“This is impossible!” she cried in frustration.
Cesare burst into laughter. “Wash your hands, and then dust them with flour before trying it again.”
“But that will wash half the dough away.”
“No problem.”
“That’s what you say,” she mumbled, but did his bidding and started over with the kneading. “This is much better.” She finally lifted her head and smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now pat it into a disk and wrap it in wax paper. An hour in the fridge and it will be ready to shape into tart shells. While the dough is getting cold, you’ll start making the filling.”
Three hours and three tries later she’d produced a pan of tarts she was willing to let him taste. After she’d decorated them with the lemon glacé, she designed the tops in an artful way with raspberries and chocolate shavings.
With a hand he could tell was trembling, she put one on a dish and handed it to him. “Will you be the first to sample my pièce de resistance?”
Cesare knew what this moment meant to her and he bit into it. She’d followed the recipe to the letter. He found no fault with the taste or texture and was so proud of her effort after three tries that he wanted to sweep her in his arms. Instead he kissed her hot cheek.
“Congratulations, Tuccia. My partners will tell you these tarts are perfect.” He swallowed the whole thing and had to be careful not to swallow her, too.
“Thank you. I know they’re anything but. The shells are still uneven and in this batch I put a little too much cinnamon in the filling when I tasted it.”
“The fact that you know what you can improve on makes you an excellent cook already. How does it feel to have made a masterpiece created by the nuns?”
She took a deep breath. “If these tarts meet your exacting criteria, it’s because you were my teacher. To answer your specific question, after I got over being nervous with you standing there watching me, I had more fun than I would have expected.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“It amazes me that I’ve eaten desserts of every kind all my life and never paid attention to the intricacies that go into the preparation. That’s what frightens me. This was just one dessert. When I think of the dozen others I have to learn how to make, I feel totally inadequate.”
“Keep in mind that all it takes is one step at a time. I’ll wrap up your pan of mounds and take them with me.”
“Why?”
“I want my partners to try them.” He heard her groan. “After the dishes are done, I’ll say good-night.”
While he called for a limo, he watched how hard she worked to clean up the flour on the table and floor, let alone her clothes. She’d proved she was worth her salt, but this had only been her first lesson. Another few days of this and the last thing she would tell him was that it was fun.
He had to give her full marks for putting the kitchen back together with little help from him. “You’ve done a great job, Tuccia. I’ll be back in the morning and we’ll talk about what’s going to happen. I hope you get a good sleep.”
She walked him to the front door. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for shielding me and giving me this chance.”
“I’m equally grateful and impressed that you’re willing to try something so different from the world you’ve come from to help me. Who knows? We may pull this off yet.”
She flashed him a tired smile. “‘May’ being the operative word. Bona notti,” she called to him.
* * *
On Cesare’s way to the castello, her parting words resonated inside him. She’d said good-night to him in Sicilian, using the Palermo dialect. It reminded him of the language he used with his own family, making him feel more connected to the princess.
That was bad. He couldn’t afford to have intimate thoughts about her, but that was a joke because he could still feel her body pressed against his in his mother’s kitchen. That was a moment he couldn’t forget if he wanted to, even if she’d just run away from her fiancé.
Cesare had offered to help her so she could gain her independence. He hadn’t done it to take advantage of her. The last thing he intended was to come on to her. If he did that, he’d be every bit as bad as the lecherous comte Cesare’s mother had described.
You are just as bad, Donati.
By the time the limo dropped him off around the back of the castello, he realized he had to tell his partners the truth about her. If they couldn’t handle it—and he was pretty sure they couldn’t—he would understand. So would Tuccia. Even though he hadn’t been around her long, he knew she’d pretend it was all right.
It was five to ten when he stole through the passageway to the back stairs not used by the hotel clientele. Halfway to his room on the second floor in the private section, he ran into Takis coming down the stairs from the turret bedroom he and Lys used when they were in Milan. They had their own home in Crete and flew back and forth.
“Cesare—You’re back! We didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow. What have you got there?”
“You’d be surprised.”
Takis frowned. “What’s going on?”
“I had a slight change in plans. Where are you headed?”
“To the kitchen.” Takis smiled. “Lys had a sudden craving for ice cream.”
“So it’s true about pregnant women.”
“Si. One day it’ll be your turn to find out.”
A sudden vision of a pregnant Tuccia in her yellow silk robe flashed through Cesare’s mind, disturbing him.
“Eh, amico. What’s wrong?”
Diavolo. What wasn’t? “Everything’s fine.”
“The hell it is.” Takis could read him like a book.
“Your wife needs you. Is Vincenzo here or in Lake Como with Gemma?”
“In order for us to be together tomorrow and meet the new cook, they never left for home.”
“Perfetto. See you two in the morning.”
Not wanting to prolong this any longer, Cesare bounded up the rest of the stairs. When he reached his suite, he put the tray of tarts on the coffee table and went in the other room to take a shower.
Later, after throwing on a robe, he phoned his mother and found out the police had been by the villa asking questions about Tuccia.
“I said I didn’t know what they were talking about. I’d been at the hospital all day and told them to check the nursing station at San Giovanni if they needed verification. That was enough for them and they left. I’m positive they won’t be back.”
