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His motorcycle sat beneath the carport at the rear. Beyond that was a small building, door firmly closed.
Mariella followed, glancing around the kitchen again as she stepped outside.
“I could come back tomorrow and clean up the kitchen for you. As a token of appreciation.”
Cristiano shook his head. “I don’t need it.”
He started the bike and helped her climb on. Instructing her to hold on tight, he didn’t expect the jolt of awareness when she wrapped her arms around him. Her body was pressed against his back, her hands linked over his stomach. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her. Her hands were small, gripping over his belly. Her breasts pressed against his back and for a moment he wanted to turn around and pull her into a kiss.
“So how long will Signora Bertatali watch Dante?” he asked.
“No time limit.”
“Want to take the long way home?”
“Sure.”
“Will you be warm enough?”
“Oh, yes.”
He started out slowly and then picked up speed when they reached the road. Turning away from the lake, he took the road he loved to ride when trying to outrun the demons and nightmares. It wound through the forest, dappled in shade in places, in full sunshine in others.
From time to time they could catch a glimpse of the lake sparkling in the distance. It was not as breezy today as other days and in places the lake looked like a mirror, reflecting sky and forest.
Mariella loved the ride. She felt free with the scenery whipping by. Seeing the lake when they turned from time to time was fabulous. Thankful for her rescue, she felt especially attentive to everything today. It was as if she were seeing things in a different light.
All due to Cristiano. And not only because he had saved them from the fire. But to take time yesterday to make sure she and Dante had all they needed was special.
But what she cherished the most was his request for her to stay.
He slowed and pulled off the road in a turn out that went to the edge of the open space in front of them.
“Oh wow,” she said, gazing at the sight. The lake looked like a jewel nestled in a green setting. Beyond another hill and then another rose, until she felt she were on the rim of the world, looking out.
He stopped the motor. The silence was complete. Then the soft sighing of the breeze through the trees could be heard.
“This is beautiful,” she said softly, so as not to disturb the moment.
“We can walk to the edge if you like,” he said.
She hopped off the motorcycle and waited for him. Walking to the edge, she saw several rough-cut log benches.
“Others must come here for the view,” she said, sitting on one sun-warmed log.
He sat beside her, gazing at the vista in front of them.
For several moments neither spoke, then Cristiano said softly, “I come here when I need to get away.”
“A special place,” she said, smiling, feeling as if she’d been given a gift. “I wish I had one. It gets overwhelming sometimes with Dante and working and trying to balance everything. I would love a place like this to just sit and be.”
He nodded. “Maybe that’s what is appealing, I can just be myself here.”
She looked at him, tilting her head slightly. “Can’t you be yourself everywhere?”
He met her gaze and slowly shook his head. “People expect certain things.”
“And we always try to meet those expectations.” She sighed. “Probably why I feel so inadequate with Dante. I expect to be wise like my mother and I’m not.”
“She probably wasn’t that wise when you were six months old,” he said gently.
Mariella thought about that for a while. Was it true? Had her mother been learning as she went? “You might be right, but she always seemed to know what to say, how to explain things.”
“You’re a good mother to Dante. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Unexpectedly, Cristiano reached out and took her hand, resting their linked fingers on his thigh. “It’s beautiful here in winter when it looks as if powder sugar has been sprinkled on the trees. Now the trees are changing color, but spring will bring the new green of beginning leaves.”
“Thanks for bringing me here,” she said, returning her gaze to the magnificent view. The carefree feeling continued as if she had let all her worries vanish on the ride and the reward was this unexpected beauty.
They talked softly until the sun started slipping behind some of the trees and the temperature began to drop.
“Time to go,” he said.
Mariella nodded, reluctant to end the enchantment of the afternoon. She would never forget this.
He continued the loop arriving in the village near the resort. He continued to the center of town to drop her by the small grocery store where she said she needed to pick up some things for Dante.
“Thanks for the ride home,” she said, when she had dismounted. Giving into impulse, she kissed his cheek. “See you,” she said and turned swiftly to enter the store.
Cristiano watched as she walked away, so alive and happy. He didn’t want to think of the outcome had he not been riding that night.
But he felt like an impostor. He was no hero. He’d never tell her, or anyone, how fear engulfed him. How the nightmares of that incident in May haunted him unexpectedly day and night. Why couldn’t he get the images out of his mind? Granted he could go several days without them. Just when he’d think he had it licked, they’d spring up and threaten to render him powerless.
Though he had been able to cope at the fire. Maybe, maybe, he was getting over it.
Mariella entered the grocery store and glanced back through the glass door. Cristiano sat on his motorcycle, staring at the door. Could he see her? She felt her heart beating heavily. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. She’d not known how intimate it felt, pressed against his hard body, feeling his muscles move against her as he drove the powerful bike. She still felt tingly and so aware of him. She hated to move, but people would begin to wonder if she stayed at the door staring like a moonstruck teenager at her latest heartthrob.
She almost giggled as she forced herself to move.
Would she ever get the chance to ride behind him again? Visit his special spot? Life seemed especially sweet today. It could almost as easily have been over for her. Instead, she had ridden with a sexy guy who intrigued her, fascinated her, set her hormones rocking.
She was curious about the injuries he was recovering from. Maybe he’d re-injured himself rescuing her, though he looked to be in perfect health to her. His broad shoulders and muscles beneath the shirt he’d worn attested to robust health. He looked as if he could jump mountains. And obviously was strong enough to carry her and the baby from a burning building.
With the loss of all her things—especially her computer—the sooner she returned home, the sooner she could pick up the pieces of her life. Maybe it was a sign she was not to look for Dante’s father.
Fortunately her purchases fit into two bags and Mariella carried them back to the cottage. She also brought a bouquet of mixed mums for her hostess. She wanted to brighten the woman’s day in gratitude for watching Dante for her. She wished the Bertatalis didn’t feel so guilty. They had not known of the faulty wiring. All had ended well—except for the loss of her computer.
Was there a place in town she could use one? An Internet café? Or, she could take Cristiano up on his offer and use his. Well, that was a no-brainer.
The next morning after tidying up, bathing and dressing the baby, Mariella set off for Cristiano’s house. The road to the cottage was lightly traveled and easily navigated. However, it proved awkward pushing the baby stroller down the uneven graveled driveway.
The day was a copy of yesterday, sunny and balmy. Leaves had begun to change on some of the trees covering the hillside, bright spots of yellows and reds showed brilliant in the sunshine against the deep green of the conifers. She breathed the fresh air. What would it be like to live here year round? Nothing like New York where she’d been the past four years, with its concrete canyons and few open parks beyond Central Park.
Different from Rome, too. But that was home. Crowded, frenetic, yet comfortably providing all she really needed.
Rounding the bend, she saw the cottage. She studied it as she walked toward it. It was warm cream-colored stone, with a steep pitched roof of dark slate. The windows were wide with shutters on either side. It looked old, settled, perfect for its mountain backdrop. With an ageless look, it was hard to tell when it was built, but clearly a long time ago, she suspected from what she’d seen on the inside. He was lucky to have such a comfortable place to recuperate.
Cristiano was not on the patio this morning. She walked to the front door and knocked.
Cristiano opened the door a moment later and stared at her in surprise, then at the baby, his expression softening.
“What are you two doing here?” he asked, smiling at Dante.
“I came to take you up on your offer to use your computer. I need to check in with my clients.”
“Come on in.” He opened the door wide and she pushed the carriage in.
“It’s dark in here,” Mariella said, stepping into the living room. “Why is it all closed up?”
He looked around as if seeing the heavy drapes pulled over the windows for the first time.
“It suited me.”
“How odd.”
“They help insulate the windows.”
“It’s not that cold.”
He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll get the laptop.”
In less than five minutes, Dante was happily kicking his legs from the baby seat playing with a spoon and plastic cup while Mariella booted up the computer on the kitchen table. Cristiano had hooked it to a phone line. It wouldn’t be the fastest connection, but at least she could check her email. Once Cristiano saw she was connected, he took off to give her privacy. She appreciated that, too aware of the man to concentrate on her work if he hovered nearby.
She gazed around the room while the computer booted up. It had a certain old-world charm that she loved. There was a huge fireplace, stone-cold now, at one end. She could envision a cheerful fire in the dead of winter when a sprinkle of snow might lie on the ground. How cozy this room would be. The large wooden table would seat a family of eight. The stone floor was cold, but, with a few rugs, could be comfortable in the winter months.
Which she would never see here in Lake Clarissa. For a moment the disappointment seemed too strong to bear.
Chapter Four (#ulink_ad44ff51-4e98-549b-8675-982c3c51226b)
DANTE became fussy. Mariella prepared a mid-morning bottle and picked up the baby. She did not want to sit in one of the wooden chairs by the large table, balancing the baby and bottle, so she wandered into the living room. She’d like to tidy this room or at least open the curtains so she could see the magnificent views.
Sitting in a wing chair, she fed Dante, softly crooning to him as he ate. Maybe the dimness worked to her advantage as Dante began to fall asleep just as he finished the bottle.
Mariella continued to hold him after he fell asleep, relishing this quiet time with just the two of them. He was a beautiful child with dark brown eyes and dark hair. Ariana would have so loved this child of hers. Would Dante resemble her when he grew older? Or his unknown father? Tears threatened every time Mariella remembered her friend and her untimely death. How could she have borne having to leave this child behind? Love expanded within her heart and she wanted to hold the moment forever.
Cristiano came into the room from outside.
“Snack time?” he asked, studying her and Dante. He sat in the chair near her.
“Mid-morning feed.” She gazed down at her sleeping baby. “I’ll put him in the stroller and go when he wakes up. I still have to follow up on some work I was doing. I appreciate your letting me use your computer. We’ll stay out of your way.”
She rose and carefully placed the baby in the carrier, covering him lightly with a soft blanket.
“You’re not in the way. Finish your work, then stay for lunch.”
Cristiano knew he was grasping at straws, but he wanted her to stay. He wanted to talk to her, watch her laugh. Her skin was flushed slightly and looked soft and warm. Her hair curled around her cheeks, down her back. The sweater showed off the feminine body that awakened a need in his he’d thought long gone. When she was nearby, he had to fight the urge to find out more about her, see what she liked and didn’t like.
And fight not to kiss her.
When he realized his thoughts had stayed on that point, he quickly looked away.
“You know that fire scared me. What if something happens to me? Who will take care of Dante?” she asked, covering the baby with a light blanket.
Cristiano’s mother had died when he was a small boy. He remembered her smile, the fragrance she wore. The almost tangible love she’d given. No one got fully used to losing a parent. Had his father felt the same as Mariella? Worried about his children should something happen to him? Yet it wasn’t the same. His father’s sister lived in Monta Correnti, for most of his childhood Cristiano’s grandfather had lived in this cottage with the rest of the family. There had always been family around. But one never got over the loss of his mother.
“My mother’s dead, too,” he said slowly.
“But not your father?”
“No, he’s doing well.” He guessed he was. Surely someone would have told him if he weren’t. Not that he’d been very receptive to overtures from his family since he’d taken up residency in the cottage. His bossy sister had made sure he knew her thoughts on that from the messages she left.
The flashbacks happened without warning. He couldn’t be around people who knew him for long—they’d see how messed up he was and cosset him so much he’d never get his life back. He had to beat this thing.
Mariella gazed at him as if expecting him to say more. He stared at her for a moment, wondering if he was finally moving on. He had handled the cottage fire. He had not had a nightmare since that night. He drew a breath, smelling the sweet scent of Mariella. It brought a yearning that grew in strength every time he was with her. Yet he could not fall for this woman.
“Are you the oldest child?”
“Yes, Isabella is a close second, incredibly bossy. Our mother died when I was a child. She took on the household work, and tried to keep us in line.” For a moment he remembered some of the happy days they’d spent at the cottage, playing at the lake, just being with family. Life had thrown curves he’d never expected when he had been a child.
“Do your brother and sister still live close by?”
“Isabella still lives in Monta Correnti, along with Valentino,” he said, smiling at the thought of his family.
“So you get to see them a lot. Must be nice. I was an only child.”
He didn’t reply. He had not seen them since they had visited him in the hospital after the bombing. His hospital stay had been lengthy and he’d missed his brother’s wedding, and his cousin Lizzie’s. Since his release from hospital Isabella called every so often trying to get him to go to family events. Mostly he let the answering machine take her call.
A lot had happened in his family over the recent months, including the startling revelation that his father had two older children by a first marriage. Cristiano still wasn’t sure what to think about that. He had not met the two men—twins who had been raised in America. It was odd to think they shared the same father.
So far he’d found excuses that didn’t raise undue suspicions. He was running out of time, however. How long could he keep his problem from his family? He wanted it to go away, wanted life back the way it had been.
He had loved this place as a child. It had been the first spot he’d thought of when wanting to retreat. His family was busy, fortunately. No one spent much time here anymore. Hiding hadn’t changed a thing. Maybe he should open curtains. He was not in a tight subway tunnel, but had a view of endless miles.
“This is a terrific room. Do you use the fireplace when it gets cold?” she asked as she headed for the kitchen.
“Of course. It’s the primary source of heat,” he said, nodding toward the large wood-burning fireplace along an outside wall. He remembered rainy days in the fall when he and his brother Valentino would spend hours in front of the fire, trucks and cars zooming around. He hadn’t seen his brother in months; he realized suddenly how much he missed him.
Cristiano followed her into the kitchen. She sat at the table and began checking her account. He crossed to the sink and leaned on the edge of the counter looking out the window over it. The view out back was opposite to the lake, to the rolling tree-covered hills that rose so high, offering peace and serenity. Dots of color presaged the coming of winter. Five months ago he had been working in Rome,
