Gaining Visibility. Pamela Hearon

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СКАЧАТЬ beach.” Not a great plan, but the best she could come up with since she’d already paid a deposit.

      “That will not be enjoyable. Monterosso, she is very small. Two days, you wish you were not there.”

      “You have a better idea?”

      “You stay here. Much to do in Lerici. Monterosso, not so much.”

      She knew he was right. From what she’d read, Monterosso was tiny, and lying on the beach for ten days wasn’t her idea of the dream vacation. “But I have reservations, and they’ll charge me if I cancel at this late date.”

      Vitale’s bottom lip protruded in a sensuous pout, heavy eyebrows drawn together. He pinned her with that brooding stare she’d encountered at their first meeting. “You have the number for the telephone?”

      The small journal lay on her nightstand. She pointed to it, and he handed it to her. She flipped to the page with the hotel information.

      “I cancel the reservation for you. I do not let them make you pay.”

      Julia’s stomach did a quick tap dance. She’d never had a man take charge of things for her. Frank was more of a sit-back-and-lether-do-it type, and that included everything from paying the bills to making love. But Vitale was waiting for an answer. If he could get her out of the reservation in Monterosso, maybe she could go on to Florence or Pisa or Genoa. Or maybe she would stay here in Lerici for a few more days. “Okay. If you think you can.”

      Vitale rested the receiver under his chin as he held the book with one hand and punched the numbers with the other. He started talking as soon as someone answered on the other end. His tone wasn’t angry, just no-nonsense. It wasn’t long before he turned to her. “What is your name?”

      “Julia.”

      He nodded. “Julietta what?”

      Julietta? She started to correct him, but it sounded so nice the way the word rolled off his tongue. “Um, Berkwith.”

      “Che?”

      She didn’t know the word, but she caught the meaning from the question in his eyes. “Berkwith. B-e-r-k-w-i-t-h.”

      He held out the journal and a pen, and she wrote it down for him.

      A pat on her leg surprised her. Doctor Old-But-Still-Interested had finished taping up her toe, and she hadn’t even felt it, she was so caught up in Vitale’s conversation. Or in the man, if she dared admit that.

      She reached for her purse, but the doctor waved it away and said something she didn’t understand. In her head she translated it as, “No, no. You are such a ripe and luscious woman, it was my pleasure to tape your toe merely to have the opportunity to fondle your shapely legs.”

      Vitale’s voice vacillated between stern and forceful to mellow and cajoling, and if hand gestures meant the same as in the States, he told the person on the other end to let his fingers do the walking through a tornado. Twice.

      The doctor pointed to her and to the single crutch he’d brought with him. She made a couple of laps around the tiny room to satisfy him. The crutch bore the bulk of the weight on that foot, but she could still touch it down, so she didn’t lose her balance. This was going to be okay. She should be able to do plenty of sightseeing, and the whole vacation wasn’t going to be a bust after all.

      “Grazie, grazie mille.” She shook the doctor’s hand warmly.

      “Prego.” He patted her hand and responded with something that probably meant, “When you decide you want to bed that Italian Hettie talked about, give me a call.”

      At least she wasn’t invisible to him, though, and for that she was grateful. She wasn’t invisible to Vitale either, but it wasn’t lost on her that Vitale was taking care of her the same way she took care of Hettie.

      The congenial doctor said his “Arrivederci” and headed out as the hotel manager flitted in again, bringing two more ice cubes for her toe. Ice must be a precious commodity, and she gave them a once-over to see if they were being recycled from left-over drinks from the bar. The faint telltale lemon scent had her worried.

      “Mr. Moretti.” She wanted to catch him before he made another round to the bar. “I’d like to stay here a few more days. Would it be possible to keep this room? Or I can move to another if this one is booked?”

      He looked at her like she’d asked for the impossible—like more ice. “Aaiee, signora, the room, she is reserved. All the rooms, they are reserved for two week.”

      “All of them? You have no rooms available?”

      “No, signora. The tour arrive tomorrow.”

      “Tour?”

      “Sì. The tour come each July.”

      “So, I can’t stay here.” That would put Monterosso back in the plans. Oh crap! “Vitale!”

      But he was already hanging up the phone, and the smug smile on his face said it all. “You have no reservation, Julietta, and you pay no money.”

      “Well, you got that right.” She inwardly cringed when his smile broadened. Gotta quit using sarcasm around this guy. No way was she going to ask him to call and try to get the reservation again. She tossed the crutch on the bed and plopped down beside it.

      “Julietta, you are not happy?” Vitale moved over in front of her, looking down at her with soulful eyes. Damn gorgeous soulful eyes.

      This guy could never lie and get away with it. He gave everything away with his face. She thought briefly of Frank’s poker face but shoved it out of her mind.

      “Vitale, I appreciate everything you’ve done. Really.” She leaned her weight against one arm and ran the other hand through the hair at the top of her head. “But Mr. Moretti says I can’t stay here, and we just canceled my reservation in Monterosso, and my toe is broken so I can’t hike the Cinque Terre, so I’m thinking I need to cut my losses and go on to Pisa or someplace where I can work.”

      Vitale swung his gaze around to Mr. Moretti, and Julia watched it harden.

      “Is this true?” he demanded.

      “Sì, Vitale.”

      And then came a flurry of words such as she’d never heard before. She wouldn’t call it an exchange—one didn’t wait for the other to finish. Instead, they talked at the same time, spoke over each other, gestured wildly. Faces reddened, voices rose, and Julia watched . . . fascinated.

      It ended when Mr. Moretti stormed out of the room, still talking.

      She stood up and limped awkwardly toward Vitale with no idea who had won . . . but he didn’t look happy. She reached out to pat his arm in a friendly gesture, but he caught her hand, and she caught her breath.

      “No rooms.” He squeezed her hand gently, and she had to force herself to quit watching his mouth and listen to his words. “But I find you the place to stay.”

      “No, you don’t need to do that.” She jerked her hand away, feeling silly at the excitement his touch roused in her. “I know СКАЧАТЬ