Deception of the Heart (13 page)

‘Does
that mean yes?’ he asked again. The certainty in his voice made her want to reject his offer. Only she couldn’t. She wanted to spend another day with him, Pete or no Pete. Or rather, absolutely no Pete. The notion of keeping Jon away from Spitieri for her boss’s sake was ridiculous. She wanted to spend time with Jon to see him smile, to hear him laugh, and to watch him walk, his smooth, long stride achingly familiar after this day together.

‘Well, if Pete doesn’t need me.’ There it was, her last attempt to sound indifferent. A tad too late, judg
ing by his knowing grin. But still, a girl had to do what a girl had to do to save the last shreds of her dignity before he thought she was melting into a puddle of adoration at his feet.

H
e played along, although she had a strong suspicion he did it only to humor her. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I come to the hotel tomorrow morning to pick you up and we can see some other interesting parts of Rome if it turns out Pete is going to spend his day with Daniel? It would save you the trip to their house. I could ring you in the morning and you can let me know what the plans are?’

‘S
ounds reasonable,’ she agreed graciously, watching the hotel building appear. They were staying at a rather modest hotel, a two-story building with tiny balconies and a riot of blooming geraniums. It was much more genuine than some of the tall glass and metal towers that sprung up to accommodate the tourists’ demand for the city of Romulus and Remus.

‘You found the hotel even faster than the cab driver that brought us here from the airport,’ she commented
. She was amused and glanced at Jon, expecting a smile or maybe even a teasing comment. Instead he looked guilty, as if she’d caught him doing something she wasn’t supposed to see. Which was ridiculous, of course.

‘I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction
,’ he explained lazily. He parked the car and walked around to open her door. She expected him to say goodbye on the sun-drenched sidewalk. It would be safer that way, all things considered. Her skin still remembered the touch of his hands, and her blood heated dangerously at the sheer recollection of the heavenly sensations he stoked inside her with a sweep of his strong, firm hands. Inviting him in was out of question.

‘It was a very nice day,’ she started awkwardly, not sure how to bid
him farewell.

‘I had a great time,’ he agreed, his dark head dipping lower as he nodded. She
saw his five o’clock shadow, and her treacherous mind imagined how stroking his face would feel.

He walked her to the old
-fashioned, dark green door intricately carved with garlands of leaves and flowers. He pushed it open, and the small lobby was pleasantly cool. The older man sitting behind the desk lifted his dark gaze, his eyes quickly assessing the two of them and making his own assumptions. Melanie saw realization dawn in his understanding gaze.

‘
Signorina Bennett
?’ A polite smile appeared on his wrinkly face, his opinions taking a backseat to the simple fact she was a paying guest. ‘Your key,
sì
?’

S
he took the carved, fancy key that would look at home in a castle or at least a manor, and they walked down the hallway, the dark red carpet that had definitely seen better times silencing their footsteps. She wished her room was farther away, her heart beating loud enough she was worried he could hear it. Instead, they arrived at her door in seconds. The badly lit corridor made it impossible to read his face completely.

‘Well, I stay here
.’ She smiled hesitantly, waiting for his next step. Was he waiting for her to invite him in? Was that why he was so unaffected by her getting cold feet in the park?

‘O
nce again, thank you for a wonderful day.’ To her immense relief, he was finally saying his goodbyes, probably reading her body language better than she thought possible. ‘I should definitely thank Pete and Daniel for picking such an inconvenient time for our visits. Otherwise we might have just missed each other, right? And for sure, I am happy we didn’t.’

B
efore she had a chance to do anything, he bent and kissed her on the top of her head, a gesture so gentle and short she couldn’t even react. That was probably for the best, given she didn’t trust herself around him anymore. What if she threw herself at him and pulled him closer, desperate for a real kiss?

‘I will
see you tomorrow,’ he said with a smile, his voice gentle. ‘Have a good evening, Melanie.’

And then he was gone.

…………………………………..

T
he room was clean, her bed straightened up by the hotel service and a piece of candy lying on top of the snow-white pillow. Her single bed looked pristine with its white coverlet and two decorative pillows embroidered with rosebuds and forget-me-nots. There was a three-drawer dresser with a mirror and an old-fashioned wardrobe with ample space for her rather modest array of clothes. The window, hidden behind a gauzy, white sheer, looked into the small inner courtyard where large, round pots in terracotta and dark blue held orange and lemon trees. The divine fragrance of their blooms reached her nostrils as she opened the window. The soft cooing sound of a dove walking on the cobblestone pavement soothed her.

She had
n’t lied to Jon about having work to do. She could look over the paperwork Pete brought with him, but she regretted that she hadn’t asked him for exact directions. She had her laptop, of course. Most of the text he wanted her to edit and go over was on it, safely stored in her files. She’d left it in his room. They’d gone over some parts just before leaving for the Spitieris’ residence, discussing some of the more confusing ideas he wanted her to reevaluate. He’d put her laptop into the safe that came with the room, joking about the importance of being extra careful.

Their rooms were connected by a small corridor. At first she
’d been rather upset about staying with Pete in something that resembled a single apartment with two rooms. Still, she had to be reasonable, especially since both doors had locks that worked perfectly well. The old-fashioned hotel was light years away from the usual comforts of modern tourism. At least the idea of providing both rooms with separate bathrooms had caught up with the owners. She didn’t mind the joining corridor too much, to be honest. Pete was one of the easiest roommates she had ever had, his laissez faire attitude leaving her with enough privacy and leg room to feel safe.

She walked over to his door, pausing before turning the doorknob.
You’re not doing anything wrong
, she reassured herself, surprised by the sudden sense of guilt she couldn’t ignore. She felt uneasy and hesitated for a moment before she let her fingers close around the old-fashioned, round doorknob.

It didn’t open.

She tried again, harder this time. Still, the door remained locked. Could the maid have assumed that she needed to protect the privacy of each guest? Melanie couldn’t imagine Pete locking the door. Not after the way they worked together, anyway. She remembered last night, his laptop and all his papers spread across the antique little desk, open to her eyes. If anything, he seemed to encourage her to dig through his papers. She was his assistant, after all.

S
he decided it was no use after her third unsuccessful attempt. The door was definitely locked, separating her from whatever work could be done.

Which wasn’t such a bad thing, if she thought about it. She plopped on top of her perfectly made white bed, kick
ed off her shoes, and took out her hairband. She felt tired and yet vibrantly alive, her whole body humming with energy she didn’t even know she possessed. Her fingers traveled to her lips and traced their shape as she recalled Jon’s mouth against them only hours earlier. She didn’t dare think too much about what had happened. She couldn’t if she wanted to remain sane and avoid slipping into some crazy daydream featuring a happy ever after she knew wasn’t really possible.

So they
’d kissed, no big deal. Only it was a big deal, for her at least. Apart from the fact she had never done anything even remotely reckless, the experience was much deeper and memorable than she would have ever expected.

She needed to get out
. Her restlessness would make lying still for a moment longer impossible. She needed a distraction. The slippery path of her thoughts would lead her straight into a disaster if she didn’t watch out. Jon might have been the most exciting part of her stay in Italy so far, but she would be crazy to lie here thinking of him like some love-struck teenager.

The hotel didn’t have a bar or a lounge, as far as she remembered.
She recalled passing a smallish restaurant with a handful of white dressed tables as they walked out that morning. She wasn’t hungry, but she could order just some wine and a dessert to go with it. If she didn’t watch out, she would put on some weight while in Italy.

She didn’t change her clothes,
but she added a light, silk cardigan in pale silver. The hotel was pleasantly cool, the thick walls and wooden shutters keeping out most of the heat. Air conditioning was definitely another thing the owners didn’t care for, but she didn’t mind one bit. If anything, she was grateful for the old world charm of the place, unspoiled by the comforts of the twenty-first century.

Melanie
grabbed her handbag and walked back down the hallway, planning her evening. Pete would stay at the Spitieris’ for another hour at least, so she could have a nice glass of wine and maybe even walk around a bit.
I might actually see something
, she thought sarcastically. Some of her earlier sightseeing had been seriously impaired by the fact most of her attention was on Jon.

The restaurant was open,
and a white- and black-dressed waiter directed her to her table. After a brief hesitation, she followed his broken English advice to sit outside, the balmy evening air that had lost its burning intensity too compelling to be dismissed. The small strip of sidewalk outside the hotel was turned into a patio with large pots with palms and oleander trees guarding the small round tables.

She ordered her wine, ignoring more than one interested glance from a group of young men sitting a few tables away. They were laughing loud
ly and one of them even waved at her, the rapid waterfall of Italian reaching her ears. She looked away, hiding her nose in the leather-bound menu. Did she really look like some desperate tourist hoping to hook up with a handsome local? Before she could start regretting her impulse to come out here alone, she fished three postcards she had bought for her friends back home out of her bag. Looking busy may be the oldest trick in the book, but the postcards gave her something to do, taking her attention off the men who didn’t quite give up their noisy admiration.

She looked up from the
first postcard, pondering what to write. What did one say to people who envied her for this trip?
The weather is great, my boss doesn’t seem to need me at all, and oh, I just made out with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met?
Somehow she couldn’t imagine they’d appreciate that.

Her
unfocused gaze skimmed the street without properly seeing anything in particular. Plenty of people were out there, most of them tourists judging from their outfits. After just a day in Italy, she could easily see the difference between the effortless chic that came to the Italians as easily as breathing and the colorful crowd of tourists, loud and glaring in the sunshine. Well, except for Jon. He didn’t seem like a tourist with his understated elegance and catlike gracefulness that had held her captive from the moment they met.

The man walk
ing on the other side of the street stood out from the crowd, mostly because of his cheerful red and yellow shirt, the polyester flames licking his broad shoulders and round belly. He was short and round, his olive face glistening with sweat. Dark hair dampened with sweat clung to his broad forehead.

He was oddly familiar. For a second
, she couldn’t quite figure out where she knew him from, but her brain finally clicked and she remembered everything. She smiled with delight, recalling the evening in La Familia. Giovanni was certainly pleasant enough to stick in her memory. He’d spent the evening at their table, his good-natured jokes and playful bickering keeping her in stitches.

‘Hi, Giovanni
!’ She lifted herself from her chair, waving and trying to get his attention. He was close enough to hear her. She wasn’t thinking about much except for wanting to chat with him, their easy conversation back in New York making it a no-brainer she would have a good time. She didn’t wonder why on earth he was in Rome. Nothing in their conversation back home suggested he had also planned to visit the ancient city. It would have struck her as odd if she had thought about it, but she didn’t.

H
e looked up, his eyes briefly meeting hers, before he turned away, his fast footsteps not faltering even a bit. His round face was smooth and dispassionate. He was gone before she had time to call him again. She wouldn’t have done that anyway, too stunned by his weird response. He had seen her, she was sure. Their eye contact might have lasted only seconds, but she saw the spark of recognition in the depth of his dark eyes before it died off, replaced by a mask of indifference.

She sat back in her chair, her cheeks burning. Whatever the reason, Giovanni
had chosen to ignore her, his snub utterly complete and humiliating. She heard the young men at the other table snicker, probably enjoying her embarrassment.