Ten Days in Tuscany (6 page)

“If you’re really sure that’s what you want, what your dream is”—Nic reached out and took her hand—“I may be able to help.”

…

Nic was surprised at the genuine honesty that Gia was showing him by sharing her feelings. Discomfort rippled through him as he thought of the white lie he had told her. Well, it wasn’t too bad a lie. Battistoni had been his mother’s family name. He sent a little apology skyward.
Sorry, Mamma.
His mother would have been fascinated with Gia; she’d always loved uncovering the layers that a person hid behind, and Nic had a feeling that if he peeled away Gia’s layers, he would find one very strong and determined woman.

They had hit it off as soon as they had met—well, almost— if you discounted the incident on the road. Maybe it was the moonlight lighting up the valley in front of them; maybe it was that they were both relaxed. The whole scene was impossibly romantic. She intrigued him with her lack of artifice. He smothered a grin as he thought of the baggy clothes she deliberately hid behind in the restaurant and the paint on her fingers—what he was looking at tonight was a real woman. A much stronger woman than he had first thought. Not the designer clothes, the dripping jewels, and the heady perfumes he was used to. She was fresh and natural—
sweet
was the word that came to mind. The strawberry scent reinforced that freshness, and her laughter when they’d discovered they were opposites in just about everything had made him laugh. He was having
fun,
too—for the first time in a long time. It was her scent that had prompted him to order the strawberry
gelato
. He imagined tasting her as the ice cream melted on his tongue, and the thought was just as delicious as the ice cream.

He let go of her hand and moved away. He wanted to see more of her work, and he knew he was going to have to tell her a little about himself, but he couldn’t be Nic Baldini, millionaire businessman; he just wanted to be another artist who recognized talent. He’d heard what her father had thought of his family. Another ripple of guilt ran through Nic and he pushed it away. Maybe he should have employed some local tradesmen. He didn’t want her to label him as a rich guy or simply a guy on the make. And he was wary, too. His wealth had been taken advantage of too many times before, and for that reason, he wasn’t going to make the Baldini connection known. Not yet…he wanted—no, he needed to see more of her work. The landscapes he had seen had fired his interest.

“So you want to move to Florence? You are sure that’s where you want to be?”

“Yes, it is. But want do you mean ‘you can help me’?” Gia frowned and her voice was tinged with something akin to suspicion.

Nic hurried on and chose his words carefully. “I’d love to see some more of your work before I tell you what I am thinking.” He turned to face her, and the moonlight outlined her profile as she looked down at the valley. “If your other work is half as good as the landscapes… I need to see more. Will you show me some others?”

“Tell me why first? Tell me more about you.” Her eyes were narrowed and her voice careful, as though she was wondering why a chance-met stranger would want to help her. Sort of a reverse “come up and see my etchings.” “And not just what sort of movies you like. Tell me about you.”

Maybe she did think he was trying to get her into bed—not that he’d mind that one little bit—but he wanted her to know that he was genuinely interested in what he’d seen of her work.

Nic leaned back on the seat and folded his arms. He wanted her to like him for himself and not for what he could do to help her. It had been a long time since he had had such a deep response to a woman, and he wanted to explore that feeling.

“I’m here on vacation. I am staying in a villa along the way, and I am going to paint.”

“Which villa?” Gia turned her head to the side and Nic swallowed. It wasn’t a lie; it just wasn’t the exact truth.

“The company I work for owns
Casa Marmo,
not far along the road from your cottage.”

“You work for the Baldinis? The Carrara marble family?”

Shit.
Of course she would know who owned the villa. He was not used to small village life. Just as well, he’d never spent much time in Castellina. The caretaker had made sure the kitchen was stocked on the couple visits he’d made before. He waited, wondering if she’d realize he was a Baldini. His family had some celebrity, not that he paid any attention to such frivolous things. They weren’t so famous to be hounded by paparazzi or plastered among society pages, but he’d been featured in multiple newspaper articles, especially for his contributions to the children’s hospital in Florence. And his face had graced the covers of many business magazines.

“I don’t sculpt, but it must be wonderful to work amid so much beautiful stone.” Gia’s voice was full of awe, and guilt settled in Nic’s stomach like…a stone. But at least she didn’t have the same attitude as her father. And, even more of a blessing, there was no recognition in her expression and no censure in her voice.

“Er…yes. I work in the quarries.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was close to the truth. He didn’t have to say he ran the whole operation.

“I would so love to go there one day. My favorite man”—Gia grinned at him and Nic’s heart did a funny little jump—“is made of Carrara marble.”

“Ah, the wonderful statue of David.” Nic swallowed, pushing away the need that coursed through his body as her strawberry fragrance enveloped him. At the same time, relief settled over him like a soft blanket. He could be himself here. The heat in his blood cooled a little when Gia changed the subject away from the Baldinis to his art. “So tell me about how you got into art. What do you paint?”

“Well, to be truthful”—Nic swallowed, truthful was not the best choice of words—“you and I have very similar backgrounds. I’ve always painted—ever since I was a teenager, but my father has always dismissed it as a waste of time. ‘Not a real job,’ he always said. He refused to let me go to the Art Academy, and then he forced me to go to work as soon as I left school. I started off working in the hills of Carrara.”

“And now?” Her gaze was intense and his guilt doubled.

“Now I work in an office all day.”

“So you are from Carrara?”

“I was born in Florence, but I’ve travelled a bit.” That was true enough. Nic pointed to the fountain in the courtyard beside them. “I love to paint when I get time but, as you know, it is necessary to work.”

Gia’s narrowed eyes—or it could be the fact that she couldn’t see him properly—appeared to be assessing him.

“So what do you paint?”

“Still-life compositions—but in a natural setting. It’s not just a hobby— it’s my passion, and I do it well enough. My main problem is finding the time.” He turned his hands over and held out his palms. “I promised my mother before she died that I wouldn’t let my art go. So here I am…a vacation down here with no interruptions.”

Gia was staring at him and taking in every word he said. She was certainly a pleasant interruption, and he didn’t want her to think otherwise.

Settling back against the stone seat, he took care in choosing the right words. “You rebel by pretending to be the person your parents want you to be. I accepted what was expected of me, and that makes me admire your passion even more.”

“How did you know what I do?” Gia tipped her head to the side. “Was it because you saw my landscapes on the wall? I’m surprised Papa told you.”

Nic picked up her hand closest to him and held it up. “Scarlet fingers? The smell of turpentine?” He grinned at her. “A dead giveaway. Unless you are a house painter?”

“You
are
astute, aren’t you? I paint every day,” she said simply.

“And that’s how I’ve sold out my passion.” Nic’s voice turned bitter as memory flooded through him. “I spend my days working and my art falls away—a little more every year. When my father refused to help me go to the Academy, I rebelled in my own way.”

“How?”

Nic raised his hand and traced the word that was tattooed on his chest behind his shirt.

Coraggio.

Courage. The simple word in a black fancy-flowing script was centered on his chest. And the base of each
G
was formed by the legs of the Cancerian crab.

“When my father said I had to…work in the quarry I was devastated.” He stared over the low wall in front of them. Lazy spirals of smoke rose in the sky from the small cottages scattered around the valley. “My mother understood, and she didn’t put it down to teenage moodiness. She took my brother and me on a short trip to the countryside to meet a friend. At the time we just put it down to her quirky nature and went along for her. Hell, we missed a couple of days of school, so we weren’t going to argue.”

She chuckled. “And?”

Nic grinned at the memory. He could think of his wonderful mother without the searing grief these days. “Mamma was into astrology. Her gypsy friend read my palm and made up a chart for me. We ignored her mutterings about moons and planets rising, but when she asked Mamma if she could tattoo my chest I was stoked. Wow, how way cool was that to a sixteen-year-old?”

Nic stared at Gia. He could still remember the coal-black eyes of the gypsy woman burning into his as she’d read his palm, and her mutterings about him finding his destiny in this very countryside. “So now I am finding the time—and the courage—to follow my dream as best I can. I owe it to my mother’s memory.”

“I’m sorry to hear she has gone. But what a great way to remember her.”

He nodded. “It is. She was a wonderful woman. I miss her every day.”

But every day when he looked at his tattoo he felt more and more distant from his dream, but he wasn’t going to share that. He picked up Gia’s hand in his. “So if I can help you achieve
your
dream, even in a small way, it would make me happy.”

He looked down in surprise as Gia squeezed his fingers sympathetically. “We are a fine pair, aren’t we?”

“Selfishness my father calls it. Come on, I’ll drop you home.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Otherwise neither of us is going to get any work done.”

Her hand stayed in his as they walked back across to the car. It felt good.

“Is this your car?” Her voice was curious as they reached the sports car. “I didn’t get a good look at it this afternoon. I was too busy being angry.”

Nic thought quickly. “No, I rented it for my vacation.”

“Nice.” Gia opened the door and slipped into the passenger side. “You’d better hope it doesn’t rain. The spring storms can roll up the valley very quickly.”

“Yeah, that storm this afternoon almost caught me.” Nic had been staring at a blank canvas when the thunder had rolled in, and he’d run down and moved the Morgan into the garage. He started the car but turned to Gia before he pulled out onto the road. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight. It was fun.”

“Would you like to come in for a while when we get back to my place?” Gia’s words fell over each other as she rushed on. “Just to maybe…just to see some of my stuff. Most of it is in the cottage. You’ll probably be disappointed, and then you can forget about it.”

Chapter Four

Nic’s chest felt as though he’d been hit by an uppercut coming in low from an unseen assailant. He took a deep breath as awe flooded him from head to toe. An unfamiliar feeling consumed him as his eyes moved from painting to painting while Gia stood quietly beside him in the huge studio at the back of her cottage. Canvas after canvas lined the walls, and Nic walked over to the back wall and pulled a large one to the front. It was obscuring at least another dozen paintings. Walking around the room, he was aware of Gia’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on him as he examined each landscape. Bold strokes and intense color, with fine detail embedded in each piece; she was a brilliant artist. Colorful fields of lavender, scarlet poppies, burgundy geraniums, and a storm landscape that Nic stood in front of for a full five minutes without speaking, absorbing the emotion that hit him square in the chest.

Boiling purple clouds over a field of lavender shaded in a deeper color; jagged silver streaks of lightning split the sky. In the background, a woman sat on a stone wall, her hair whipped up by the wind. It had a supernatural sense to it and it was breathtaking.

I must have it.
What he could do for Gia filled his mind, and he sought the right words.

Nic turned to her, trying to reconcile this quiet, sweet woman with the passionate artist whose emotions filled the canvases. He struggled to find the right words, and finally Gia’s soft voice filled the silence.

“You don’t like my work?” She moved toward the small kitchenette behind the sink where dozens of pots were filled with paintbrushes. The disappointment in her voice jolted Nic back into the present. He hurried across the studio and gently turned her around as she reached for the coffee pot. Her muscles were rigid, and he realized how nervous she was. How could she not see the brilliance of what she had created?

“Pardon my language, Gia, but your work is fucking fantastic.” He lifted her from her feet and twirled her around. “You inspire me. Your work speaks to me just like it did in the restaurant. It moves on the canvas. I can see the flowers swaying in the breeze, and I can smell them. I heard the thunder in that big one.” Nic shook his head. Words failed him. “All I can say is that you have the most perfect technique of any artist I have ever seen. Your work touches me here.” He put her down gently and took her hand in his and placed it on his chest. “You have a rare and amazing talent. I cannot believe that no one has ever told you that.” He caught his breath. Her eyes were awash with tears, and he reached his thumb up gently and wiped them away. “Were you so nervous about what I would think of your work?”

His words broke through the emotion that was hanging between them, and Gia took a deep breath, brushing her hand across her eyes.

“Give me a minute and I’ll go and get my glasses so I can see if you really mean what you say.” Her voice shook and she leaned across the counter top to get her glasses. Her skirt hit mid-thigh and he let his eyes wander down her legs to her shapely calves. Her legs went on forever.

“I really mean it,” he said as Gia crossed the room and stood beside him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive. Her lips parted softly as she stared at him, and Nic resisted the urge to lower his head and capture them with his. He was teetering on a thin edge here, and he didn’t want to scare her. “Are you telling me that no one else has ever seen these?”

Her head shook slowly from side to side as she held his gaze.

“No one? Ever?” Nic ran his hand through his hair as he searched for the right words.

Gia bit her lip and shook her head again.

“Why don’t you have an exhibition?” Nic couldn’t believe this magnificent talent was hidden away on an old farm in the countryside. No wonder she wanted to move to Florence. To spend his vacation organizing an exhibition for her would be fantastic. And would go down very well with the Board of Trustees. To launch a talent like this in Florence… Words failed him. Seeing what she had created with raw talent had made him realize that his ability was way out of her league. But if he could see her recognized, organize an exhibition, and showcase her work, it would put one of his talents to good use. He had no doubt he could organize a show that would be spectacular.

“Of course that’s my dream, but I can’t afford it. And I also don’t know that my work is good enough. There are so many artists who paint the Tuscan countryside. Just go down to the village and look at the shops in the
Via delle Volte.
Prints, calendars, wall plaques. I’m just one of hundreds of artists who paint the same thing every year.”

“That’s not true, Gia. Your talent is fresh and different. I know we’ve just met, but I want you to trust me.” He ran his hands slowly up her bare arms until his fingers gripped her shoulders gently. “I want to help you. You can’t hide your talent away.”

Gia shook her head and went to speak, but he put his finger on her lips. “
Ssh
. Hear me out. I’ve been working long enough to get some money behind me”—now that
was
a white lie—“if you’ll let me help you set up your exhibition, I can lend you the money to get it advertised and organized. Then when you sell your paintings, you can pay me back.”

“But where would I hold it?” She frowned. “I can’t leave Castellina. I can’t afford that, and really I don’t know anywhere else. And who would come?”

“What’s wrong with right here?” Nick gestured to the studio around them. There were three stone walls where canvases could be displayed, and the space was huge. He imagined the light in the daytime would be amazing with that south-facing window. “You’ve got that beautiful courtyard outside where you could serve refreshments, and I could help you clean up the studio and set up the exhibition.” His business mind kicked in. Already he was thinking of the logistics of such an event and how to advertise it in Florence, who to invite. “Tuscany is the tourist center of the country. How many Florentines have villas that they use on a weekend? You have a captive market here. A
wealthy
market. All it would take is some advertising, some well-placed invitations, and I guarantee you a hugely successful exhibition. A village girl with an amazing talent.” Already he could see the mock-ups of an advertising campaign in his head.

Gia stepped away from him. “But when? You said you’re only here for ten days? Would we leave it and organize it for when you come back here next spring… If you come back next spring?” Her brow wrinkled and Nic watched as her finger pushed her spectacles back up when they slid down her nose. He was getting to like that quirky little habit. Hell, he was getting to like this quirky woman.

“No. I have some er…contacts in Florence. I often spend my weekends there, and it’s not much farther to come down here to Castellina. I’d be happy to come back and spend a few weekends here to help you get organized.”

“No.”

Nick’s excitement plummeted as she shook her head with a frown. “I have always wanted to make my own way. For too long others have been telling me what to do.”

His mind raced. He had to convince her. This was one opportunity that he couldn’t afford to let go.

“How can I convince you? How long will it take you working as a waitress to get to Florence? To hire a space for a show?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was a little less determined.

“Look.” He pointed around the room. “If you just let me help you, you have enough paintings in here to sell to get you straight to Florence, and your days of waitressing will be over. Almost immediately. I can just give you a little startup, and you can pay me back afterward.”

“And what if I don’t sell any? Then I’ll owe you as well as trying to save.” She shook her head with a smile. “I’ll still be waitressing when I am an old woman. And still in Castellina.”

Despite her words, Nic could sense a weakening in her tone. It was time to come in for the kill.

“It won’t be a great expense. I know people, sponsors. The cost would be minimal.” Not technically a lie, as he was the sponsor and a minimal cost was all relative to him. He reached out for her hands and held them. “Come on, Gia. This would make my holiday great fun. And I’d love to spend some more time getting to know you as we plan. What do you say?”

“But I’d be taking up your time. That wouldn’t be fair.” Gia’s eyes were wide and a frown wrinkled her brow. “What would you get out of it? I don’t know if I’m ready for anyone else to see what I do. Those little landscapes were an experiment. They’ve been in the restaurant for months, and no one has ever wanted to buy them before you.”

Ah. That explains why her father didn’t want to sell them.
Nic wondered how many others had inquired who the artist was. Gia was too talented to have remained undiscovered.

“How badly do you want to make enough money to move to Florence?” Although he couldn’t see how moving to Florence would improve Gia’s work. It was perfection as it was. He was only dangling the carrot to get her to agree.

“Very much.” She lifted her chin. “But I was going to do it by myself.”

“And you shall. I’m just willing to help you.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it. I must admit it has got some…possibilities.”

Unexpectedly she leaned into him and touched her lips to his in a light kiss. A kiss as light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. The storm that raced through Nic’s body was even more unexpected than the kiss. Oh, he’d wanted her from the start; there was no doubt about that. But he’d not expected such an innocent gesture to move him so deeply.

“You are very kind, and I promise I will think about it.” Her breath stirred against his lips as she pulled back and he reluctantly let go of her. His arms had gone around her as she had leaned into him.

“My pleasure.” Since she’d kissed him, his body was trying to kick into an entirely different type of pleasure. The touch of her soft lips on his had been everything he’d expected and more. He had to fight against crushing Gia to him and deepening the kiss. “It’s time I went home.”

She looked up, and the expression in her eyes rocked him. His blood pulsed hot and fast through his veins.

“Thank you for sharing your work with me… For trusting me,” he said, freezing as she took a step back and put one hand onto his cheek. With her other hand, she reached up, and he waited for her to push those spectacles up, but she slowly pulled them off and threw them onto the sofa beside them.

“You have touched me with your kindness.” She stretched up to her toes and her lips touched his…again, a whisper of a kiss.

His control slipped and he pulled her close so that her body was pressed hard against his. That damn strawberry fragrance was everywhere. Need whipped through him.

He moved his hand to her waist and his thumb brushed the bare inch of skin between her T-shirt and her skirt. Her kiss had been sweet, but he knew there was passion that simmered beneath; the feeling in her paintings was a part of her. Sweet was not the right word for this woman. Running his hand around her waist and up her spine, Nic cupped his fingers around the back of Gia’s slender neck, her skin smooth beneath his fingers. He held her head still and captured her lips, and this time there was no sweetness in her response. Her mouth opened beneath his as he increased the pressure and held her close. Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest as she wrapped her hands around his neck. Fire raced along Nic’s veins, and he deepened the kiss, meeting her tongue with his. She lifted her foot and wound her leg around his calf as he drank her in. He loved the way she clung to him as though she wanted to touch him with every part of her body. The fire continued to his groin and reluctantly he pulled back a little. Despite the way she was returning his kiss, Nic didn’t want to frighten her with the raging erection that was trying to burst the zipper of his jeans. He lifted his head as he stepped back but kept his hands on her smooth skin. Her T-shirt had lifted a little, and his fingers brushed the bare skin at her waist. Smooth and silky. So tempting to ask where the bedroom was and drag her there, but that was not why he was here.

Not yet. That could come later… If that was what Gia wanted.

Because hell, that would make the next ten days very pleasurable indeed.