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The Vengeful Groom
SARA WOOD
It's been ten years since Tina's testimony condemned Giovanni to prison, ten years since the auto accident that killed her sister… ten years since she'd been betrayed.But the years have made Gio stronger and harder. Amid hushed whispers and stares, he's dared to come back to Eternity, to regain the respect of his family. His plan calls for a bride, and Tina is about to learn just how ruthless and disturbingly sensual Gio's brand of vengeance can be.
Dear Reader,
When I left my home near Plymouth, England, and flew across the Atlantic to Massachusetts to research The Vengeful Groom, I imagined myself as nervous as any Pilgrim. I found woodlands, clapboard houses, glorious beaches and historic inns. “English” scenery, and yet everything felt so foreign.
I filmed, I researched, I learned new languages. Pudding is dessert, estate agents are Realtors, cafés are diners…. I also walked in Giovanni and Tina’s footsteps, living their lives, dreaming on beaches, talking to students, exploring mansions, a garage and small-town life. I visited Harvard and Boston’s Italian quarter.
There was also time for playing hooky—wandering the wilder shores of Cape Cod, boating up silvery rivers and across vast salt marshlands. At Plymouth Plantation, I told a costumed carpenter that he’d find old Plymouth much changed if he went back! We drew maps for each other in the dirt and talked about the Old World and the New.
I wasn’t as daring as the settlers who’d made the journey from England long ago, but I felt an affinity with them. I’d come from a great distance, with high hopes of adventure and a broadening of my world. I gained a deep respect and admiration for the American way of life—for its energy and enthusiasm and family values.
I think we need those strong, caring qualities in a marriage; Giovanni and Tina have them in The Vengeful Groom—a tough grit, a regard for family and a “can do” attitude. With a never-dying love for each other, they’ll be happy together for eternity. Hope you agree!
With affection,
Sara Wood
INVITATION TO ALL COUPLES IN LOVE
We, the citizens of Eternity, take great pleasure in inviting you to hold your wedding at the Powell Chapel. Remember the legend: Those who exchange their vows in the chapel will remain together for the rest of their lives.
So let us help plan your special day. We’ve been making dreams come true for more than a hundred years.
Weddings, Inc.
Eternity Massachusetts
Weddings, Inc.
Directory
Your guide to the perfect Happily-Ever-After
BRIDAL CONSULTANT…. Bronwyn Powell
INVITATIONS & STATIONERY…. Jennifer Thompson
ANTIQUES & GIFTS…. Patience Powell
HAIR SALON…. Dodie Gibson
CATERER…. Manuel Silva
BRIDAL GOWNS…. Emma Webster
FLORIST…. Julianna Van Bassen, Marguerite Van Bassen
LIMOS…. Daniel Murphy
RECEPTION/ ACCOMMODATION…. Lincoln Mathews
TRAVEL AGENCY…. Jacqui Bertrand
PHOTOGRAPHER…. Sarah Powell
LINGERIE, ETC. ….. Christine Bowman
JEWELRY…. Marion Kent
BAKERY…. Lucy Franco
GIFTS…. Jean Stanford
FABRIC…. Marg Chisolm
SHOES…. David Guest
BAND…. Kerry Muldoon
The Vengeful Groom
Sara Wood
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For David Santa Maria, who helped me build the True Love Ranch
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u251f9ee0-aa7c-57a8-8731-db7b42c2944f)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9d9782c1-1123-5b66-bd82-6c8475e808d5)
CHAPTER THREE (#ueb689227-7003-5c62-8ce0-fd41d3d9e666)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
SHE OUGHT to go over there. Even a Lamborghini could break down—otherwise why would that guy be lying underneath it? Tina shut the apartment door, mesmerized by the seductive lines of the dark green automobile on the derelict lot next door. From beneath the megasize front bumper emerged a pair of leather shoes and a small pool of oil.
Man at work, she thought in amusement, and there was the obligatory crowd—almost a dozen students! Though why the guy had run the car up the clamshell path and parked by the ruined barn, she couldn’t imagine. Her grandfather’s garage stood within pushing distance.
With a quick gesture, she thrust back the disorderly chunks of black hair that had flopped into her eyes from the dash downstairs and contemplated leaving the Lamborghini owner to cope. A slow smile curved the poppy red of her mouth as she speculated on the shock the poor guy must be in!
She could ignore his predicament since her grandfather had ordered her to concentrate on her own pleasures for once and let everything else go hang. Since he’d taken Adriana away on an extended birthday treat, the weekend didn’t involve planning a whole heap of the enriching experiences Adriana needed if she was to progress. Although Tina loved them—from the hilarious cooking sessions at breakfast to the stories she read at night to help Adriana unwind—it meant she never had a moment to herself.
Today she was as free as a bird, with nothing to concern her but which pickle to put on her sandwich. She’d felt a little guilty, a little lost, that morning. Scrambling into her T-shirt and shorts, she’d realized she needn’t hurry for once. No dependents. No detailed planning. No mental exertion. No dealing with emotional dramas. Bliss!
Seven-fifteen. The part-timers would arrive at the garage in half an hour. And business was business. She clambered over the picket fence and strolled toward the students.
“Hi, everyone,” she called amiably.
“Hi, Miss Murphy!” they answered with enthusiasm.
She beamed back and found she had to stretch all of her curvy five-foot-two frame to get a glimpse of the low-slung auto above the milling heads.
“Are you guys studying chiropody this term, or is this a customer for my grandpa?” she asked, nodding in amusement at the leather soles sticking out from beneath the car. To her surprise, the feet wagged as if they enjoyed the feeble joke.
“More’n that, Miss Murphy! Come see!” cried Josh Davis, good-naturedly shoving his neighbors in all directions to clear a space for her.
“Oh, boy!” she murmured in approval, running a connoisseur’s eye over the auto. It would snarl and roar and overtake everything in sight, leaving a choking cloud of dust behind. She smiled. “Grandpa will die to hear he’s missed it!”
“Yeah. Awesome,” breathed Josh. “It’s a Countach! Smooth!”
“As silk,” she agreed fervently, her fingers reaching out with due respect to stroke the satiny finish on the curvaceous bodywork. She loved to touch sensuous objects. She leaned over and sniffed the leather interior. Wonderfully evocative. And then she frowned faintly. Cream linen pants weren’t the most likely gear for wriggling under low-slung cars. How very odd.
It dawned on her that Mr. Rich-in-Trouble had chosen that spot in the sunken path of the garden so he could shoehorn himself beneath the hood and work on the underside. Doing what? she wondered, a little baffled over the limited possibilities. Intrigued, she studied the pool of oil and concluded that it looked rather…arranged.
Lisa Powell distracted her from the mystery. “And sexy,” she sighed dreamily. “Moves like molasses.”
“The car?” murmured Tina dryly.
“No! Him.” Lisa sighed, gazing at the few inches of linen-clad shins as though she coveted everything above and below. “Sex appeal,” she announced with all the assurance of a sixteen-year-old, “is a matter of body language. And eyes that melt tarmac.”
“No wonder he’s got a hole in his car,” said Tina gravely. The students all laughed and the feet did their annoying jiggle. “Since you never mentioned you’ve got X-ray vision on your profile forms for college, Lisa,” she added with a grin, “I suppose you watched the guy slide under there.”
“Yes, and wait till he slides out again!” Lisa gloated. “He’s very exotic. Or do I mean erotic? And his hair is the most extraordinary white-blond…”
Giovanni, Tina thought at once, his name shocking her with its sudden arrival in her head. Giovanni moved with an undeniably erotic grace, and his hair sat like whipped cream on his tanned Latin forehead, making a startling contrast.
Back came that star-burst moment when she’d fallen so helplessly in love with him. He’d walked into her class when she was an impressionable fourteen and he’d been a year older—a tall, graceful Polish-Sicilian from the back streets of Palermo, with pride and apprehension and defiance fighting in his expression.
“I prefer dark guys myself,” she stated emphatically, wrinkling her small nose.
“How’s it goin’, sir?” called Josh respectfully to the feet and cream pants.
“Great.”
The muffled reply came as a relief because it meant she didn’t need to hang around. But she couldn’t help wishing he was some rich guy who’d turned up to buy the garage. Then her grandfather could retire and stop creaking himself into gear every morning. Even with the part-timers and guys on school placement sharing the work, he ended up exhausted. Having Adriana around with her innocent demands didn’t help, however much happiness she brought.
Tina’s expression grew soft and affectionate when she scanned the small Murphy’s Garage, with their cramped apartment above and a For Sale sign in front. Then her gaze returned to the burned-out buildings of the derelict Alden place a few yards away. Brent Powell—now Josh’s stepfather, she reminded herself—had nearly lost his life in the fire there a couple of years ago. A terrible scene, an awful memory.
It was a scandal that the old colonial house and outbuildings were still standing in ruins and that the town couldn’t enforce the destruction order. The place was an eyesore, and the blackened timbers and collapsing clapboard facade had badly affected Grandpa’s asking price.
And then she gave a wry grin. She’d promised Grandpa she wouldn’t think of anyone but herself today, and already she’d checked on a crowd of students and a tinkering Lamborghini driver, and worried about selling the garage!
“Well, if everything’s okay, I’m off to pick up a picnic for the beach,” she said cheerfully. “Hang around, you guys. Awed hayseeds sometimes get dimes thrown to them!”
Lisa giggled. “I’m not going! Bet you’d stay, too, if you were sixteen.”
“You got it!” Tina admitted. “But I’m more than ten years beyond that sell-by date!” She grinned, knowing how old that must seem to Lisa. “Only a senior citizen with a decent pension would give me a passing glance now.”
Something hit her small sandaled foot. A silver coin. She blinked. “What the…?”
Everyone was laughing. “A dime for a hayseed, Miss Murphy!”
“It’s his pension—you hit the jackpot!” cried Josh.
“Then he’s got sound judgment,” she said simply.
The blueness of her eyes deepened with warmth at their laughter. She loved it that they could crack jokes together and that they regarded her as a friend. The relationship she’d evolved with them over the years had gotten to be as comfortable and familiar as an old sofa. Too comfortable sometimes, she thought ruefully; the students seemed to think she was available all hours of the day—and night. But then, they knew she’d move heaven and earth for them and she’d root for them till she dropped. Though, come a crunch, she could do some tough talking and deal with a drama or two.
A second coin landed on her red-painted toe. Fascinated, she pushed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Skillful, she thought. He didn’t have much room to maneuver under there.
“I’m being targeted,” she marveled. “Hey. I’m a high school guidance counselor, not a slot machine!”
“He’s pretty accurate,” Brad Phister said admiringly.
“Perhaps he pitches for the Red Sox,” she suggested.
Feeling curious, she crouched down, tipping her head sideways in an attempt to see under the car. She got a view of a male body clad in discreetly toned cream, a hunky quarterback chest soaring up and preventing her from seeing beyond, and a bared flexing arm and the flash of a gold watch as another silver coin whizzed in her direction.
“Hi, there! You practicing stone skipping?” No answer. “Okay, I give up. What are you doing? Try dollar bills! I take credit cards! Gold!” she called, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. It was crazy! The guy still didn’t answer, and she stood up in puzzled defeat.
Then the glove-soft shoes shot forward, the girls taking in a collective breath as the long legs and slim hips of a young, athletic-looking male came into view. Rich, too, thought Tina, highly intrigued. Those immaculately pressed pants weren’t from a thrift shop. Her curiosity soared as questions of who, why and what skated around her brain.
Under her fascinated gaze, the discreet cream knees bent and the leather-clad heels propelled the body out a little more. Now they could all see that the guy had been lying on a proper mechanic’s trolley. The mystery deepened. A trolley wasn’t the kind of thing a rich man kept handy.
“I think he’s Italian,” stated Lisa, “despite the blond hair. Wait till you see his pecs!”
“Pecs? I’ve seen pecs,” said Tina mildly, but she stayed nevertheless, dying to know why a blond Italian would throw coins….
She took a step back in shock. Her small hand went to her brightly painted mouth. A blond Italian. Italian car. Italian shoes.
