Marriage Made In Monte Calanetti. Susan Meier

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      He crossed the street and walked up to her as she stood staring at the water that rose then fell almost like a melody.

      “Hey.”

      She turned as if he’d startled her. “Hey.”

      Her knit cap had been pulled low to protect her from the cold, calling attention to her round brown eyes. The long hair beneath the cap curled around her shoulders.

      His heart stuttered. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman as beautiful.

      “Here to make a wish?”

      Her lips turned down in self-deprecation. “Sounds silly.”

      He rifled in his pocket for a coin. “Or maybe good?”

      “I’m not wishing for you.”

      He laughed. “That’s my Lily. Get right to the point.”

      “Would you rather I was dishonest?”

      He’d rather she was in his bed. Warm. Naked. Laughing. But he didn’t know if sleeping together would bring them closer or drive them further apart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hating her anymore either.

      So maybe it was better to let them be friends. He presented the coin to her. “Whatever your wish, I hope it comes true.”

      She took the coin and tossed it with a laugh. “Maybe I should wish for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      “Oh, now you can’t tell a man that, toss a coin and expect me to walk away. Especially since I know the legend.”

      Studying his silly expression and not sure if he was teasing, Lily said, “That wishes in this fountain come true?”

      “That the wishes of people who can get their coin in the clam shell come true.” He smiled and pointed. “You made it.”

      She laughed and her soul lifted. It was the first time the man in Mic’s body behaved like the Mic she remembered.

      “So what are you doing at a fountain on a cold morning?”

      “Same thing you are.”

      She smiled. “Walls of your house closing in on you?”

      “Tired of sitting on my mattress, watching reruns of televisions shows on my tablet. When my aunt and uncle asked me to condo-sit, they neglected to tell me that the place was empty.”

      She laughed.

      His smile faded. “We really blew it, didn’t we?”

      She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The sadness in his voice told the story.

      “Not really.” She caught the gaze of his beautiful blue eyes, took in the short hair that was growing on her, and smiled. “Mic, we were kids. Neither one of us had the ability to make enough money. And you became the man you wanted to be. The success. That’s not blowing it.”

      “So what did you do after I left?” He glanced away then looked back at her, his eyes searching hers. “My God, Lily, if you didn’t think the two of us together could support us, how did you do it alone?”

      She licked her suddenly dry lips. The longing to be honest warred with her hatred of sympathy. In the end, honesty won. “I lost our apartment.”

      He cursed.

      “Melony and I lived on the street for a week before Signor Bartolini found us one night.”

      He ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”

      “It wasn’t terrible. He needed a maid and as a household servant, I got living quarters.”

      She could see from his expression that he disapproved. Her chin lifted. “Many good people start out as maids.”

      His gaze snapped to hers. “I’m not criticizing your choice. I’m sad that you’d rather starve than depend on me.”

      “Oh, yeah. And how well were you faring in France, on the pittance a first-time apprentice makes?”

      “I was fine.”

      Pride forced her chin up even higher. “We were fine too. And when he died, Signor Bartolini left me enough money for Melony’s education, and my condo. I did as well for myself as I could.”

      Unable to stand the sympathy in his eyes, she turned and walked away.

      “Lily!”

      Her walk became a run. How dare he insinuate that she had somehow failed?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      Having chased after her, Mic entered the building housing her condo. As he’d hoped, her last name was on one of the mail slots, but when he rang to be let up, no one answered.

      The next day at work, she couldn’t run from him. Or so he thought. Every time he tried to get a minute with her, privately, to apologize, to finish talking this out, she had an immediate need to be away from him.

      He cursed.

      Rafe sighed heavily. “In my kitchen, only I curse.”

      “Apologies, Chef Rafe.”

      “Accepted,” Rafe said, casually, knowing it was his due.

      Mic would have laughed, except his stomach was in knots.

      “You and Lily,” Rafe said as he raised the lid on a pot of marinara. “I forgot you had a past when I invited you to work with us. You both are tense.”

      “This time it’s my fault. Yesterday, we met at the fountain. I made her feel bad.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t my intention. Everything between us just keeps getting confused.”

      “You should have resolved your problems eight years ago.”

      He looked up at Rafe. “I thought we had.”

      “You don’t resolve anything by leaving.”

      He knew that now. With eight years of life experience under his belt, things were all very, very clear. It was the present he couldn’t fix. “So much has happened in both of our lives that now we’re like strangers.”

      “You aren’t like strangers. You are strangers.” Rafe took a long sniff of the marinara, pronounced it good with a nod and looked at Mic again. “She’s a good woman. A strong woman. Not a woman prone to silliness. When she wouldn’t marry you eight years ago, she had a good reason. So maybe it’s better you let her СКАЧАТЬ