there being three empty seats on the other side of the table, he chose to sit in the one his friend had just vacated, which positioned him directly next to Louisa. “I trust I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said to her. His crooked smile made the comment sound more like a dirty secret. But then, that’s what Nico Amatucci did. He used his charm to lure people into bending to his will. When they didn’t bend to his authority, that is. His sensual mouth and sparkling dark eyes could worm their way past a person’s defenses, trapping them in his spell before they knew what was happening.
He reached for a cornetto, his shoulder brushing against Louisa’s as he moved. The hours of hard work had left him smelling of fresh-tilled dirt and exertion. It was a primal, masculine scent, and though Louisa tried her best not to react, her own basic instincts betrayed her and she shivered anyway. To cover, she ignored his question and took a long sip of coffee.
Nico countered by taking a bite of pastry. “Has everyone recovered from the wedding?” he asked, licking the crumbs off his thumb. Louisa narrowed her eyes. She swore he was purposely trying to make the action erotic. Especially when he added, “I know I’m still feeling the aftereffects. Are you?”
Again, he looked straight at her. Louisa lifted her chin. “Not at all,” she replied with a crispness that made her proud.
Apparently it wasn’t crisp enough, since he reacted with little more than an arched brow. “Are you sure?”
Dani jumped to her feet. “I’m going to go see if Rafe needs help. Marcello rearranged the pantry yesterday, and you know how he gets when he can’t find things.”
Who did she think she was fooling? Rafe wouldn’t allow anyone to rearrange his pantry without supervision.
“Subtle,” Nico remarked when Dani was out of earshot. “One would think she was trying to give us time alone.”
“One would think,” Louisa muttered in return. “Though I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps she thinks we need to talk.”
“Well, she would be wrong. We don’t need to talk about anything.”
“I see. Is that why you’re avoiding me, bella mia?”
His beauty indeed. I’m not your anything, she wanted to snap. She didn’t belong to anyone. Not anymore. And especially not to someone like him. Bad enough she let herself fall under his spell at the wedding. “Who says I’ve been avoiding anyone? Maybe I’ve been busy. You’re not the only one who’s had a lot to do since the wedding.”
“My apologies. You’re right.” His chair made a scratching noise on the floor as he angled it so they were facing one another. Taking the last cornetto from the center of the table, he tore the pastry in two and divided the pieces between their plates. “So tell me, what have you been up to that has kept you so busy?”
Louisa glared at the fluffy delicacy in front of her. “Things,” she replied.
“Things?” His chuckle was smooth like syrup. “That’s a very broad category.”
“I’m a very broad person.”
“Ah, bella mia. ‘Broad’ is definitely not what I would call you.” His hand moved forward. Thinking he was about to brush the bangs from her eyes, Louisa jerked back, only to turn red when he picked up his half of the pastry. “I wanted to talk about what happened at the wedding.”
“I told you, there’s nothing to talk about. We made a mistake, that’s all. Why don’t we forget it ever happened?”
Sounds from the kitchen drifted into the restaurant as Nico chewed his pastry. Louisa listened, trying to determine how far away she was from rescue. There was an uneasy familiarity to the way they sat with Nico’s leg close but not touching hers.
Slowly his eyes lifted to meet hers. “What if I don’t want to forget?”
“One double espresso as ordered!” Rafe announced. The chef returned to the dining room carrying a gold-rimmed demitasse. Behind him trailed Dani, who shot Nico a look. From their mutually taut expressions, Louisa wondered if there hadn’t been a disagreement over interrupting the conversation. She offered a silent thank-you to whichever one of them had won.
First thing Dani did when she sat down was to try to catch Louisa’s eye, but Louisa continued to stare at the tablecloth and prayed that the floor might swallow her up. She hated scrutiny. Hated the feel of people’s eyes upon her. Trying to look inside her. Thinking they could read her thoughts. Her fingers crept to her neckline to tug the suddenly too-tight collar.
“Will there be anything else, your highness?” Thank God for Rafe. Again. He set the cup on the table with a flourish, forcing Nico’s attention back to the business at hand.
The vintner’s bronze fingers wrapped around the handle. “This will do for now,” he replied.
“You do know that when I said ‘your highness,’ I meant it sarcastically, right?”
“Yes, but you wait on me all the same.” Nevertheless, Nico saluted his friend with the cup before taking a sip. “So,” he said after he swallowed, “you said something about a committee?”
“You were listening,” Rafe replied. “Yes, I want to create a committee for developing tourism.”
“Monte Calanetti already has a person in charge of tourism.” Nico explained. “Vincenzo Alberti.”
“Tell me you’re joking. Everyone knows Vincenzo did nothing and that the only reason we hosted the wedding was because your brother was in town to write the proposal. It could have just as easily gone to some place in Umbria.”
“True. Vincenzo is rather useless.”
“What I’m talking about is something independent and more grassroots. I’m certain if the local businesspeople put their heads together, we can come up with a host of ideas to increase tourism. Not to mention run them better.”
“I certainly won’t complain about increased business, especially during the dormant months,” Nico said. Leaning back, he hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Who else do you have in mind besides the four of us? I assume it is the four of us, since we’re all sitting here.”
The two men began tossing names back and forth, some of whom Louisa recognized, some she didn’t. She wasn’t surprised when, as the conversation progressed, the dynamic between the friends shifted with Nico slowly taking the reins. That was something else Nico Amatucci did. No matter how commanding others might be—and Rafe certainly qualified as commanding—Nico was always the one in charge.
Her ex-husband had been the exact same way. Minus the rugged sensuality that is. Steven had been painstakingly glossy, his looks created from the pages of fashion magazines whereas Nico was more earthy. The kind of man who got his hands dirty from actually working with them, not from helping himself.
She remembered the roughness of Nico’s calloused hands as his thumbs had fanned her cheeks...
And how effortlessly he’d managed to dance her into a secluded corner without her realizing. In charge till the end, just like Steven.
“We
