“Someone was encouraging, controlling these young people.”
“The police need to know that, too.”
There was no way round it now. Resigned, she said, “I’ll tell them in the morning. Where should I go? The local Carabinieri office?”
“Yes. Or I can phone them for you and get someone who speaks English to come here to see you.”
She smiled. “Can you really do that?”
His eyes smiled into hers. “I can do anything.”
Her breath caught again. Was he flirting with her? Suddenly she remembered her hand in his, burning into her leg. She laughed unsteadily. “I know you can,” she said with feeling. At which point the barmaid brought the coffee, and he said something teasing to her, too, and Via realized that, of course, it was just his manner and the fact he felt sorry for her.
To cover her embarrassment, she drew her hand free and rummaged inside her bag for her worn and much-scribbled-on map of Pisa. Spreading it out on the table between them, she reached for the strong espresso and took a sip, sighing in thoughtless appreciation.
“You like Italian coffee? I should have asked you before ordering.”
“I love Italian coffee,” she assured him. “Can you show me on this map where we are? This hotel?”
“Sure.” He bent over it, dragging a pen from his back pocket and stabbing it immediately on a marked road near the river. “Just here.” He carefully made a cross between the scribbles that made sense only to her. “And in case the Carabinieri don’t come to you, their office is here .”
Via, who hadn’t been looking at the map at all but at his fascinating face, was caught suddenly by his intense, dark gaze when he glanced up at her and found her staring. His eyebrow twitched.
“What?” he asked, smiling.
“Nothing.” Via flushed. “I…I have a problem with directions. That’s why I don’t drive. And another reason I don’t really want to face the police—I’d never be able to explain where it happened and…”
“Hey, Giancarlo!” someone called across the room—a young man hurrying toward the door, grinning and waving to them. “ Ciao !”
“ Ciao , Enrico,” Giancarlo returned. Via didn’t know whether she felt more relief or annoyance at the loss of his attention. She was too tired and confused. She wanted him to touch her, yet she was so afraid he would. Everything that had happened that night pressed in on her, churning her up, centering all her too intense emotions on him . For some reason, she liked it, but she didn’t trust it.
She said quickly, “I have to go to bed and let you return to your life,” and began stuffing the map back into her bag. He was silent, just watching her until at last she put her bag down on the table and lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. Thank you.”
He smiled, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “I did nothing. Just there at the right time. Come, I’ll walk you to your room and leave you.”
Her heart hammered as she walked silently upstairs beside him. What did he mean? Why would he walk her to her room, if he meant to leave her there? Was he just giving her the chance to say no? Touch me, please touch me—take my hand, anything…
He was simply being kind, keeping her company till the safety of her room. She was in no condition to attract anyone. But if he were to kiss me, what would it be like…?
Sore—Marco split your lip, remember?
They were in the empty upstairs hall now, walking the last few steps to her door. Why doesn’t he even speak?
Why don’t you , Via?
“Well, this is me,” she blurted inanely. “Thank you for everything. I really am…”
“Stop thanking me,” he interrupted, grasping her wrist at last and giving it a little admonitory shake as they came to a halt outside her door. Fortunately, he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Believe it or not, I am glad to know you.”
She smiled at that. “ Ciao , Giancarlo,” she mocked. His fingers slid down
“The police need to know that, too.”
There was no way round it now. Resigned, she said, “I’ll tell them in the morning. Where should I go? The local Carabinieri office?”
“Yes. Or I can phone them for you and get someone who speaks English to come here to see you.”
She smiled. “Can you really do that?”
His eyes smiled into hers. “I can do anything.”
Her breath caught again. Was he flirting with her? Suddenly she remembered her hand in his, burning into her leg. She laughed unsteadily. “I know you can,” she said with feeling. At which point the barmaid brought the coffee, and he said something teasing to her, too, and Via realized that, of course, it was just his manner and the fact he felt sorry for her.
To cover her embarrassment, she drew her hand free and rummaged inside her bag for her worn and much-scribbled-on map of Pisa. Spreading it out on the table between them, she reached for the strong espresso and took a sip, sighing in thoughtless appreciation.
“You like Italian coffee? I should have asked you before ordering.”
“I love Italian coffee,” she assured him. “Can you show me on this map where we are? This hotel?”
“Sure.” He bent over it, dragging a pen from his back pocket and stabbing it immediately on a marked road near the river. “Just here.” He carefully made a cross between the scribbles that made sense only to her. “And in case the Carabinieri don’t come to you, their office is here .”
Via, who hadn’t been looking at the map at all but at his fascinating face, was caught suddenly by his intense, dark gaze when he glanced up at her and found her staring. His eyebrow twitched.
“What?” he asked, smiling.
“Nothing.” Via flushed. “I…I have a problem with directions. That’s why I don’t drive. And another reason I don’t really want to face the police—I’d never be able to explain where it happened and…”
“Hey, Giancarlo!” someone called across the room—a young man hurrying toward the door, grinning and waving to them. “ Ciao !”
“ Ciao , Enrico,” Giancarlo returned. Via didn’t know whether she felt more relief or annoyance at the loss of his attention. She was too tired and confused. She wanted him to touch her, yet she was so afraid he would. Everything that had happened that night pressed in on her, churning her up, centering all her too intense emotions on him . For some reason, she liked it, but she didn’t trust it.
She said quickly, “I have to go to bed and let you return to your life,” and began stuffing the map back into her bag. He was silent, just watching her until at last she put her bag down on the table and lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. Thank you.”
He smiled, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “I did nothing. Just there at the right time. Come, I’ll walk you to your room and leave you.”
Her heart hammered as she walked silently upstairs beside him. What did he mean? Why would he walk her to her room, if he meant to leave her there? Was he just giving her the chance to say no? Touch me, please touch me—take my hand, anything…
He was simply being kind, keeping her company till the safety of her room. She was in no condition to attract anyone. But if he were to kiss me, what would it be like…?
Sore—Marco split your lip, remember?
They were in the empty upstairs hall now, walking the last few steps to her door. Why doesn’t he even speak?
Why don’t you , Via?
“Well, this is me,” she blurted inanely. “Thank you for everything. I really am…”
“Stop thanking me,” he interrupted, grasping her wrist at last and giving it a little admonitory shake as they came to a halt outside her door. Fortunately, he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Believe it or not, I am glad to know you.”
She smiled at that. “ Ciao , Giancarlo,” she mocked. His fingers slid down
Similar Books
