An American Girl in Italy: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance. Aubrie Dionne

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      Chapter One

       Paying the Price

      You may now turn on all electronic devices echoed through the intercom of the Boeing 747 as music to Carly’s ears. After nine and a half hours of practicing her oboe fingerings on her pencil to the beat of Bertha Payne’s snoring, she was ready to tear through the metal hull of the plane with her fingernails.

      Carly turned on her phone and waited for her e-mails to load. As much as she loved her bff, Melody Mires, their friendship had taken a back seat to Melody’s grand love affair with the conductor. Four seats up, Melody had glued her head to Wolf’s shoulder. Carly and Melody had practically owned two seats at the bar of the Neighborhood Grill, which they’d frequented every night after rehearsal. Then Wolf showed up and bam! Girls’ nights out ended for life. That left Carly with sweet, little old Bertha.

      Her inbox flashed before her eyes in a horror show. Two hundred and seven e-mails. She couldn’t remember the last time her phone had been shut off for so long.

      Scrolling down, she hoped she hadn’t missed anything too important. A few gig requests for last-minute summer weddings, three oboe students wishing her good luck on her Italian tour, and a whole ton of e-mails about her contemporary music group, Women Reeds. Although nothing was pressing, she’d had to pass on two concerts with other orchestras, three days of teaching, and a few wedding gigs.

      Her best bet was to get through this tour and get back to the States as soon as possible so no one thought of her missing in action and started hiring her rivals.

      Her finger stopped on a message from Dino Daywood, the DJ contractor who got her the swankiest gigs. Last-minute performance request at the Hyatt Harborside. Tomorrow at noon. Show up and play Pachelbel’s Canon. Twice union wages.

      Dammit! Hadn’t she told him she’d be stranded in the Italian countryside for two weeks?

      Wolf stood up from his seat beside Melody and cleared his throat. ‘Attention all Easthampton Civic Symphony members. Welcome to Italy.’ His thick German accent commanded their attention.

      He smiled and straightened his broad shoulders, looking like a Roman gladiator. As much as Carly missed her friend, Melody really had scored big time. ‘Our tour guide will be meeting us right outside the gate. His name is Michelangelo Ricci, a native from Tuscany and—get this—his family owns a vineyard. He’s the best tour guide around and has been conducting tours since he was a young boy.’

      As Carly squirmed in her seat, Wolf gestured to the orchestra’s biggest donor and the board of directors. ‘Ms. Maxhammer handpicked him after a series of rigorous interviews. Michelangelo knows his way around and will be with us every step of the way.’ Wolf waved his hand over to the front of the plane, where people had already started pulling down their bags in first class. ‘Play well and I hope you and your families enjoy the tour.’

      Carly glanced at Bertha. By the time she woke up, they’d be the last ones off the plane. She needed to get to a quiet place and call Dino back. He wouldn’t be happy, but he’d be even less happy if she didn’t give him enough time to find someone else.

      Carly’s neck burned with frustration. Twice union wages, and a contact with the Hyatt Harborside. She’d been dreaming of playing there ever since she saw it glisten from across the Back Bay. Enjoy your trip, my ass.

      She nudged the old violinist. ‘Bertha, it’s time to wake up.’

      Al chuckled from the seat behind them as he picked up his trombone. He insisted his instrument have its own ticket, whereas Carly’s oboe fitted in the overhead. ‘There’s only one way to wake her up.’

      He unzipped his case and brought out his mouthpiece.

      Carly shook her head. ‘You’re not going to—’

      Before she could finish, Al buzzed the mouthpiece down by Bertha’s ear.

      Carly winced as Bertha’s eyes flickered open. She smacked her dentures together and gazed up at Carly. ‘We’re there already?’

      Al winked as he passed them down the aisle. ‘You can thank me later.’

      Carly gave him a dirty look. In his dreams. Melody may have made a lucky match in the orchestra, but Carly didn’t mix business with pleasure. Her life was one hundred percent business and she endeavored to keep it that way.

      It took forever to help Bertha with her violin and baggage. Only then did she have the luxury of whipping out her phone. Cringing, she dialed Dino’s number and punched in his extension.

      The other orchestra members gathered around the glass windows at the front of the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. A man with curly dark hair wearing a white cotton shirt waved them over. His back was turned, so she couldn’t make out his face, but she bet it was chubby and dark with a long, oily mustache like the guy on her pasta label. Oh great, that must be the Italian guide.

      ‘Dirty Dancing DJs, Dino speaking.’ He sounded like he was in the other room, not four thousand miles away.

       Maybe a little distance, in this case, is good.

      ‘Hey, Dino. It’s Carly.’

      ‘Hey babe, what’s happening? Did you get the good news?’

      The orchestra started to leave through the double doors. Melody waved to her, but Carly waved her back. ‘That’s what I’m calling about. I’m in Italy for the next two weeks. I left you a message—’

      ‘Italy? Damn, girl. How am I supposed to book you over there?’

      ‘One of my orchestras is on tour, and I had to go to keep my full-time status. I’m sorry. I thought you got the message.’

      He sighed, sounding more annoyed than sad. ‘Well, I guess I have to find someone else.’

      Someone else. Those two words cut to her gut like reed sharpeners. In the gig business, if you refused, you got bumped to the bottom of the list. Dirty Dancing DJs was like the music mafia. It controlled every event center from the coast to western Massachusetts. She could already hear his fingers clicking over the keyboard for more numbers.

      Someone tugged on her sleeve and she yanked her arm back. Melody has some guts coming to СКАЧАТЬ