After greeting them, he named half a dozen entrees on the menu. “But may I suggest that the oven-roasted abbacchio with rosemary, white wine and peppers would be a superb choice. You couldn’t go wrong with a side dish of carciofi alla romana.”
“What do you think, Clara?” In the late afternoon sun her eyes glowed an impossibly iridescent green. Fringed by her long black lashes, their color mesmerized him.
“I love lamb. As for artichokes, I’ve never had them stuffed with mint. It all sounds delicious.”
“I think so, too.” He placed their order, asking that it be served with his favorite pinot noir. When the waiter walked away, Valentino turned to her. She was a totally feminine creature, one of the few who could wear a blouse with a ruffle like that. “Can you drink wine?”
“In moderation. I have to stay away from sodas.”
Valentino thought she looked a little pale. No doubt her work at the fruit stand had drained her. “How are you feeling right now?”
“Good.”
“Still, I can tell something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
She let out a small laugh. “Apparently I’m not able to hide anything from you. To be honest, the air’s not as warm here as it was at the farm.”
“If you’re chilly, that’s an easy fix.” Valentino was relieved the temperature had turned out to be the culprit for the moment. “Come with me.” He helped her to her feet and they walked back inside the hotel to the front desk.
When he told the concierge he wanted a room with a view of the sea, he could see Clara shake her head no, but he pretended not to notice. After making arrangements for dinner to be brought to their room, he escorted her upstairs to a suite with a sweeping vista of the grounds and coastline. It was definitely warmer inside.
“Tino—” She laughed as he moved the table and chairs in the corner of the room to the center of the window.
“I want a view while we eat,” he declared. “In the meantime, you can lie down until our dinner comes.”
“Have you forgotten I slept in the truck?” Ignoring the suggestion, she sat down on one of the chairs. “Why didn’t we just eat in the restaurant?”
He could tell something was bothering her. “Because I wanted you to feel totally comfortable.”
“That’s very considerate, but are you sure you weren’t afraid the paparazzi would sneak in and take pictures of us that will make tonight’s ten o’clock news?”
He took a fortifying breath while he tried to understand her sudden burst of heated emotion. “For once the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“I don’t think Giselle Artois would be happy about it.”
Ah. Giselle…Valentino frowned. “She’s engaged to her long-time British lover.”
Her eyes widened. “But on the news it sa—”
“Forget the news,” he cut her off. “They say and print whatever they feel like, but it has nothing to do with the truth. In all honesty there’s something I have to say to you and I wanted it to be in private. The restaurant wouldn’t have afforded us a moment to ourselves.”
To his dismay she paled a little more. It wasn’t his imagination that she was all tensed up.
“Tino? Can I speak frankly?”
“Always.”
“You said you need to talk me, but there’s no point in going to these elaborate lengths in order for us to be alone.” More of that hidden temper of hers was showing.
“What are you getting at, piccola?”
She plucked at her napkin. “Since you came back to Monta Correnti, don’t think I haven’t appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now it has to stop.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Where’s all this coming from?”
Before he knew it, she’d jumped to her feet. “Over the last few days you’ve more than made up for the nine years of silence, and I’ll never forget your kindness. But we’re going in different directions and I’m not unaware you have personal commitments and a business to run. Entertaining me wasn’t your plan when you came here.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. He’d never seen her this wound up in his life. Normally unflappable Clara had just delivered the longest impassioned speech she’d ever made, revealing another unexpected side to her nature.
“I’ll get it.”
One of the staff from the kitchen wheeled in a tea cart with their meal. Valentino gave him a tip, then shut the door and pushed it across the room to the table. With her beautiful body still taut, she held onto the back of one of the chairs while she stared out the window.
Intrigued by her behavior, he put everything on the table and invited her to sit down. “We need to eat our food while it’s hot. I wanted this to be special for you. Earlier you admitted you were hungry.”
The reminder eventually forced her to comply. Gratified to see her food start to disappear, he poured them some wine and picked up his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass as if she were barely holding onto her control and would like to crush it. After a minute she lifted the glass. “Let me go first.”
“By all means,” he murmured.
“To our old friendship.”
He’d seen that one coming. After he touched her glass, they both drank.
“Now it’s my turn.” Trapping her gaze, he said, “To our new one.”
The second the words were out, she looked down without drinking. He swallowed the rest of his wine while he waited for her to absorb what he’d just told her.
She pushed her glass away. “We can’t have a new one. I’d like to go home now, Tino.”
“Not until you’ve heard me out.”
Her head reared back. Green sparks flew from her eyes. “I’m not trying to be intentionally rude, but I don’t want to listen to anything else.”
“Not even if this is vitally important to both of us?” When she didn’t immediately shut him down he said, “Last night I went to see Father Orsini, but there was one thing I couldn’t bring myself to confess to him.”
He saw the shiver that ran through her body. “If you’re thinking of telling me what you couldn’t tell him because I’m dying, please don’t. I’m not a priest.”
His chuckle permeated to her insides. “No, you’re not, grazie a Dio. But you are the woman I want to marry as soon as possible.”
After a long silence, he heard hurtful laughter come out of her. “Me—marry you—” she mocked in a brittle tone.
“Yes.”
“It sounds like you’ve come to the rock bottom of your many excellent adventures. I thought you were the one person who wasn’t like everyone else, but I was wrong.”
Like the lash of a whip, he felt her salvo. “That’s the first unkind remark you’ve ever made to me.”
“Maybe it’s because even a dying farm girl doesn’t relish the idea of being the object of Valentino Casali’s pity.”
She got up from the table hot-faced and made a dignified exit from the room. He hurried down to the front desk to pay the bill, then raced after her. When he crossed the parking south