Ten Days in Tuscany (11 page)

Looking at his work was like looking at Nic. Sensual, instinctive, and romantic. Hell, never in her life had she ever met anyone like him. He wore the independence she so desperately sought like a second skin. He was confident and knew what he wanted, and went for it. He was a planner and every part of his life seemed to be under control.
How good would that be?

To seek adventure and excitement away from home, her own dreams could be fulfilled if Nic’s offer to help her with an exhibition came to fruition. It was testament to his generous nature, and Gia sensed that was a big part of who he was. Maybe it was wishful thinking that she was seeing it in his painting as well. But Nic was straight—what you saw was real; she had no doubt of that. She had trusted him enough to let her guard down and be herself. She would miss him when he went back to the city.

Gia was thoughtful as she headed for the shower. She paused in front of the mirror where Nic had held her last night. Slowly she traced the fingers over the reversed letters before letting out a soft sigh and stepping into the shower. There was work to be done if she was going to have an exhibition. She closed her eyes and smiled as the warm water soaked her.

After Gia had showered and stripped the paint-stained bed, she called Nic, but he didn’t pick up. A little disappointed, she ignored the little tug of doubt that ran through her and turned back to the painting she’d been working on last night. If he hadn’t wanted her to call him, he wouldn’t have left his cell number. Soon, she forgot about everything else and was immersed in her world of color.

Hunger stirred her hours later, and she broke from her work as the light began to fade. She crossed the room and pulled the old-fashioned cord. As the room was bathed in bright light, she stood and cast a critical eye around. Nic seemed certain that it was a suitable venue for a show, but she wasn’t sure. The few times she’d been to exhibitions in galleries in Florence, the setting had been slick and sophisticated. Not a room with crooked stone walls and poor light…and faulty plumbing. She could just imagine some of the art aficionados she had observed in Florence looking for the ladies room. Uncertainty flooded her.

No
. Gia shook her head with a frown. It just wouldn’t work. Nic’s enthusiasm had sucked her in and she hadn’t thought it through. Her life would go back to normal after his vacation; she would just enjoy being with him while he was here. He said he had an apartment in Florence; maybe they could stay in touch when he went back to work? His offer to help her out and have a show didn’t take into account the difficulties of holding it.

They’d signed no agreement, so she could change her mind. Now that she was away from his enthusiasm—and he had to admit, his decision making—she was having second thoughts. They would talk when he came back.

She shrugged off her worry and opened the pantry in her small kitchen. It was almost bare; there’d been no time to restock. When she thought of shopping, it was usually the middle of the night and the local store was closed. And as she’d told Nic, she hated cooking.

Oh well, Papa will be pleased
. She was going to have to wander down the hill for dinner. She tried Nic’s phone a couple more times, but he didn’t pick up. No voicemail, which was strange. Gia shrugged as she changed into warmer clothes to walk down to
Giannino’s.
He’d turn up when he was good and ready. She wouldn’t stress, but she couldn’t resist trying one more time as she pulled the door shut behind her.

“Nic Ba—” His deep voice answered on the first ring, but Gia sensed that Nic cut off the rest of his greeting. For a moment, she even thought the call had been disconnected.

“Nic?”

“Gia…sorry I had to pull over.”

“Where are you?”

Nic’s voice faded in and out; it wasn’t a good connection. “I had to take a trip to Florence… had a call…on the way back now.”

“I tried to call you earlier.” For some reason, she needed him to know that she missed him, and then she was cross with herself for being so transparent.

“I’m on my way back now. Are you working tonight?”

“No. But I was just about to head down to the restaurant for dinner.” A storm was sweeping up the valley; the tops of the hills were wreathed in mist. She would have to go back inside for her umbrella.

“Can you wait half an hour for me? How about I take you somewhere different?”

Happiness filled her. She hadn’t been game to admit to herself that deep down she had wondered if Nic would come back or not. “Yes. I’ll wait at my cottage.”

Gia disconnected and gave into vanity. She ran into her bedroom and tugged off the old jeans and paint-stained shirt she had been going to wear to the family restaurant, threw off the old black glasses, and dug out the new pretty ones. Eating in the kitchen at
Giannino’s
didn’t require dress clothes, even though it would have gotten a frown from Gabriel. She stood in front of her meager wardrobe, flicking through old shirts and baggy skirts. Over the past few months her clothes had become looser. She’d worked harder than ever to save enough money to move to Florence. Gia knew she didn’t eat properly, but the last thing she felt like doing was eating at the end of a long shift. Running around the restaurant, up and down the stairs, and through the courtyard kept her fit.

She settled on a dress she had bought on a whim. It had reminded her of one of her paintings. It was like the dress she had worn out to lunch with Nic, but it was lower cut at the front.

She grinned as she slipped it over her head and crossed to the mirror, nodding with satisfaction as her reflection confirmed what she’d hoped for.

The top of the words that Nic had painted on her breast were clearly visible above the low neckline of her dress. She’d taken a very careful shower earlier, not wanting it to wash off, although it would probably take a good scrubbing with turpentine to remove the word. She was well used to that; it was a wonder the skin on her face wasn’t wrinkled like an old canvas. It received a daily dose of turpentine to remove the paint stains each night before she headed to work. Gabriel could barely cope with her paint-stained fingers. If she turned up with paint on her face, he would really frown. If she turned up with paint on her breast, he and Papa would go ballistic.

Her smile grew as she wondered what her family would think of her pseudo-tattoo. She fluffed out her hair with her fingers and settled down to wait for Nic. It was the happiest she had been for a long time, and although it felt good, confusion filled her.
Is it because he values my work? And wants to show it? Or is it because the chance of escaping to the city is almost within reach?

But the image that came to mind as she stared at the landscapes propped against the wall was of a dimpled chin and full, sexy lips.

…

Nic drew a quick breath when Gia pushed the gate open as he pulled up in the roadster. Her dress was a bright slash of colorful flowers. Huge red poppies dotted a yellow background. It hugged her breasts and was nipped in at the waist before flaring out just above her knees. Long, bare legs were the first thing Nic saw as he climbed out of the car and met her at the gate.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty. I didn’t have the heart to wake you when I left.” Nic bent and captured her lips with his. She murmured against his mouth as she pressed into him.

“Kiss me like that some more and we won’t get to dinner.” Her voice was low and throaty, and Nic closed his eyes, giving himself into the warmth of her skin.

“Where is my shy little waitress? The temptress is back.” He was tempted to take Gia back inside, but then he looked at her. Her eyes were highlighted with a gray shadow, and her lips were painted deep scarlet to match the poppies on her dress. She’d dressed up for dinner. He’d take her out.

He put his hand up to his own mouth. “Uh-oh. Am I wearing lipstick now?”

Gia grinned and shook her head. “One of my few extravagances. It doesn’t come off.”

“Good.” Nic dipped his head and kissed her again. When he pulled back, his eyes dropped to her chest and he smiled. The soft swell of her breasts peeked out above the low neckline of her dress. The top of the word he had painted there this morning rose above the brightly-colored fabric.

Coraggio.
Still emblazoned on her breast.

“
Hmm
. The lipstick is obviously as good a quality as the paint I used. It hasn’t come off, either.” He held her chin and gently turned her head from side to side, pretending to examine her closely. “The blue cheeks are gone, which is a plus. Not sure if the fancy restaurant would like that look.”

Gia turned to the car and opened the door. “Take me there. I’m starving.” She glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes. “If I’m presentable enough?”

“Are you fishing for compliments? You look stunning. I’d like to call into your family restaurant. I don’t think they’d recognize their gorgeous, confident daughter.”

“Uh-uh.” Gia shook her head with a laugh and pointed to her breast. “Do you want to be shot at dawn?”

The restaurant was an exclusive establishment tucked into the corner of the fortified wall that surrounded the village and looked down over the western valley. She smiled at the owner on the way in; everyone knew each other in the village. Word would soon get back to her family that she was out with Nic Battistoni. When they were seated at the table on the high terrace overlooking the olive groves to the west, Nic ordered a bottle of champagne.

Gia narrowed her eyes. “Dom Pérignon? Do you know how expensive that is?”

Nic laughed and nodded at the waiter. “Two glasses, please.” He took her hand and held it on the snow white linen tablecloth. “Yes, I do. But this is a celebration.”

She tipped her head to the side. “A celebration?”

He shook his head and waited till the waiter returned. The man fussed with the bottle before he paused, looking at her, his eyes wide. “Gia?”

“Hello, Stefano. I didn’t realize you were working here. What happened to your work at the olive grove? I thought you’d been promoted to manager?”

The waiter shot a quick glance at Nic and their joined hands on the table. He shrugged. “Second job. Caro’s having another baby and can’t work.”

“Number three?”

Stefano shook his head. “Number four.”

“Well, congratulations. And pass my best wishes to Caro.”

Stefano stood there with a wistful look on his face. Nic cleared his throat and the man jumped, and then he popped the champagne and filled their glasses before going back to the bar.

“What was all that about? He looked like he was about to cry when he recognized you.”

Nic watched Gia as her face colored. “Old boyfriend. Papa was disappointed when I broke it off with him.” She shuddered. “
Dio
. What a lucky escape. Caro’s younger than me, and she’s having baby number
four
.”

Nic smiled as she shivered.

“So back to our celebration.” He let go of her hand and picked up his glass and waited for her to pick up hers. “A toast to you”—he smiled at her and a rush of feeling buzzed though him as she smiled back—“the up and coming new artist, the mysterious Gia Carelli will be having her first exhibition three weeks from today.”

“Three weeks?” Gia put her glass down and her eyes widened. “From today? Oh, Nic. I can’t be ready in three weeks. And besides I’ve been having second thoughts today.”

He held up his hand. “No second thoughts allowed. You are having an exhibition.

He sat back and watched her deflate in front of him.

“The studio’s a mess.”

“I’ll help you clean it up.”

She shook her head. “The catering. There’s no way that can be organized in time.”

“All done. Next?”

“Um…”

Nic lowered his gaze to the soft swell of her breast. “How about you look down at the single word gracing your beautiful skin?”

Gia dropped her eyes, too, and Nic was pleased to see a slow smile spread across her face.

“Now tell me. What does it say?”

“It says ‘
coraggio.’
Her smile widened as Gia pushed her chair back.It scraped on the tiled floor.

“I can do it.” She came around to his side of the table, leaned down, and kissed him full on the lips, in front of the whole restaurant. In front of all of the staff who knew her. “I
can
do it.”

Her excitement was infectious, and Nic grabbed her hand and lifted her fingers to his mouth. “Of course you can, and it is going to set your career on a stellar path. You keep producing beautiful work, and you will soon be known all over Europe.”

Gia moved back to her chair, and Nic thought if eyes could sparkle, hers would rival the stars he had painted her beneath last night.

“I’m having an exhibition!” She hugged her arms. “Gia Carelli from Castellina is an artist!”

“Of course you are. You always have been. Having an exhibition doesn’t change that.” Nic put a serious note into his voice. “Have you thought about a business manager?

“What? Why would I need one of them?

“Because, my sweet, I predict you are going to make a lot of money.”

“Enough to move to Florence?”

“Probably enough to move to Paris, or Rome, or New York… wherever the mood takes you.”

She sat across the table from him and shook her head. Disbelief was written all over her face. A surge of affection—
that’s all it is
—ran though him. It was the same—but sort of different—to the feeling he got when he donated to the children’s hospital. This was more personal, and he wondered what it meant. Maybe, if—when—she moved to Florence, they could spend some time together. But he had a feeling that she was about to leave him far behind in the art world.

No. It didn’t matter.

He didn’t want a close connection with anyone. He would enjoy letting Gia go and watching her fly away.

That’s how much I believe in her.

“Nic? Nic?”

He stared at Gia and realized she had been talking to him.

“Sorry, I was dreaming of your successful career.”

“Would you be my business manager?” Her voice was shy and she dropped her head as she spoke. Nic could see her confidence fading fast.