the quintessential product—like his three older brothers—of the American dream. His grandparents might have come to the States on the great immigration tide at the turn of the century, but they worked their fingers to the bone so their children would have it better than they did, their grandchildren better than that. The four boys, like their parents before them, may have been restaurateurs, but they could hold their own in a conversation anywhere and with anyone.
Del Farentino, on the other hand, was solid blue-collar stock, as average as any other guy she’d ever known in her grandparents’ working-class neighborhood. The guys her grandparents wouldn’t let her date, the guys they declared weren’t good enough for her. Yet, despite what she knew were surface differences, there was…something—a quality? an attitude?—that made her husband and this ordinary, slightly disheveled enormous man striding beside her more alike than different. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. And then there was this crazy, unwarranted attraction. To a complete stranger. Sure, he was good looking. And nice, if a little full of himself. And, granted, she’d lived like a nun for three years. Longer, since she and Vinnie hadn’t been intimate for some years before his death. But still, it wasn’t as if she’d been languishing from sexual frustration all this time. She’d never really thought all that much about it, frankly. Sex ‘n’ that.
Until about twenty minutes ago.
Caution hummed through her, warning her she needed to…what?
Protect herself.
She started at the thought, not comprehending. For heaven’s sake, she was only going to be here for a few days. She probably wouldn’t even see him again. Yet, as she watched him lope to the truck, his strides sure and strong, yet oddly reckless, she was again struck by the differences between Vinnie and this man. She couldn’t even imagine him in a suit. Not that there wasn’t a certain grace to his broad movements, like the movements of a wild beast. But the word “elegant” was not the first word that came to mind when you looked at Del Farentino.
Actually, the first word that came to mind was “hot”.
Oh.
Oh, my.
While she stood there, mulling over why her brain had run away with her libido, like the dish with the spoon, Del opened the door to the extended cab, settled all her things, and the dog, in the back, then hooked a hand on her elbow to usher her up to her seat.
His heat sizzled right through her sweater, dancing along her skin clear up to her ears, which must be downright glowing. She told herself she was still feeling the aftereffects of her upset tummy.
He strode around to his side, yanked open his door, climbed in. Yup. Just as she expected. This cab was much too small.
“Put your seatbelt on,” he growled, and she shot him a look.
He looked back, heavy black brows dipped. They’d only been outside for a minute, but the sharp, biting wind had done a real number on his shaggy hair. He shoved it back off his forehead. It fell right back. “What?”
She yanked on the belt, drawing it across her chest to ram it into place. There it was. What had reminded her of her husband. The one thing that should easily negate whatever this physical business was. “I’m not a child, Mr. Farentino,” she said quietly, directing her gaze out the window. Away from those intense eyes. “I don’t need to be told what to do.”
His sigh seemed equal parts frustration and contrition. She risked a quick peek at the side of his face as he put the truck into reverse, started to back out of the parking space. His mouth had thinned, but the corner was tilted into kind of a smile. “Sorry.” She flinched when his long arm suddenly slammed across the back of the seat, his hand landing right behind her head, as he shifted to see behind him. “Force of habit. Hey…” The truck lurched to a stop, half-in, half-out of the space. “You okay?”
She gasped. The parking garage, redolent with exhaust and gasoline, combined with the tension of unwelcome feelings and even less welcome memories had threatened the fragile peace with her stomach. But she would have been fine had Del not jerked to a stop like that. “I was.”
“Ah, hell—you’re white as a sheet. You gonna lose it again?”
She couldn’t tell if he sounded more annoyed or worried. She sucked in a slow, steadying breath. “No,” she said tightly. “I’ll be okay as soon as we get out of here and into some real air.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t need to be coddled,” she bit out, hot, dumb tears needling her eyes. “I just need some air, okay?”
His skepticism practically vibrated between them, but he slowly completed the maneuver, carefully driving the truck out of the garage and, within a minute or so, onto the highway. At the moment, despite the heavy, solid clouds still crouched overhead like a huge cat waiting to pounce, the bad weather had called a truce of sorts. She cracked the window, breathing in the damp air. Willing herself to feel normal again.
To feel safe.
“You can open it more, if you want. I don’t mind.”
She did, afraid to speak, to admit the air wasn’t helping at all. To admit she felt, again, like a helpless child, alone and ill in a stranger’s truck.
She heard Del chuckle, which she might have enjoyed, actually, were it not for the fact that she really felt like yesterday’s garbage and that she had the definite feeling the chuckle was aimed at her. But the words that followed couldn’t have been more gentle.
Like Vinnie’s used to be.
“Okay, since my pointing out that you’re being stubborn would probably only make you feel worse, I’m just gonna say that anytime you want to stop, you only have to say the word, okay?”
Her stomach heaved. How, she didn’t know, because there wasn’t a blessed thing inside it. She rolled down the window some more.
“How long did you say until we get to Spruce Lake?” she managed, inexplicably angry. At her body, for betraying her in a hundred ways. At herself, for feeling petulant. At Del, for reminding her of Vinnie.
The Vinnie she’d thought she was marrying, anyway.
“Little less than an hour.”
An hour? Her eyes burned. How on earth would she make it that long? Oh, why had she let Cora talk her into this? A chill raced up her spine, exploding into a cold sweat at the back of her neck, her forehead.
“Stop!”
Del pulled smoothly up onto the shoulder, was out of the truck and to her side before she even got the door open. Then she was on her knees in the wet winter weeds by the side of the road, Del holding her shoulders as she heaved to the sound of traffic whizzing by them.
Could the gauge on her mortification scale possibly sink any lower?
“Better?” she heard in her ear.
Well, apparently, since she started to bawl, there was indeed another point or two left on the bottom of that scale. About what, she had no idea. Nothing. Everything. Barfing in public and losing her grandmother and having no family and embarrassing herself in front of a complete stranger and realizing how really, really bad she was at being alone. And how she had no one but herself to
