CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE TRILOGY

by Patrice Wilton

  “No need to send anyone up. I never unpacked.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the large, heavy key. “Your bill has been paid. You won’t need to check out.”

  Anne was already walking away from the desk. She turned to Salvatore as she waited for the elevator. “I’m so sorry the evening turned out the way it did. But I do want to thank you for dinner.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I enjoyed our short time together and you’re a wonderful dancer.” The door slid open. “Good-bye, Salvatore. Thank you.”

  He stepped in with her. “I’m not going. I’m going to see that I get you to the bus.”

  “But. . . but I can’t keep you from your business. You have wasted enough time on me.”

  “No.” There was a trace of a smile on his lips. “Not enough time. I will drive you to the bus and see you off. It is the least I can do. If I hadn’t insisted on taking you away from your friends, you would be on that bus right now.”

  She didn’t argue that. They got off on the sixth floor, and he followed her down the hall to her room.

  “While you gather your belongings,” he said, “I will order some breakfast. We do not have to hurry. Venice is only a few hours away. After we eat, we can take a taxi back to my apartment where my car is.”

  Anne gnawed her bottom lip. She wished she could wriggle her nose like Elizabeth Montgomery in Bewitched and magically make things happen quicker. But she couldn’t, and they did have to eat. “Yes. I’ll have whatever you’re having. And tea.”

  Anne had time to freshen up before their breakfast arrived. Salvatore had ordered scrambled eggs, croissants with strawberry preserves and fresh fruit. She realized she was hungry, and they would need some sustenance before they set out for Venice. She carried the tray of food over to the table next to the window and opened the blinds as far as they would go. With Florence’s famous red-tiled rooftops as a backdrop, the two of them sat down to eat.

  ***

  Anne had her hands braced on the dashboard as they squealed around a tight corner. Why did they make the streets so narrow in these Italian cities? It might be pretty and romantic, but it wasn’t practical for driving.

  Even though Salvatore said there was no hurry getting to Venice, he was driving like a Formula One race car driver. Must be an Italian thing, she thought. At least the hotel had managed to contact the tour operator to let them know she was on her way to Venice. If they could intercept the bus between here and there, then Salvatore would not have to travel so far.

  He didn’t mind, but Anne did. She felt like such a fool. And how mortifying was it going to be, trapped on a tour for the next few weeks with all those married couples who thought she’d missed the bus because she’d been in bed with a handsome stranger.

  Nobody, but nobody, would believe she’d had heart palpitations and had spent the night in a hospital’s emergency room. Not when they saw Salvatore driving her in his yellow Audi convertible.

  “Maybe we should just slow down, Salvatore,” she shouted over the wind. “We don’t have to try to catch the bus en route, since I have the name of the hotel where we’re staying in Venice. We can simply meet the tour there.”

  He glanced at her and patted her knee. “But I thought you wanted to join your friends as quickly as possible so they won’t worry so much, no?” He winked. “They will be so happy to see you again. And very angry at me.”

  “I’m not so sure this is a good idea. I mean, what will everybody think?”

  “Think? This is Italy. They will think I spent the night making love to a beautiful woman, no?”

  “No. No! I don’t want them to think that.”

  He laughed. “I was only kidding. They will probably think you spent the night in emergency. Is that better? You would rather have them all worried about you, thinking you are in poor health?”

  “No. I don’t know what I want them to think. I just want this all to go away.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Oh, Charlie, how did I ever get myself into this?

  “Go away. You want me to go away?”

  She opened her eyes and saw Salvatore’s face looked old and sad. “We had a nice time last night,” he went on. “I like you, Anne Bradley. I would like for us to get to know each other better.”

  “I don’t see how that can happen. I’m going to be on this bus tour for the next few weeks, and then I will be flying home.”

  “Maybe you can delay your trip back to America? Stay with me once the tour ends. Why do you have to go home? What’s at home, that you can’t stay here?”

  She looked at him. He was right. What was so pressing to get back to? Why couldn’t she stay for another week, or even a month if she felt like it? Her volunteer work would still be waiting for her, and her home and friends. She could do anything she darn well pleased. She had nobody to answer to anymore. If she wanted to have a fling, why shouldn’t she? It might be the last one she’d have in her lifetime. She wasn’t getting any younger, and obviously her health was not getting any better. She was entering her “golden years” and she might as well enter them with gusto. Laughing, dancing, being romanced—how lovely it all sounded.

  She was attracted to Salvatore, she could not deny it. A quick glance under lowered lashes confirmed he was a vigorous looking man. Her palpitations this time had more to do with desire than a heart condition.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I can make no promises. We will see.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” He slowed the car down. “Let’s enjoy our day together, Anne from America.”

  No longer attempting to intercept the bus, they took their time and did a little sight-seeing. Anne knew the bus was making a couple of tourist stops along the way, but she didn’t have a copy of the itinerary. Still, they arrived in Venice without having come upon the bus. Unable to drive into Venice, Salvatore had to park in the Piazzale Roma, a huge parking lot and bus terminal. From there they travelled by water bus to Anne’s hotel. As they made their way along the Grand Canal, she couldn’t help gaping at and exclaiming over the romantic and beautiful city. She knew she was carrying on like a little girl, but she couldn’t help herself. It was love at first glance.

  The brightly colored little houses amidst imposing stone palaces fascinated her. And the tiny canals that slithered here and there, and the plentiful bridges, and the small gardens tucked away. It was like stepping into another world, a world of long ago, and Anne was totally enchanted.

  They located the hotel down a few winding cobble-stoned streets, a couple of blocks from St. Marks Square, and Anne checked in. As expected they had beaten the tour bus, so she dropped off her bag and they walked back to the famous square for lunch.

  She told Salvatore she needed to be back to the hotel in time to meet her friends when they arrived. This time she would not leave them again until the tour was over.

  Salvatore polished off his plate of pasta, then leaned over to pour her more wine from their half bottle of Chianti. He smiled like a contented man. “This is the life, is it not? A beautiful woman, good food, good wine, and to be here in this most romantic of all cities.”

  “It’s like a dream come true.” Anne sighed. “I have seen so many pictures, but it’s lovelier than I’d ever imagined.”

  “It is that. Like a fairy tale, no?” He glanced at his watch. “I would love to take you for a gondola ride and to show you all the sights myself, but I have already kept you from your friends for much too long.” He smiled sadly. “And I don’t want to make you late again.”

  Anne knew it was time to go back, and she was sorry too. She had enjoyed his company more than anyone’s since her husband had died. How Charlie would have loved to be here. Why hadn't they traveled when they were younger? She answered her own question. Because he had been busy working, building his practice and they had had two children to raise. And then Kevin had died so tragically, and she hadn't wanted to go anywhere. She had told herself the time for her and Charlie would come, but it never had. A year befo
re he was to retire, a massive heart attack claimed his life.

  “Yes, Salvatore. I must go back. How can I thank you? I have had the most wonderful two days. Being with you has made me feel like a young woman again.” She smiled. “I enjoyed every minute, except for the hospital visit. Funny, but my breathing has been fine ever since.”

  He helped her out of her chair and led her in the direction of her hotel. “The medication must be helping, right?”

  “It must be. I’m glad the doctor gave me those free samples, because we haven’t had time to fill a prescription.”

  “No, but you will take care of that now, won’t you, Anne?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you will come back and see me in Florence?” They had reached her hotel, and he stopped at the door, handing her his business card.

  “Maybe,” she answered.

  “I will wait to hear from you.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Enjoy the rest of your trip, Anne from America, and I hope to see you again soon.”

  She smiled and said “Arrivaderci,” then with a little wave of her hand turned and walked into the hotel.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Christine was slurping down her first cup of coffee when Nicole sauntered into the kitchen. She noticed that her daughter’s eyes were and red-rimmed, as though she’d been crying.

  Nicole plopped down in a chair, put her head in her hands and moaned softly.

  “Everything all right?” she asked casually, fighting the urge to put her arms around her daughter and give her a hug. She knew that Nicole would not like that and so she kept her distance.

  “Not really. I’ve got my period and the cramps are worse than normal. I’ve taken Midol but it hasn’t kicked in yet.”

  “Poor baby.”

  Nicole made a face. “Yeah. It sucks. I’m also so furious with Brett I could shoot him. He showed up at Hooters last night and he started yelling at me, calling me names, and the bouncer had to throw him out.”

  “Oh my gosh, honey. How horrible! Whatever would make Brett behave so despicably? I have a mind to call him right this very minute and tell him to keep away from you, and not to have any further contact.”

  Nicole’s lips curled up in a small smile. “Mom, we are not kids, and I don’t think he’d listen to anything you said. But thanks for the thought.”

  “I know, but I don’t want him coming around, embarrassing you like he did. If he threatens you or starts stalking you, you’ll let me know, right?”

  “Right. But he’s not that stupid. I hope.”

  Christine stopped putting the dishes away and looked at Nicole. “He’s never raised a hand to you, has he?”

  “No.” Her daughter’s eyes shifted away from hers, and Christine wondered if she was telling the truth. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He just loses his temper once in a while and yells at me. He’s an idiot.”

  Christine felt her own temper rise. The idea of Brett being verbally abusive to her daughter made her hair stand on end. “He yells at you? Over what?”

  “Last time it was over the remote control. He couldn’t find it and blamed me. Then he found it under the couch cushion.” Her mouth got a pinched look. “Didn’t apologize, either.”

  “Moron.” She stepped up to her daughter and gave her shoulders a brief hug, and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  “You said it.” Nicole glanced at her. “Aren’t you going into work?”

  “Soon.” She pushed up the sleeves of her silk nightgown and leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. If she arrived a half hour late, so what? Jenny and Helga both had keys to the office, and they could manage a few minutes without her. Or could they? With insults that could fly back and forth between the two of them, she knew she better not stay away too long--even though a conversation with her daughter was a rare and beautiful thing.

  “I go in at four today,” Nicole said as she popped a piece of whole wheat raisin bread into the toaster. “They told me I could work until Sunday, but I don’t have to come in next week.”

  “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” She got up, reluctant to leave. Years had passed since she’d had a heart to heart discussion with her only child, and their estrangement had been one of the hardest blows she’d ever had to face. But she didn’t want to push Nicole, in case she pushed her away.

  ***

  Christine’s first business of the day was to interview, Nora, Emily Perkin’s niece. As soon as she walked through the door, Christine realized that Emily had been telling the truth. The poor woman was unfortunate looking.

  She had a long, thin nose and a weak, receding chin, but on the plus side she did have nice, expressive eyes, pretty auburn hair, and a lovely figure--if she would stand up straight and not hunch over quite so much.

  Christine could tell as she stood up to shake Nora’s hand that Nora was uncomfortable and didn’t want to be there.

  She tried to put the other woman at ease by making small talk while she filled in the questionnaire. She didn’t need to do a criminal background check on Nora, but she did need to know her likes and dislikes and as much about Nora’s personality as she was willing to divulge.

  Jenny brought them two cups of steaming cappuccino and a plate of biscotti, then returned to her own desk near the front door. Christine’s space was separated by a partial screen which allowed them some privacy.

  She took a sip from her frothy cup, wiped the cream of her lip with a napkin, then settled back in her chair.

  “Nora, I would be delighted for you to join our dating service, and for you to trust me to find you someone suitable.” She smiled as Nora shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to put the woman at ease. “But please tell me honestly. Is that what you want too?”

  “Oh, Christine, you don’t have to pretend. I’m well aware that I’m not exactly the type of woman men will pay to meet.” She blushed and lowered her eyes. Her hands ripped the napkin to shreds. “I’m thirty-nine years old. I’ve dated a little, but I can always tell that the men are more interested in my trust fund than they are in me.” Her hazel eyes met Christine’s. “If you can find me a man who is different, then I’d be pleased to make his acquaintance.” She laughed. “Good luck, I say.”

  Christine smiled. “I will find you such a man. I promise.”

  Nora left shortly after that, and Jenny told her that another woman had called while she was meeting with Nora. The woman had seen the ad and wanted to join. She worked nearby and would stop in at lunchtime. When she arrived, she looked exactly like what Christine had envisioned a Champagne client would be--in her early thirties, well dressed, attractive, and confident.

  Looks could be deceiving, she cautioned herself as she walked forward to greet the woman. After all, anyone would think her ex-husband Jim was a great guy, based on his appearance. You had to get to know him to realize what a snake he was.

  The woman had just introduced herself as Paige Hanson when Derek walked in. Strutted in, was more like it, Christine thought, in a pair of faded jeans that hugged his assets, and a knit shirt that outlined his sizeable chest.

  When Paige Hanson spotted Derek, her eyes nearly glazed over. It was enough to make Christine want to vomit. “Is that him?” the other woman whispered. “The guy in the ad?”

  Paige was at least ten years younger than Derek, and she was eyeing him like a bloodhound would eye a steak. Her tongue was practically hanging out, for God’s sake! Why it infuriated her, Christine had no idea. But it did.

  What the hell did this young, smart software programmer see in a man of his age? Besides his toned muscles, six pack abs, tight jeans, and great ass? He was just a man, not some kind of sex god.

  Paige didn’t wait for her to answer. She slithered across the room to Derek and smiled up to him. “Hi. You’re the model, right?”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself that.”

  Christine sniped, “Oh, what would you call yourself, since you’re here to sign our contract?�
�

  He scowled at her. “I’d call myself reluctant, that’s what I’d damn well call myself.”

  “No need to swear.”

  “I wasn’t.” They stood there, glaring at each other. Paige took the hint and walked over to Jenny, who handed her an application form.

  Christine strode over to her desk and sat behind it. Derek took the vacant seat in front of it. He leaned so far back in the chair, she hoped he would topple over. He had his well-muscled arms hooked behind his head and was wearing a confident, sexy smile. She dearly wanted to wipe that smile from his face.

  “Here.” She practically threw the contract at him. “Sign this.”

  “Why are you so mad?” He leaned forward, returning his chair to its rightful position with a solid thump.

  “I’m not mad. I’m glad. Happy as a clam.” She opened her mouth in a huge smile as if to prove it.

  “Well, you sure seem mad to me.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyeing her with curiosity.

  “Shows all you know.” She heard herself and cringed. She sounded like a twelve-year-old. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I apologize.”

  “You do? Well, in that case, I will too.” Now they were smiling at each other like a couple of idiots.

  Christine wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but it was making her nervous. “Can you get away on Thursday afternoon for that photo shoot?” She spoke in a low voice, for his ears only.

  “Sure,” he whispered back. He rested his arms on her desk, leaning closer, as if they were in a conspiracy together. “Don’t see why not.”

  “Good. I have some ideas that I’d like to run by the photographer. Would you mind if I went along?”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind. I might be a bit embarrassed, that’s all.” He glanced around and caught Paige staring at him. He grimaced and averted his eyes.

  “No need to be. You’ll do fine.”

  His eyes met hers and she felt her body temperature rise. Clearly he wasn’t good for a woman her age. He’d have her on blood pressure pills in no time.