressed that the water flowing over the rocks to the oval pool had come from the Virgin Water spring, which Agrippa had brought to Rome for his baths in 19 B.C. Now she only had thoughts of drowning Nick.

  “Excuse me, beautiful ladies.”

  Jessica looked around and saw a young boy of about twelve standing right behind them. “Are you speaking to us?”

  “Beautiful lady, of course,” he said. “You are the most pretty ladies here.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” Jessica asked.

  The boy looked non-plussed. “Five thousand lire, and I tell you about the Trevi Fountain. The legend, the history. Only five thousand lire, beautiful lady.”

  Gina looked first to Libby, then to Jessica. She shrugged as Libby handed over a wad of paper money from her purse. “You’d better not run off,” she said.

  He took the money and stuffed it into his pocket quickly, but he didn’t run. “I am Mario, a man of my word, lady,” he said.

  Jessica couldn’t help but smile.

  “This fountain is the most famous in all of Rome,” he said, pointing like a weary tour guide. “There is a legend that, if one throws a coin into the fountain, then one must return to Italy and to Rome and this place. But I will tell you another legend...one that only some, such as myself, know for truth. This legend, it is very powerful magic. When the coin first touches the water of the Trevi, at that moment, if the heart makes a wish, it will come true. It cannot be otherwise. I tell you this because you are beautiful ladies and I wish for you that your special wish comes true.”

  “Is that right?” Jessica said.

  “I told you, lady. It’s the truth. You throw your coin in now. You make a wish. It will come true.”

  Libby was the first one to get her coin out. “Come on,” she said. “What do we have to lose?” She closed her eyes, and it wasn’t hard for Jessica to imagine what her wish was. True love. Marriage. Kids. The whole works. Libby tossed her coin high in the air, and it fell in the fountain.

  Gina already had her coin in her hand. It was a little harder to figure out her wish, but Jessica would have been surprised if it were all that different from Libby’s. Gina’s coin sailed through the air and landed near the statue.

  “Your turn, Jessica,” Libby said.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Come on,” Gina prodded. “What’s the worst that will happen?”

  Jessica shook her head. It was all nonsense, wasn’t it?

  “Don’t be a chicken,” Gina said as Libby chimed in by clucking.

  Jessica sighed and opened her purse. But she didn’t look for her coin purse. Instead, she went to a little sewn pocket on the side, the same little pocket she sewed in every purse. The one that held her magic coin.

  It wasn’t really magic, but she’d called it that forever. Her grandmother had given it to her many years ago. It was phony silver and her name was etched on one side. Her grandmother had told her it would bring her luck. If ever she needed that luck, it was today.

  She took the coin in her hand and closed her eyes. “Please,” she wished. “Please don’t let me be a fool for love. Not ever again. I just won’t be able to stand it. And please, let me stop loving Nick.” She opened her eyes and threw the coin as high and as hard as she could. The silver trinket twirled in the air, caught the light, then fell into the water with no splash at all.

  “I must also tell you the last part of the legend,” the Italian boy said.

  Surprised, Jessica turned to him, as did Libby and Gina.

  “Only one wish will come true, beautiful ladies.”

  “What?” Libby said, her voice high. “Why?”

  “What kind of scam are you running, you little twerp?” Gina demanded.

  The boy shrugged. “I only tell the legend, lady. I don’t make it up.”

  Libby looked at Gina, then at Jessica. She looked terribly forlorn, as if she’d just lost her last hope. While Jessica was fully aware of the absurdity of legends and coins and wishes, she understood how Libby felt. And although it wasn’t nice, and it wasn’t generous, she couldn’t help making one last tiny wish.

  Make it mine.

  Chapter One

  Nick Carlucci nodded as his sister went on with her tirade. He continued to listen, sort of, as Theresa listed all the reasons he was a selfish bastard, a discredit to the Carlucci name, a fool and a scoundrel. He meant her no disrespect, she certainly made some valid points, but his mind kept wandering back to the moment in his bedroom when Gina, Libby and Jessica had walked out the door. More specifically, he remembered seeing Jessica’s feet. She hadn’t been wearing shoes. Damned if she hadn’t climbed his balcony.

  What had it taken for her to do that? To come all the way to Rome to surprise him? To flout convention and pop into his bedroom unannounced, to face him without her shoes?

  Of course, all three women had taken him by surprise. He felt terrible, even without Theresa’s help. He owed them all an apology, which he would extend immediately. He doubted he could find them in the city, but he had their addresses in the States.

  “You treat these women like playthings,” Theresa shouted. “Like toys you can put back on the shelf when you’re finished with them. You should be ashamed, Nicolo.” She came over to his side of the large dining room table and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to tell Mama.”

  Nick groaned. “Please, Theresa. I beg you...”

  “No. This time you’ve gone too far. Did you see their faces? Did you hear the little one’s voice? I’m telling Mama tonight.”

  Nick shook his head. “Can’t you just shoot me? It would be better, believe me.”

  “Shooting would be too good for you. I ought to take you out and have you fixed.”

  Nick winced. “Is this how you treat your fiancé?”

  Theresa straightened her back. “Tony would never do anything so...so...”

  “Lousy?”

  “Lousy!”

  Nick stood up and took his sister’s hand. “Theresa, darling, I never proposed to these women. I never lied to them. They assumed—”

  She yanked her hand back. “They assumed that you loved them. That it was real.” She sighed. “Big brother,” she said, her voice suddenly soft, whi
ch was somehow much worse. “There are so many wonderful things about you. You’re kind, you take care of us. You understand women better than anyone I’ve ever met, including Tony. But you hide your heart.” She touched his cheek with her hand. “You run like a boy from love. It’s time to grow up, Nicolo. Time to be a man.”

  Nick stepped back. “Theresa, you’re in love, so you think everyone should be in love.”

  “No. It’s not true. I care about you, and I want your happiness. You need to love one woman. And you need to let one woman love you back.”

  “One woman is more than I can handle.” He tried to smile. “Ten, that’s okay. But one?”

  Theresa shook her head. “I saw how you looked at her.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play stupid. The one without the shoes.”

  He looked at his cup of coffee on the table. “Oh.”

  “Go after her, Nick.”

  “Then what?”

  “Let it happen. Don’t run away.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I love you, Nick. But you’re a coward. You try so hard not to be like Papa. But that was his life, not yours. It’s time to let it go.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Liar.”

  He couldn’t look at her. Not when her words made his chest constrict so hard. “I have some apologies to make.”

  “Deliver hers in person, Nick. Don’t run this time. If you do, you may never be able to stop running.”

  JESSICA POURED ANOTHER glass of sparkling water and lifted it in a silent toast to the beautiful city before her. She could see the fountain from her balcony, that gorgeous, well-lit, glimmering Trevi Fountain. So full of history and magic, so filled with wishes and dreams, it made her ache deep inside. Hers was a small wish, as wishes go. Nothing dramatic, no miracle needed. But oh, how she wanted it to come true.

  She sipped her water, wondering if the unsettled feeling she had in her stomach was from heartache or the wine she’d had with Libby and Gina. She hadn’t felt right all day. Wine had never affected her like this before, so it was undoubtedly love that was making her so queasy. Why was it that she was so smart about so many things, and so dumb about love? Genetics? Some past-life faux pas? Just plain bad luck? The answer didn’t come, and the question, one she’d lived with for more years than she cared to think about, settled back down into its neat pocket, always available for examination whenever she let herself grow maudlin.

  It wasn’t right to be so melancholy in a city as gorgeous as Rome. But in her mind, Rome was Nick. Would always be Nick. And humiliation. Broken promises. Heartache. She grabbed the bottle and turned away from the view. It was better not to look.

  She left the balcony and went to brush her teeth. Flipping on the bathroom light, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her nightgown was pathetic. It was something a child would wear, long, plain, white, not an ounce of cleavage visible. What made her think that a woman like her could attract a man like Nick? He had probably been with her for the novelty of it all. He’d probably never dated such a little prude before. Sighing, she picked up her toothbrush to begin the lonely ritual of getting ready for bed.

  Once there, she tried hard to do the only thing that made sense. Cry herself to sleep. But, of course, it didn’t work. Jessica didn’t cry. She hadn’t for years and years. She felt miserable, all right, but something seemed to be disconnected in her. Some emotional link. Her boss claimed it was something to do with the loss of control. Jessica didn’t buy that. Well, not entirely.

  It was true she wasn’t the kind of person to let things get out of hand, but she didn’t see what crying had to do with that. Jeff was always trying to come up with some heavy psychological reason for Jessica’s behavior. The man had taken one semester of abnormal psych. Hardly grounds for an educated opinion.

  Be that as it may, Jessica certainly could have used some of Jeff’s advice right now. How had she let herself get into this predicament?

  Somewhere along the way, she’d taken a wrong turn. Was it when she’d first accepted Nick’s invitation to dinner three months ago? Perhaps it was when she’d had that second glass of wine? No, it was after that. It was just a month ago, when they’d strolled down by the beach. When he’d taken her hand in his. When they’d made love.

  That night was etched in her memory as clearly as the moonlight streaming through her window right now.... The soft, cool breeze. The feel of stillwarm sand on her bare feet. The sound of the waves breaking on the shore. His voice when he’d asked her to come with him to Rome. The way he’d read her mind.

  That was it, of course. The reason she couldn’t just write him off and go on her merry way. Nick was a magician. He’d known immediately that she was scared, yet excited. Aching for adventure. That she’d been imagining—hoping—for his kiss for hours. More than that, he’d known she wasn’t someone who cared easily. That she’d been hurt before and wasn’t anxious to be hurt again.

  Ironically, the one person who could really understand exactly how she felt, who would be able to offer her the kind of comfort she needed right now, was the man who’d made her feel this way. God, it was so confusing.

  The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t stay in Rome one more day. Whatever it took, she was going home.

  NICK STARED AT at the glittering coins that lay in the water. So many wishes from so many tourists, most of them gone unanswered and forgotten as the next bus and the bus after that came and went. Even now, so early in the morning, cameras clicked all around him, focusing on happy, tired sightseers anxious to toss their pennies into the Trevi, with hopes of coming back to Rome, or becoming rich beyond their dreams, or, more likely, of finding true love.

  Nick could have told them that the coins they tossed were swept out each week and sent to the city coffers to be distributed to charitable organizations. That there was no magic in the water at all. But he wouldn’t tell, even if someone asked. Everyone needed dreams. Even cynical Italians.

  He hadn’t known that until yesterday. Until Jessica Needham had walked out of his life.

  He cringed. He’d made plenty of mistakes before, but nothing to compare with the mess he’d made with those three women. Libby and Gina were both wonderful, unique beauties, and he felt like hell that he’d angered and disappointed them. He’d never meant to hurt them. Or to make anyone believe he wanted marriage. But, as Theresa had pointed out so loudly, he hadn’t done anything to dissuade them, either.

  He’d spent the evening writing all three of them letters. Apologies. This morning, he’d gone to the post to send them off, but he’d only sent two. He had the one to Jessica in his pocket right now.

  Her letter had taken the longest. Most of the night. He’d thrown away draft after draft, unable to find the right words. He’d never found them. How could he tell her how he felt about her when he didn’t know himself? With Libby and Gina, he was clear. He was sorry he’d led them to believe there was more to him than the selfish bastard he was. Sorry they’d pinned any hopes or dreams on him. Sorry they’d come all the way to Rome. He’d sent them both the cost of their tickets, even though he knew that the gesture wouldn’t help much. He had to confess, it did ease his guilty conscience a bit. But with Jessica, his apologies fell fiat.

  He wanted to explain that his invitation to come to Italy had been sincere. That, if it hadn’t been for the odd twist of fate that had brought the three women to his bedroom at the same moment, he would have been overjoyed to see her.

  What he didn’t understand was, why? Why couldn’t he find the right words for Jessica? Why was losing her unacceptable? He didn’t love her. He barely knew her. Of course he’d enjoyed making love with her, but that wasn’t reason enough for this preoccupation. Something strange was going on. It troubled him enough to bring him out to the fountain. Right to the edge, where he could stare at the coins. To wonder if she’d come here. If she’d made a wish—and if that wish had anything to do with him.<
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  He felt in his pocket, but instead of bringing out her letter, he brought out a coin of his own. Even as he contemplated the act, he knew it was foolish. Who believed in this nonsense anymore? Yet there he was, holding the coin just so, moving his arm down, then up. Watching as it spun in the air, then arced gracefully toward the water. Noting the small splash and the slow descent to the bottom. Staring at silver coins, currency from all over the world. Wishes from strangers. Hopes and dreams. Nonsense. Superstition.

  He shook his head, knowing better. Knowing what he wished for had no chance of coming true. Knowing he was going to go after her all the same.

  JESSICA FELT LIKE HELL. She’d been sick this morning, really sick, and had called down to the concierge for the name of an English-speaking doctor. Gina, who’d surprised her by showing up late last night asking for a place to crash, had tried to get her to eat some toast and tea while she’d waited out the hour before her appointment, but that hadn’t worked. She’d said goodbye to Gina, telling her she felt better and promising to keep in touch. Now her stomach was upset, her head ached, and all she wanted was to be back home. The flu was bad enough, but the flu in a foreign country? She moaned, pressing the flat of her hand against her tummy.

  Sitting on the cold examination table, clutching the ridiculous paper gown around her, she thought she’d never been quite this miserable in her entire life. Even if she could get a flight, how could she fly home today when she felt like this? Besides, it wouldn’t be right to spread her germs to a plane full of unsuspecting travelers.

  Why had she ever come to Rome in the first place? Visions of Nick hadn’t left her for a moment. Even when she’d been at her worst, the memory of her moment in his villa swam vividly in her head. At least the humiliation was becoming familiar. Sort of comforting, in a way. It wasn’t the first time she’d made a fool of herself, just the most impressive.

  Her stomach lurched again, and she prayed for death. Quick, peaceful and final. Instead, the doctor walked in. He was an older man, his silver hair styled to within an inch of its life, his suit expensive underneath his lab coat. She sighed and tried for a smile. It didn’t work.