New Title 1 (39 page)

“Ciao, bella,” he said, copying the words I
’d said to him the day before.

“Ciao,” I said, smiling back at him.

I stretched, and several muscles grumbled at me. I’d thought I was in pretty good shape, but I’d been worked over by a US Marine, for several hours. There was definitely something to be said for a having the services of a personal trainer.

Sebastian
’s morning wood poked me in the side and his hand drifted over my hip.

Uh-oh, round two. Or three. Were we up to four? What the hell – seconds out.

Signora Carello served us breakfast on a small, private terrace to one side of her villa. She had a tiny garden filled with bougainvillea that was just coming into its full glory.

We invited her to
have her coffee with us, and she happily accepted our invitation.

“So, you are hoping to find family in Capezzano Inferiore?”

“Well, that would be the icing on the cake, but really, I just want to see the village where my father came from. If I find family, well…”

She smiled sympathetically and patted my hand.

“Perhaps you will find family in a different way,” she said, glancing at Sebastian, who grinned back at her.

There were several ways I could interpret her remark; I chose to ignore all of them.
Although, it wasn’t easy with Sebastian sitting opposite, smirking at me.

We wandered through Salerno, stopping to admire the neat yachts lined up in the harbor.

“I should take you sailing some time,” said Sebastian, staring out at the deep, blue waters of the Mediterranean. “If we had more time, I’d rent us a boat and teach you how to sail.”

“I already know,” I said, smiling at him. “Although I haven
’t been out on a sailboat for years.”

“Really?” he said
, intrigued. “I didn’t know you could sail.”

“Ah, you don
’t know all my talents yet, Hunter.”

He smiled. “I
’m looking forward to finding out. But when did you learn?”

Damn, I should have kept my mouth
shut – we were definitely sailing into dangerous waters
.

“David taught me,” I said, mildly.

Sebastian’s face clouded over at once. “The asshole?”

It was his favorite name for my ex-husband.

“The very one.”

His good humor evaporated and I sighed. I could have predicted that response –
I
should
have predicted that response.

“It was a long time ago, Sebastian. And we agreed we couldn
’t change the past, so stop looking so mad, or I’ll have to kiss you indecently in public.”

His expression
changed to one of surprise, then darkened perceptibly to lust.

“Nope, still pissed off, Caro. You
’ll have to kiss me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but you could try.”

His eyes
were challenging.

“Are you sure,
Sebastian?” I said, in my most sultry voice. “Because I don’t want to get you all hot and bothered.”

“I
’ll risk it,” he said, arrogantly.

I turned to face him
, standing so close that our bodies almost touched. And then in full public view, I ran my hand over his ass, up beneath his T-shirt, and dragged my nails down his back. With my other hand I pulled his head down towards me and kissed him hard. And I might have also rubbed him over his zipper, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck, Caro,” he whispered. “Let
’s go back to our room right now.”

I laughed. “No, Sebastian. That was just my distraction technique:
which, by the way, I didn’t learn in the Marines.”

He groaned and had to adjust his pants.

“Shall we go to Capezzano Inferiore now?” I said, innocently.

He gave me a look that said payback would be a bitch.

It was a steep walk to my father’s village, but the view more than made up for it. Salerno glittered jewel-like below us, the Mediterranean a polished glass of an implausible cerulean blue. In the crystal-sharp air, we could see a landmass on the horizon that I guessed must be Anacapri.

The village itself was quiet and dusty: a
few cars passed us, all heading downhill. There was a fountain in the center that coughed and spurted arthritically, and a skinny dog idly scratched itself. All the life seemed to have been bled out of it, draining down the hill to the more confident town of Salerno. For the first time, I truly understood why my father might have wanted to leave; why America, with all its garish, New World charms, advertised by a thousand color movies, had been such a draw. And, perhaps, why my blonde, blue-eyed mother had seemed like a dream worth chasing.

It was making me sad
, and it felt like a mistake to have come here.

“We don
’t have to stay, Caro,” said Sebastian, squeezing my fingers.

I sighed. “It
’s okay. I don’t know what I was expecting: Papa always said it was a one-horse town where the horse had died. I guess he was right.”

“Look, that guy over there is just opening up his café – let
’s go get a drink, okay?”

The café owner was surprised but delighted to have some business. I imagined he didn
’t get many customers.

Sebastian ordered a beer and I opted for an espresso. Maybe a shot of caffeine would help to lift my mood.

The beer was served in a frosted glass, and my espresso arrived in a miniature coffee pot with raw cane sugar and a glass of water.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Sebastian, politely. “But my girlfriend
’s father came from this village. We were wondering if you might have known him: his surname was Venzi.”

The man scratched his head. “That name seems familiar, but I
’m not sure. Let me ask my wife: she’s lived here her whole life.”

My heart began to beat more rapidly,
and I sat up anxiously in my seat.

“Don
’t get your hopes up, Caro,” Sebastian said, gently.

“No, I
’m not,” I lied, unable to beat back the sudden expectation that had flared.

A moment later, the owner
’s wife appeared.

“Buon giorno. You are asking after the Venzi family? How can I help you?”

“I was just wondering… my father, Marco Venzi, he was born here. Did you know him?”

“Goodness! Marco Venzi! That
’s a name I haven’t heard in a very long time. He was the boy who left to live in America. Your father, you say? Yes, I knew him.”

She knew him. She really knew him. I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

“It’s so exciting to meet someone who remembers Papa,” I choked out, gazing at the woman’s warm and sympathetic face.

“Yes, we were at school together: he was a few years older than me, and always in trouble. He had the devil in him, that
one.”

“His daughter is just the same,” said Sebastian
, with a quiet smile.

The woman laughed. “And how is dear Marco? Did he make his fortune in America like he said? He was
crazy for your American movies. Said he was going to be a big star, like Valentino.”

“Mr
. Venzi died some years ago,” answered Sebastian, knowing I was finding it hard to speak.

“Ah, I see
,” she said. “Forgive me, young woman, my condolences. Your father was always so full of spirit. Too big for this little town.”

“Do you know if he had any relatives here?” said Sebastian.

“Well, there was his mother, but she died a long time ago. Marco had a sister who was much older than him, I remember. But she married and moved away, to Naples, I think. I’m sorry, I don’t remember the name of the man she married, so that’s all I can tell you.”

She nodded
, and moved back inside the shadowy café.

Sebastian held my hand, stroking his thumb over the back of my knuckles.

“We could try and find her,” he said, gently. “She might have had kids – you could have cousins you don’t know about.”

“Yes, I might. I probably do.”

I closed my eyes, remembering the happiness my father found in everything to do with America: the music, the movies, the TV shows, the cars – especially the cars. A large, pale blue Cadillac had been his pride and joy. The damn thing drove like a bus: I used to get seasick just from sitting in the back seat.

But that was in the past; it was all in the past, and I was planning a future.

“It doesn’t matter, Sebastian,” I said, slowly. “Signora Carello was right: even if there are cousins, they’re not my family – not really. I have my friends and I have you. You’re my family now.”

He bowed his head and held my hand to his lips. Then he stood up, taking me by surprise.

And in that dusty little square, in that nondescript, one-horse town where the fountain coughed and spluttered and the cars passed by without a second glance, he sank to one knee.

“Carolina Maria Venzi
: I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Chapter 11

I stared down in amazement as Sebastian knelt before me, his beautiful face torn with anxiety.

I could think of a thousand reasons why marrying him was sheer lunacy, and only one reason why it wasn
’t.

I took a deep breath
, willing all my doubts and fears away.

“I love you, too, Sebastian. And the answer is yes.”

He let out a shout of delight and leapt to his feet, pulling me into his arms, and holding me tightly as if he’d never let me go. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart through his thin T-shirt.

“I
’ll do everything to make you happy, I promise, Caro,” he whispered. “Everything, baby. You are my life.”

“And you are mine, tesoro. We
’ll find a way; we always do.”

He sat back down on the hard, wooden seat and pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck.