The Vineyards of Calanetti Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun…

Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino.

Empty for months, rumors of a new owner are spreading like wildfire…and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!

It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?

Find out in this fabulously heartwarming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon® romance!

A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier

Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye Available August 2015

Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas

Soldier, Hero…Husband? by Cara Colter

His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson

The Best Man & the Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter

His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace

SUSAN MEIER is an author of over fifty books for Mills & Boon. The Tycoon’s Secret Daughter was a RITA® Award finalist, and Nanny for the Millionaire’s Twins won the Book Buyer’s Best award and was a finalist in the National Reader’s Choice awards. She is married and has three children. One of eleven children, she loves to write about the complexity of families and totally believes in the power of love.

I want to thank the lovely editors at Mills & Boon for creating such a great continuity! Everyone involved LOVED this idea. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Extract

Copyright

Have you heard?

There’s a new 8-book linked mini-series starting in

Mills & Boon Cherish this July, called

The Vineyards of Calanetti, featuring a stellar line-up of wonderful authors and even more fabulous storylines!

To help us celebrate, we hope you enjoy

this exclusive short story,

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti by Susan Meier

Step into this Tuscan world and prepare

to be swept off your feet!

CHAPTER ONE

Michele Patruno walked into the kitchen of Mancini’s, the new Tuscan restaurant in Monte Calanetti owned by his friend Chef Rafe Mancini. The scents of risotto, sweet sausage, succulent lamb hit him as he stepped into the ultra-modern, stainless steel kitchen.

At the sound of the door closing, Rafe spun from the prep table. His silver-gray eyes widened. His turned-down lips lifted into a rarely seen smile.

“Michele!”

He bounded over, enfolding Mic into an embrace that could only be described as the hug of a bear. Then he pushed him away. “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t think my favorite mentor could open a restaurant and I would stay away?”

Rafe studied him, those gray eyes always astute. “It took you long enough to come by.”

Michele deliberately avoided the unspoken question of why he never returned to his hometown. “I wanted to make sure you had at least one Michelin star before I tested the food.”

“One?” Rafe batted a hand. “Bah! You underestimate me. Everyone underestimates me.”

No one underestimated Chef Rafe. Aspiring chefs emulated him. Apprenticing chefs wanted to be him. Secretly in love with the tall, handsome chef, critics worked to find things wrong with his food, his restaurant, so they wouldn’t be accused of favoritism. Chef Rafe’s star was on the rise … as long as he could keep his temper in check.

“So you are here for food?”

“My aunt and uncle moved south. While I have a little time, I told them I’d stay in their condo until it sold.” He glanced around. “But that risotto does smell nice.”

“Nice! I will have you arrested for insulting me.”

Mic laughed. A feeling of normalcy, rightness, rippled through his blood and muscles. He loved teasing his friend. “Okay. It does smell amazing.”

Rafe dropped his arm to Mic’s shoulders. “It is good to see you, Mic.” He turned them to the door. “Now, we find you a table. And I will treat you to food so tempting, so brilliant, you will fall to your knees and thank your maker.”

Mic laughed again.

He followed Rafe to the dining room. It was exactly as Mic pictured it would be. Though Rafe had added a modern kitchen to the back of the old farm house he’d renovated, he’d kept the dining room true to the house’s origins. Antique tables covered in white linen cloths sat on earth-tone ceramic tile floors. The rustic shutters on the huge window in the back were open, revealing the resting countryside of Tuscany in January. The bar by the kitchen bustled with business as waitresses shouted wine orders.

“Are you the chef?”

Rafe stopped at the question from the customer. Behind him, Mic stopped too.

“Si.”

The customer smiled. “Your spaghetti sucks.”

Rafe scoffed. “My spaghetti is superb. If you disagree, your palate … how you say? … Sucks?”

Rafe’s response didn’t surprise Mic. Rafe was so good at what he did that he sometimes couldn’t relate to ordinary people. What shocked Mic was the laughter that quietly rippled through the dining room.

Rafe moved on as if unconcerned, marching Mic to a table in the back as he waved over a waitress. “Tonight’s dinner is on me. Give me twenty minutes and I will make you the happiest man on earth.”

Watching Rafe leave, he didn’t see the waitress who’d appeared at the side of the table and slid a menu in front of him. He opened it as he glanced up with a smile, then his breathing and—he was sure—his heart stopped.

“Liliana?”

Her waitress smile faded. Her brown eyes darkened. “Mic?”

He tried to think of something clever to say, but words failed him. After two years of teaching himself to forget her and another six years of believing he had. Here she was.

The question was: could he be polite? Or should he demand the answers he should have gotten eight years ago?

CHAPTER TWO

Liliana Norelli’s breath froze. Her body swayed. Was gorgeous Mic—the only man she’d ever loved—really here?

She blinked once to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When her eyes opened again, Michele’s surprising blue eyes still stared up at her. His full lips formed a thin, intolerant line.

That quickly brought her to her senses. She cleared her throat. “I don’t think Chef Rafe wants you to order. I only brought the menu so you could see what he offers.” She turned to walk away but he caught her hand. “This is all you have to say to me?”

Oh, there were a million things she wanted to say. A million questions she wanted to ask. She’d given him up eight years ago so he could pursue his dream. She longed to know her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

But with his fingers sliding across her sensitive skin and every nerve ending in her body tingling with the memory of those clever hands on her, she said nothing. They’d been so crazy in love that her refusal of his marriage proposal had devastated him. But she’d known the cost of supporting two people in Paris would have been nearly impossible. Adding her ten-year-old sister would have tipped the scales from nearly impossible to totally impossible. He would have killed himself trying to afford an apartment large enough for three, and in the end he would have lost his dream apprenticeship. So she’d pretended he had only been a fling for her and he’d gone to Paris hating her for making a fool of him.

So … no. She could not ask him how he was. She could not hug him because she was so happy to see him. She could not anything.

She pulled her arm away.

Totally oblivious, Rafe returned with a seafood platter antipasto with calamari, mussels, smoked salmon, tuna fish and olives.

Mic grinned. His short dark hair was far different than the long curls he’d worn eight years ago. His body had filled out. His shoulders had become broad. His arms were muscled. Memories of her happy time with him raced through her brain, warming her blood and saddening her soul.

Taking advantage of Rafe’s presence, Lily sped away.

But as the night drew to a close with her chef spoiling the only man she’d ever loved, she grew more and more tired. It had taken her years to get over him, but one night in the same space with him and everything she’d worked to forget came tumbling back. Long nights in bed. Shared lattes because they were too poor to buy more than one. How he’d always left the last sip for her.

All she wanted to do was go home and weep.

Mic said goodnight to Rafe and looked over at her. Held in the gaze of those striking blue eyes, her golden memories returned, along with the sense that her real life hadn’t begun until the moment she’d given herself to him.

Shrugging into his leather jacket—a sign of how successful he’d been, proving she’d made the right choice in letting him go—he walked over.

“I think things need to be resolved between us.”

Refusing to let him see her pain, she broke through her own sadness to smile. “Things are fine between us.”

“Fine enough for us to work together?”

Her eyes widened. “You are working here?”

“Yes, Rafe and I decided that while I’m in town, it would be fun to work together again. With two master chefs, this place will shine. I start tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THREE

Lily held back a gasp. Working with Mic? Seeing him eight or ten hours a day for weeks? She’d never survive.

Still, if she gave him even the slightest inkling of how difficult it was to see him, he’d take advantage and push for answers about their breakup. Answers she wasn’t prepared to give and he wouldn’t be happy to hear.

“That’s fine. I’m fine with you being here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gave her a confused look that quickly turned into a look of condemnation, but he said nothing, only turned and walked away.

Lily deflated. The man hated her. How was she going to work with someone who hated her?

The next day, she prepared herself before she walked into Mancini’s. No matter what Mic said or did, she could not react. She had to get through these few weeks.

But after the first hour of ignoring her, Mic slowly came around. At first, it was a simple “you’re welcome” when she said “thank you”. Then he handed her orders across the stainless steel shelf. Soon they were working together normally.

She would have breathed a sigh of relief, except the next time she came into the kitchen she caught him staring at her.

A shiver ran up her spine. Not the shivers of fear, but the shivers of memory. That look he gave her was the same one he had every time she’d undressed for him.

The very thought made her breath catch, as memory after memory flooded her, and she knew she had to get away from him.

With the night ending and the crowd dwindling, she stood at the Maître D podium with Gino Scarpetti, the tall, stiff man who seated guests at Mancini’s.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to close down for the night?” Gino asked, one eyebrow quirking.

“Si.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, Mic came out of the kitchen. He walked to the bar and reached for a bottle of wine—undoubtedly wine for him and Rafe to drink as they closed the kitchen. But when he turned from getting the wine, his eyes met hers.

Their gazes caught and held. He couldn’t hide the look of longing and she couldn’t seem to turn away. She’d pined for him for years, unable to move on, unable to forget the man she’d let go, even though she knew he probably hated her.

Mic blinked and turned to return to the kitchen.

Gino said, “You two knew each other before, didn’t you?”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Lily said, “We dated.”

“From the way he looks at you, I think our Mic might like to start things up again.”

Lily’s heart wanted to say, “Really?” But her head was too smart. Mic was a proud man and she’d hurt him. There was no way he’d want anything to do with her.

“I think if you strolled into that kitchen right now and asked him out, he’d be putty in your hands.”

Oh how she wished she could do that. But she’d had one shot with him and she’d given him up. Sacrificed their love for his success. There was no turning back now …

Was there?

CHAPTER FOUR

Three days later, with beautiful Lily with her long black hair, dark, dark eyes and lush figure only inches away from his itchy fingers every day, Mic wondered if fate wasn’t trying to drive him insane.

She cheerfully walked into the kitchen for a pickup. In the dark pants and white blouses required by Rafe, the other waitresses looked plain. But not Lily. Her curves made the simple garments a treat for the eyes, as her perpetual smile lit up the restaurant.

“Be careful with that butter.”

Mic shook his head and ripped his gaze away from Lily as she exited the kitchen. The butter in the frying pan spit and sputtered. He whipped the pan off the stove. Rafe frowned. “Your mind wanders.”

“A fluke.”

“I think it is more that you can’t keep your eyes off my waitress.”

Mic laughed. “You’re just worried about competition. Afraid your customers will miss me when I’m gone.” But even as he said the words, Lily returned. He took in the thick hair he had at one time run his fingers through and her breasts filling out the plain white blouse. Today she looked every bit as perfect as he remembered her to be.

“You are gone again.”

Mic almost cursed. The woman had spent an entire summer with him. She’d warmed his bed, but then she’d dumped him. Cruelly. How could he still find her enticing?

He shouldn’t.

He refused.

She came bouncing into the kitchen again, her ponytail bobbing.

He slid a warm plate to the stainless steel shelf between them. “Tortellini?”

The smile in her eyes caught him off guard. “Si. Grazie.” Taking the plate, she spun away and raced out of the kitchen.

Mic’s pulse scrambled and his heart kicked against his ribs. Her body might tempt him, but that smile brought back memories far more dangerous than the lure of her body. He’d helped her get beyond the loss of her parents. She’d been his biggest cheerleader. In his mind, their relationship had been as happy as their chemistry had been blistering hot.

But those wonderful memories might be the problem. Because he hadn’t had another serious relationship since the one he had with her, he kept remembering things as if they were perfect. Clearly, they hadn’t been.

At the end of the night, he sat at the bar with Rafe, helping with the next day’s menu, as he surreptitiously watched the waitresses clear the dining room.

Halfway through a suggestion for a tangier sauce, his brain stalled. This time Rafe only sighed. But Mic had had enough.

No one could be as perfect as he remembered Lily to be. Yet, he couldn’t seem to convince himself of that with simple words. Mostly because he was curious.

He’d loved her enough at one time to want to marry her. She’d broken his heart. And now here she was, a waitress. Somehow he’d always believed she’d left him for something more. Something better.

So why was she still here in Monte Calanetti?

CHAPTER FIVE

The next day, Lily placed her order for a latte and scone at the coffeehouse. But before she could pay, a hand came from behind, giving the money to the cashier.

She spun around. Mic.

Her heart speeded up and her stomach plummeted. She’d hoped her time off would be her chance to get away from his probing eyes. The day before, he’d done nothing but stare at her. She’d expected anger. Maybe a little bit of resentment. But curiosity? What if he asked her how she’d spent the last eight years? How sad would it be to have to admit she and her sister would have been destitute had it not been for Signor Bartolini, owner of Palazzo di Comparino, giving them a place to live when she took the job as his maid?

“I can afford my own coffee now.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Funny, I remember when we had to scrape together our pennies to buy one and then we’d share it.”

She smiled. “Yes. Our Sunday morning treat.” Again, she thought of the last sip he’d always saved for her. The memory nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“So how is your sister?”

Her gaze jerked to his. “She’s good. At university now.”

He chuckled. “That was a fast eight years.”

She glanced away as the barista called her name and handed her coffee and scone to her. “Yes. It was.”

“And what about you?”

Her nerve endings quivered. She’d let him leave her so he could become successful. The last thing she wanted to admit was what a failure she’d been. “What about me?”

“How have you been?”

He motioned to an empty table and her heart stuttered. He was going to sit with her?

She sighed at her own stupidity. Of course, he was. Eight years had gone by. Those eight years had been very good to him. She was the one with the past she wanted to hide. And if she made a big deal of this, he’d probe until he discovered the things that would humiliate her. Even if she told him she’d enrolled at university with Melony but had stayed behind the first semester to give her sister a taste of freedom, it would just prove it had taken her almost eight years to get her life together.

She led them to the table, slid out of her coat and sat, pretending that being so close to him didn’t set off a firestorm of flutters in her stomach. “I’ve been fine. Busy. How about you?”

“I’m actually between jobs. I’ve been offered a partnership in a restaurant in Paris. I’m probably going to take it but I have a few weeks to think it through.”

She smiled. “It’s nice that you have options.”

His blue eyes twinkled with the joy of his success. “It is. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate how lucky I am.”

He shifted a little closer, not something the old Mic would have done, and Lily’s nerves prickled. Even in his expensive jacket and designer jeans and shirt, she’d been seeing him as the Mic she’d loved. But as he had said, eight years had gone by. He had money now and fame.

She looked deeper into his shiny blue eyes, and saw an edginess that hadn’t been there before.

“And it’s the fact that I’ve always been lucky that makes it all the more puzzling that you dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you. I just didn’t accept your marriage proposal.”

“Why?” He moved closer and ran his thumb along her jaw. “You certainly couldn’t complain about our chemistry. So what happened?”

CHAPTER SIX

Oh, she was tempted to tell him. To admit that she’d loved him too much to risk the success he was working so hard to achieve. But that glimmer in his eyes scared her silly. Her Mic had been proud but sweet. This Mic was strong. Sophisticated. If she told him she’d worried that she and her troubles would drag him down, God knows how he’d react. Would he see her sacrifice for what it had been? Or would he see her act of love as a slur against his manhood? The great Michele Patruno could make kings putty with his fine food, but he couldn’t support the woman he loved?

She rose from her seat. “It’s over now. Water under the bridge. No point in talking about it.”

He sat back, bracing his arms on the chairs on either side of him, looking so sexy and male she could have swooned. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d simply remind me that you didn’t love me.”

Her face reddened. Why hadn’t she just said that? “Why make me repeat it?”

“Why not? If it’s a simple fact, it should be easy to say.”

“After eight years, it shouldn’t matter.”

“After eight years, you shouldn’t stumble over it.”

She shook her head, furious with him for pushing. “Don’t criticize me for not wanting to say something that was hard enough the first time.”

He rose in a movement so swift and fluid she didn’t realize what he was about to do until he caught her wrist. They stood so close she could almost feel his chest rising and falling and the heat coming from his muscled body.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Criticizing you?”

She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

He shifted a millimeter closer. Everything feminine in her trembled with longing. Reality combined with memories and she had fight not to fall into his arms and beg for another chance. But she’d lost her chance with the Mic she’d loved, and this Mic—Oh, this Mic—might be a little too much for her.

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just curious. Interested.”

The shimmer that came to his blue eyes scared her silly. Eight years of working in some of Europe’s finest restaurants, meeting some of the world’s most sophisticated people, showed in the way he looked at her, the way he moved, the things he said. This was not her Mic.

“Well, I’m not interested in you.”

“Really?” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that skimmed across her skin and raised goose flesh. “I can see in your eyes that that’s a lie.”

“You flatter yourself.”

He laughed, but his head began to lower. “Then you won’t mind a little test.”

Her breath shivered. Her heart stalled. He was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. She was interested and she was curious. She knew nothing could ever come of this. He’d hate her if she told him her real reasons for letting him leave. But she wanted one more kiss. One more taste of the man she hadn’t been able to forget in eight long years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

His lips met hers softly, surely. Her eyes drifted shut, as common sense melted away and sensation took over. He expertly guided them on a slow, sensual journey, using his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss until her bones softened and her blood heated.

When he pulled away, his eyes shone. “So no more telling me you’re not interested.”

She blinked. Common sense returned in a dizzying wave. Why the hell had she kissed him?

She grabbed her coat, her coffee and her scone and raced toward the door.

“Lily!”

She stopped.

“This isn’t over.”

But it was. It had to be. The old Mic was gone. She’d chased him away. There was no going back now.

The next day, Mic arrived at Mancini’s early with Rafe to get a jump on the day’s cooking. But he couldn’t have spent another minute in his aunt and uncle’s empty condo, wondering about that kiss, about Lily’s eager response to him. He’d expected her to slap him. Instead, she’d melted. He was glad for the distraction of cooking and reminiscing with Rafe.

Lunchtime approached. He knew the second Lily arrived for her shift. His senses went on heightened alert. The day before, he’d lowered his head slowly enough that she could have stopped his kiss, but she hadn’t. And then she’d kissed him back, like someone who’d been waiting forever to kiss him again.

Even as it warmed his blood, it made no sense.

She walked out into the kitchen tying an apron around her waist. Their gazes met, her dark brown eyes soft, wary. Then she quickly looked away.

Emory, Rafe’s short, bald sous chef, burst into the kitchen. “Have you heard that the Palazzo di Comparino heir has been located?”

Lily gasped. “Oh, my goodness! Chef Rafe! If they reopen the vineyard, your business will triple.”

Rafe said, “I’m counting on that.”

But Mic watched the color in Lily’s cheeks, the way her eyes shone with pleasure, and confusion overwhelmed him again. She was a good person. Yet the way she’d left him had been cruel. He had to remember that. He shouldn’t be telling her this wasn’t over. He shouldn’t even be speaking to her.

But when she came into the kitchen to retrieve her customers’ meals, their hands brushed every time he gave her a plate, sending the warmth of familiarity through him.

When the night wound down and the waitresses and kitchen staff were nearly done with cleanup, he ambled to the dining room.

The other waitresses had finished before Lily, who was busily counting her tips. The kitchen lights went out and Mic knew they were alone.

“I think I’m going to have to walk you to your car.”

Her brown eyes met his. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe you should be.”

She shook her head. “You think you are funny with your macho words and your stupid tricks.”

“I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

The look she gave him was soft with pain. “Don’t. Please. Let it alone.” She raced to undo the door and left before he could even grab his coat.

He stared after her. The woman had hurt him. The pain she’d inflicted had almost cost him his dream. He shouldn’t be curious about why she was still in the town they’d loved.

He shouldn’t care that she was sad.

But he was.

And maybe he was approaching this all wrong?

Maybe there was a better way to uncover the secrets she kept?

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day, Rafe had an afternoon appointment in Rome and Mic took over the kitchen for dinner. He didn’t have time to think about squelching his feelings for Lily. But at the end of the night, when he went into the dining room, expecting to see it clean and quiet, he found a couple dallying over their meal and Lily sitting at the bar, obviously waiting for them to leave.

He didn’t have to keep her company as she waited, but part of him couldn’t let her sit alone. And maybe if they had a normal conversation, his old feelings for her would go.

He ambled to the bar, walked behind it, pulled out a bottle of wine. “Interested?”

She glanced down at her hands.

“Look. I’m sorry about kissing you. Sorry about pushing you the other night. Let’s share a glass of wine and make peace.”

Her eyes met his. “Okay. Maybe a glass while the customers finish.”

He brought two wine glasses from beneath the bar, opened the bottle and poured.

She said, “You did pretty well tonight.”

He laughed. “Mancini’s is a jewel, but I’ve actually worked bigger.”

“Ah.”

He leaned back against the shelf behind the bar. He didn’t want to be tempted by sitting beside her, but the view from across the bar might actually be better. He could see her face, her flowing hair, her full pink lips.

“You don’t want to hear about the places I’ve been?”

Her gaze jumped to his. “Actually, I do.”

“Though I thoroughly enjoyed every post in Europe, I had a real love for one of my U.S. jobs.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yes. I spent a year at a restaurant in Las Vegas.”

“The place they gamble?” She frowned. “And you liked that the best?”

“The city is full of energy. Life. Lights.” He shook his head. “There’s a party atmosphere everywhere. It spills onto the streets, weaves into the restaurants. The whole town is entertainment.”

“Quite different than the subdued streets of Paris.”

He leaned across the bar, studying her, unable to stop the stirrings of emotions from the past. He’d never really been able to confide in anyone the way he had Lily. And he’d missed that. He’d missed having someone who cared what he did.

“Paris has its nightlife.”

She smiled sadly and glanced down at her wine. “I’m sure.”

Her sadness hit him like a punch in the gut and he was twenty again, simultaneously being offered the adventure of a lifetime and losing the woman who’d been his other half. The confusion of her rejection filled him.

“I would have loved to show you.”

Her serious brown eyes met his. “You couldn’t have shown me.”

He frowned.

“Mic, we didn’t have any money.”

He batted his hand. “There are lots of things you don’t need money for.”

She shook her head. “And there were lots of things that we did need money for. I was uneducated. The best job I could have gotten is what I’m doing now. Waitressing. We would have been cold, hungry.”

A horrible realization rose in him. It coated his mind like smoke in a brush fire, and awakened memories he’d forgotten.

“You were angry that we were broke?”

“I was concerned that you would give up your dream to support me and Melony.”

He stepped back. “Oh, my God. You dumped me because you believed I couldn’t support you?”

“I ended us because I knew I was dead weight. Especially since I came with a little girl. Not just an extra mouth to feed, but two.”

His muscles hardened. His words, when they flowed out of his mouth, felt like dry chips of wood. “You didn’t trust me.”

CHAPTER NINE

The pain on Mic’s face seeped into Lily’s soul. She’d known it would hurt him if she admitted the truth, but tonight she saw it was unfair to make him live with a lie that also hurt him.

“I’m sorry.”

He straightened to his full six-foot-four height. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. She could see it on his face.

“Why don’t you go home for the night? I’ll clean up after this customer.”

“No. I’ll stay. It’s my job.”

“No.” His eyes met hers. “It is my job. And I do my jobs. I always do my jobs.”

Tears flooded her eyes at the humiliation in his voice. “Please, Mic. That’s exactly my point. You would have taken your responsibilities seriously. And you would have lost your dream.”

“So you felt it was better to take the decision out of my hands?”

His righteous indignation finally got the better of her. “Oh, please. You were in the situation every bit as much as I was. You knew I was responsible for my sister. You knew I was still grieving my parents’ deaths. You knew I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, yet when I said no to your proposal you never argued. I said, ‘I don’t love you’, and you left. You never asked why. You didn’t remember my passion for you. You didn’t think that maybe my troubles might have put me in a bad emotional state. You simply got hurt and left.”

He gaped at her. “You’re pinning this on me?”

She rose from her bar stool. Her chin lifted. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Maybe.” A horrible chill enveloped her. The memory of how he’d left raced through her brain. The feeling of abandonment. The knowledge that he hadn’t thought enough of her to even question what she’d said. The memory of the sweeping fear when she realized she was alone and responsible for her ten-year-old sister. “Think back, Mic. You never fought for me. You never fought for what we had.”

“You know, you like to remember your emotional state, but what about mine? I was moving to a city I didn’t know. Alone.”

“Oh, so you only asked me to marry you for company?”

He cursed. “You’re confusing everything.”

“No. Maybe for the first time the truth is coming out.” And it was killing her. All these years, she wouldn’t let herself examine their situation too closely because the pain of losing him had been suffocating. But now she finally saw the truth.

She hadn’t simply lost Mic. She’d proven to both of them that he hadn’t really loved her.

She slid off the bar stool. “I’ve got to go.”

“That’s right. Leave when things get too difficult.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s what you do.”

CHAPTER TEN

Mic was so angry with Lily that he didn’t sleep that night. He actually debated not going to work the next day, but knew he had to, if only to prove he did not run from his troubles.

When she stepped into the kitchen and took a clean apron from the shelf, he stood taller.

Accuse him of being wrong? Ha! That was insane.

“Good morning, Ms. Norelli.”

Her face flamed with color. “Good morning, Chef Mic.”

Rafe waved his knife. “And good morning to me. Now that greetings are over, could we do some work?”

Holding Lily’s gaze, Mic said, “I’d love to work since I don’t let my responsibilities slip.”

Her chin lifted and she left the room.

But the quieter she got, the angrier Mic got. Every “please” and “thank you” grated against his nerves. Her sweet, polite act was just a way to make him wonder if she wasn’t correct. Had he really been the one to bail on her?

As soon as that thought popped into his head, he balked. He had not bailed! She hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself. To prove that he could have supported her, helped raise her sister. She snatched that chance away with her refusal to marry him.

The next time she gave him her overly polite thank you, he yanked the dish away from her. “Perhaps, if it’s too much trouble for you to be honest, I should serve this dish to our customer.”

“Too much trouble? I was sparing you trouble!”

Instantly, Rafe was beside him. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but take it outside.”

Mic ran his hand along the back of his neck. “We’re fine.”

Lily quietly said, “Yes, Chef Rafe. We are fine.”

But Rafe took Mic’s shoulders and turned him to the back door. “No. I hear this all day. I grow tired of it. Go outside and solve it.”

Lily followed Mic out the door. When it closed behind them, he turned on Lily.

“You gutted me with your refusal of my proposal. You said, ‘No. I can’t marry you.’ Then you’d looked me in the eye and said, ‘I don’t love you.’ What did you expect me to do?”

She stormed over to him, as angry as he was, and poked her finger into his chest. “I expected you to think. My God, Mic. I was eighteen and I had a ten-year-old sister who was grieving her parents. You were the bright spot in our lives and at my first confused answer, you left. You didn’t even come by the next day to ask if I was sure. To talk it out. You just left.”

He caught the finger jabbing into his chest. “You want me to say I’m sorry you broke my heart? Are you nuts?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I want you to say my sacrifice was worth it. That you’re who you wanted to be. That you’re grateful.”

“Now I’m to be grateful that you broke my heart?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

The sight of her tears kicked away any common sense he might have. He caught her shoulders and drew her up as his head lowered. Their lips met in a blinding flash of need so intense it seemed to swallow both of them in its angry vortex. Her lips answered his raw need as he plundered her mouth. Desire burst through him. Heat that he remembered from a long-ago love.

Lily. His Lily. Was in his arms.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Breathless desire tumbled through Lily. Fire and ice raced down her spine. It had been so long since anyone had kissed her, touched her, that her soul wept with longing. She just wanted to be loved again. To feel whole again.

The only time she’d ever felt whole had been with Mic. But as quickly as she thought that, she remembered that this might be Mic, but he wasn’t the same man she’d loved. This Mic was strong, smart, sophisticated. In the eight years she’d struggled for food and shelter for a ten-year-old sister, he’d seen the world.

She pushed herself away from him. “Don’t. Stop.”

His blue eyes skimmed her face. “I’m to be sorry for this too?”

She cleared the ache in her throat, took a few more steps back. “No.” Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced to the right, unable to meet his gaze. How did a woman say no to the man who had once been the other half of her?

“This is wrong.”

“This feels right.”

“Really? You’re going to stay this time?”

He laughed. “Wow, you get right to the hard questions. You couldn’t even let us spend a few weeks, or even days, together before you took us right to the bottom line.”

“We’re not the same people.”

“So?”

“So that means we can’t pick up where we left off. We’d have to start over. And I’m not sure that’s possible for us.”

“Because I hurt you?”

She smiled slightly at the fact that he was finally admitting it. She met his gaze. “Because I hurt you.”

“We hurt each other.”

“And in eight years apart we became two different people.”

He looked away, then looked back at her. “I think I see.”

She expected relief to sigh through her. Instead, tears pricked her eyes. “I better get back in.”

She turned quickly and returned to the kitchen, but she didn’t stop or even pause. The tears in her eyes were bursting through and she needed a minute.

A few quick dodges of tables, customers and waitresses took her to the restroom. Inside, she locked the door and leaned against the cool wall.

Though she believed every word she’d said to Mic—they were different people; they could not pick up where they left off—she hated them.

“Lily?” Mila, one of the other waitresses, knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need to talk?”

Her breath shuddered into her lungs, heavy with the need to sob, but she straightened her shoulders. “No. I’m fine.”

She was always fine. In eight years, she hadn’t broken down. She’d done her duties. Raised her sister. Taken care of Signor Bartolini. And even planned a real future when she enrolled in university for next semester. She had everything under control. She did not need a shoulder to cry on, someone to take care of her. She was strong.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want one more night with Mic. One night when she wouldn’t feel alone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mic understood Lily avoiding him the next few days at the restaurant, but he didn’t like it. He scheduled himself for the same day off that she had, but she didn’t go to the coffeehouse as she had on her other day off.

He sat in the quiet bistro, waiting for her, not quite sure what he expected. He only knew that kiss had been explosive. The way she’d clung to him gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, a need to protect her so fierce it threatened to consume him.

After tossing his coffee cup into the trash on the way out, he pushed open the door and breathed the very cold air of Monte Calanetti in January. He decided to take a walk, but didn’t get too far before he saw Lily coming out of an older, but renovated building. He stopped. Not seeing him, she turned to the left and headed up the street. He stared at the building. She’d struggled after he’d left. So what was she doing coming out of a newly renovated building this early in the morning? Unless this was the home of her lover?

Jealousy, swift and hot, raged through him. He followed her up the street, keeping a safe distance, not quite sure what he expected to see. The coffeehouse was in the other direction. So he knew she wasn’t going for coffee for her lover. But maybe a bagel from the bakery?

That quickened his steps. He didn’t know why he cared so much. He’d had lovers over the past eight years. But Lily … was his. Or had been. Maybe it was time to remember that?

He nearly turned to walk away, but she shifted to the right, across the street, toward the fountain.

The place where wishes come true?

He shook his head, thinking that was crazy, then his thoughts speeded up. What if she was wishing for him? Wishing things were different?

He crossed the street and walked up to her as she stood staring at the water that rose then fell almost like a melody.

“Hey.”

She turned as if he’d startled her. “Hey.”

Her knit cap had been pulled low to protect her from the cold, calling attention to her round brown eyes. The long hair beneath the cap curled around her shoulders.

His heart stuttered. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman as beautiful.

“Here to make a wish?”

Her lips turned down in self-deprecation. “Sounds silly.”

He rifled in his pocket for a coin. “Or maybe good?”

“I’m not wishing for you.”

He laughed. “That’s my Lily. Get right to the point.”

“Would you rather I was dishonest?”

He’d rather she was in his bed. Warm. Naked. Laughing. But he didn’t know if sleeping together would bring them closer or drive them further apart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hating her anymore either.

So maybe it was better to let them be friends. He presented the coin to her. “Whatever your wish, I hope it comes true.”

She took the coin and tossed it with a laugh. “Maybe I should wish for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Oh, now you can’t tell a man that, toss a coin and expect me to walk away. Especially since I know the legend.”

Studying his silly expression and not sure if he was teasing, Lily said, “That wishes in this fountain come true?”

“That the wishes of people who can get their coin in the clam shell come true.” He smiled and pointed. “You made it.”

She laughed and her soul lifted. It was the first time the man in Mic’s body behaved like the Mic she remembered.

“So what are you doing at a fountain on a cold morning?”

“Same thing you are.”

She smiled. “Walls of your house closing in on you?”

“Tired of sitting on my mattress, watching reruns of televisions shows on my tablet. When my aunt and uncle asked me to condo-sit, they neglected to tell me that the place was empty.”

She laughed.

His smile faded. “We really blew it, didn’t we?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The sadness in his voice told the story.

“Not really.” She caught the gaze of his beautiful blue eyes, took in the short hair that was growing on her, and smiled. “Mic, we were kids. Neither one of us had the ability to make enough money. And you became the man you wanted to be. The success. That’s not blowing it.”

“So what did you do after I left?” He glanced away then looked back at her, his eyes searching hers. “My God, Lily, if you didn’t think the two of us together could support us, how did you do it alone?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. The longing to be honest warred with her hatred of sympathy. In the end, honesty won. “I lost our apartment.”

He cursed.

“Melony and I lived on the street for a week before Signor Bartolini found us one night.”

He ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t terrible. He needed a maid and as a household servant, I got living quarters.”

She could see from his expression that he disapproved. Her chin lifted. “Many good people start out as maids.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I’m not criticizing your choice. I’m sad that you’d rather starve than depend on me.”

“Oh, yeah. And how well were you faring in France, on the pittance a first-time apprentice makes?”

“I was fine.”

Pride forced her chin up even higher. “We were fine too. And when he died, Signor Bartolini left me enough money for Melony’s education, and my condo. I did as well for myself as I could.”

Unable to stand the sympathy in his eyes, she turned and walked away.

“Lily!”

Her walk became a run. How dare he insinuate that she had somehow failed?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Having chased after her, Mic entered the building housing her condo. As he’d hoped, her last name was on one of the mail slots, but when he rang to be let up, no one answered.

The next day at work, she couldn’t run from him. Or so he thought. Every time he tried to get a minute with her, privately, to apologize, to finish talking this out, she had an immediate need to be away from him.

He cursed.

Rafe sighed heavily. “In my kitchen, only I curse.”

“Apologies, Chef Rafe.”

“Accepted,” Rafe said, casually, knowing it was his due.

Mic would have laughed, except his stomach was in knots.

“You and Lily,” Rafe said as he raised the lid on a pot of marinara. “I forgot you had a past when I invited you to work with us. You both are tense.”

“This time it’s my fault. Yesterday, we met at the fountain. I made her feel bad.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t my intention. Everything between us just keeps getting confused.”

“You should have resolved your problems eight years ago.”

He looked up at Rafe. “I thought we had.”

“You don’t resolve anything by leaving.”

He knew that now. With eight years of life experience under his belt, things were all very, very clear. It was the present he couldn’t fix. “So much has happened in both of our lives that now we’re like strangers.”

“You aren’t like strangers. You are strangers.” Rafe took a long sniff of the marinara, pronounced it good with a nod and looked at Mic again. “She’s a good woman. A strong woman. Not a woman prone to silliness. When she wouldn’t marry you eight years ago, she had a good reason. So maybe it’s better you let her alone.”

Mic glanced at the door. She’d had a good reason, all right. She didn’t trust that he could support her and her sister. God knows how long she’d spent desperately trying to scrape together the money to keep their apartment, then the week on the street before Bartolini had taken her in. The trouble she’d endured shattered him.

She entered the kitchen for two bowls of wedding soup. Her spine was stiff and straight. Her eyes downcast.

He walked over to the pot and took the ladle from her hand. “I will get this.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. You are always fine.” He waited a beat. Long enough for her gaze to rise and meet his. “And I am sorry.” He meant that he was sorry for what happened the day before but when her eyes darkened with hope, he sucked in a breath, caught her hand. “I should have come back the next day. I should have pounded on your door until you would have talked to me. I should have known you loved me.”

She said, “We were young.” But her gaze clung to his.

They weren’t young now. They were both free. A world of opportunities awaited him, and her responsibilities to her sister had been fulfilled.

Would it really be so wrong to try again?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lily scampered out of the kitchen, careful not to slosh her soup. But as the door swung closed behind her, she heard Chef Rafe say, “I thought we decided it is best for you to stay away from her?”

Mic said, “Yeah.” He paused a second, as if considering that, then he said, “But we’re not kids and I’m only here for a few weeks. There’s nothing wrong with us spending some time together.”

Her steps faltered. Another woman might have been insulted that he was thinking of her only as a lover. Maybe even entertainment while he was here. Not someone to keep in his life permanently. But she knew the past would never allow them to have another relationship. And if that wasn’t enough, he was going to Paris and in a few months she’d be renting out her condo and moving to Florence. But she still desperately wanted her one more night.

So when Mila suggested they go to Pia’s Tavern after work and she heard Mic agreeing, she accepted the invitation too. Except she didn’t go directly from Mancini’s to Pia’s. She raced to her condo, showered, fixed her hair and put on makeup and her best jeans and sweater before she left for the local tavern.

When she entered, the short, round bartender was adjusting the channel on the television above the shelves of whiskey, gin and rum behind the shiny wood bar. Flames from the old stone fireplace in the back kept the January cold at bay. In the far corner, playing darts, was the crew from Mancini’s.

As Lily’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed everybody but Rafe seemed to have needed the night out. Their demanding, hyper-vigilant chef was not in attendance.

But Mic was. He’d taken off his chef’s smock and wore jeans and a bright blue sweater that made the color of his eyes seem even bluer. He stood beside Allegra, holding her arm back, showing her how to throw a dart, but Lily didn’t get jealous of the intimate pose. She knew when Mic was romantically interested in someone. A certain look came to his eyes. That look wasn’t there for Allegra.

She slid out of her old black wool coat, hung it on a convenient hook near the dartboard.

When Mic heard her, he glanced up.

“Wanna buy a friend a beer?”

His eyes darkened, then warmed, and she smiled. That was the look he got when he was interested in someone.

“Sure.”

He motioned for the bartender, who came and took orders. Lily ambled to a table when the bartender brought her beer and Mic followed her.

He slid to the seat across from her. “You changed clothes.”

She smiled. “I don’t get out much. I wanted to look nice.”

“Liar. You changed for me.”

She laughed. “So you’re getting smart enough not to accept my silly lies.”

“The last one wasn’t silly.”

“No, but I thought it was necessary.” She sucked in a breath to change the conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the past or the future. She wanted to be with him. “And here we are. Eight years later. Eight years smarter. And neither one of us coy.” She met his gaze. “Would you like to come back to my condo with me?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mic almost spit out his beer. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Lily’s condo with her.

It was what she wanted. He could see it in her eyes. But something wasn’t quite right. They’d never made love just for sex. It had always been about love. And what she suggested now, a hook up, gave him an odd feeling he couldn’t quite interpret.

So he left the decision to chance. “How about if we play darts for it?”

She laughed. “What?”

“If you beat me, we do as you wish.”

She rose from the table. “Wow. I’ve never had a man turn me down before.”

Jealousy speared his heart as he also rose. “There have been many?”

She laughed and took his arm, leading him to the dartboard. “There was no one.”

He said, “What?” but she ignored him, walking to the board and removing the darts for them to play.

The thought that she’d spent eight years celibate rattled through him. Confusion destroyed his dart game, and she easily beat him. And he wondered if that hadn’t actually been her plan.

He met her gaze. “Looks like you get your wish.”

She smiled and reached for her coat on the hook, but he grabbed it before she could and held it for her to slide on. “So we go back to your condo now?”

She turned, her eyes bright with humor. “You must be invited again?”

His heart kicked. He hadn’t realized how much he’d longed for her smile, her presence, until that very second. With the pretense gone and all questions answered, he just wanted to be with her.

“No. I don’t need to be asked twice.”

She headed for the exit. He followed her, opening the door when they reached it, and she walked into the cold night.

Still, as much as he wanted to be with her, something about this troubled him.

“So you worked for Signor Bartolini for eight years?”

“Actually he died a while back. But Melony and I were there for years. He made his home our home.”

He took comfort in that, and relaxed a little. But her statement that there had been no one for her since their relationship popped into his head again, haunting him in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

She’d spent the time they were apart truly alone. A sign that she’d had trouble forgetting him—forgetting what they’d had. She’d genuinely sacrificed so he could live his dream. The power of it humbled him.

He pulled the collar up on his jacket. “It’s really cold.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her simple black wool coat. “Our coldest January in a long time.”

Moonlight spilled over the streets and the glistening water of the fountain.

“You never did tell me your wish.”

“Because I want it to come true.”

He laughed and caught her hand, joy filling his heart. Maybe the thing to do would be forget the past and let this night happen.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

They walked into her building bundled together like longtime lovers sharing secrets. When they entered the elevator, Mic caught her hand, swung her to face him and kissed her. She murmured her pleasure, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across hers, sending chill bumps to her toes.

The elevator bell rang. She heard the doors swish open, but they didn’t stop kissing. Feelings and sensations returned in long, elegant waves of arousal that wound through her, warming her and filling her heart with joy.

The elevator door swished closed again, but Rafe pulled away and swatted the “open” button. As the doors slid apart again, he scooped Lily into his arms.

“Which door?”

“Two,” she said, nuzzling her nose into his neck which was scented with a combination of aftershave and man. She would have thought this a dream, but the muscles beneath her fingers were solid and strong. He was solid and strong. She’d missed him in a way that had slowed her heartbeat and stolen her soul, and now he was here and she was in his arms.

Easy strides took him to her door. She rummaged in her jeans pocket for the key and, leaning back, punched it into the lock and opened the door.

He stepped inside, took a quick glance at her simple furnishings and said, “Nice.” But he didn’t slow his steps. He strode back the short hall to the last room and dumped her on the bed.

She squealed with delight and rolled away when he would have fallen on her, a game they used to play all those years ago. He caught her arm and brought her back to him, but she scooted away again. They tumbled across the bed like two kids before he finally stopped them by pinning her beneath him.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

It was so wonderful, so perfect, to feel his weight on her, to feel his heartbeat thrumming down into her breast. “Only you think so.”

He blew his breath out in a sound of disbelief. “You don’t look around. I see how the apprentices and cooks stare at you. Not to mention customers.”

“Then maybe you should kiss me to make sure I never notice them.”

He laughed and did as she’d asked, but not in the playful way she’d expected. The kiss was slow and deep, merging their mouths, awakening their souls. A lazy haze enveloped her. When he pulled away, she caught his arm to stop him.

“Coat,” he said, jerking off his jacket.

She quickly reached for the buttons of her black wool coat, but he nudged her hands away so he could undo them. As each popped, a piece of her coat slid away. His eyes darkened.

She levered herself up, so he could remove the garment. But she didn’t wait painstaking minutes he was taking. She sat up a little more, put her hands at the bottom of her sweater and jerked it over her head.

He kissed her then. Desire trembled through her, along with her first shadow of doubt. After their breakup, she hadn’t been able to even look at a man in eight years. Was it smart to spend one more night with the man who seemed to ruin her for other men?

Mic awakened hours later. He glanced at the clock. Three-thirty. He needed to be at Mancini’s at seven, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Snuggled into his side was beautiful Lily, the only woman he’d ever loved.

As he got out of bed to dress, he took in her simple bedroom. Airy lace curtains. A comforter of soft colors for beauty and warmth. Thick rugs on hardwood floors. Dressed now, he walked into the living room, seeing it was the same. Warm colors. Simple furniture that spoke of ease and use. No showpiece. No art. Her apartment was a home.

He hadn’t thought of home in a long time. And knew that was because the only woman he had ever wanted to settle down with was in the room down the hall.

There were no ifs, no buts, no ands, no maybes. His life was exciting, but cold and frequently empty. Lily filled up the empty spaces in his heart, gave his life meaning … gave him a sense that he wasn’t just a piece of talent. He was somebody.

Fate had given him another chance to have the woman he loved. And if he walked away without asking her to marry him, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lily was just about asleep again when Mic returned to the bedroom. Eyes closed, she rolled to her side. “I thought you were leaving. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

She felt his weight on the bed beside her and opened her eyes.

“I forgot something very, very important.”

“Really? You look totally dressed to me. Is there a sock under the bed?”

“No.” He glanced away then gazed at her again. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

She laughed. “Of course, I think about the future.”

“No. I mean do you ever really think about the future.” He motioned to the bed. “How this affects our future?”

She studied his serious face, the odd look in his eyes. She had no idea what could take him from her happy lover to this serious man … then it hit her. She and Mic hadn’t ever had a one-night stand. They’d been serious about each other from their first night. Lovers who intended to marry. This night didn’t fit them.

“You worry that you’re going to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you again.”

His serious tone pinched her heart. There was no way she’d let him regret making love. No way she’d have him leave thinking she was a charity case. She wasn’t.

Before he could say anything, she sat up. “Look, Melony isn’t the only one who got money for school from Signor Bartolini. I let Melony get enrolled and settle in before me to give her a sense of freedom, a chance to find friends without me hanging about. But next month I’ll be joining her in Florence.”

His face fell. “You’re going to school?”

She stroked his arm. “Yes. I get to live my dream too.”

He studied her face. “You have a dream?”

“You think I didn’t?” She sat up a little farther in bed, determined not to let him feel sorry for her or regret their time together, even though her heart splintered. Did he really have so little feeling for her that he didn’t see how this conversation would hurt her? Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to say, “Take me to Paris with you.”

But he wouldn’t take her to Paris with him. He wouldn’t be so bold as to ask again, and she wouldn’t be so humiliated as to beg.

“I love art. I visited so many museums that I swear I know more than the curators.” She laughed, working to hide the weird feeling in her heart that nudged her to admit she loved him and beg him to give her a second chance. She had to preserve her pride. She’d known this was only a one-night thing. She could not embarrass herself. “That’s what I want to be.”

“And you have already enrolled?”

“Si. Tuition is paid. I am okay, Mic.” She squeezed his arm. “You do not have to take care of me or worry about me. I’m very good alone.”

He rose from the bed. His eyes skimmed her face and she prayed for the strength not to cry.

“And this is what you want?”

She nodded. “This is what I want.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded again.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, then.” He turned to the door. “I will see you at Mancini’s.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mic cursed the cruelties of fate when Lily arrived at Mancini’s a few hours after him. He had, it seemed, lost his chance. For one shining moment in time eight years ago, his path and Lily’s path had synced. But because he’d gotten hurt rather than investigate why she refused his marriage proposal, he had lost her. After the sacrifice she’d made so that he could live his dream, he could not deprive her of hers by asking her to forget university and move to Paris with him.

But it was hard to work with her, to watch her happily go through the day as if nothing was wrong when his heart was broken. So he was glad when the call came in from his aunt, telling him that her condo had sold.

Not wasting a second, he thanked Rafe for giving him something to do for the weeks that could have been long and boring. Then he walked into the dining room to find Lily.

When he called her name, she faced him with a smile.

“My aunt’s condo sold.”

Her happy smile faded. “Oh.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I am leaving.”

“You’re leaving now?” She blinked. “I thought maybe you could come by again tonight.”

He couldn’t handle the pain of it. He especially couldn’t trust himself not to beg her to give up her dream and follow him to Paris.

“I must leave now.”

He turned and walked out of Mancini’s, his heart hurting, but proud of himself for not asking her to give up her dream for him.

He drove to the condo and packed his duffel bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked to his car, got in and headed for Paris.

Lily fell to a chair in the dining room. Mila raced over. “Are you okay?”

“He’s gone.”

Mila glanced at the door. “You mean, Chef Mic?”

“Si.” Seeing the confused look on Mila’s face, Lily bounced out of her chair. She hadn’t played such a good role in the bedroom that morning for Mic, only to ruin it this afternoon by falling apart in front of her friends.

She pasted a smile on her face as she fought the sting of tears. “I am fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Losing him the first time had killed her, but letting him go this time had a ring of finality to it. He would never be back … and even if he did come back to visit Rafe, neither of them would be so foolish as to let their heart get involved again.

Mic only got five miles before he cursed and slapped the steering wheel. He could not believe fate was so cruel to bring them together only to tear them apart.

But he also knew he could not ask her to sacrifice for him one more time. She had a life, dreams …

Hell, she had a right to her dreams. God knew, he was living his. There were no fewer than eight restaurants that wanted him. He could—and had—named his price. While she’d been stuck in Monte Calanetti, he could go anywhere he wanted—

He stopped his thoughts. He could go anywhere he wanted. Including Florence. He might not be able to ask her to give up her dream for him, but he sure could give up one little restaurant for her.

He turned his car around with a screech of tires.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lily pulled herself together as best she could, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed to go home and cry this out.

She walked into the kitchen to ask Chef Rafe if she could have the afternoon off, but the back door opened and Mic walked in.

Her heart sped up, then slowed to a crawl. He was probably back for something he forgot. She turned and raced out of the kitchen just in time to see Gino escort customers to a table. She grabbed her order pad.

She got as far as saying, “Today’s specials are …” when she was lifted off her feet and swung around.

She blinked a few times and Mic’s face came into focus. “Mic?”

“Si.”

“What are you doing!”

“I’m taking you with me.”

“To Paris?” At first the idea thrilled her. She couldn’t bear to be without him. Then the whole thing sunk in. He was taking her to a city she didn’t know with no promise of a future. No mention of love.

“Put me down!”

“No. I lost you once. I’m not losing you again.” The words were nice, sweet, and filled her heart with such hope it almost burst, but they weren’t enough.

“I’m not going to Paris.”

“Good because I’m not going to Paris either.”

By this point, they were at Gino’s Maître D podium. He reached behind him and slid her coat off its hanger. Handing it to her, usually gruff Gino grinned. “It’s cold out there. You’re going to need this.”

She caught the coat as they whipped by Gino. “Mic!”

He set her down beside his car. “Eight years ago, you gave us up so I could live my dream. Now, I give up one measly restaurant so you can live your dream.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I can work anywhere I want!” He waved his arms as if to indicate the world. “I have two offers in Florence.”

“And you’re coming with me?”

“No. We’re going together. We’re getting married. And then we’ll both live our dreams.”

Her mouth fell. Her head spun. Her heart almost believed him. “But we don’t know each other.”

“We’ve always known each other.” He paused, stepped closer. “Always loved each other.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Your heart tells me.”

Her lips trembled.

“You don’t believe me?”

When she said nothing, he shook his head. “What is wrong?”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say … that I love you?” He laughed. “I love you. I adore you. I have always adored you. And I will not let you tell me no this time.”

A laugh broke through her tears. She bounced to her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Then I say yes. Yes. I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”

She barely got the words out of her mouth before he kissed her and for the first time in eight years Lily Norelli was whole again.

A Bride for the

Italian Boss

Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

ITALY HAD TO BE the most beautiful place in the world.

Daniella Tate glanced around in awe at the cobblestone streets and blue skies of Florence. She’d taken a train here, but now had to board a bus for the village of Monte Calanetti.

After purchasing her ticket, she strolled to a wooden bench. But as she sat, she noticed a woman a few rows over, with white-blond hair and a slim build. The woman stared out into space; the faraway look in her eyes triggered Daniella’s empathy. Having grown up a foster child, she knew what it felt like to be alone, sometimes scared, usually confused. And she saw all three of those emotions in the woman’s pretty blue eyes.

An announcement for boarding the next bus came over the public address system. An older woman sitting beside the blonde rose and slid her fingers around the bag sitting at her feet. The pretty blonde rose, too.

“Excuse me. That’s my bag.”

The older woman spoke in angry, rapid-fire Italian and the blonde, speaking American English, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.”

But the older woman clutched the bag to her and very clearly told the American that it was her carry-on.

Daniella bounced from her seat and scurried over. She faced the American. “I speak Italian, perhaps I can help?” Then she turned to the older woman. In flawless Italian, she asked if she was sure the black bag was hers, because there was a similar bag on the floor on the other side.

The older woman flushed with embarrassment. She apologetically gave the bag to the American, grabbed her carry-on and scampered off to catch her bus.

The pretty blonde sighed with relief and turned her blue eyes to Daniella. “Thank you.”

“No problem. When you responded in English it wasn’t a great leap to assume you didn’t speak the language.”

The woman’s eyes clouded. “I don’t.”

“Do you have a friend coming to meet you?”

“No.”

Dani winced. “Then I hope you have a good English-to-Italian dictionary.”

The American pointed to a small listening device. “I’ve downloaded the ‘best’ language system.” She smiled slightly. “It promises I’ll be fluent in five weeks.”

Dani laughed. “It could be a long five weeks.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Daniella, by the way.”

The pretty American hesitated, but finally shook Daniella’s hand and said, “Louisa.”

“It’s my first trip to Italy. I’ve been teaching English in Rome, but my foster mother was from Tuscany. I’m going to use this final month of my trip to find her home.”

Louisa tilted her head. “Your foster mother?”

Dani winced. “Sorry. I’m oversharing.”

Louisa smiled.

“It’s just that I’m so excited to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” She didn’t mention that her longtime boyfriend had proposed the day before she left for her teaching post in Rome. That truly would be oversharing, but also she hadn’t known what to make of Paul’s request to marry him. Had he proposed before her trip to tie her to him? Or had they hit the place in their relationship where marriage really was the next step? Were they ready? Was marriage right for them?

Too many questions came with his offer of marriage. So she hadn’t accepted. She’d told him she would answer him when she returned from Italy. She’d planned this February side trip to be a nice, uncomplicated space of time before she settled down to life as a teacher in the New York City school system. Paul had ruined it with a proposal she should have eagerly accepted, but had stumbled over. So her best option was not to think about it until she had to.

Next month.

“I extended my trip so I could have some time to bum around. See the village my foster mother came from, and hopefully meet her family.”

To Daniella’s surprise, Louisa laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

The understanding in Louisa’s voice caused Danielle to brighten again, thinking they had something in common. “So you’re a tourist, too?”

“No.”

Dani frowned. Louisa’s tone in that one simple word suddenly made her feel as if she’d crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

Louisa sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit nervous. You were kind to come to my rescue. I don’t mean to be such a ninny. I’m on my way to Monte Calanetti.”

Daniella’s mouth fell open. “So am I.”

The announcement that their bus was boarding came over the loudspeaker. Danielle faced the gate. Louisa did, too.

Dani smiled. “Looks like we’re off.”

“Yes.” Louisa’s mysterious smile formed again.

They boarded the bus and Daniella chose a spot in the middle, believing that was the best place to see the sights on the drive to the quaint village. After tucking her backpack away, she took her seat.

To her surprise, Louisa paused beside her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Daniella happily said, “Of course, I don’t mind! That would be great.”

But as Louisa sat, Daniella took note again that something seemed off about her. Everything Louisa did had a sense of hesitancy about it. Everything she said seemed incomplete.

“So you have a month before you go home?”

“All of February.” Daniella took a deep breath. “And I intend to enjoy every minute of it. Even if I do have to find work.”

“Work?”

“A waitressing job. Or maybe part-time shop clerk. That kind of thing. New York is a very expensive place to live. I don’t want to blow every cent I made teaching on a vacation. I’ll need that money when I get back home. So I intend to earn my spending money while I see the sights.”

As the bus eased out of the station, Louisa said, “That’s smart.”

Dani sat up, not wanting to miss anything. Louisa laughed. “Your foster mother should have come with you.”

Pain squeezed Daniella’s heart. Just when she thought she was adjusted to her loss, the reality would swoop in and remind her that the sweet, loving woman who’d saved her was gone. She swallowed hard. “She passed a few months ago. She left me the money for my plane ticket to Italy in her will.”

Louisa’s beautiful face blossomed with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. That was careless of me.”

Daniella shook her head. “No. You had no way of knowing.”

Louisa studied her. “So you have no set plans? No schedule of things you want to see and do? No places you’ve already scouted out to potentially get a job?”

“No schedule. I want to wing it. I’ve done a bit of research about Rosa’s family and I know the language. So I think I’ll be okay.”

Louisa laughed. “Better off than I’ll be since I don’t know the language.” She held up her listening device. “At least not for another five weeks.”

The bus made several slow turns, getting them out of the station and onto the street.

Taking a final look at Florence, Dani breathed, “Isn’t this whole country gorgeous?” Even in winter with barren trees, the scene was idyllic. Blue skies. Rolling hills.

“Yes.” Louisa bit her lip, then hesitantly said, “I’m here because I inherited something, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She paused, studied Daniella’s face as if assessing if she could trust her before continuing, “A villa.”

“Oh, my God! A villa!”

Louisa glanced away. “I know. It’s pretty amazing. The place is called Palazzo di Comparino.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Yes.” She pulled out a picture of a tall, graceful house. Rich green vines grew in rows in the background beneath a blue sky.

It was everything Dani could do not to gape in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

Louisa laughed. “Yes. But so far I haven’t seen anything in Italy that isn’t gorgeous.” She winced. “I hate to admit it, but I’m excited.”

“I’d be beyond excited.”

“I’m told Monte Calanetti developed around Palazzo Chianti because of the vineyard which is part of the villa I inherited. Back then, they would have needed lots of help picking grapes, making the wine. Those people are the ancestors of the people who live there now.”

“That is so cool.”

“Yes, except I know nothing about running a vineyard.”

Daniella batted a hand. “With the internet these days, you can learn anything.”

Louisa sucked in a breath. “I hope so.”

Daniella laid her hand on Louisa’s in a show of encouragement. “You’ll be fine.”

Louise’s face formed another of her enigmatic smiles and Daniella’s sixth sense perked up again. Louisa appeared to want to be happy, but behind her smile was something...

Louisa brought her gaze back to Daniella’s. “You know, I could probably use a little help when I get there.”

“Help?”

“I don’t think I’m just going to move into a villa without somebody coming to question me.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m going to be at a loss if they’re speaking Italian.”

Dani winced. “Especially if it’s the sheriff.”

Louisa laughed. “I don’t even know if they have sheriffs here. My letter is in English, but the officials are probably Italian. It could turn out to be a mess. So, I’d be happy to put you up for a while.” She caught Dani’s gaze. “Even all four weeks you’re looking for your foster mom’s relatives—if you’d be my translator.”

Overwhelmed by the generous offer, Daniella said, “That would be fantastic. But I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“You’ll certainly earn your keep if somebody comes to check my story.”

Daniella grinned. “I’d be staying in a villa.”

Louisa laughed. “I own a villa.”

“Okay, then. I’d be happy to be your translator while I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Glad for the friendship forming between them, Daniella engaged Louisa in conversation as miles of hills and blue, blue sky rolled past them. Then suddenly a walled village appeared to the right. The bus turned in.

Aged, but well-maintained stucco, brick and stone buildings greeted them. Cobblestone streets were filled with happy, chatting people. Through the large front windows of the establishments, Dani could see the coffee drinkers or diners inside while outdoor dining areas sat empty because of the chilly temperatures.

The center circle of the town came into view. The bus made the wide turn but Dani suddenly saw a sign that read Palazzo di Comparino. The old, worn wood planks had a thick black line painted through them as if to cancel out the offer of vineyard tours.

Daniella grabbed Louisa’s arm and pointed out the window. “Look!”

“Oh, my gosh!” Louisa jumped out of her seat and yelled, “Stop!”

Daniella rose, too. She said, “Fermi qui, per favore.”

It took a minute for the bus driver to hear and finally halt the bus. After gathering their belongings, Louisa and Daniella faced the lane that led to Louisa’s villa. Because Dani had only a backpack and Louisa had two suitcases and a carry-on bag, Daniella said, “Let me take your suitcase.”

Louisa smiled. “Having you around is turning out to be very handy.”

Daniella laughed as they walked down the long lane that took them to the villa. The pale brown brick house soon became visible. The closer they got, the bigger it seemed to be.

Louisa reverently whispered, “Holy cow.”

Daniella licked her suddenly dry lips. “It’s huge.”

The main house sprawled before them. Several stories tall, and long and deep, like a house with suites not bedrooms, Louisa’s new home could only be described as a mansion.

They silently walked up the stone path to the front door. When they reached it, Louisa pulled out a key and manipulated the lock. As the door opened, the stale, musty scent of a building that had been locked up for years assaulted them. Dust and cobwebs covered the crystal chandelier in the huge marble-floored foyer as well as the paintings on the walls and the curved stairway.

Daniella cautiously stepped inside. “Is your family royalty?”

Louisa gazed around in awe. “I didn’t think so.”

“Meaning they could be?”

“I don’t know.” Louisa turned to the right and walked into a sitting room. Again, dust covered everything. A teacup sat on a table by a dusty chair. Passing through that room, they entered another that appeared to be a library or study. From there, they found a dining room.

Watermarks on the ceiling spoke of damage from a second-floor bathroom or maybe even the roof. The kitchen was old and in need of remodeling. The first-floor bathrooms were outdated, as was every bathroom in the suites upstairs.

After only getting as far as the second floor, Louisa turned to Daniella with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the house would be in such disrepair. From the picture, it looked perfect. If you want to get a hotel room in town, I’ll understand.”

“Are you kidding?” Daniella rolled Louisa’s big suitcase to a stop and walked into the incredibly dusty, cobweb-covered bedroom. She spun around and faced Louisa. “I love it. With a dust rag, some cleanser for the bathroom and a window washing, this room will be perfect.”

Louisa hesitantly followed Daniella into the bedroom. “You’re an optimist.”

Daniella laughed. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t need to call a contractor about a few things. But we can clean our rooms and the kitchen.”

* * *

Raffaele Mancini stared at Gino Scarpetti, a tall, stiff man, who worked as the maître d’ for Mancini’s, Rafe’s very exclusive, upscale, Michelin-starred restaurant located in the heart of wine country.

Mancini’s had been carefully crafted to charm customers. The stone and wood walls of the renovated farmhouse gave the place the feel of days long gone. Shutters on the windows blocked the light of the evening sun, but also added to the Old World charisma. Rows of bottles of Merlot and Chianti reminded diners that this area was the home of the best vineyards, the finest wines.

Gino ripped off the Mancini’s name tag pinned to his white shirt. “You, sir, are now without a maître d’.”

A hush fell over the dining room. Even the usual clink and clatter of silverware and the tinkle of good crystal wineglasses halted.

Gino slapped the name tag into Rafe’s hand. Before Rafe could comment or argue, the man was out the door.

Someone began to clap. Then another person. And another. Within seconds the sophisticated Tuscany restaurant dining room filled with the sounds of applause and laughter.

Laughter!

They were enjoying his misery!

He looked at the line of customers forming beside the podium just inside the door, then the chattering diners laughing about his temper and his inability to keep good help. He tossed his hands in the air before he marched back to the big ultramodern stainless-steel restaurant kitchen.

“You!”

He pointed at the thin boy who’d begun apprenticing at Mancini’s the week before. “Take off your smock and get to the maître d’ stand. You are seating people.”

The boy’s brown eyes grew round with fear. “I...I...”

Rafe raised a brow. “You can’t take names and seat customers?”

“I can...”

“But you don’t want to.” Rafe didn’t have to say anything beyond that. He didn’t need to say, “If you can’t obey orders, you’re fired.” He didn’t need to remind anyone in his kitchen that he was boss or that anyone working in the restaurant needed to be able to do anything that needed to be done to assure the absolute best dining experience for the customers. Everyone knew he was not a chef to be trifled with.

Except right now, in the dining room, they were laughing at him.

The boy whipped off his smock, threw it to a laundry bin and headed out to the dining room.

Seeing the white-smocked staff gaping at him, Rafe shook his head. “Get to work!”

Knives instantly rose. The clatter of chopping and the sizzle of sautéing filled the kitchen.

He sucked in a breath. Not only was his restaurant plagued by troubles, but now it seemed the diners had no sympathy.

“You shouldn’t have fired Gino.” Emory Danoto, Rafe’s sous-chef, spoke as he worked. Short and bald with a happy face and nearly as much talent as Rafe in the kitchen, Emory was also Rafe’s mentor.

Rafe glanced around, inspecting the food prep, pretending he was fine. Damn it. He was fine. He did not want a frightened rabbit working for him. Not even outside the kitchen. And the response of the diners? That was a fluke. Somebody apparently believed it was funny to see a world-renowned chef tortured by incompetents.

“I didn’t fire Gino. He quit.”

Emory cast him a condemning look. “You yelled at him.”

Rafe yelled, “I yell at everybody.” Then he calmed himself and shook his head. “I am the chef. I am Mancini’s.”

“And you must be obeyed.”

“Don’t make me sound like a prima donna. I am doing what’s best for the restaurant.”

“Well, Mr. I’m-Doing-What’s-Best-for-the-Restaurant, have you forgotten about our upcoming visit from the Michelin people?”

“A rumor.”

Emory sniffed a laugh. “Since when have we ever ignored a rumor that we were to be visited? Your star rating could be in jeopardy. You’re the one who says chefs who ignore rumors get caught with their pants down. If we want to keep our stars, we have to be ready for this visit.”

Rafe stifled a sigh. Emory was right, of course. His trusted friend only reminded him of what he already knew. Having located his business in the countryside, instead of in town, he’d made it even more exclusive. But that also meant he didn’t get street traffic. He needed word of mouth. He needed every diner to recommend him to their friends. He needed to be in travel brochures. To be a stop for tour buses. To be recommended by travel agents. He couldn’t lose a star.

The lunch crowd left. Day quickly became night. Before Rafe could draw a steady breath the restaurant filled again. Wasn’t that the way of it when everything was falling apart around you? With work to be done, there was no time to think things through. When the last patron finally departed and the staff dispersed after the kitchen cleaning, Rafe walked behind the shiny wood bar, pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, along with a glass, and slid onto a tall, black, wrought iron stool.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, he yelled, “We’re closed.” Then grimaced. Was he trying to get a reputation for being grouchy rather than exacting?

“Good thing I’m not a customer, then.”

He swiveled around at the sound of his friend Nico Amatucci’s voice.

Tall, dark-haired Nico glanced at the whiskey bottle, then sat on a stool beside Rafe. “Is there a reason you’re drinking alone?”

Rafe rose, got another glass and set it on the bar. He poured whiskey into the glass and slid it to Nico. “I’m not drinking alone.”

“But you were going to.”

“I lost my maître d’.”

Nico raised his glass in salute and drank the shot. “You’re surprised?”

“I’m an artist.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“That, too.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to be. I just want things done correctly. I’ll spread the word tomorrow that I’m looking for someone. Not a big deal.” He made the statement casually, but deep down he knew he was wrong. It was a big deal. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the week or two it’ll take to collect résumés and interview people. I need somebody tomorrow.”

Nico raised his glass to toast. “Then, you, my friend, are in trouble.”

Didn’t Rafe know it.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT MORNING, Daniella and Louisa found a tin of tea and some frozen waffles in a freezer. “We’re so lucky no one had the electricity shut off.”

“Not lucky. The place runs off a generator. We turn it on in winter to keep the pipes from freezing.”

Daniella and Louisa gasped and spun around at the male voice behind them.

A handsome dark-haired man stood in the kitchen doorway, frowning at them. Though he appeared to be Italian, he spoke flawless English. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ll let you finish your breakfast, but this is private property.”

Louisa’s chin lifted. “I know it’s private property. I’m Louisa Harrison. I inherited this villa.”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose you have proof of that?”

“Actually, I do. A letter from my solicitor.” She straightened her shoulders. “I think the better question is, who are you?”

“I’m Nico Amatucci.” He pointed behind him. “I live next door. I’ve been watching over this place.” He smiled thinly. “I’d like to see the letter from your solicitor. Or—” he pulled out his cell phone “—should I call the police?”

Louisa brushed her hands down her blue jeans to remove the dust they’d collected when she and Daniella had searched for tea. “No need.”

Not wanting any part of the discussion, Daniella began preparing the tea.

“And who are you?”

She shrugged. “Just a friend of Louisa’s.”

He sniffed as if he didn’t believe her. Not accustomed to being under such scrutiny, Daniella focused all her attention on getting water into the teapot.

Louisa returned with the letter. When Nico reached for it, she held it back. “Not so fast. I’ll need the key you used to get in.”

He held Louisa’s gaze. Even from across the room, Daniella felt the heat of it.

“Only if your papers check out.” His frosty smile could have frozen water. “Palazzo di Comparino has been empty for years. Yet, suddenly here you are.”

“With a letter,” she said, handing it to Nico.

He didn’t release her gaze as he took the letter from her hands, and then he scanned it and peered at Louisa again. “Welcome to Palazzo di Comparino.”

Daniella let out her pent-up breath.

Louisa held his gaze. “Just like that? How do you know I didn’t fake this letter?”

Giving the paper back to her, he said, “First, I knew the name of the solicitor handling the estate. Second, there are a couple of details in the letter that an outsider wouldn’t know. You’re legit.”

Though Daniella would have loved to have known the details, Louisa didn’t even seem slightly curious. She tucked the sheet of paper into her jeans pocket.

Nico handed his key to Louisa as he glanced around the kitchen. “Being empty so long, the place is in disrepair. So if there’s anything I can do to help—”

Louisa cut him off with a curt “I’m fine.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. Daniella didn’t know if he was unaccustomed to his offers of assistance being ignored, or if something else was happening here, but the kitchen became awkwardly quiet.

When Daniella’s teapot whistled, her heart jumped. Always polite, she asked, “Can I get anyone tea?”

Watching Louisa warily, Nico said, “I’d love a cup.”

Drat. He was staying. Darn the sense of etiquette her foster mother had drilled into her.

“I’ll make some later,” Louisa said as she turned and walked out of the kitchen, presumably to put the letter and the key away.

As the door swung closed behind her, Nico said, “She’s a friendly one.”

Daniella winced. She’d like to point out to Mr. Nico Amatucci that he’d been a tad rude when he’d demanded to see the letter from the solicitor, but she held her tongue. This argument wasn’t any of her business. She had enough troubles of her own.

“Have you known Ms. Harrison long?”

“We just met. I saw someone mistakenly take her bag and helped because Louisa doesn’t speak Italian. Then we were on the same bus.”

“Oh, so you hit the jackpot when you could find someone to stay with.”

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