woman’s idea of joy beyond measure.” His earlier remarks still smarted.
He made a sound that bordered on angry laughter, but none of it mattered. In another few minutes he’d be dead to the world. Once his hand released her, she would find some clean bedding in the hall closet and make up the other bed.
“Your pillow smells of strawberries.”
The observation came as a surprise. In fact everything he said and did had knocked her off balance. “It’s probably still damp, too. I’ll get you another one.”
His hand restrained her from moving. “After the places I’ve been, I like it.” The words came out in a slur.
“You can let go of me. I’m not going to reveal your secret.”
“Why not?” came the unexpected question “It’s the kind of thing a woman can’t wait to do.”
If he could still try to rile her, then he wasn’t as close to sleep as she’d supposed. Probably because of his pain. She fought an unwanted rush of sympathy for him. “That kind of assumption comes from knowing too many females on a superficial basis.”
“You’re an authority on my love life now?” he growled.
“Italian men have a certain reputation, signore. As we American women understand it, the Italian male is a jack of all trades, but master of none. I think it’s one of the personal casualties in your particular line of work.”
To his credit he let her baiting go before he said in a raspy voice, “You still haven’t answered my question.”
For the most important of reasons. She happened to know that Lucca’s next furlough wasn’t scheduled until August when he visited with his father in Milan. The big surprise Guilio was planning for him would take place at the largest Amalfi showroom in Italy. From there the cars were manufactured and exported around the world.
Annabelle remembered the look in Guilio’s eyes as he’d talked about wanting to honor Lucca when they met at the end of the summer. She would never spoil that reunion by revealing ahead of time what she knew he had in store for his son.
Exhausted over the stunning events of the last hour, her eyelids closed. “If I haven’t responded, it’s because anyone who has gone to your lengths to sneak back under the radar in the dead of night must have the kind of baggage he wouldn’t want anyone to know about.”
She felt his body stiffen.
“What do you say we both try to get some sleep, signore? I don’t know about you, but I have a big day tomorrow.”
“You’ve got me intrigued about the nature of the work you do for my father. It must be beyond classified, otherwise he wouldn’t be treating you like a princess. Nor would he have installed you in a house that is sacrosanct to me.” His voice suddenly sounded as if it had come from a deep cavern.
The blood started pounding in her ears. “Sacrosanct?” she whispered.
“You mean he didn’t tell you I was born here? Would it surprise you to know my mother died in this house?”
Oh, no.
To think she’d called him the intruder. “Your father only told me your mother willed this farm to you. I didn’t realize about the house.”
“Let’s just say he has kept an eye on it for me.”
CHAPTER TWO
A DULL throbbing ache woke Lucca. It radiated up his thigh to his groin. His medication had worn off. He needed some more quick before the pain flared out of control, as it had done last night.
Last night…
He rubbed a hand over his prickly jaws, groaning in self-disgust.
Sunlight filled the room, forcing him to squint. He checked his watch. Twenty to eleven. He found himself alone, still dressed in the same clothes minus his shoes, which she’d removed. The bed was in total disarray, evidence he’d had one of his nightmares. The quilt and pillows lay on the floor.
Naturally she was long gone. By now the American would have alerted his father, who had her allegiance. Lucca was sure he could expect a visitor shortly.
A spate of Italian invective poured out of him.
He turned slowly to roll off the mattress and gave a start to see his near-empty bottle of pills on the bedside table. It hadn’t been there last night. She’d even supplied a glass of water. On the other side of the lamp lay the cane. He decided the nurses at the hospital had nothing on her. His father required efficiency. She had that trait down pat.
Lucca had planned on total privacy for one night, but he had to admit that being this close to his pills meant he didn’t need to suffer another accident on the way to the kitchen.
After swallowing three, his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon on the last leg of his flight to Naples. During the long wait for the train to Salerno, sleep had been impossible. The lack of it always increased the pain. By the time he’d hired a car to drive him to Ravello, he’d been ready to collapse.
A quick scan of the room revealed none of her belongings. He heard no noise and imagined the car she’d mentioned had already come for her. Alone at last, he got up from the bed and tested his weight with the cane. Last night’s accident had been an aberration. As long as he didn’t lean on it too heavily, the cane would do fine until he’d recovered.
The trip from the bathroom to the kitchen wasn’t too bad. His duffel bag was still on the floor where he’d left it. It looked untouched.
He opened the fridge and found it stocked. This house had belonged to his mother’s family. She and his father had lived in it until she’d died. In the will, she’d left the house and property to Lucca. At the time he’d joined the military, he and his father weren’t speaking, but he knew Guilio would keep an eye on it.
How strange he’d decided to install his new American employee here. Even though she’d claimed she wanted to stay at a farmhouse, his father wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to open up the house where he’d started out his married life for just any person working for him. This woman had to occupy a unique place in the scheme of things.
That’s why she hadn’t opened up to him last night. She and his father had something private going on. He had to admit she’d recovered fast from her fright last night. His interrogation of her proved she was a quick study.
Naturally Guilio would have sent down one of the maids from the villa to make sure things were ready for her. He reached for a handful of fat grapes from a bowl and popped them in his mouth. Their juice squirted pure sugar.
The microwave was new. His father had set her up with the necessities. A jar of freeze-dried coffee stood next to it. He preferred cappuccino chiaro, but in the military he’d learned to drink it black and made himself a cup.
In his line of vision to the terrace he noticed several branches from one of the lemon trees had grown and formed an overhang. While he leaned against the sink to sip the hot brew, he saw movement beneath them. Beyond the French doors he watched the back of a woman of medium
