Ten Days in Tuscany (4 page)

The look on his face a few months ago when she’d asked him to lend her enough money to move to Florence had been almost comical! He was more than happy to put money aside for her to buy a house in the village with a future husband, but to go to Florence? You would’ve thought she’d asked if she could sell herself into a circus. As a sweetener, he’d begrudgingly agreed to put some of her paintings up in the restaurant. Though he’d shown little interest in them, at least they were up.

It was just so unfair.

Papa had bought the leather bag shop for Louisa, her older sister, in the
Via delle Volte,
the ancient tunnel in the medieval walls that now formed the shopping and restaurant area of Castellina. Gabriel had been sent away to Rome to do his hospitality training. Gia did not expect a handout or to have the way paved for her. She just wanted her choices to be respected.

Why did her family wrap her in cotton wool? Why did everyone think she needed protecting and helping, and make decisions for her because she was so fragile in their eyes?

She kicked a rock that was on the edge of the road and watched as it rolled over the pathway into the garden below. Well, Louisa could sell her bags, Gabriel could run the finest restaurant in the land, and she, the baby of the family, would show the lot of them. She would not rely on anyone apart from herself. From today she would save more. She would still have her rent to pay but no more spending on art books and expensive DVD tutorials. Even though she was lost in her thoughts, this time she heard the car coming up the hill behind her when the driver downshifted. She stepped to the side as anticipation rushed through her, even as she wondered why she was hoping it was Nic from the restaurant. It couldn’t be; he would barely have finished his first course by now and, knowing Papa
,
he would have taken over her tables, and he would be telling Nic the same funny anecdotes about the village he told the customers each night. Papa was a good man, and he meant well, even though he didn’t realize his baby daughter was now a grown woman.

Gia sighed as she waited for the car to pass her. She’d tried to get work in Florence. She could go to the Academy in the day and wait tables at night. Hell. She’d work back-to-back shifts if it meant going to the Academy. She’d applied for a couple of waitressing jobs there but had no luck—yet.

The car slowed and pulled to a stop behind her. Gia turned slowly and her eyes widened. The moonlight glinted off the chrome of the fancy sports car. It
was
Nic
.

“Can I offer you a ride?” The deep tones of the already familiar voice reached her as he climbed out of the car.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m almost home.” She could remain calm now.
Sophisticated and calm.
Despite the scuffs on her shoes and stain on her skirt. Despite her earlier rudeness.

“I’m pleased I caught up with you. I wanted to talk to you.”

She pushed her glasses higher on her nose as he walked around the front of the car to join her. Funnily enough they were at the spot where they’d met earlier.

“Why would you want to do that? Wasn’t your soup to your taste?” She didn’t intend to be smart-mouthed, but the rude words tumbled out. But he didn’t appear fazed by it. A glimmer of a smile played about his lips.

“The soup was very good. Thank you for suggesting it,” he said politely.

“So? What else could you possibly want to talk to me about?” She frowned.

“I was worried you were unwell because of the near miss before.”

“Pfft.” She waved her hand dismissively. “That was nothing.”

He stared at her intently. Once again she was hit with the realization of what a good looking man he was. No—if a man could be called beautiful, he was that. Even in the moonlight, she could see his large bright eyes, full of interest, long eyelashes, high cheekbones and sexy, full lips that hinted at a passionate nature. She dropped her eyes to travel down to his broad shoulders, lower, past narrow hips, lingering on long legs that she knew would be muscular beneath those snug-fitting black jeans. Not that she had much experience looking at men’s legs; most of her knowledge of the structure of a man’s body came from her observation of Michelangelo’s statue of David. Her only other up close and personal observation had been her long-time boyfriend in her late teens. But Stefano had been too keen on the marriage and baby route. He was now settled in the village, happily married and with a houseful of
bambini.

Much to my parents’ disappointment
. And Stefano’s legs did not compare to either David’s or to this man’s. She shivered. Stefano had been a close call. Why the hell had her thoughts taken her in that direction?

Nic’s sexy lips curved in a grin, telling her he was well used to being admired. And that he didn’t mind at all. Another little tremble ran down her legs as his eyes swept over her body. This time it was a pleasant tremble, and his eyes flared with interest as they returned to her face and held her gaze.

Dio
, this man did…things to her. She focused on the cute dimple in his chin and stood straight. Even though she was tall, she still had to tip her head back to see his face.

“Good, I am pleased you are okay.”

Okay? No way. Butterflies were fluttering through her stomach.
Forget it
. Nic’s fine clothes, his fancy car, his movie actor good looks… This man was way out of her league. He would never be remotely interested in her. A waitress from a little village like Castellina? When he drove a car that was worth more than she would earn in ten years.

“Gia?”

She shook her head. “Yes?” What was he going to ask her? His dark gaze was intent and his expression was so serious.

“I wanted to talk to ask you about your paintings.”

“
My
paintings?” That was the last thing she expected him to say.

“If you’re the artist who created those landscapes back in the restaurant. Unless your father was joking?”

“Of course he wasn’t joking. And yes, they are mine, but I am surprised he admitted that.” And what was the big deal about her paintings anyway? What did he want to know about them for? She was a provincial talent. He had city and sophistication written all over him. She couldn’t really understand why he had stopped to ask about her work.

“So they are yours?”

“I just said they were.” Gia stared at him.

“Can I buy them?”

Her face screwed into a confused frown. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because they are very good.” He wasn’t smiling now. When Gia realized he was serious, a tendril of excitement unfurled in her chest.

“Um…er…you’ve—”

“Do you have more?” Nic reached out and took her arm. The expression of his face was akin to yearning. Gia’s heart gave one huge leap.

“More what?”

“Landscapes. Or other paintings?”

Gia wanted nothing more than to grab his hand and drag him up the road into her cottage, turn the lights on, twirl around with her arms spread wide and show him the dozens of canvases that graced the walls of her studio. There
were
more small pictures like those in the restaurant, but she had many more full-sized canvases of her landscapes.

But of course she didn’t take his hand. Too many years of having her work dismissed as unimportant by her family kept doubts running deep in her veins, and she imagined she would only be disappointed one more time.

“Look, I really have to get home.” She turned away from him, but he still held her arm. Goose bumps touched her skin despite the warmth of the night. Turning back to face him, she narrowed her eyes and tried to keep her voice free of uncertainty. “What do you know about art? Why would you think my paintings are any good?”

Deep blue eyes held hers. “Because I dabble in art, and I have never been so touched as I was by the movement in your landscapes.”

…

Nic held Gia’s arm lightly. The moonlight highlighted her wide eyes, and he was scared she would scamper away like the frightened rabbit she reminded him of. No wonder she seemed to lack assurance in herself. He’d seen the way her father had set aside her work. A talent like hers deserved to be recognized. No, more than recognized; it
must
be exhibited. Celebrated. Shared with the world. Already, his thoughts surged ahead. He was planning his tactics, ready to persuade Gia to listen to him. Excitement thrummed in his veins as he mentally calculated his strategy. As much as he hated it, he’d switched into business mode. Lately, that came with more frequency than his creative muse. Odder still, he liked the surge of excitement that accompanied it. To present an artist, discovered by him… That is, if the rest of her work was to his standard.

He sought the right words to convince her—without scaring her off and without sounding too pushy. Without her knowing he was one of the Baldinis her father had criticized. He could sponsor her. He could organize an exhibition. That was if she had enough work completed. Thinking quickly, Nic formulated a plan in his head. He’d plan every last detail, and her discovery would convince the board where his interest lay. Without someone supporting her, she would spend her life painting in this rustic village, undiscovered and unknown. Warmth flooded him. It would be great to help her achieve success. Because he had no doubt she had the talent. But did she have the staying power to make it?

None of his previous protégés had as much talent as he’d seen in those four small landscapes. And not one of them had the dedication to develop the talent they did have…not when the money flow had stopped.

Go carefully. Don’t get too excited.

He let go of Gia’s arm and stepped back to give her some space, looking past her down to the village. The tall tower of the Fortress of Castellina was lit up by a spotlight, providing a beacon to the center square of the village. A soft blue light played on the high tower.

Gia folded her arms. Despite the shadows, he could see the frown that wrinkled her forehead again, and then her glasses slipped down her nose. She pushed them up impatiently with a paint-stained finger.

“I have an eye for art, Gia. And you are exceptionally talented.”

“Really? Do you really think that?” The uncertainty in her voice almost broke his heart. Her family had done a real number on her confidence.

“And what do you mean, you dabble?” She tipped her head to the side and stared at him curiously as though dabbling and art did not go in the same sentence

“I mean I love to paint, but I don’t get much time for it.” Nic’s laugh was slightly bitter as he shook his head. If only he could live in this countryside and paint all day, every day. “I’m here on vacation and I will paint while I’m here. Like many tourists who come to visit this region.” He stepped to the car and opened the passenger door. “Look, why don’t you come with me, and we can go back down into the village for a drink? I’d love to hear more about your techniques.”

“Uh-uh.” Gia shook her head and turned around, pointing to her stained clothes. “I’m in no state to go anywhere.”

“So how about I drive you home and you can change?” He stood back as she observed him, and he knew he was being summed up.

“Where are you staying?” she finally said.

“I am staying at a place a few miles along the road.”

“Where?” She was persistent and although he should say the Baldini villa—Mauro’s reaction had been enough for one night—he admired her caution.

“I’m…er… renting a holiday place up that way.” He waved toward the hill in front of them. “So what do you say? Will you trust me enough to go for a drink in the village?”

Gia stood back and Nic watched as one scarlet-tipped finger tapped her bottom lip. He smiled. He was more used to escorting women who had long fingernails scarlet from expensive manicures, not because they’d dipped their fingers into paint.

“Please? I’d really like to show you how sorry I am for causing you that fright on your bike. I was going to look for you tomorrow in the village, but finding you tonight was meant to be.” He didn’t want to be too pushy, so he waited while she looked at him.

“Okay, but how about some
gelato
instead of a drink? I haven’t eaten yet today. I’ve been too busy.”

“How about dinner, then?”

Gia laughed and the sound was attractive. “I thought you had dinner already? Vegetable soup?” Her face broke into a grin, and the interest that had been stirring in Nic’s chest firmed into something more tangible. Her lips were softly parted, and even as he chuckled, he appreciated the sweet cupid shape of her top lip. In all her glorious disarray, she was quite lovely. If you took away the ghastly spectacles and tamed the wild mane of hair that was standing in a messy cloud around her head—she’d pulled the braid undone—she’d be downright gorgeous. The smile softened her serious face, and Nic was pleasantly surprised by the change in her attitude.

“Okay, ice cream does it for me. Where do we go?”

Gia walked across the car and opened the passenger door. “If you are happy to take me home first and wait for me while I change, I’ll take you to the best
gelateria
in all of Italy.”

“All of Italy? That’s a big call.” Nic followed her and held the car door open.

She grinned up at him as she slid into the low slung seat. “Everywhere I’ve been, anyway.”

And that was probably not many places. His impression of the village—and her family—was that this was where life was lived. Not like the jet-setting life of his family. Skiing in the Swiss Alps, swimming on the French Riviera. That was why the Baldinis hadn’t used the Tuscan villa enough to make the locals happy. They had houses all around Europe. But it was not the time to share that; he didn’t want to frighten her off. He
had
to see more of her work.

He’d made progress, and now that Gia had agreed to come with him he’d have a chance to see it. He vaulted over the side of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Gia shook her head and smiled at him as he started the car. “I’m not that easily impressed, you know. I’ve got a big brother. Macho stuff doesn’t work for me.”