HERE COME THE BRIDES!

Two spirited women…

Two proud men…

Two shared pasts…

Prepare to be swept away

with rekindled love and wedding bells in:

MIRACLE FOR THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

by Rebecca Winters

MOTHER OF THE BRIDE

by Caroline Anderson

She thought she’d left her past behind…

until it led her down the aisle!

Miracle For The Girl Next Door

by

Rebecca Winters
Mother of the Bride

by

Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Miracle For The Girl Next Door

by

Rebecca Winters

Rebecca Winters, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high Alpine meadows full of wild flowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her Mills & Boon® Romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from her readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website at www.cleanromances.com

To my one and only darling daughter Dominique Jessop, who recently signed her first book contract with Harlequin. Her study experience abroad in Siena, Italy, has caused her to become a lover of all things Italian, just like her mother. With her input on Limoncello, my Mills & Boon® Romance novel MIRACLE FOR THE GIRL NEXT DOOR has been enriched.

CHAPTER ONE

CLARA ROSSETTI had started to descend the steep, narrow steps between the ancient buildings of the hillside town when she heard a deep male voice behind her say, “Hey, Bella—how many men have told you you’re a remarkably beautiful woman?”

His seductive delivery had been spoken in the local Italian dialect and had a slightly familiar ring. But Clara assumed he had to be talking to some other female making her way down to the Piazza Gaspare below.

Picking up her pace, she moved across the busy square to the bus stop where she would catch her bus. It would be the last one of the day. Timing was everything when she felt this tired. Once back at the farm she would eat a light dinner and go to bed. Tomorrow she’d feel better.

Footsteps were gaining on her. “Clarissima—surely you haven’t forgotten!”

A quiet gasp escaped her throat followed by a burst of joy.

Tino.

After nine years’ absence her best friend from childhood was back? Valentino Casali was the only person in the world who’d ever called her Clarissima—a combination of Clara and bellissima. Clara had often thought it a joke since from adolescence she had been a chubby girl who’d grown into a heavy young woman. That was the curse of all the Rossettis.

She turned around to stare into the flashing dark brown eyes of Europe’s most eligible playboy, but to Clara he represented her exclusive partner in all the craziness of their years growing up. When they’d both turned eighteen and he’d left Monta Correnti, his departure had left a void no one else had ever filled.

Since then he’d become Italy’s poster boy, a wealthy, world-renowned adventurer and playboy whose photos appeared in the tabloids on a regular basis. He was constantly on the cover of Italy’s hottest celebrity gossip magazine.

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” she said in a husky voice. Clara had seen him through every stage of his youth, from incorrigible rascal to outrageously handsome teen. His intelligence and daring had distinguished him from all the other guys in the region, leaving an indelible mark. To her he’d always been the picture of precious life itself. Her heart groaned in response to that undeniable reality. “How are you, Valentino?”

Her question seemed to bring him up short, as if he were expecting something else from her while he stared into her eyes. “Better now that I’ve caught up with my oldest friend.”

Delight filled her system to hear him acknowledge it. He might belong to the world now, but those early years she could claim for herself.

After he had kissed her on both cheeks, his narrowed gaze traveled over her classic features as if trying to reconcile the changes that had taken place since she’d grown up and become the slender, five-foot-four woman who’d shed the excess weight she had carried when younger.

“Friend, you say?” she teased. “Whatever happened to the postcards and gifts from the four corners of the world you were going to send me? I don’t recall your carrying out any of those periodic visits you once promised to make.”

He gave an elegant shrug of his broad shoulders clothed in an expensive-looking open-necked cream sport shirt and jeans. His index finger trailed across her lips, a gesture that appeared as automatic to him as breathing, but he’d never touched her like that in their lives. A shock wave traveled through her body.

“I meant to do it all. You know that,” he whispered, always the charmer. The man oozed a sensuality that would be lethal for the many women clamoring for his exclusive attention.

She flashed him a wan smile, struggling to recover from her reaction to his touch. “I do know. Your good intentions could pave the road to heaven.” Their history went back too far for there to be misunderstandings. In truth Clara could never be angry with the Valentino she remembered—the one who’d always been kind and caring despite his devil-may-care attitude.

From an early age on, the local ragazzi had made their typical remarks about her and her younger sister Bianca for being fat, but Valentino had never joined the chorus. That was probably because he’d never looked at her in the man/woman way. They might have been joined at the hip, but he’d had far more important things on his mind than Clara Rossetti.

Having been born in this quiet little mountain village between Rome and Naples, he’d put Monta Correnti on the map. His fame had brought the tourists, as well as a few celebrities from various parts of the world who’d chosen to live here, but there was no question that the heartthrob Formula 1 race-car driver who made his home in Monaco was the most famous celebrity of all.

Valentino cocked his attractive head. She noted he needed a shave, yet it only added to his virility. In the last nine years, he’d become a man in every sense of the word and so gorgeous she could hardly breathe.

“Are you aware you bear a superficial resemblance to Catherine Zeta-Jones? Only younger, of course.”

Clara preferred not to look like anyone else, but since film stars made up part of his world she had to assume he’d just bestowed a serious compliment on her. “No. I had no idea. Have you met her?”

He gave a slight nod. “You’re much more beautiful.” His white smile faded and he stared at her with increasing intensity. “What happened to your long hair?”

The hair she’d foolishly hoped would hide the rest of her?

Surprised he’d noticed, let alone changed the subject so fast, she said, “This April has been warmer than usual. Besides, I was due for a change.” Her silky hair, more black than brown, had become too difficult to deal with recently so she’d had it cut in a jaw-length style that fell straight from a center part.

“I liked it long, not that I don’t like it the way you’re wearing it now, of course.”

“Of course,” she teased, wishing she felt better, stronger. “I notice you’re wearing your hair shorter these days.” His midnight-brown hair was now wavy rather than curly. “Remember when you let it grow out to your shoulders? Signor Cavallo thought you’d be perfect for the role of Prince Valiant in the school play.”

A rumble of laughter came out of him. “Are you talking about the time you denuded me?”

“That was your fault. You’re the one who made me cut your hair off so you wouldn’t have to be in King Arthur. Can I help it if I made a mess of it? Those poultry shears from your father’s restaurant kitchen weren’t supposed to be used on humans. I thought Signor Cavallo was going to strangle you when you walked in class the next day.”

His grin broadened. “With your help, I got out of the part. What would I have done without you always helping me squeeze out of trouble?”

“Aminta almost strangled me when you told her I was the culprit. She had the most terrible crush on you. Even back then you could have your choice of every maiden in the land.”

“Tonight I choose you,” he said in a voice of deep velvet. “For old times’ sake, come to the restaurant with me and we’ll celebrate my return.”

“To sneak some bruschetta when the chef isn’t looking?” She kept up the banter. There was no one more exciting in this world than Valentino. “Those were the days, but we can’t get them back.”

“No, but there’s something we can do. Tonight’s your lucky night. For a change we’ll walk through the front door and I’ll buy you dinner. Everything up front and aboveboard.”

His invitation sounded heavenly, but she was growing weaker by the minute. “That would be a change all right, but, much as I’d love to, I can’t. Thank you anyway. It’s been wonderful to see you, Valentino.”

Over his shoulder she saw the bus pull to a stop. She was thankful it had come to her rescue. Seeing Valentino after all these years had brought back the past and drained her of any reserves she had left. Several people started to board the bus and she moved to get in line behind them.

He put a hand on her arm to detain her. “Wait—where are you going?” She discovered a strange tension coming from him she’d never experienced before. Something was troubling him to produce that slight grimace, but she had to admit the years had been kind to him. Despite the lines of experience in a sun-bronzed face—or perhaps because of them—he was more dashing than ever. No other man came close.

“Home. The family’s waiting for me.”

“But I just got into town. We have years to catch up on. Is this evening an important occasion? I know it’s not your birthday.”

He might have forgotten her for nine years, but his razor-sharp memory had an amazing capacity for trivia. Valentino would keep it up until she capitulated. He never did know when to quit, but this was one time Clara couldn’t stay around while he managed to talk her into it. She was embarrassed to admit he’d always been able to get her to do what he wanted.

“Mamma has planned a special dinner for my grandmother. I promised to be on time to help.”

Again he looked mystified. “Then let me drive you. It will only take me five minutes to go for my Ferrari.”

That was too far away. Clara needed to sit down on that bus or she was going to faint from exhaustion. “Thanks for the offer, but my ride is here now. If you’re going to be in town for a few days, maybe I’ll see you whizzing around and we’ll grab a bite together. What color is your car?”

“Black,” he muttered.

“You once wanted a red one.”

“I did buy one, fire-engine red, but discovered I was somewhat a target for the police.”

“Well, you will insist on driving too fast. As I recall, you had the police chasing us on your scooter on a weekly basis at least! Sorry, but I have to run now. Ciao, Valentino.”

She eased away from him and climbed on board, grateful he’d finally let her go without saying anything else. Knowing him, he’d be gone from Monta Correnti by morning to make his next car rally here in Italy or England, probably accompanied by his latest girlfriend.

Clara had seen a clip of him and the newest young French starlet Giselle Artois on the ten o’clock news last month. The journalist had asked him if it was true about the rumors they were planning to marry and settle down in a small palace along one of the fashionable faubourgs of Paris.

He had made a noncommittal remark with his breathtaking half-smile, but Clara had noticed the French vedette wore a mysterious smile on her face. They looked good together. Maybe this was the woman who’d finally snagged Valentino. Up until now he seemed to try new adventures and change girlfriends with the seasons, but whatever had caused him to run from himself all these years, it was nothing to do with Clara.

Taking a fortifying breath, she worked her way to the back of the bus. Every seat was taken and she finally squeezed in the last row between a stout man and a nun in her habit.

Out of the window on the right she watched Valentino watching her beneath his dark, furrowed brows, his expression devoid of all animation. After the bus pulled away, his brooding image remained. His lean, six-foot body had made millions for the companies that produced posters of him doing a solo trip across the Indian Ocean in a one-man catamaran, or flying around the track in Dubai testing out his latest Formula 1 car.

From childhood he’d been a fascinating adventurer who’d had an obsession with speed and breaking records. Though the Casali family had lived on the shores of Lake Clarissa, fifty kilometers from Monta Correnti, he’d actually spent most of his time in town after school working on his motor scooter.

One of his friends, Luigi, had let him tinker with it in the back of his dad’s garage. To hear Valentino speak, none of the existing models were fast enough. Clara had spent many hours in that garage listening to him talk about his dreams of building one that would outperform all existing models.

After he’d left for Monaco to break into the racing world, he’d taken his innovative motorscooter design with him and it had become the prototype for future scooters. By his twenty-first birthday he’d formed Violetta Rapidita, the Italian scooter company that had catapulted him to international financial success.

Long ago Clara had thought of him as a Renaissance man, pitting himself against the clock, against nature, against anything that would give him a thrill. By listening to him she’d experienced vicarious thrills herself, but there were times when she wondered if his fast living served as camouflage for unexplained demons driving him.

Though she didn’t know what they were, she suspected their roots originated from within the complicated Casali family and that they still continued to haunt him. It was interesting that his elder brother Cristiano didn’t come home to Monta Correnti very often either.

Only their sister Isabella had been the constant, spending most of her time at Rosa’s helping her father run the restaurant. How different was Valentino’s family from the huge, hard-working Rossetti clan who always rallied around each other!

She had countless aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins who helped run the farm, so many in fact you couldn’t count them all. Though they lived hand to mouth, even her own four married siblings showed no signs of leaving the farm that had been the hub of the Rossettis’ existence for generations.

Clara was no different. As hard as life had been lately, she loved Monta Correnti and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But fate had been cruel to have allowed her to lay eyes on Valentino today.

Until he’d called out to her, she’d been holding her own, dealing with her challenges on a day-to-day basis, determined not to let them defeat her. But he was like this overpowering force field, a super-bright constellation in the heavens whose magnetic pull drew the world to him.

His appearance had managed to shatter the fragile shell of her existence. She rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes, tortured by her own inner demons that seemed to have magnified a hundredfold by running into him without warning.

The second the bus rounded the corner and was out of sight, a troubled Valentino moved swiftly toward the hub of the village where his father’s restaurant was located. Right next to it—in fact adjoining it by a back terrace—sat his aunt’s restaurant. The courtyard in front of both opened up into the bustling center square.

Sorella, a restaurant started by Valentino’s grandmother Rosa, was now owned by his aunt Lisa Firenzi who’d turned it into a chic, contemporary place serving an international cuisine. His father, Luca Casali, had fallen out with his sister and had broken away from the family business, starting his own Italian traditional family restaurant he’d named Rosa. Isabella was the day manager.

Valentino had kept in touch with her and their father through e-mails, but in the last nine years he’d only come home fleetingly. The most recent had been just last month on the occasion of his father’s birthday. Much to his sister’s chagrin he’d only stayed the evening.

Just remembering that fateful evening and the fireworks that had ensued caused him to shudder. He always experienced an unpleasant sensation in his gut at the thought that two warring factions of the same family would want to be anywhere near each other. Valentino abhorred confrontation and was continually mystified that two intelligent people like his father and his aunt Lisa, who’d had a jealous rivalry going for years, still maintained businesses side by side.

It was a sick kind of symbiosis. They were like organisms surviving in close approximation, not able to live with or without the other.

As he reached the courtyard he was reminded of the ugly confrontation that had gone on out here during the party. Tempers had flared. Uncaring of who might overhear them, his aunt had lost control. In her rage she’d blurted out a sensitive secret about Luca that had rocked the entire family.

Pain had gutted Valentino. Unable to deal with all the ramifications, not the least of which was his bitter disappointment in his father, he’d left Monta Correnti after having barely arrived not knowing when he’d ever be back. If it weren’t for his father’s declining health and Isabella’s plea for help with him, Valentino wouldn’t have canceled his next two races to be here now.

However, his overriding concern tonight had nothing to do with his father. After leaving the furnished villa he’d just rented at the upper end of the village, he’d been making his way down to the restaurant on foot, never dreaming he would run into Clara Rossetti within hours of arriving back in town.

Their chance meeting had saved him the trouble of looking her up at the farm. The knowledge that he could reconnect with her while he was in Monta Correnti had been the only thing he’d been looking forward to on his return.

Clara had been his saving grace, had always accepted him with his flaws and imperfections. After the party he’d needed desperately to talk to her about what he’d learned, but he’d been in such bad shape at the time he hadn’t been willing to inflict himself on her.

He wasn’t doing much better now, but seeing her again made him realize how much he wanted to talk to her. There was no one as insightful or as easy to be with as Clara. No one understood him the way she did, but at first glance he hadn’t recognized her except for her eyes.

Those incredible irises studded with luminous, diamond-like green dust hadn’t changed though everything else about her had. Gone was the overweight teenager with the pretty face who’d been his abiding friend since they’d first attended school as children. In her place stood a gorgeous woman, albeit a little too thin, no longer hidden beneath a cascading veil of glossy dark hair. Just looking at her amazing coloring and figure stopped him in his tracks.

But more startling was the fact that, beyond the drastic alteration in her physical appearance, she didn’t radiate that joie de vivre he’d thought inherent in her nature.

Instead of crying out ‘Tino’, the name she used to call him, she’d proffered the more formal greeting of his name, treating him as she might a former acquaintance. In reality they’d been partners in crime, doing everything together, getting in and out of trouble on a regular basis.

The old fun-loving Clara, always ready for a new adventure, wouldn’t have gotten on that bus.

Maybe she was telling the truth and did have to get home, but something had been missing. She’d said all the right words, yet the warm, compassionate girl he’d turned to in his youth—the one person who’d always listened to him and had never scoffed at his bold ideas—had put him off.

That had come as a shock.

He’d been arrogant enough to believe in some corner of his mind that, of all the people who’d come and gone in his life, she’d placed their friendship on a higher par—or at least on a unique plane that meant it was something special, even if he hadn’t written letters or sent her pictures. It seemed she didn’t want to spend time with him now.

With the Rossettis’ farm of lemon, orange and olive groves located several miles south of town, the formerly vivacious Clara wouldn’t have turned him down for a ride home. He’d never known a woman who didn’t want to take a jaunt with him in his Ferrari. Valentino supposed his ego was hurt that she wasn’t impressed, let alone that her memories of him had made no lasting mark on her psyche.

Her dark-fringed eyes might have flared with interest when she’d first seen him, but as they had talked it had felt as if she were staring through him, making him feel at a loss. That spark of life he’d always associated with her had been missing, delivering a one-two punch to the gut he hadn’t expected. In truth, he had to reach back to being five years old again to remember that same sensation, leaving him feeling devastated.

He quickened his pace and hurried inside the restaurant where the staff was setting up for dinner. They called out greetings he acknowledged, but he was in too big a hurry to get engaged in conversation. Without hesitation he headed toward the kitchen where his recently engaged sister was probably doing ten tasks at once to keep things running smoothly.

After taking possession of the villa where he planned to live for the next few months, he’d come here with every intention of eating his evening meal, but, after the strange experience with Clara in the piazza, he was now put off the thought of food.

Rosa, named after his grandmother, delivered traditional, home-cooked Italian food in surroundings of frescoed walls and terracotta floors. The rustic restaurant represented his father’s dream of owning his own place. He’d wanted it to be evocative of his mother’s warm, family-oriented spirit.

In that regard, he hadn’t failed. Aside from Clara, who’d made up the best part of the background fabric of his life, Valentino’s few good memories included the experience of walking in here to encounter the distinctive aroma of the tomato sauce, Rosa’s house specialty, wafting past his nostrils.

William Valentine, his English grandfather, had passed his secret sauce recipe to his sweetheart Rosa who had later passed it on to her son Luca, Valentino’s father. Luca had then improved on the recipe, which was the reason for the restaurant’s popularity, even if at this point in time he was heavily in debt.

Valentino had the finances to help him out. At Isabella’s repeated urgings, he’d come back home for a while to do just that, but the latest revelation about his father made it damn near impossible to want to approach him.

Being back home brought all the painful memories of the past flooding to the surface, one of them still unbearable if he allowed himself to think about it too much. To make matters worse, he had to maneuver carefully because of his father’s declining health and fierce pride.

For two cents he’d leave for Monaco tonight and make arrangements to race in the next Grand Prix. But he couldn’t do that and disappoint Isabella again. He’d made her a promise to spend time at the restaurant. Tonight he’d talk to her about some ideas he had to promote the business. With a quick fix he could be out of here a lot sooner!

His sister saw him enter the kitchen. A glance from her expressive blue eyes told him she wanted to talk to him. She took her leave of the chef and signaled with her head that Valentino should follow her out the back door to the nearby stream that ran through the town. In recent years it had been cemented into a channel with bridges where they could lean against the railings and talk in private.

“I was hoping you’d get back in time for dinner,” she began without preamble. “Are you going to take the villa? It’s been empty for ages. Max hoped you might be interested in it.”

Valentino nodded. “I told Max I would rent it on a month-to-month basis. It’s roomy and the view is great. It’s an ideal solution for my temporary situation.”

She looked chagrined. “I thought you said the whole summer.”

He’d thought so too until his own pride had suffered a debilitating blow from Clara, the one person he would never have imagined could inflict hurt of any kind, not even unconsciously. It surprised him how much he cared. He was a fool to let it bother him, yet it was eating at him like a corrosive acid and he didn’t like the feeling.

“You know me. I have an aversion to being pinned down.” Isabella didn’t like hearing those words, but she had played mother to him and Cristiano for so many years, she couldn’t help but try to manage everything, even now.

Once he’d committed to coming home for a while, she’d insisted he stay at the vacant Casali home on Lake Clarissa now used for vacations. It was only a half-hour’s drive from town. When she’d first mentioned it, he’d told her it was too far away to be convenient. In truth, he didn’t know if he could ever step inside that building again. What had happened there so many years ago would haunt him to the grave.

“I’m sorry you didn’t choose to stay in the apartment with Papa. He was hoping you might move in with him.”

Isabella was out of her mind to say something like that. He swore his sister lived in denial. Her constant desire to make everything right between everybody and get along drove him around the bend. He was still furious with her for insisting they get to know their two older half-brothers, Alessandro and Angelo. Until little more than a month ago, no one in the family had known of their existence. Unbelievable!

Yet thanks to his trouble-making aunt, Luca’s guilty secret had been exposed and now Isabella was determined to make them a part of their dysfunctional lives. No, thank you.

“I’m afraid I’ve been on my own too many years, Izzy. Besides, let’s be honest. You’re always looking in on Papa and don’t need a second person being underfoot, even if I am your brother. Please don’t take that the wrong way.”

She kissed his cheek. “I didn’t.”

“I admire you for taking care of him.” That part was the truth. In her own right she was a terrific person. With her long, wavy black hair and olive skin, he considered her the quintessential Italian woman. “Papa couldn’t have made it this long without you.” She’d been the glue holding the family together.

“Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I should have said something long before now.” When he saw the work she did without complaint day after day, it made him feel all the more uncomfortable that already today he’d been entertaining thoughts of bolting before morning.

Her eyes searched his. “You’re in a strange mood. You burst into the kitchen like you were being pursued, and now you’re being uncharacteristically reflective. What happened to you after you talked to Max about the villa?”

Like a mother with eyes in the back of her head, his sister saw more than he wanted her to see. He’d run into Clara Rossetti on the way here, but their unexpected encounter hadn’t turned out as he’d anticipated, leaving him strangely unsettled.

“I’ve had an idea on how to expand the business. Unfortunately Papa is such a traditionalist, I don’t know if he’ll hear me out. I’m the last person he wants advice from.”

“How can you say that?” she cried. “You’re an international success in business. You could double your fortune showing others how to make it big.”

“That doesn’t impress a bona fide restaurateur like Papa.”

“Of course it does!”

He shook his head. “Let’s not play games, Izzy. You know why.” They stared at each other. “I’m not his biological son. I’m a reminder that I was Mamma’s love child from another man.”

“Papa raised you as his own with me and Cristiano.”

“Yes, and every time he sees me on television or hears about me on the news, he has to wonder about the stranger who was half responsible for my existence. I gave up caring a long time ago when I realized my birth father didn’t want anything to do with me either.”

Her soulful eyes looked up at him helplessly.

“If he had, he would have made arrangements with Mamma for visitation. Papa had to take me when he took Mamma back. After she died, he was stuck with me. Considering he didn’t want his first two sons, let’s just say the bastard child comes in last on all counts.”

“No, Valentino!” She threw her arms around him. “That’s not true. You simply can’t believe those things.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore, Izzy. It’s water under the bridge.” He didn’t want to get into the subject of their father. The shocking revelation that his first marriage had produced two sons living somewhere else on the planet had done too much damage to Valentino. He felt emotionally wiped out. Erased.

Isabella wiped her eyes. “Then tell me about your idea.”

“I don’t know if it will work, but I think it’s worth a try. This establishment has been Papa’s dream. None of us wants to see it go under.” In Luca’s own way he’d been a good father to Valentino. It was payback time.

“We can’t let that happen.”

“Agreed. What would you think if we did some advertising with various tour-group operators from Rome and Naples to bring in more people? I’ll do the groundwork, of course. If it’s a go, I’ll contact other operators in Florence and Milan.”

“That’s pure genius!” she cried excitedly.

He shook his head. “Papa will probably hate it. Secondly I’d like to set up an Internet Web site for us. Anyone seeing our name on a restaurant list can contact us to make advance reservations. Once we’re set up on the best search engines, we ought to see an increase in traffic.”

“Those are both fabulous ideas. Once people discover us, they always come back for repeat business.”

“The trick is to get them here. We just need to spread the word. When do you think would be the best time to approach Papa?”

“Mornings, after he’s up and dressed for breakfast.”

“I’ll come tomorrow. Depending on how he’s feeling, I’ll broach the subject.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Wishing he could say the same, he hugged her instead. Unfortunately being back meant having to face his old ghosts. The fact that Cristiano was in Australia only reminded Valentino how far the Casali family had grown apart emotionally. Which reminded him of something else unpleasant.

“Did I tell you I happened to see Clara Rossetti in the piazza this afternoon?”

“Oh, yes? You two were inseparable growing up. Sometimes I think she was the only person you ever truly cared about after Mamma died. I used to be jealous of her.”

He blinked, not only shocked by her admission, but by the fact that his attachment to Clara had been so obvious, his own sister had been affected by it. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I saw her at church recently. She’s grown up to be a real beauty.”

“I noticed.” Maybe it was the weight loss that had affected her behavior and made her seem less than her herself. The way she’d brushed him off had stung.

“Bianca, too. You remember her sister.”

“Very well.” She was a year younger than Clara and almost as sweet. Too bad he couldn’t say the same about Clara’s twin brother, Silvio. The Casalis and the Rossettis had attended the same schools, but from the beginning Silvio had taken a distinct dislike to Valentino.

By high school he’d become Clara’s self-appointed guardian, doing his best to keep her away from Valentino, always reminding her she was needed back at the farm. Though it had never come to an actual fight, they’d exchanged heated words on occasion when Valentino had stood up for Clara.

“Rumour has it that Clara has been seeing one of the Romaggio brothers from the valley.”

So that was the reason she’d seemed changed. “Which one?”

“I think it’s Leandro, the really good-looking one who has his own vegetable farm now. Apparently Clara is the envy of all the girls around here.”

Izzy had to be kidding—Leandro was the one with more brawn than brains. Valentino had known the Romaggios in school. Clara had an intellect that could run circles around any of the guys. He wasn’t her type at all!

For some reason the news made Valentino restless. “Thanks for backing me up in my ideas. Now I’ve got to go. I left Monaco early this morning and fatigue has caught up with me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I need to go back inside, too. The staff will be wondering where I am.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek before wheeling around to make his own way through the ancient town and up the hillside to the villa.

Valentino hadn’t been completely honest with Isabella. After being up since five that morning to drive to Italy, he would normally be tired and wanting his bed. But the old saying that you couldn’t go home again seemed to be in operation here. Meeting up with a changed Clara had disturbed him and he found himself wide awake.

Once he reached his destination, he let himself in the villa originally built in the 1800s by a member of Prince Maximilliano Di Rossi’s family for a summer getaway. Because of his love for Izzy, Max had made the villa available to Valentino, who had insisted on paying him rent. He didn’t like owing anyone for favors. With no strings attached, he could move about freely in his world.

The villa was much smaller but no different in style from Valentino’s home in Monaco. Both had been built around the same period of time and contained similar furnishings. The only real difference besides size was the view. It looked out on the picturesque countryside rather than the Mediterranean.

At the sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the interior, Valentino realized that without warm bodies inhabiting this domicile it was nothing more than an empty tomb. Valentino wasn’t used to the peace and quiet. He didn’t know if he could stand being here for even a month. Already he was climbing the walls.

He had thought about asking his latest companion, Yvette, to come and bring her friends, and knew she would be here in an instant. But he couldn’t do that because then she would read more into his invitation than he meant. Like the other women he’d been with over the years, her hints about settling down weren’t so subtle and the last thing Valentino could imagine doing was giving up his freedom.

His thoughts jumped to his father, who’d been married twice. Though divorced from his first wife, he would probably still be with Valentino’s mother if she were alive. Valentino wasn’t like him. He enjoyed taking risks, but not when it came to women.

Though he knew nothing about his birthfather, he suspected that, since he hadn’t shown a fathering instinct where Valentino had been concerned, he’d probably never married either.

At a totally loose end, Valentino headed to the kitchen for a beer. He phoned Roger, his longtime friend at the track. They talked shop for half an hour, then he checked in with Claude, the manager of his bike company in Monaco. Following that, he took a hot shower and got ready for bed.

To his irritation, his scattered thoughts returned to Clara. Throughout his years growing up in Monta Correnti, she’d been the only female constant besides his sister. He couldn’t help but wonder how close she was to settling down. For the hell of it, maybe he’d take the time to find out tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

WHILE Clara was getting dressed in jeans and a pink cotton top with three-quarter sleeves, Bianca, who was barely pregnant again, walked in the bedroom carrying her six-month-old boy. “Mamma wants to know how you’re feeling this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Clara murmured as she slipped into her sandals. “How’s my little Paolito today?” The little boy was old enough now that when she gave him kisses on his tummy, he laughed out loud. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She kissed his tender neck.

“He loves his zia more.”

Together they walked down the hall of the small stone farmhouse to the kitchen where the family ate all their meals. It used to bulge at the seams, but these days it was home to Clara, her parents and grandmother on her mother’s side who lived on the main floor. Because of a stroke, the ninety-one-year-old woman was in a wheelchair. Bianca and Silvio lived upstairs with their spouses and children.

The other married siblings and extended family lived in homes on the outskirts of Monta Correnti. Now when they gathered for meals three times a day, there were only twelve at their noisy table.

Her father cast her an anxious glance. “Ah, good. You’re up.”

Clara kissed him on top of his balding head. “I’m up and hungry.” She turned to her mother, who waited on everyone. “I’ll get my own breakfast. Sit down, Mamma. You work too hard.”

“No, no. You must preserve your strength.”

“I have plenty of strength this morning.”

“That’s good to hear. Now you sit and eat!”

“Yes, Mamacita.” She took her place across from Silvio, smiling secretly at his three children aged seven, five and three who giggled to hear their nonna get mad at her.

Silvio’s pregnant wife, Maria, darted her a friendly glance. “You look better this morning.”

“I feel good enough to run the stand today.” She drank the freshly squeezed orange juice waiting for her.

“Absolutely not!” Silvio barked, so overprotective of her these days she felt smothered.

“Do you think you should?” her anxious mother questioned as she put the hot omelet in front of her. Her devoted mother who did the work of a dozen people went out of her way to make certain she was well fed.

“Of course I do. Thank you, Mamma.”

“Are you telling us the truth?”

“If I weren’t, I would stay in bed.” Clara was getting desperate and wanted to scream, but only because everyone was so good to her and worried about her continually. More than anything she hated being a burden, yet within the last three months that was what she’d become to her hard-working family.

“So you really feel up to it?” Her father stared hard at her.

“Sì, Papa,” she answered in a controlled voice. “Some days I wake up feeling worse than others. Right now I feel good and want to do my part around here on the days when I can.”

His eyes grew suspiciously bright before he nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

Grazie, she murmured inwardly, but Silvio set his mug of coffee down too hard, telling everyone his opinion. He was the sibling who stifled her most with his concern. As a result, he was the most difficult member of the family to be around.

The hot liquid splashed on the table. Maria told seven-year-old Pasquale to run and get a cloth for his father. While the mess was getting cleaned up, Bianca’s husband, Tomaso, walked in the back door in his overalls. He’d been out early setting up the fruit stand for Clara before doing his own work.

His gaze shot straight to Clara. “You’ve got a visitor.” By his awestruck countenance, it told her this was no ordinary person.

“Who is it?” She struggled to keep herself calm, already anticipating the answer with far too much excitement.

“Valentino Casali. He’s driving the latest Ferrari 599.”

Amidst the audible gasps, Silvio jumped to his feet, letting go with a few colorful expletives their household hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Basta!” their father admonished him.

“Clara hasn’t had anything to do with him in years, Papa. He’s no good and he’s not welcome on our farm. I don’t want him here!” Silvio muttered angrily.

Aghast at her brother’s venom, Clara felt a sudden feeling of weakness attack her body, but she fought not to show any vulnerability. She’d thought of course Valentino had only come to Monta Correnti for a few days and might even have left Italy as early as this morning.

In all the years growing up, he’d never once come to the farmhouse to see her for any reason. Every time he’d given her a ride home on the scooter on his way to the lake, she’d insisted on getting off once they reached the road leading into the farm.

“I’ll go outside and see what he wants.” Out of necessity she’d brushed him off too abruptly at the bus stop yesterday. Since then she’d been suffering guilt…and also regret for missing out on spending more time with him. There was no one like him! Because she’d teased him about not visiting her once in the last nine years, he’d probably decided to stop and say goodbye on his way out of town.

While everyone was reeling from the shock of their hometown celebrity showing up here, she rose from the table and walked out the back door. After rounding the corner of the house she spied the black super-car parked further down the drive.

Valentino levered himself from the front seat and strolled toward her, wearing bone-colored chinos and a black, open-necked sport shirt. He looked so fantastic she could hardly swallow. His sensuous mouth curved into a half-smile. “Buon giorno, Clarissima! Forgive me for coming by this early?”

Her assumption had been right. He was on the verge of leaving.

His eyes lingered on her soft curves before scrutinizing her from her sandaled feet to the roots of her hair. It didn’t surprise her. Three years ago she and Bianca had finally taken off the weight that had plagued them most of their lives.

The diet plan she’d chosen had been part of an article by a film star featured in a celebrity magazine with a photograph of her and Valentino on the front cover. A section had been dedicated to the woman who had claimed to stay thin on the prescribed regimen and swore by it. Naturally there were no pictures of fat girls inside the pages of that magazine or any others.

For some reason seeing Valentino smiling at the slender beauty who’d kept her weight off had annoyed Clara. Out of anger she had started dieting and Bianca had joined her. Once they began to see results, they became local wonders for a while, but now everyone was used to the way they looked, except for Valentino, of course.

“There’s nothing to forgive. You know we’re a farming family, up with the sun.”

His expression sobered. “I could have called your house, but thought I might have more luck talking to you if I came in person.”

She was so glad he did. No doubt he was remembering how Silvio used to run interference and decided not to take the chance of her brother answering the phone. It was a good thing. Silvio’s jealousy of Valentino had been over the top then. If he should see him now…

“Your car gave Tomaso a big thrill.”

“But not you?” He sounded intense again, as he had yesterday.

“Of course it does!”

“It’s the only transportation I have at the moment,” he murmured in a voice deeper than she remembered. The eighteen-year-old Tino had become an incredibly attractive male. “Come for a drive with me. I need to talk to you.”

With that silken tone, Valentino had a way of getting under her skin, but the last thing she wanted was for him to know about what was going on in her life. To spend any time with him when he was no doubt leaving town again would be like standing too near a white-hot conflagration. No more pain…

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time. When you drove in, you saw Tomaso opening up the stand for business. I’m running it today.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Clara got this suffocating feeling in her chest. “Can’t we talk right here?”

His striking features darkened with lines. “What are you afraid of?”

The blood hammered in her ears. She backed away from him. “Nothing! I just can’t imagine what’s so important you would come all this way. It’s been years.”

“Nine, to be exact. That’s too many between old friends. I’m here to atone for my sins.” His lips smiled, but for a brief moment his dark eyes looked haunted. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse me as easily as you did yesterday when I offered to drive you home—”

“The bus was there. I saw no reason to put you out, but I meant no offense,” she added to appease him.

“None was taken.” He cocked his head. “Since you’re busy now, I’ll come by later in the day when you’re ready to close up the stand.”

Later in the day? “Please don’t—” she cried, working up to a panic. After a full day’s work, she would need to rest and he’d know something was wrong.

His dark brows lifted. “Have you already made plans for this evening? With a boyfriend, perhaps?”

“Yes.” She leaped at the excuse he’d just given her.

Since her weight loss she’d been besieged by different guys from the valley wanting to go out with her. She’d had a lot of dates. One of the guys, Leandro, had been fairly relentless trying to get her to go out with him. When she did, she realized she had no interest in him. But Valentino didn’t know any of her dating history and she wanted to keep it that way.

“What time will he be picking you up?”

“When he gets off work,” she improvised.

“So when will you close the stand?”

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

“You don’t know?” he enquired smoothly. “Four o’clock? Five?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she blurted before realizing she’d displayed her anger. Since Valentino had never witnessed this side of her nature, he stared at her as if she’d turned into a complete stranger. In a way she had. Right now her heart was thudding so hard she felt ill.

“I was hoping you’d find a few minutes in your busy schedule for me.” To his credit he held onto his temper.

She averted her eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t have any time today,” she said in a subdued tone.

“I can hear Silvio in your voice,” his voice grated. “Forgive me for coming here and disturbing you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.” He turned away and headed for his car.

After he’d mentioned her brother’s name, she couldn’t allow him to think what he was thinking. “How long are you going to be in Monta Correnti?”

He opened the car door. “For as long as it takes.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father’s not well.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. Is it serious?”

“I hope not.” He started to get in the car.

“Wait—” she called out before she realized how anxious she sounded.

His dark head reared back. “Yes?”

“I’m going into town in the morning to do some errands. If you want, I’ll meet you at the Pasticceria Bonelli in the Piazza Gaspare where I caught the bus. We could have a cup of coffee or something beforehand.”

“What time?”

“Shall we say ten o’clock?”

“I’ll be there. Grazie, piccola.”

At eight the next morning Valentino dressed in a polo shirt and jeans before leaving the villa to walk to the restaurant. He entered through the back door into the kitchen with the key Isabella had given him. His plan was to eat breakfast with his father so they could talk business.

Valentino didn’t hold out much hope of getting anywhere with him. His father knew the restaurant business inside and out. You couldn’t tell him how to run it. Valentino could only try to make a suggestion, but even then his parent would probably resent it.

At first he didn’t think anyone was about, but as he passed by the storage area that served as a pantry of sorts he glimpsed someone through the door that stood ajar. On closer inspection he realized it was his father up on a small stepladder with a clipboard. Valentino noticed his cane resting against the leg of the ladder.

Not wanting to startle him by calling out, he moved over slowly to where his father stood, but when the older man saw him, he still jumped and almost fell off the ladder. Valentino rushed to steady him. He was thinner than the last time he’d seen him just a month ago, but he still had a full head of brown hair though it was streaked with silver.

“Why did you sneak up on me like that?”

What a great beginning! Valentino had to tamp down his temper. “I was afraid if I announced myself in the doorway, you’d turn suddenly and fall. I can see you’re doing the inventory. Don’t you think—?”

“Not you, too—” his father barked, interrupting him. “Go on—say it! Everyone else does. Your aunt Lisa yelled at me the other day that I’m too old and crippled to run my own restaurant. That’s the only reason you came back to Monta Correnti, isn’t it? Isabella probably sent you in here to stop me!”

Valentino winced. His father didn’t want him here. What else was new? “I haven’t seen Isabella today. Isn’t she at market?”

“Who knows?”

That was a lie, of course. His father knew everything. “Actually I came early so I could help you do whatever needed doing. Inventory is the only thing I’m good at when it comes to running the restaurant.”

Valentino had thought he could broach his ideas for promoting Rosa while they worked together, but that was what he got for thinking. Clearly it was too soon to offer Luca anything, let alone money. His father had way too much pride for that and would throw it all back in his face.

Coming home had been a big mistake. Valentino was the last person his father wanted anything to do with. “Why don’t you take a break and have breakfast with me?”

“I can’t stop now.”

That was clear enough. “Is there anything I can do for you today?”

“No, no. You run along and have a good time.”

With those words Valentino felt about five years old. All that was missing was a pat on the head. “Then I’ll see you later.”

As he reached the doorway his father said, “How long will you be in town?”

The temptation to tell him he was leaving right now and wouldn’t be back got stuck in his throat. “Long enough to help you. Ciao, Papa.”

Though Valentino had been a grown man for quite some time, Luca had the power to make him feel small and unnecessary. He left the restaurant and headed through town to the piazza to wait for Clara. He wanted to be here ahead of her, in case she came early.

During their conversation he’d purposely brought up Silvio’s name, knowing she’d always defended Valentino to her brother in the past. His gambit had worked enough for her to feel guilty and agree to meet him.

After ordering a cup of coffee in the pastry shop, he took it to one of the tables outside and drank it while he watched for her. At twenty to ten, Clara got off the bus.

He took a second to study her womanly figure encased in hip-hugging denim capris. She wore a three-quarter-sleeve blouse in a yellow and orange print that buttoned down the front and tied at her waist. The knockout picture she made caused male heads to turn in her direction.

Without doing anything, she elicited wolf whistles and remarks from the drivers in the heavy morning traffic circulating around the piazza, but she appeared oblivious to the attention.

He put the mug down on the table and started toward her. “Looking for someone, signorina?” he asked in a quiet voice. She heard him and turned her head in his direction. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting him yet.

A tiny cry escaped her throat. “Tino—” Her green eyes played over him.

Good. In that unguarded moment she hadn’t forgotten after all. His lips twitched. “Do I dare confess you look good enough to eat this morning?” His comment caused color to seep into her pale cheeks. “Come inside with me. There’s a torta setteveli with our names on it.” She could do with gaining a few more pounds.

“Oh, no, not mine,” she said with the infectious laugh he remembered. It made him want to provoke that response from her as often as possible. “Those days are over.”

Valentino hoped not. She’d always been so happy before, but he decided not to push it. After they walked in, the woman at the counter smiled at them. “What can I get for you?”

“A large slice of that.” He pointed to the torta. “Put it on a plate with two forks, and we’d like two cappuccinos, per favore.”

They always used to drink it together. When she didn’t demur, he assumed she still liked it.

“Bene, signore.”

After pulling some Euros out his wallet to pay the check, he cupped Clara’s elbow and steered her toward a table for two in the corner away from the window. “We’ll hide over here.”

“From the paparazzi, you mean?”

“From Leandro Romaggio actually. Is he the jealous type?”

She looked stunned. “How did you hear about him?”

“Restaurant gossip. You can’t avoid it. Would he mind?”

Once they were seated across from each other she said, “If he knew I were here with you, he’d ask me to get your autograph. You’re so famous you’ve become a household word in Italy.”

For some reason her comment irritated him. “Does my supposed fame impress you?”

“Of course. It makes me a little sad for you, too.”

His brows met. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you were always such a private person. It’s quite ironic what’s happened to you when I know how much you hate to be recognized everywhere you go. I honestly don’t know how you’ve dealt with it for this long.”

Her comment pleased him in ways she couldn’t imagine. “Perhaps now you understand why I wanted to see you again. While the rest of the world makes the wrong assumptions about me, you alone know the real truth.”

She flashed him a wistful, yet beguiling smile. “You used to complain on a regular basis that you always minded your own business, so why didn’t everyone else mind theirs instead of yours!”

A chuckle came out of him. “That doesn’t sound so good. I must have been pretty impossible to be around.”

“Not at all. You were your own person who spoke the truth. I liked that as much as I enjoyed watching the genius at work.”

“Genius—” he scoffed as the woman placed their order on the table.

“Don’t be modest, Tino,” she said after they were alone again. “All those drawings and experiments you did on that scooter made your fortune. A lot of the guys were jealous of you, my brother among them.” She paused. “He was the reason you never stepped on our farm, wasn’t he? Mamma always wondered why you stayed away.”

“I didn’t want him to get upset with you because of me.”

“Papa told him to watch over Bianca and me. I’m afraid he took his job a little too seriously.”

He took a deep breath. “That’s all in the past. I’m sure Silvio does very well for himself these days.”

“I’ll admit he’s a great help to Papa. Out of my three brothers he will be the one to take over the farm one day.”

“Unlike me,” he muttered. “I just came from being with my father. When I offered to do the inventory with him, he told me to run along. I’m a no-account in his eyes.”

“You’ve been away a long time. He’s probably so thrilled to see you, he’s terrified you’ll leave again if he says something you don’t like.”

Her observation surprised him. “You think?”

“I know.”

She said it with such authority he almost believed her. “In his eyes I’m not the dependable type, not like Silvio.”

“You’ve already proven you can be whatever you make up your mind to be.” She studied him thoughtfully. “If you’re here to help your father, just give it a little time and he’ll start to believe it.”

Maybe she spoke the truth, but right now Valentino didn’t want to talk about his father or her brother, who’d given them both grief growing up. He pushed the torta toward her. “The cake of the seven veils. Why don’t you eat the top layer, I’ll start at the bottom and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.” He handed her a fork.

With a mysterious smile, she took it from him. “Maybe one bite.”

While she toyed with a couple of mouthfuls, he didn’t waste any time making inroads. After swallowing some of the hot liquid he said, “So that’s the secret behind your weight loss.”

A little chocolate remained at the corner of her pliant mouth, tempting him to taste both. The errant thought took him by surprise. Before he could blink she wiped it away with her napkin.

“The Rossettis have always been a hefty bunch. Three years ago I saw a diet plan in a magazine and decided to try it. Bianca had just gotten married and she went on it with me.”

“Does she have an hourglass figure, too?”

Again he watched the blush fill her cheeks. “She looks good. Now she’s pregnant again.”

“Bianca has a baby?”

“Yes. Little Paolito. He’s so sweet. I wish he were mine.”

The throb in her voice didn’t escape him. “How old is he?”

“Six months.”

So much had gone on while he’d been pursuing his dreams. “So tell me what you got up to after I left Monta Correnti.”

“You mean besides running the fruit stand?”

“Anything you want to divulge.”

She studied him for a minute. “Do you remember Lia?”

“Of course. She was your favorite cousin who had a little white fox terrier named Horatio.”

“Yes. I’m afraid he finally died of old age. Anyway, she met a man from Naples who has his own construction company. They got married five years ago and live there with their two children. Last year she begged me to come and stay with them.

“I accepted her invitation thinking I’d only be gone from the farm two weeks. Instead I got a job in his office and started business classes at college.”

His dark brows lifted in surprise. “Business? What aspect of business were you thinking of going into? You told me you would never leave the farm.” He’d thought he knew all of her dreams.

“The inspiration didn’t come into my mind until after you left for Monaco.”

“Which meant I stunted your growth.”

“Don’t be silly.” Though she broke into gentle laughter of denial, Valentino realized he really didn’t know all there was to know about her at all. That bothered him. In the past he’d taken everything about her for granted. For the first time it hit him what a shallow man he’d been. That bothered him even more.

“You’ve got me intrigued.” Mystified was more like it.

“As you know, I spent my life in our lemon groves. One day I got this idea for doing something with lemons besides selling them.”

“But not lemon furniture polish since it had already been invented, right?”

More laughter rumbled out of Clara. “Actually I came up with my own recipe for limoncello.”

“Limoncello—?” In his opinion her mother was the best cook on the planet, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Again it showed him he’d been so consumed by his own thoughts and interests back then, he hadn’t taken the time to explore hers. “Is it good?”

“My business teacher thought it was the best aperitif he’d ever tasted. He urged me to work up a model for its manufacture and distribution to present in class.”

Valentino felt a sudden onset of adrenalin. “I’m jealous he got to sample it first. When am I going to taste it?”

“There’s some left at Lia’s, I think. I’ll phone her and ask her to bring it when she comes for a relative’s party tomorrow. You’re welcome to try it.”

“I’m going to hold you to that offer. So tell me how your project went?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’m behind schedule now and have to go.”

He stifled a protest of exasperation. Just when he was enjoying this conversation more than anything else he’d done in years, Clara was running off again. Her announcement was unacceptable to him. “Where are you going?”

“Shopping.” She took one more bite of torta, then drank the last of her coffee.

“I’ll come with you. I need to pick up a few things myself.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid this is an expedition for women only. You stay and finish the torta.” She stood up. “It’s been wonderful talking to you again, reminiscing. Thank you for the treat.”

Valentino couldn’t believe she was ready to leave so fast. “Why don’t we meet up later and I’ll drive you back to the farm?” He got to his feet.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I’ve made other arrangements. Now I really do have to run.”

To Leandro?

He walked her to the entrance, knowing better than to try to detain her. “Thank you for meeting me, Clara. It meant a lot. I’ll be in touch.”

She darted him a breezy smile. “That would be lovely.”

His body tautened. That would be lovely? Clara, Clara. What’s going on with you? “Ciao, piccola.”

“Ciao!”

Frustrated by her hurried departure, he watched her progress. She had an enticing little walk that fascinated him before she disappeared around the corner. Once she was out of sight he took off in the other direction for the villa.

His father had dismissed him, and the too brief interlude with Clara had knocked him off balance. He needed to get out of Monta Correnti in the Ferrari. Opening it up always cleared his head. Why not strike out for Naples?

He could look up some old sailing buddies and visit a few tour operators to drum up business for his father. Some entrepreneur he was when he knew better than to approach Luca before he had something concrete to present.

The change in Clara since their first meeting must have affected him more than he’d realized, or else he was losing his edge. Diavolo!

CHAPTER THREE

BEFORE breakfast was over Bianca had asked Clara if she wanted help at the stand, but Clara had turned her down. Her sister suffered from bad morning sickness and helped with their grandmother and took care of Paolito while their mother did the cooking and the dishes. Her sister-in-law Maria did the house-cleaning. Everyone had their chores. Clara liked running the stand.

Their farm did big business with outlets all over the region. Trucks came and went from as far as Naples and Rome. As for the fruit stand, it existed for locals and the occasional tourist wanting a small amount of the spillover fruits or olives they could take with them in a bag. The daily intake of money from the sold produce bought the family’s groceries.

After dressing in jeans and a filmy light-orange blouse with a ruffled neckline and three-quarter sleeves, Clara went to the kitchen. On the days she worked at the fruit stand, her mother always packed her a lunch.

Once she’d grabbed it and a bottle of water from the fridge, she headed out of the farmhouse. There were only a few wispy clouds above. The air was soft, just the right temperature so she wouldn’t overheat while she waited on customers.

Clara felt brighter than usual today. She could attribute her energized condition to Valentino, who’d made yesterday morning magical for her. He would hate it if she told him he’d been like Cinderella’s fairy godmother, transforming her life for that hour they’d spent together. It had been liberating to be treated like a normal person.

With her thoughts so full of him, she didn’t realize it was Silvio, not Tomaso, who’d done the setting up with the produce from his truck and was waiting for her at the stand.

That was why he’d left the breakfast table early. Now that they were alone, she braced herself for what she sensed was coming. The knowledge cast a shadow on the beauty of the morning.

His dark eyes squinted at her. “I heard you were at the pasticceria with Valentino yesterday morning. Signora Bonelli’s son was in the back working and saw you.”

“So?”

After a sustained pause, “You shouldn’t be letting that scum hang around you.”

She took a deep breath. “Don’t talk that way about Valentino to me. You know nothing about him. Furthermore, you don’t have the right.”

His scowl grew more pronounced. “You spent your whole life being his shadow. When he went away, he never gave you another thought. Now that he’s back and has seen how beautiful you are, he’s decided to make you his next conquest before he leaves town again.”

Clara rubbed her temples with her fingers, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. If she put herself in her brother’s place, she could understand where he was coming from except for one reason. “We’re friends, Silvio. He doesn’t feel that way about me, nor I him.” Valentino doesn’t try to protect me.

Silvio’s face looked like thunder. “A man like him is capable of using a woman whether he has feelings for her or not. It infuriates me that he has suddenly shown up and taken over like he used to do.”

“What do you mean take over? We were close friends all the years we were growing up. Is it so terrible that he wants to see me and catch up while he’s in town?”

“What about Leandro?”

“What about him? I wasn’t interested in him after our first date.”

His features grew hard. “No one wants you to find love more than I do, but we’re talking about Valentino Casali, who isn’t capable of it, Clara. You realize it’s all over the media that he’s been living with that French actress.”

“I know, but while he’s here to see his father, he has decided to take time to renew some old friendships. We met on the staircase near the Piazza Gaspare by accident the other day. You make this sound so sinister when it’s nothing like that.”

Her brother wasn’t listening. “You’re risking your happiness to be with him again. Are you out of your mind to let him come around you?”

“If I am, it’s my business.”

“Clara—” he cried, and put his hands on her shoulders, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I know you didn’t.” Silvio’s heart was in the right place, but he’d forgotten she wasn’t a child he could order around anymore.

“Don’t you know I’d do anything for you? I love you. That’s why I don’t want to see Valentino take you for a ride and then dump you like he’s done all the other women in his life.”

She eased away from him. Valentino had never shown her anything but friendship. But the implication that her brother had only ever thought of her as someone to be exploited by him, rather than be considered a lover, carried its own cruel sting.

To her relief a car pulled up the to the covered stand, preventing further conversation. It was a former customer who got into a lively conversation with her. By the time the man drove away again, Silvio had already taken off in his truck for another part of the farm. Much as she loved her brother, she was glad he’d been forced to get back to work.

For the next five hours business was fairly brisk. Clara sat at the small wooden table with the cash box and ate lunch while she waited for more customers. She’d brought a mystery book to read, but the conversation with Silvio had shaken her and she realized her mind was too focused on Valentino to get into it.

Around two-thirty she saw an old blue half-ton pickup truck coming closer. It lumbered up to the stand. The gears ground before it pulled to a stop. She got to her feet.

“Buon giorno, signore!” she called to the man in the straw hat and sunglasses climbing out of the cab. With his burgundy T-shirt and jeans covering his well-honed physique, she thought he looked familiar.

“It is a good afternoon now that I’ve arrived and see you standing there.”

That voice—like running velvet over gravel. “Tino—”

“I guess my disguise isn’t so bad.”

She laughed so hard she almost cried. He threw his head back and laughed with her. Only Valentino would come up with something so completely outrageous. Beneath the brim, his sensual mouth had broken into a heart-stopping smile she couldn’t help but reciprocate.

Everyone else wrapped her in cotton wool, but not Valentino. He was such an original and so charismatic, her heart took flight around him. Right now it was racing too fast and made her slightly dizzy. “Until you got out, the old truck and the kind of hat my grandfather used to wear had me completely fooled.”

“Then it’s possible I’ve eluded the usual horde of paparazzi.”

Before she could countenance it, he went around to open the truck’s tailgate. The next thing she knew he’d produced about twenty new bushel-sized baskets that he stacked near the table.

“Is this all that’s left of today’s produce?” He motioned to the few remaining baskets of fruits and olives.

“Yes.”

Without saying anything else he loaded them in the back of his truck and shut the tailgate. Then he pulled out his wallet and put some bills in the cash box. They represented double the amount she would have received if she’d sold everything by the end of the day.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reading the question in her eyes. “The produce I’ve purchased won’t go to waste.”

She shook her head in amusement. “What are you up to?” The sunglasses hid a lot from view.

“What do you think? I intend to spend the rest of the day with you. Now that you’ve been bought out, you’re free to take the time off and enjoy yourself. Vieni com me! I’ll drive you up to the house so you can take the money inside, then we’ll go.” He opened the passenger door.

He’d put her in a position where she could hardly refuse. In truth she didn’t want to no matter how tired she was already, no matter how loudly Silvio’s warnings rang in her ears. “Will the truck make it that far?” she baited him.

His dark brows lifted. Under that hat he looked devastatingly handsome. “Shall we find out?” He helped her inside, then handed her the box after he’d climbed behind the wheel.

“Where did you get this truck?”

“From Giorgio, the sous chef at the restaurant. He has agreed to let me borrow it for a while. I’ve given him the use of my Ferrari whenever he wants.”

“That’s a trade he’ll never forget, but he’ll probably be terrified to drive it.”

“You don’t know Giorgio. Before the day is out we’ll probably see him whizzing around the countryside racking up speeding tickets.”

She laughed. “No doubt with the press hounds in hot pursuit.”

“Exactly.” He drove them up to the farmhouse, then handed her the metal box after she got out.

“I’ll take this inside, then I’ll be back.”

“There’s no hurry. I’m planning to feed you after we get to our destination.”

“That sounds exciting, but I hope it’s not too far. This evening I have plans I can’t break.” It was the truth. After a day’s work she was too tired to do anything but rest. “I’ll need to be home by five-thirty at the latest.”

“Message received,” he muttered.

She jumped down from the cab with the money box and hurried inside the farmhouse to freshen up. Luckily her mother wasn’t in the kitchen at that moment. After the run-in with Silvio, she couldn’t take defending her actions to anyone else, least of all her parents, who killed themselves trying to remove the stumbling blocks from her path.

While Valentino waited for Clara, his jaw hardened in frustration because she continually kept him on a short leash. Yet the minute she emerged from the farmhouse the sight of those translucent green eyes lighting up as she smiled at him broke through his borderline anger to mesmerize him.

When she climbed in the cab, he turned his head toward her. “You’re meeting Leandro later?”

She averted her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for a while. For your information I’m going to watch the children while the rest of the family attends my great-uncle’s birthday. It’s the party Lia’s coming to. None of them gets a break very often. My family wants to go early so they can get home early.” She flashed him an impish smile. “Both Bianca and Maria get morning sickness at night.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that, since he had nothing else to do with his evening, he’d be more than happy to help her with the children. However, he thought the better of it when he remembered that, besides Paolito, the other three were Silvio’s offspring. Clara’s brother would probably explode in a fine fury to discover Valentino in the house. That in turn would place Clara in hot water.

“I had something else in mind for us, but under the circumstances I’ll drive us to the Trattoria Alberto. They’re supposed to give quick service.”

“That’s the place where a lot of tour buses stop. It’s not too far from here. I haven’t been there in years.” She sounded so relieved he wondered what in blazes was going on with her.

He started up the truck and they left the farm. “How would you like to play spy?”

A chuckle escaped her throat reminding him of the old Clara. “At the trattoria?”

“Yes. One of the reasons I’m in Monta Correnti for the summer is to see what I can do to help improve business at Rosa.”

“You’re here for the whole summer?” The shock in her voice wasn’t feigned.

“Your comment yesterday decided me.”

“What comment?”

“That it will take time to get anywhere with my father.” He could also see that he was going to need that much time to get back in Clara’s good graces. Nine years away without checking in had done its fair share of damage.

“But what about your bike business and your racing?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I can run it with my laptop and phone calls. Missing a few races is of little consequence right now. Papa is heavily in debt. Something needs to be done before he plunges any further. Isabella’s doing her best. I need to do my part.”

A hand went to her throat. “I had no idea.”

“Yesterday I met with some tour operators who gave me their itineraries. They all stop at the Trattoria Alberto when they pass through Monta Correnti. I’d like to find out why they think it’s a better place than Rosa. While we’re eating, let’s make a list of what’s good and bad about the place and the food. We’ll check prices and the number of menu items.”

Her face lit up. “This is going to be fun.”

Valentino laughed in pure delight to see her act excited. “I thought it might appeal to you.”

It didn’t take long before they reached the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking area at the side of the trattoria. He showed her inside and they took a seat that gave them visual access to all areas of the dining room. Without a tour-bus crowd, there were quite a few empty tables because it was still early.

Clara chose chicken and he opted for the veal, the two dishes most tourists ordered. They tested two house wines and ordered the most popular desserts. “Your father will be impressed you went to this much trouble in the name of research.”

Valentino let out a caustic laugh before swallowing the last spoonful of his gelato. “To tell you the truth, his opinion of me is so low, I doubt he’ll give me the time of day to present my findings, but I have to try. He raised me, after all.”

She looked at him in seeming consternation. “Why do you say that? What father wouldn’t be the proudest man in the world to have a son who has accomplished so much?”

“You’d be surprised.” He studied her through shuttered lids. “You’re very sweet, Clara.”

He had half a mind to unload his secrets on her, but she seemed to have run out of steam. Her eyelids fluttered like someone who was exhausted. When he saw her glance at her watch, he knew the drill. Defeated for the moment, he laid some money on the table and ushered her outside to the truck.

On the way back to the farm she tried to keep up her end of the conversation, but the spark she’d shown earlier had fled. After he turned onto the road leading up to the farmhouse he said, “Will you have coffee with me at Bonelli’s in the morning and we’ll compare notes before I head to the restaurant to see my father? I’ll pick you up.”

“No—I mean y-you don’t need to do that,” she stammered before opening the door. “I’ll come on the bus, but it will have to be early, say nine o’clock. I have a dentist appointment at ten.”

That was a lie. He felt it in his bones, but he couldn’t prove it. “Understood. Thank you for doing this. I’m anxious for your input.”

“After the delicious meal you bought me, it’s my pleasure. Domani, Tino.”

He waited until she’d entered the farmhouse. She couldn’t seem to get inside fast enough. By the time he took off for Rosa, he was convinced Clara had been playing some kind of game with him from the beginning. He didn’t like it. She flitted in and out of his life like a hummingbird, driving him mad.

Evidently she and Leandro weren’t an item. If she were still afraid of Silvio’s opinion, why risk more grief by being with Valentino at all? Her behavior raised more questions than it answered because he knew she enjoyed their time together. So did he.

All the subterfuge and time limits had to end. When he asked himself why he cared so much, the answer hit him smack in the gut. Every time you’re with her, it’s harder to say goodbye.

It came as a shock to discover that when we was with Clara, the thought of chucking it all in and whizzing back to Monaco held less and less appeal. This had never happened to him before.

Valentino drove in the alley at the side of the restaurant and pulled up to the back door behind the Ferrari. He got out of the truck and undid the tailgate to carry the baskets of produce into the kitchen. When he unlocked the door, Giorgio smiled at him and came out to help him bring everything inside.

“The Ferrari is sweet,” he said in a low voice, kissing his fingers. “The paparazzi chased me everywhere.”

“Better your picture than mine showing up in the newspaper. Many thanks for the use of your truck, Giorgio.”

“My pleasure.”

“I wasn’t harassed once and would like to use it again sometime soon.”

“No problem at all. We can make a permanent trade any time you want,” he teased. “Look at the size of this!” He picked up one of the lemons. “The olives are big, too. Where did all this wonderful-looking fruit come from?”

“The Rossetti farm.”

“Ah. I’ve heard of it. Did you sign a contract with them?”

Valentino had a hunch the type Giorgio was talking about would have to be done over Silvio’s dead body. “That’s up to my father. Has he been downstairs tonight?”

“No. I haven’t seen him.”

“What about Isabella?”

“She’s out in front setting up for dinner.”

“Then I won’t disturb her. I’m going back to the villa. When you see her, tell her I’ll be over tomorrow.”

“Bene, Valentino.”

They traded keys before he left Rosa and rocked up the mountainside in the Ferrari full of his plans for tomorrow. Clara posed an intriguing challenge, but no one loved meeting one more than Valentino.

When Clara entered the kitchen, her mother had already started cooking breakfast. She looked over at her. “Up so soon? Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Just weak. She rubbed her palms against her hips in a nervous gesture.

“That’s good. Your papa will be happy to hear it. He worries on these days.”

“I know.”

“Sit down and I’ll serve you now.”

“Not today, Mamma.”

“But you have to eat!”

“I know. I’m having breakfast in town early.”

“Are you getting together with Gina?”

“No.” She hadn’t talked to her friend in several weeks. “Valentino asked me to meet him at Bonelli’s. He’s trying to help expand his father’s restaurant business.”

“Why would he want to do that? It’s been doing well, hasn’t it?”

“Between us, his father is in debt.” Her mother made a tsking sound in her throat. “We had dinner at a competitor’s yesterday. This morning we’re going to discuss what worked and what didn’t. If he can find a way to increase tourist traffic, it will be good for his family…and him.”

Clara had seen suffering in his eyes yesterday. She hadn’t realized he’d had serious problems with his father. Evidently the breach between them went back years. The pain in his voice had haunted her all night.

A worried look crossed over her mother’s expressive features. “Do you think it’s a good idea to get this involved with Valentino?”

“We’re old friends, Mamma.”

“That may be true for him because you’re the best friend any person could ever have and he knows it! But the difference is, you’ve loved him since the first time you met him at grade school.”

“Yes, I loved him and I always will. You’re confusing it with being in love.”

“That’s good you recognize the difference. You’re almost twenty-eight, too old to still be nursing a dream that could never become a reality.”

Clara lowered her head.

“Forgive me if that hurts you, but you see the news on television,” her mother continued talking. “Valentino’s been involved with that French actress lately. Last year it was a German model. Before that, an American Olympic skier.” With every word that poured forth, her mother drove the nail a little deeper. “How long is he going to be in town?”

“For the summer. His father’s not well.”

Her mother looked shaken by the news. “Even if he stays that long, which I doubt, his home and his business are in Monaco. Eventually he’ll have to go back. In the meantime you can be sure the women in his life have followed him here and won’t leave him alone. Don’t forget he can be with them whenever and wherever he chooses because he has the means.”

“I know.” I know.

Her mother sniffed. “If he’s sandwiching you in between them for a diversion, it’s only natural for him, but you’re a Rossetti and Rossettis aren’t content to be the crumbs off anyone else’s table!”

“I agree, Mamma.”

“That’s good because I don’t want my sweet bambina getting hurt in the process.”

“Silvio gave me the same lecture earlier.”

“Your brother feels more fiercely than the others because you grew up together. What affects you, affects him. That’s how it is with twins.”

Clara knew that, too. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She took a ragged breath. “When I’m with him, he treats me like we were young again, you know?” She didn’t dare say she felt like an invalid around the family or it would hurt her mother. “You think I should just tell Valentino it’s time for us to let the friendship go?”

“It’s not what I think—it’s what you feel that matters!” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m just afraid you’re too vulnerable right now. He wasn’t voted the world’s most irresistible playboy for nothing!”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

“I happened to see it in a magazine Bianca was reading. I’m afraid your sister used to have a terrible crush on him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? If my words sound cruel, I’m sorry because you know I love you to death.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered in turmoil.

“I would never say such a thing in front of the men in our family, but I say it to you. And now that I have, it is your decision what happens from here on out.”

Her mother’s words stayed with her while she washed the tears from her face. “I’ll see you later today, Mamma.” On the way out the door she grabbed an apple from the bowl to eat on the bus.

By the time she joined Valentino a half-hour later, she’d made up her mind to enjoy this morning’s get-together. Maybe by the end of this day she would have gained some wisdom and would know how to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore.

The problem was, he was sensitive deep down; Clara knew that and she would never want to hurt his feelings. No one would believe an insecure man lived beneath his famous persona. It stemmed from the troubled relationship with his father. He’d let her see inside him just enough for her to feel a little of his torment.

Oh, Tino.

Valentino stood at the bus stop waiting for Clara. Through his sunglasses he watched the activity in the piazza. So far his navy headscarf and striped sailor shirt with the long sleeves had disguised him enough to keep the paparazzi away.

His outfit must have done a better job than he realized because when she got off the bus at ten to nine, she walked past him in her blue print blouse and denim skirt without realizing it. He followed her into Bonelli’s.

There were half a dozen people drinking coffee at individual bistro tables while they read the newspaper. He’d already staked out their table in the same corner as before.

“I’m over here, Clarissima.”

She wheeled around in surprise. A slow smile broke out on her stunning face. “I would never have guessed it was you! You look like a French seaman on leave from Marseille or some such port.”

“That’s the way I’d like to keep it.”

“I know,” she said in a quiet voice. “I won’t give you away.”

He held her chair, then sat down opposite her. “Help yourself.” He’d already taken their cappuccinos and ham-filled croissants to the table.

“Thank you. After all the food we ate last evening, can you believe I’m hungry again?” She bit into her breakfast.

Valentino smiled as he devoured his. “How did the babysitting go?”

“None of them wanted to go to bed. We ended up having our own party.”

He’d wanted to be there. The night had been endless for him. “Is that why you seem a little tired this morning?”

“Yes,” she murmured, but she didn’t look at him as she said it.

“Did Lia bring the limoncello with her?”

Her lips curved upward. “She did.”

“Good. I’m already salivating for it.” Color seeped into her cheeks. “Have you given serious thought to the plus side of the trattoria?”

Clara sipped her cappuccino. “Yes. The placement of the tables was conducive to private conversation. The service was good. The chicken was tender, the gelato excellent.” He liked watching her mouth as she spoke. Even when she had been a girl it had a passionate flare.

“What about the negatives?”

“The bruschetta was mediocre, the wine so-so, the pasta seemed too greasy and the bathroom needed attention.”

He chuckled. “My sentiments exactly, piccola. Bravo. I was going to add that the prices were too high.”

“Yes, but they obviously lower them for the tour-bus crowds. Oh—something else. The decor wasn’t that unique. Not anything like your father’s restaurant.”

“Well, it’s possible Papa will be interested in our findings and can point out the differences to the tour directors when I invite them to Rosa for a meal.”

“Rosa’s sauce is to die for, Tino.”

“My father will be delighted to hear that Signora Rossetti’s daughter has given her seal of approval. What Papa really needs is your mother in his kitchen. I ate most of your lunches at school, if you remember.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she admitted in an odd tone before suddenly getting to her feet. “Thank you for breakfast. Now I need to get going to my appointment.”

For once Valentino was ready for that and stood up. “I appreciate your taking the time to meet me first.” He walked her outside. “After I’ve met with Papa, I’ll call you and tell you what he said.”

As she gazed at him her eyes clouded over. “I hope he shows you how thrilled he is that his wonderful son is trying to help him.” Her earnestness resonated to his insides. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m not his wonderful anything, Clara. He’s not my biological father. You might as well know I’m the product of an extramarital affair.”

He heard her long gasp. “Your mother was unfaithful?”

“Yes. She and Luca hit a bad patch in their marriage, but they made up.”

She looked devastated for him. “Do you know your birthfather?”

“No, and when I learned about it, I didn’t want to know him. Neither did Luca apparently, so I was raised as a Casali.”

“Then he must have loved your mother and you very much.”

Valentino studied her upturned features. “You come from a very loving, close-knit family. You see only the good. It’s a remarkable trait. Don’t ever lose it.”

She bit her lip. “You’ve never told anyone?”

“Isabella and Cristiano know. Our parents told all of us before Mamma died so there’d be no secrets, but it’s not common knowledge.”

“I’ll never say anything,” she whispered.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Tino—” She sounded distressed. “I—I’d like to stay longer and talk to you, but I have to go or I’ll be late. Forgive me.”

“Of course. I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded before hurrying away across the piazza. Once she disappeared he rushed after her, realizing she’d taken the set of stairs where she’d come down that first day.

When he reached it and mounted the narrow staircase to the next level of the town, she was nowhere in sight. There were more residences than shops in this area. He looked all around, noticing the local clinic on his left. He’d never known a dental office to be in there, but maybe things had changed.

Give her a few more minutes before you burst in looking for her, Casali.

If he did find her inside, he’d be risking her anger because it smacked of invading her privacy. She might never speak to him again.

After the conversation they’d had the other day on the subject of maintaining one’s privacy, there was a certain irony to this kind of thinking—and danger. But that was what he thrived on. At this late date he couldn’t change his character if he tried and determined to take his chances.

He watched the locals go in and come out the doors of the clinic. He waited another minute, then walked inside. Just as he’d thought, the wall plaque didn’t indicate any dentists in the building. Beyond the foyer was a waiting room full of patients. He couldn’t see Clara among them. She might not be here at all, but he had to check.

Chagrined that he hadn’t followed her more closely, Valentino had no choice but to approach the receptionist at the desk. When she got off the phone he said, “Could you tell me if Clara Rossetti has already gone in for her appointment?”

“I’m sorry. Even if she were a patient here, I can’t give you that information unless you’re the police or her next of kin.”

For no good reason the hairs lifted on the back of his neck. The receptionist had given nothing away, yet for the first time since coming back to Monta Correnti a little frisson of alarm darted through him. It was that same feeling he got on the racetrack when he sensed something wasn’t right and braced himself for what was coming around the next curve.

“I’m her fiancé,” he lied without compunction. “I’ve been at sea for a long time, but got shore leave specifically to see her. Her sister Bianca told me I’d find her here for her ten o’clock appointment.” If lightning struck him, he didn’t care.

“In that case, go back to the foyer and down the hall to the dialysis clinic.”

Dialysis—

A shudder rocked his body. That meant kidney failure. People died from it.

No. Not Clara. He’d just come from being with her. Though she’d looked tired, she’d seemed healthy to him.

He shook his head, trying to make sense of it.

She couldn’t be dying. That was preposterous! Valentino didn’t believe it. He must have misunderstood the receptionist.

Bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Signore? Are you all right?” The woman at the desk stared up at him anxiously.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You didn’t know?”

A groan escaped his throat. Her question made it all too real. It meant that the first day he’d seen her on the staircase between the buildings, she’d just come from the clinic.

And the other morning when she’d said she had shopping to do, she’d been on her way here…

He half staggered out to the foyer where he saw the sign for directions to the dialysis clinic.

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER having to tear herself away from Valentino, Clara had been plunged into a new low of despair. This time it was for him.

Luca Casali wasn’t his birthfather?

Though Valentino might have been living with that knowledge since childhood, a boy would still yearn to know his own flesh and blood father, or at least have some information about him. While Cristiano and Isabella had lived with the security of enjoying both parents’ love, Valentino couldn’t claim the same thing.

If Clara’s life didn’t depend on this treatment, she wouldn’t have left him standing there in front of Bonelli’s looking tortured.

Like a slot machine that went chink chink chink, little pieces of memory started fitting together in a mosaic that explained to some extent why he’d been drawn to Clara more than his own siblings during those early years. When he’d lost his mother, he’d needed a friend, no doubt because he didn’t feel as if he belonged to the Casali household in quite the same way as the other two.

No one at school had had any comprehension of his struggles, including Clara. While she lay there, she wept for the boy inside the incredible man he’d become.

It was impossible to settle down and concentrate on anything else right now. Normally after she was hooked up to the large hemodialysis machine and the clinician had left the room, she could absorb herself in a good mystery novel. She’d put a new one in her purse, but hadn’t opened it yet. She couldn’t.

As weak as she’d felt after getting off the bus earlier today, the sight of Valentino wearing jeans that molded his powerful thighs had set off a burst of adrenalin, giving her an extra boost of energy.

He was an impossibly handsome man. In that headscarf and sailor shirt revealing his welldefined physique, he looked like a cross between a dashing pirate and a Gypsy. It couldn’t be easy being so famous he had to go to such lengths to avoid the constant crush of the media.

It took a remarkable man to rise above his pain. Valentino made every moment of life exciting. That was one of his many gifts. Who else would have ordered a decadent chocolate dessert they could share and make the moment seem like a fabulous party he’d created just for her?

If Silvio knew the true Valentino the way she did, he wouldn’t have grilled her so mercilessly the other morning while she’d been running the fruit stand. He’d fired questions at her she couldn’t answer and wouldn’t anyway.

When Valentino had come by the farm in the latest model Ferrari, it had reminded her brother of the differences between them, but that wasn’t the underlying reason for his bitterness. To her dismay, the girl her brother had been infatuated with in high school had wanted nothing to do with him because she’d been so crazy about Valentino and he had gone through girls like water.

Even though Silvio had moved on to other women and had eventually married Maria, her brother’s pride had never got over the rejection. As Valentino’s fame grew, so did Silvio’s envy for the women—the money—everything that seemed to come to him with what looked like no effort at all. In truth he couldn’t forgive Valentino and didn’t want Clara to have anything to do with him. In this area, he’d become irrational.

If he knew how hard it had been for Valentino growing up, even if Luca had been good to him, her brother would have a different perspective. Silvio basked in the love of both parents. All of the Rossettis did. How lucky they were!

Depleted physically and emotionally by the distressing revelation, she let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, aching for Valentino’s pain and wishing the treatments didn’t take so long. But she couldn’t complain, not when they were keeping her alive.

While she lay there on top of the cot fully dressed, she heard the door open. The clinician checked on her every little while. With her eyes still closed she said, “I’m doing fine, Serena.”

“That’s music to my ears,” sounded a deep, familiar male voice.

Her eyelids flew open at the same time her heart clapped inside her chest. She discovered Valentino bigger than life, standing at the side of her bed opposite the machine. He removed his sunglasses and scarf, revealing disheveled dark brown hair. It only added to his potent male appeal.

“You followed me!” she cried in a combination of anger and exasperation.

“Guilty as charged.”

No one had ever looked less penitent. “How did you get in here?”

“They weren’t going to let me in, but I found your clinician. When I told her I was your fiancé she took pity on me.”

Of course she did. Serena was a female. No woman was immune to Valentino’s charm.

Clara should have been furious he’d found out her secret, but it was so like Valentino to go where angels feared to tread when he wanted answers to questions, she started to laugh and couldn’t stop. Maybe it was contagious because he laughed, too. Soon the tears actually trickled from the corners of both their eyes.

They were still laughing when a smiling Serena poked her head inside the door. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. There’s nothing like a fiancé showing up to turn your world around, eh, Clara? I didn’t know you had such a gorgeous one. You’re a dark horse, you know that?”

After giving Valentino another once-over, she grinned and shut the door again. It wouldn’t be long before Serena connected his looks with the legend that preceded him and would know it was all a lie. But right now Clara didn’t care.

Those intelligent dark eyes of his searched hers for endless seconds. His expression grew solemn. “How long have you been undergoing these treatments, piccola?” he whispered in a shaky voice.

“Three weeks.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her with his tanned hands clasped between strong legs. She saw him looking at the graft below the place where she’d rolled up her sleeve. The loop had been surgically inserted in her right arm where her blood was drained and bathed in solution to separate the impurities before returning to her bloodstream.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Is this the reason you’ve lost so much weight?”

“No. I was perfectly healthy until two months ago when I cut my leg on one of the thorny twigs of a lemon tree at the farm. It developed into a blood infection that led to hemolytic uremic syndrome. That caused an acute failure of my kidneys.”

A pulse throbbed at the corner of his hard, male mouth. “They don’t function at all?”

Clara shook her head. “I have what’s known as ESRD.”

A bleak look entered his eyes. After a long pause, “Does this mean a kidney transplant is the only cure?” She felt his solemn tone in every sick atom of her body.

“Yes, provided it’s the right match. My parents and siblings have tried to donate theirs, but because of weight problems or high blood pressure or pregnancy, they’ve been turned down.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me you’re on a waiting list—”

“Of course.”

“What kind of time are you talking here?” He fired comments and questions at her so fast she was dizzy. In fact she’d never known him to be this intense. The businessman in him had come out.

“I don’t know. Waiting for a suitable match is a complicated process. You think there’s one available, but then, for one reason or another, it can’t or doesn’t happen.”

“You have a big extended family. Surely there’s someone.”

“Two of my relatives would be matches, but they have diabetes so that rules them out. One of my aunts was prepared to go through tests, but she has had cancer in the past and the risk is too high for her. My best chance is to receive a kidney from an altruistic donor, but they’re hard to come by when thousands of people ahead of me are waiting for one.”

“Tell me what you mean by altruistic.”

“A non-related person who wants to give a kidney to a loved one, but it’s not a match, so they still donate a kidney to someone who is. There are chains of groups of people who do this, but it’s a case of finding them and linking up so their serum can be tested against my PRA.”

He frowned. “PRA?”

“It means my serum has been mixed with a panel of sixty random donors to see the reaction to the antibodies. Mine is fairly low which is a plus. Kidney allocations are based on a mathematical formula. It awards points for factors that affect a successful transplant.”

“What are the other factors?”

“Age and good health. I have all those things going for me.”

He reached out to grasp her free hand. “How often do you come here?”

“Three times a week.”

“That’s virtually every other day—” He sounded aghast.

“It’s not so bad when you consider there’s no other way for my blood to get filtered.”

“Why isn’t someone in your family driving you here and picking you up?”

“I don’t want to be a burden to them.”

He seemed to have trouble sitting there. “You’ve never been a burden to anyone in your whole life.”

Unbidden tears filled her eyes. “I am now. Everyone works so hard at the farm. It’s bad enough that I can only do my part on the farm three days a week. There’s Nonna who needs taking care of now that she’s in a wheelchair and learning to talk again. Bianca has a baby and another one on the way, and Maria’s expecting for the fourth time.”

Valentino squeezed her fingers gently. “I’ve upset you when I didn’t mean to. Every time we’ve been together, you’ve always had to leave. It has been so unlike the Clara I used to know, I’ve been at a loss. Because you didn’t explain your condition to me, I had to find out the truth for myself. Forgive me for bursting in on you like this?”

His pained eyes were so imploring, she didn’t want him to feel bad. After the painful experience he’d had with his father the other morning, she didn’t want to add to it. “There’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t say anything because I’ve loved spending time with someone who didn’t know about my condition and treated me like a normal, healthy person. If anything, I’m the one who needs to ask your forgiveness.”

“Clara…”

She smiled at him. “You wouldn’t be Tino if you hadn’t made up your mind to do something no one else would think of doing to get inside this room.”

“How did all this start?”

“You don’t want to hear all this.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

She moved her head back and forth. “Are you sure?”

Lines hardened his features. “You know me well enough to realize I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

Perhaps that was true once. She had no way of knowing what he was like now, but, since he showed no signs of leaving her bedside, she decided to humor him.

“After I got sick, I had to leave Lia’s to come home. The doctor sent me to a specialist, who diagnosed my condition. One thing led to another and I was forced to drop out of school.”

A shadow crossed over his handsome features before he found her hand again and kissed the fingertips one by one. His touch melted her like a serving of gelato left in the hot sun. “I’m going to let you rest. Before I leave, is there anything I can do for you?”

She knew it. Now that he’d learned about her condition, he was going to start treating her like all the others. In a matter of seconds she’d gone from being his fun-loving friend to invalid. He’d never held her hand and kissed it before. She couldn’t bear it now. Not from him.

“Yes,” she said brightly, removing it. “Will you open my purse and bring me the book I brought to read? It’s on that table.”

Within seconds the task was accomplished. He glanced at the title. “I’ve heard this is good.”

“I hope so.” She took it from his hand. “Thank you.”

Before he left, taking all the excitement with him, he put on his sunglasses and tied the scarf around his head. “Think I’ll still fool the paparazzi?” He flashed her a dazzling white smile, reminding her of the French fictional character Marius who went to sea in the story from Pagnol’s Fanny.

At the time, she could see that Valentino totally related to the young man who dreamed of seeing the world. Clara, on the other hand, could totally relate to Fanny, who loved him, but knew she had to let him go in order for him to be happy. It was one of their favorite books in lit class. “But of course! Au revoir, Marius!”

Marius?

Valentino forced a grin, not having thought about that story or their involved discussions of the characters in a long time. Her humor in spite of her condition humbled him, but inside he was dying.

She looked so damned beautiful and helpless lying there, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The urge to do many things for her was so great, he needed to get out of the room in order to hold onto his sanity.

“A presto,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Once he left her room, he saw Serena and headed in her direction. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“By all means.”

“I lied to you before.”

She smiled. “I know. If I hadn’t recognized you as Valentino Casali, you would never have made it in to see Clara. The way you two were laughing in there, I knew I’d done the right thing. It’s the best medicine for her.”

He nodded. “Thank you for allowing me in. Would you do me one more favor and give me the name and number of her specialist?”

“Come over to the desk and I’ll write it down. Dr. Arno’s office is in Rome, but he’s overseeing Clara’s case.”

Once Valentino had it in hand, he thanked her again. After leaving the clinic, he quickly found the secret alleyways through the upper region of the town, not stopping until he reached the villa.

When he checked his watch, he realized Dr. Arno would be in his office for hours yet, that was if it were a normal day for him. No matter what, Valentino needed to talk to him.

The receptionist at his office in Rome answered. When Valentino explained the nature of his emergency, she said the doctor was on vacation and wouldn’t be returning for a few more days. But she’d make certain he got back to Valentino ASAP.

Wild with pain, he needed a lot of information pronto! After hanging up, he put in a call to Dr. Rimbaud, his own doctor in Monaco, asking him to phone him back. While he waited for the call, he showered and changed into chinos and a sport shirt. He was drinking some coffee when his phone rang. Valentino grabbed for it.

“Dr. Rimbaud—thanks for getting back to me so fast.”

“I thought I’d better in case you’ve been in another crash,” he kidded him.

“Not this time.”

“You sound serious, not like yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Will you tell me what you can about kidney failure?”

“Uh oh. Anyone I know?”

“No. It’s a close friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Give me a few particulars.”

Once Valentino had unloaded about Clara, the doctor told him what he could. “Those treatments take between four and five hours. Afterward she’ll be weak and need rest. Sometimes the patient suffers a sudden loss in blood pressure or gets muscle cramps. One or all of those reasons was why she’d been in a hurry to get on the bus the other day.”

“Of course.” Valentino had read all the signs wrong. She’d run from him because she wasn’t well, and because she had her pride. The Rossettis possessed that in abundance. Clara wouldn’t even let her family drive her to the clinic and back.

“Depending on her individual health, she probably needs to eat more animal protein. If necessary she might have to cut milk, cheese, salt and soft drinks. She’ll do better on the day after each dialysis treatment. That explains her ability to work at her family’s fruit stand.”

“How long can she go on like this?”

“Most patients live longer on dialysis these days, but her End Stage Renal Disorder might be more severe. Perhaps she’s been diagnosed with anemia. There could be other problems, too, like bone disease, nerve damage or high blood pressure. These are complications you’ll have to discuss with her specialist. Naturally the most desired thing would be to find a compatible donor for a transplant as soon as possible.”

He closed his eyes tightly. Dr. Arno couldn’t call him back fast enough. In the meantime, Valentino intended to be there for her in every conceivable way.

“Thank you, Dr. Rimbaud. What you’ve told me helps a lot.”

“Call me anytime.”

As soon as he hung up, he phoned for a taxi to take him to the local market. Once there he did some shopping, satisfied that the paparazzi would be looking in vain for his Ferrari. Until further notice it would stay in the garage. He would wait outside the doors to the clinic in the taxi until she emerged, then offer her a ride home.

“Signore?” the chauffeur called to him. “We’ve arrived.”

“So we have.”

He instructed him to wait in the loading zone. His pulse picked up speed when he finally saw Clara start out the clinic doors. She looked good, not as pale as she’d been last evening. He stepped out of the taxi into her path so she had to stop.

“How come you keep following me?” he baited her gently.

She lifted her beautiful head so he could see the green flecks in her eyes.

“Tino—”she cried in shock, but her eyes lit up. This was a bonus he hadn’t expected after barging in on her treatment.

“Come on. I’ve brought cold fruit juice and a chicken sandwich for you. You can eat it on the way back to the farm.”

He could tell she wanted to argue with him, but she didn’t have the kind of strength she needed for that. “Where’s the Ferrari?” she asked as he helped her into the backseat.

After he gave the driver directions, he handed her a sandwich and a drink before sitting back to answer her question. “It’s out of sight for a variety of reasons.”

“That will drive the paparazzi crazy.” She took several bites of her sandwich. “I have to admit this tastes delicious. You’re spoiling me with good food again.”

He’d bought himself a fruit drink and drained most of it. “I wonder how many hundreds of times you shared your lunch with me at school because I was too busy doing some project to stop and eat. Your mother made the best lunches in Monta Correnti.”

A trace of a smile hovered on her lips as she continued to eat. “Our family carried around the excess pounds to prove it.”

He flashed her a sweeping glance. “Not any longer.”

She avoided his gaze and drank more juice.

“Does your mother know she kept me alive with her cooking?”

“I didn’t dare tell her.”

Valentino chuckled. “You’re lucky you’ve had her in your life all these years. Do you want to know a secret?”

Clara’s head turned in his direction. She’d finished the last of her sandwich. He was thankful she’d had an appetite. “What is it?”

“I was jealous you had a mother who fussed over you every day. You and Bianca always seemed so happy. You didn’t know it, but having two parents who were alive and loved you gave you a confidence I would have given anything to feel.”

Her expression sobered. “I understand that now, but you did have Luca.”

“Yes, and he indulged me without limits.”

“That was only natural. After your mother died, he would have tried to play both roles. He loved you, Tino. I know he did. Otherwise his marriage to your mother wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I guess he wanted her badly enough to include her excess baggage.”

In a surprise gesture she covered his hand with her own and squeezed it gently. “I’m so sorry you’ve carried this pain with you all these years. I often sensed something was wrong, but you never opened up about it.”

“I couldn’t.”

Her head was bowed. “None of us is exempt from problems, but somehow we deal with them because we have no choice, right?”

He marveled at her courage. “ì.”

She let go of his hand. “We’re almost to the farm.”

Valentino told the driver to turn onto the private road where you could see the sign advertising produce at the Rossetti farm. He told him to follow it all the way in to the farmhouse and pull to a stop.

The minute the taxi slowed down, Clara had the door open. He knew better than to ask her to stay with him and talk. She was probably craving her bed.

“Thank you for the food and the ride, Tino. You saved my life today.”

Would that were possible.

“I always enjoy being with you.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Where are you going now?”

“Home to work on the Web site.”

“What did your father say about your ideas?”

“I’ve decided to wait until I have all the facts at hand, then present them in one go and see how he reacts.”

“I think you’ll be surprised how accepting he is of your ideas.”

“We’ll see. Your optimism gives me hope.”

“That’s good,” came her fervent reply.

He leaned toward her. “I’m going to come by for you in the truck after you’re off work tomorrow.”

Clara felt her pulse race. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we’d drive to Gaeta—we went there once, remember? We’ll enjoy a meal on the coast. It’s not too far. We’ll take it in stages. If you feel like sleeping on the way, you can.”

He still wanted to be with her?

“I’d love it!” she broke in. To go to the sea with him sounded divine.

His mouth broke into a satisfied smile. “I’m happy to hear it. Get a good sleep. I’ll be by about three.”

“All right. Ciao.”

Clara entered the kitchen feeling more lighthearted than she’d been in days. Who else but Valentino would have pretended to be her fiancé so he could gain access to the treatment room? She’d noticed that none of the workers at the clinic were immune to his compelling personality and looks. He’d been the talk of the place. Serena had been totally won over.

As for the taxi waiting for her, it might as well have been a golden coach whisking her away from the castle with her dashing prince while he fed her on the way. Because of his kindness, her body didn’t get a chance to feel depleted as it did when she had to walk down to the piazza and then wait for the bus.

She’d been utterly shocked to see him outside the doors. And grateful…He could have no idea how wonderful it was to just get in the car and be waited on as if she were a princess.

Though he’d told her earlier that he had no interest in knowing the identity of the man who’d had an affair with his mother, Clara couldn’t help but think his birthfather must have been an extraordinary person with exceptional looks and drive. Otherwise Valentino wouldn’t have turned out to be such a brilliant entrepreneur and heartthrob.

“What’s the great Valentino Casali doing bringing you home in a taxi?” Silvio had just walked in the kitchen. He wasn’t usually home this early.

“He was thoughtful enough to give me a lift from town.”

Her brother grimaced. “Did he think that by not bringing you in the Ferrari, the family wouldn’t notice?”

“Why would he be concerned about that?” she asked, attempting to control her temper without much success. “If he didn’t choose to drive it, it was probably because he was tired of the paparazzi following him every second of his life.”

“Why do you let him do it?” he demanded. “Don’t you get it?”

“You can stop worrying. It hardly smacks of the kind of attention you’re talking about. I’m a dying woman.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” he cried.

“But I am dying, Silvio. You have to face it. We’re all going to die some time. I just happen to know that without a new kidney, it will happen to me sooner than later.”

“How can you talk that way?”

“How can I not? You’ve got to stop being angry about it. As things get worse, Mamma and Papa are going to need your strength, not your rage.”

His eyes grew moist. “You’ve been so brave. If the almighty Casali had any idea what you’re dealing with now—”

“Actually he does. In fact he sat with me in the clinic today while I was getting my treatment.”

“I don’t believe it,” his voice shook. “You told him you have ESRD?”

“No. We met in town before my appointment. After I said goodbye to him, he followed me to the clinic and pretended to be…a relative.” She caught herself in time. “He did that so he could get in to see me. At the end of the treatment he brought me home so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. He even brought food and drinks because he knew I needed it after dialysis.”

Silvio looked dumbfounded.

“Please let’s not argue over him. He’s been nothing but kind to me and now I’m tired.” She felt his eyes on her as she left the kitchen to go upstairs. All she wanted to do was go to bed and dream about tomorrow when he came for her.

One more outing, then she’d tell him that, as much as she enjoyed his company, her illness was slowly draining her to the point that any social life had to end. She was hurtling through space toward a black void from which there could be no return. Where she was going, he couldn’t go.

She knew Valentino well enough to know his compassion for her condition would prompt him to continue making himself available to her. She also knew herself well enough to know she would cling more and more to him because he was life to her.

Clara couldn’t think of a worse scenario for a man whose freedom meant everything to him.

On the way back to town, Valentino had to admit it was getting more difficult to drive away after they’d been together. When he thought about it, he’d never liked parting company with Clara. Until he heard from the doctor, he was going to be on tenterhooks.

In the meantime he needed to keep so busy he wouldn’t be able to think. But he soon discovered that work was no panacea for his heartache. Nothing could take it away. It went so deep, he couldn’t find solace.

Every time he thought about her pain and what she was facing, he was pierced to the quick. His agony drove him to get in his car. He started driving through the countryside with no destination in mind. While he was en route, the wildflowers seemed to flaunt their fragrance in the night air as if to impress upon him the delights Clara might not be able to enjoy much longer.

Crazed by the thought that a life as sweet and innocent as hers could be coming to an end, he found himself headed for the church. Eventually he pulled up in front of the rectory. It was after nine p.m. when he levered himself from the car and was made instantly aware of the sound of crickets chirping. Tonight all his senses had come alive to nature, sending bittersweet pains through his body.

He took the steep steps two at a time to gain the porch, not hesitating to tug on the bell pull. In a few minutes, a much younger priest he didn’t recognize opened the door.

“Yes?”

“I’m here on an emergency to see Father Orsini. Is he still awake?”

“I believe so.”

“Will you tell him it’s Valentino Casali? If he can see me, tell him I’ll be out here waiting for him.”

The other man studied him for a brief moment. “Bene,” he said before shutting the door.

Unable to remain still, Valentino walked to the wrought-iron railing and looked out over Monta Correnti. The lights of the town with its red-tiled roofs and centuries-old palazzos spilled over the undulating hills, creating a fairyland illusion. In the distance, the Rossetti farm made up part of the magical landscape.

Would that what he’d learned at the clinic today were just a bad dream from which he’d awaken at any moment.

“Valentino?” came a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess ten years’ worth of sins?” He’d asked the question in a joking manner, but the ring of hope lingered in the night air.

Consumed by a guilt so deep he’d never been able to talk about it, he turned to face the grayhaired priest who’d grown much more frail over the last decade. “Not tonight, Father. Otherwise you would never get to bed,” he teased. Their easy relationship stretched back to Valentino’s childhood.

Father Orsini chuckled. The years hadn’t deprived him of a sense of humor, for which Valentino was thankful. “It’s good to see you.”

“Then you’ll understand how pleased I was when Father Bruno told me Monta Correnti’s most legendary figure was outside waiting for me.”

“Let’s not play games, Father. A legendary figure should at least connote someone worthy.” He shifted his weight. “Forgive me for calling on you so late, but this couldn’t wait.”

“Evidently not. Let me put it another way. What’s troubling Luca Casali’s most famous son?”

“Famous for what?” Valentino muttered in self-abnegation. “Certainly nothing that matters.” When the priest blinked in astonishment, Valentino added, “Did Luca or my mother ever take the opportunity to tell you I’m not his birth son?”

“What is this?” Father Orsini cried out aghast.

“I don’t blame you for being bewildered. Forget I asked.”

“My son—”

“It’s all right, Father. If you did know, you couldn’t reveal it anyway. He and Mamma told me the truth years ago. It was a good idea at the time considering I don’t look or behave anything like Isabella or Cristiano.”

“Do your siblings know?”

“You mean that my infamous qualities can be laid at my biological father’s feet?” he mocked. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. What I’m hoping is that you’ll be able to help me over another matter. It’s of life and death importance.”

The priest cleared his throat. “If I can, but that places a great burden on me.”

Valentino squinted at him. “I knew you’d say that, but I have nowhere else to turn.” He stared at the priest. “What do you know about Clara Rossetti?”

In the quiet that followed, a sadness entered Father Orsini’s eyes and he pursed his lips, giving Valentino the answer. Fresh pain arced through him as surely as if he’d crashed on the track and the paramedics couldn’t separate his body from the wreckage.

The compassionate priest put a hand on Valentino’s shoulder. “She doesn’t want to die and is fighting this with everything she has in her.”

Valentino’s body trembled. “I know. I’ve been with her every day since I came home. She’s so courageous, I’m in awe of her.”

“You two were very close growing up.”

A sob got trapped in his throat. “Very. I don’t want her to die, Father.”

“Of course you don’t. After being away such a long time, this news must have come as a great shock.”

Shock hardly covered it. Shame for his narcissistic lifestyle had seeped into his soul. Up to now Valentino had lived only for his own pleasures. He’d avoided marriage and children in order to pursue new adventures without suffering any more guilt than he already dragged around.

In the process he’d pretty well abandoned his family, not to mention Clara. Valentino wasn’t only selfish, he was a coward unwilling to face certain unpalatable truths. After his aunt Lisa had leaked the latest family secret, his first instinct had been to run away and stay in denial. That had been his pattern over the years.

That was the mortifying part. After spending time with him during their growing-up years, Clara had become so well acquainted with his self-focused obsessions, she’d written him off when he’d left in his late teens. And why not?

What had he ever done for her?

His hands curled into fists.

Nothing! Not a damn thing!

It strained his credulity that she’d given him the time of day since he’d been back. While he’d been off in his superficial world, angry at life while he tried to break barriers and set new bars, she had been battling for her life!

Somewhere in his psyche Valentino had known there’d be a price to pay for always running away, for always taking without giving anything back. He just hadn’t expected it to come now, in this particular form. Clara, more than any other human being, had shown him unqualified friendship, but he hadn’t realized or understood until it was too late.

“I can see you’re in pain, my son.”

“I want to help her, but I don’t know where to begin.”

“She could use a good friend.”

Something he hadn’t been.

“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”

Valentino shook his head. “No, grazier.” He had quite enough on his plate and had said more than he should already. Calling on the priest this late at night constituted a special act of selfishness all its own, the kind for which Valentino was famous.

Luca’s “famous” son who really wasn’t his son. The negative connotation fit.

“I’ve intruded on your time long enough. Thank you for seeing me, Father. Buona notte.” He started down the stairs.

“Don’t be such a stranger!” the old priest called after him.

Valentino deserved that particular distinction, too. A stranger was one who was neither a friend nor an acquaintance. Those who knew his name would say that pretty well summed up his existence.

He waved to the priest from the lowered window of the car before he headed back to the villa. His black thoughts drove him to the kitchen where he made a pot of strong coffee. On an empty stomach the caffeine was guaranteed to keep him wired for the rest of the night. He did his best thinking when he prowled around in the dark.

The priest’s words wouldn’t leave him alone. She could use a good friend.

That meant making a commitment you didn’t break.

For the rest of the night Valentino searched his soul. By the time morning came eight hours later, he’d determined Clara Rossetti would discover how good a friend he could be, even if she didn’t believe it right now.

CHAPTER FIVE

“VALENTINO has come for me, Mamma. We’re driving to Gaeta. Just so you know, I’ve come to a decision. After today, I won’t be seeing him anymore. He knows I’m dying, and he’ll respect my wishes.”

Her mother let out a heavy sigh and stopped stirring the sauce she was cooking. “I’m glad to hear it, for his sake as well as yours. And I’ll tell you something else. You’re not going to die if I can help it! The doctor has assured me they’re doing everything to find the right donor for you. God hears me beg for your life every minute of the day and night.”

Clara lowered her head, humbled by her mother’s love. The doctor had told them they needed a miracle, but she knew that even if a kidney became available from a non-relative, there was always the possibility her body would reject it.

“See you later, Mamma.” She hugged her mother, then hurried outside to the old truck. Valentino got out of the cab wearing the same straw hat. When she drew closer, he flashed her a broad smile.

“Buon giorno, piccola.” He was hiding something behind his back.

“What have you got there?”

“You need a disguise, too,” he said before putting a matching hat on her head. “You look very fetching with it perched at that angle. From a distance we’ll look like an old farming couple taking a break after a busy morning.”

She loved it! They left the farm and headed in the direction of the coast. The truck made for slow going, but she felt very much at home in it. The Rossettis didn’t drive anything but trucks.

They ate some plums he brought and made desultory conversation while they drove through the enchanting countryside. Clara felt so carefree and relaxed that in time she found her eyelids drooping and fought to stay awake.

Nestling against the door, she closed her eyes, telling herself it would only be for a moment. The next time she became aware of her surroundings, she was cognizant of two things: the tangy smell of the Mediterranean and the feel of Valentino’s hard-muscled arm against her cheek and shoulder. He’d always smelled so good. It had to be from the soap he used in the shower.

“Oh—I’m sorry—” She sat up horribly embarrassed that she’d been asleep for an hour with her arm against him. Her hat was askew. How was it she’d ended up pressed to the side of his fit body instead of the door? Looking straight ahead, she glimpsed the Gulf of Gaeta spread out before her like a sparkling blue jewel in the sunlight.

Valentino had removed his sunglasses and cast her a sideward glance. “Why apologize? You needed your sleep. I’m hungry and presume you are, too.”

“I am.” Food had never sounded so good to her before.

“After we eat, we’ll take a walk on the beach if it’s warm enough for you and you’re up to it.”

Mentally she was up for everything he suggested, but her body had other ideas. Still she wouldn’t think negative thoughts right now, not when this would be her last outing with him. Certainly not when they were passing through hills of rich green vegetation where she spied a fabulous pink hotel surrounded by palm trees and a fabulous garden. “I remember that place from before! Didn’t you tell me it was once a monastery?”

“You have an excellent memory. It’s the Villa Irlanda. I thought we’d eat by the pool where there’s a view of the coast. I was in too big a hurry to stop here last time. It’s an oversight I intend to correct now. When I look back on my life, I think I was always in a hurry, but no longer.”

Valentino waited in the hotel lounge for Clara, who went into the ladies’ room. When she came out again a few minutes later, he escorted her to the pool where they settled on loungers to soak up some sun. They had the place to themselves. He signaled one of the waiters, who came right over.

After greeting them, he named half a dozen entrees on the menu. “But may I suggest that the oven-roasted abbacchio with rosemary, white wine and peppers would be a superb choice. You couldn’t go wrong with a side dish of carciofi alla romana.”

“What do you think, Clara?” In the late afternoon sun her eyes glowed an impossibly iridescent green. Fringed by her long black lashes, their color mesmerized him.

“I love lamb. As for artichokes, I’ve never had them stuffed with mint. It all sounds delicious.”

“I think so, too.” He placed their order, asking that it be served with his favorite pinot noir. When the waiter walked away, Valentino turned to her. She was a totally feminine creature, one of the few who could wear a blouse with a ruffle like that. “Can you drink wine?”

“In moderation. I have to stay away from sodas.”

Valentino thought she looked a little pale. No doubt her work at the fruit stand had drained her. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Good.”

“Still, I can tell something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

She let out a small laugh. “Apparently I’m not able to hide anything from you. To be honest, the air’s not as warm here as it was at the farm.”

“If you’re chilly, that’s an easy fix.” Valentino was relieved the temperature had turned out to be the culprit for the moment. “Come with me.” He helped her to her feet and they walked back inside the hotel to the front desk.

When he told the concierge he wanted a room with a view of the sea, he could see Clara shake her head no, but he pretended not to notice. After making arrangements for dinner to be brought to their room, he escorted her upstairs to a suite with a sweeping vista of the grounds and coastline. It was definitely warmer inside.

“Tino—” She laughed as he moved the table and chairs in the corner of the room to the center of the window.

“I want a view while we eat,” he declared. “In the meantime, you can lie down until our dinner comes.”

“Have you forgotten I slept in the truck?” Ignoring the suggestion, she sat down on one of the chairs. “Why didn’t we just eat in the restaurant?”

He could tell something was bothering her. “Because I wanted you to feel totally comfortable.”

“That’s very considerate, but are you sure you weren’t afraid the paparazzi would sneak in and take pictures of us that will make tonight’s ten o’clock news?”

He took a fortifying breath while he tried to understand her sudden burst of heated emotion. “For once the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“I don’t think Giselle Artois would be happy about it.”

Ah. Giselle…Valentino frowned. “She’s engaged to her long-time British lover.”

Her eyes widened. “But on the news it sa—”

“Forget the news,” he cut her off. “They say and print whatever they feel like, but it has nothing to do with the truth. In all honesty there’s something I have to say to you and I wanted it to be in private. The restaurant wouldn’t have afforded us a moment to ourselves.”

To his dismay she paled a little more. It wasn’t his imagination that she was all tensed up.

“Tino? Can I speak frankly?”

“Always.”

“You said you need to talk me, but there’s no point in going to these elaborate lengths in order for us to be alone.” More of that hidden temper of hers was showing.

“What are you getting at, piccola?”

She plucked at her napkin. “Since you came back to Monta Correnti, don’t think I haven’t appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now it has to stop.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Where’s all this coming from?”

Before he knew it, she’d jumped to her feet. “Over the last few days you’ve more than made up for the nine years of silence, and I’ll never forget your kindness. But we’re going in different directions and I’m not unaware you have personal commitments and a business to run. Entertaining me wasn’t your plan when you came here.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. He’d never seen her this wound up in his life. Normally unflappable Clara had just delivered the longest impassioned speech she’d ever made, revealing another unexpected side to her nature.

“I’ll get it.”

One of the staff from the kitchen wheeled in a tea cart with their meal. Valentino gave him a tip, then shut the door and pushed it across the room to the table. With her beautiful body still taut, she held onto the back of one of the chairs while she stared out the window.

Intrigued by her behavior, he put everything on the table and invited her to sit down. “We need to eat our food while it’s hot. I wanted this to be special for you. Earlier you admitted you were hungry.”

The reminder eventually forced her to comply. Gratified to see her food start to disappear, he poured them some wine and picked up his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass as if she were barely holding onto her control and would like to crush it. After a minute she lifted the glass. “Let me go first.”

“By all means,” he murmured.

“To our old friendship.”

He’d seen that one coming. After he touched her glass, they both drank.

“Now it’s my turn.” Trapping her gaze, he said, “To our new one.”

The second the words were out, she looked down without drinking. He swallowed the rest of his wine while he waited for her to absorb what he’d just told her.

She pushed her glass away. “We can’t have a new one. I’d like to go home now, Tino.”

“Not until you’ve heard me out.”

Her head reared back. Green sparks flew from her eyes. “I’m not trying to be intentionally rude, but I don’t want to listen to anything else.”

“Not even if this is vitally important to both of us?” When she didn’t immediately shut him down he said, “Last night I went to see Father Orsini, but there was one thing I couldn’t bring myself to confess to him.”

He saw the shiver that ran through her body. “If you’re thinking of telling me what you couldn’t tell him because I’m dying, please don’t. I’m not a priest.”

His chuckle permeated to her insides. “No, you’re not, grazie a Dio. But you are the woman I want to marry as soon as possible.”

After a long silence, he heard hurtful laughter come out of her. “Me—marry you—” she mocked in a brittle tone.

“Yes.”

“It sounds like you’ve come to the rock bottom of your many excellent adventures. I thought you were the one person who wasn’t like everyone else, but I was wrong.”

Like the lash of a whip, he felt her salvo. “That’s the first unkind remark you’ve ever made to me.”

“Maybe it’s because even a dying farm girl doesn’t relish the idea of being the object of Valentino Casali’s pity.”

She got up from the table hot-faced and made a dignified exit from the room. He hurried down to the front desk to pay the bill, then raced after her. When he crossed the parking south of the hotel he found her waiting for him in the cab of the truck with her hat on.

They started back to Monta Correnti. He noticed she stayed close to the door so neither their arms or legs would brush by accident. “Pity comes in many forms, piccola,” he began. “It depends on the point of view. I’m counting on yours to save me from myself.”

Clara didn’t want to listen. Valentino had a way of twisting words and meanings until he threw her into a state of confusion. Maybe she was having some strange, distorted dream where the impossible was happening and everything was out of her control.

“Before you consign me to my rightful place, which is a great deal lower than the angels, you need to know I called my doctor in Monaco. Among the things we talked about, he said I can be trained to help you do dialysis at home so you don’t have to go to the clinic. They have these new machines so you can even travel with them and carry on your activities.”

She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful, but not at Valentino’s expense.

“Your mother can show me what kind of meals to make for you. I’m a good cook. I’ve had to be. The villa has a view of the town and valley from every window. Your family can visit all the time. You can visit them and still run the fruit stand if you want.

“While we’re waiting for a kidney, we’ll do everything together like we did when we were at school. We’ll have fun. When was the last time you had fun? I know I haven’t had any. I have to reach back to those years with you to remember what it was like to enjoy a carefree day. Marry me and make me respectable. I need you so much more than you need me.”

Oh, Tino. The issues with his father had robbed him of so much confidence. She’d never dreamed they were this serious.

“Allow me to take care of you, piccola. Now that I’ve come home, I can’t be around my family, my aunt and cousins, without your help. Since you talked to me about my father yesterday, you’ve made me realize I have to try harder.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What about the woman in your life? I’m not talking about Giselle now.”

“What woman?”

“Don’t tease about this, Tino. It’s too important.”

“I agree. I guess it’s confession time. There have been other women, but not as many as you have imagined. Even the few I had a relationship with didn’t inspire me to get married. I suppose I didn’t feel I could count on them for the long haul. If I’d wanted to make a lifelong commitment with one of them, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Even so—”

“Even so nothing! What about the men in your life? Don’t tell me there haven’t been any because I wouldn’t believe you.”

“No. I won’t tell you that, but my illness has changed everything.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

She sucked in her breath, trying to keep her wits about her. “Of course there is! You can’t just give up your racing and let your team down.”

“You haven’t been listening to me. Though I haven’t officially announced it yet, it’s over.”

“Since when?”

“It’s been over in my mind for quite a while. Isabella has been after me to come home, but it wasn’t until I knew I wanted to marry you that the issue was finally settled for me. Our marriage needs to take place right away so we don’t lose any more time. Something quiet and private that won’t wear you out.”

What he was saying had shaken her to the foundations.

“When we get back to the farm, I want to tell your family so we can make plans right away. The one thing they won’t be able to say is that we haven’t known each other long enough. From the age of seven to eighteen, I probably saw or spent time with you every day of your life, whether at school or church.”

Clara stirred restlessly on the seat, trying to get her bearings. “That’s true, but they’re going to ask about all the years since then.”

A smile hovered around his male mouth. “Surely your parents read about mine or watched it on TV. My last nine years have been lived in a fish bowl. The public seems to know more about my life than I do, but the one thing no one knows except you is my pain. It’s time for the pain to end for both of us. Don’t you agree?”

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