Miracle for the Girl Next Door / Mother of the Bride: Miracle for the Girl Next Door

When she climbed in the cab, he turned his head toward her. “You’re meeting Leandro later?”

She averted her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for a while. For your information I’m going to watch the children while the rest of the family attends my great-uncle’s birthday. It’s the party Lia’s coming to. None of them gets a break very often. My family wants to go early so they can get home early.” She flashed him an impish smile. “Both Bianca and Maria get morning sickness at night.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that, since he had nothing else to do with his evening, he’d be more than happy to help her with the children. However, he thought the better of it when he remembered that, besides Paolito, the other three were Silvio’s offspring. Clara’s brother would probably explode in a fine fury to discover Valentino in the house. That in turn would place Clara in hot water.

“I had something else in mind for us, but under the circumstances I’ll drive us to the Trattoria Alberto. They’re supposed to give quick service.”

“That’s the place where a lot of tour buses stop. It’s not too far from here. I haven’t been there in years.” She sounded so relieved he wondered what in blazes was going on with her.

He started up the truck and they left the farm. “How would you like to play spy?”

A chuckle escaped her throat reminding him of the old Clara. “At the trattoria?”

“Yes. One of the reasons I’m in Monta Correnti for the summer is to see what I can do to help improve business at Rosa.”

“You’re here for the whole summer?” The shock in her voice wasn’t feigned.

“Your comment yesterday decided me.”

“What comment?”

“That it will take time to get anywhere with my father.” He could also see that he was going to need that much time to get back in Clara’s good graces. Nine years away without checking in had done its fair share of damage.

“But what about your bike business and your racing?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I can run it with my laptop and phone calls. Missing a few races is of little consequence right now. Papa is heavily in debt. Something needs to be done before he plunges any further. Isabella’s doing her best. I need to do my part.”

A hand went to her throat. “I had no idea.”

“Yesterday I met with some tour operators who gave me their itineraries. They all stop at the Trattoria Alberto when they pass through Monta Correnti. I’d like to find out why they think it’s a better place than Rosa. While we’re eating, let’s make a list of what’s good and bad about the place and the food. We’ll check prices and the number of menu items.”

Her face lit up. “This is going to be fun.”

Valentino laughed in pure delight to see her act excited. “I thought it might appeal to you.”

It didn’t take long before they reached the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking area at the side of the trattoria. He showed her inside and they took a seat that gave them visual access to all areas of the dining room. Without a tour-bus crowd, there were quite a few empty tables because it was still early.

Clara chose chicken and he opted for the veal, the two dishes most tourists ordered. They tested two house wines and ordered the most popular desserts. “Your father will be impressed you went to this much trouble in the name of research.”

Valentino let out a caustic laugh before swallowing the last spoonful of his gelato. “To tell you the truth, his opinion of me is so low, I doubt he’ll give me the time of day to present my findings, but I have to try. He raised me, after all.”

She looked at him in seeming consternation. “Why do you say that? What father wouldn’t be the proudest man in the world to have a son who has accomplished so much?”

“You’d be surprised.” He studied her through shuttered lids. “You’re very sweet, Clara.”

He had half a mind to unload his secrets on her, but she seemed to have run out of steam. Her eyelids fluttered like someone who was exhausted. When he saw her glance at her watch, he knew the drill. Defeated for the moment, he laid some money on the table and ushered her outside to the truck.

On the way back to the farm she tried to keep up her end of the conversation, but the spark she’d shown earlier had fled. After he turned onto the road leading up to the farmhouse he said, “Will you have coffee with me at Bonelli’s in the morning and we’ll compare notes before I head to the restaurant to see my father? I’ll pick you up.”

“No—I mean y-you don’t need to do that,” she stammered before opening the door. “I’ll come on the bus, but it will have to be early, say nine o’clock. I have a dentist appointment at ten.”

That was a lie. He felt it in his bones, but he couldn’t prove it. “Understood. Thank you for doing this. I’m anxious for your input.”

“After the delicious meal you bought me, it’s my pleasure. Domani, Tino.”

He waited until she’d entered the farmhouse. She couldn’t seem to get inside fast enough. By the time he took off for Rosa, he was convinced Clara had been playing some kind of game with him from the beginning. He didn’t like it. She flitted in and out of his life like a hummingbird, driving him mad.

Evidently she and Leandro weren’t an item. If she were still afraid of Silvio’s opinion, why risk more grief by being with Valentino at all? Her behavior raised more questions than it answered because he knew she enjoyed their time together. So did he.

All the subterfuge and time limits had to end. When he asked himself why he cared so much, the answer hit him smack in the gut. Every time you’re with her, it’s harder to say goodbye.

It came as a shock to discover that when we was with Clara, the thought of chucking it all in and whizzing back to Monaco held less and less appeal. This had never happened to him before.

Valentino drove in the alley at the side of the restaurant and pulled up to the back door behind the Ferrari. He got out of the truck and undid the tailgate to carry the baskets of produce into the kitchen. When he unlocked the door, Giorgio smiled at him and came out to help him bring everything inside.

“The Ferrari is sweet,” he said in a low voice, kissing his fingers. “The paparazzi chased me everywhere.”

“Better your picture than mine showing up in the newspaper. Many thanks for the use of your truck, Giorgio.”

“My pleasure.”

“I wasn’t harassed once and would like to use it again sometime soon.”

“No problem at all. We can make a permanent trade any time you want,” he teased. “Look at the size of this!” He picked up one of the lemons. “The olives are big, too. Where did all this wonderful-looking fruit come from?”

“The Rossetti farm.”

“Ah. I’ve heard of it. Did you sign a contract with them?”

Valentino had a hunch the type Giorgio was talking about would have to be done over Silvio’s dead body. “That’s up to my father. Has he been downstairs tonight?”

“No. I haven’t seen him.”

“What about Isabella?”

“She’s out in front setting up for dinner.”

“Then I won’t disturb her. I’m going back to the villa. When you see her, tell her I’ll be over tomorrow.”

“Bene, Valentino.”

They traded keys before he left Rosa and rocked up the mountainside in the Ferrari full of his plans for tomorrow. Clara posed an intriguing challenge, but no one loved meeting one more than Valentino.

When Clara entered the kitchen, her mother had already started cooking breakfast. She looked over at her. “Up so soon? Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Just weak. She rubbed her palms against her hips in a nervous gesture.

“That’s good. Your papa will be happy to hear it. He worries on these days.”

“I know.”

“Sit down and I’ll serve you now.”

“Not today, Mamma.”

“But you have to eat!”

“I know. I’m having breakfast in town early.”

“Are you getting together with Gina?”

“No.” She hadn’t talked to her friend in several weeks. “Valentino asked me to meet him at Bonelli’s. He’s trying to help expand his father’s restaurant business.”

“Why would he want to do that? It’s been doing well, hasn’t it?”

“Between us, his father is in debt.” Her mother made a tsking sound in her throat. “We had dinner at a competitor’s yesterday. This morning we’re going to discuss what worked and what didn’t. If he can find a way to increase tourist traffic, it will be good for his family…and him.”

Clara had seen suffering in his eyes yesterday. She hadn’t realized he’d had serious problems with his father. Evidently the breach between them went back years. The pain in his voice had haunted her all night.

A worried look crossed over her mother’s expressive features. “Do you think it’s a good idea to get this involved with Valentino?”

“We’re old friends, Mamma.”

“That may be true for him because you’re the best friend any person could ever have and he knows it! But the difference is, you’ve loved him since the first time you met him at grade school.”

“Yes, I loved him and I always will. You’re confusing it with being in love.”

“That’s good you recognize the difference. You’re almost twenty-eight, too old to still be nursing a dream that could never become a reality.”

Clara lowered her head.

“Forgive me if that hurts you, but you see the news on television,” her mother continued talking. “Valentino’s been involved with that French actress lately. Last year it was a German model. Before that, an American Olympic skier.” With every word that poured forth, her mother drove the nail a little deeper. “How long is he going to be in town?”

“For the summer. His father’s not well.”

Her mother looked shaken by the news. “Even if he stays that long, which I doubt, his home and his business are in Monaco. Eventually he’ll have to go back. In the meantime you can be sure the women in his life have followed him here and won’t leave him alone. Don’t forget he can be with them whenever and wherever he chooses because he has the means.”

“I know.” I know.

Her mother sniffed. “If he’s sandwiching you in between them for a diversion, it’s only natural for him, but you’re a Rossetti and Rossettis aren’t content to be the crumbs off anyone else’s table!”

“I agree, Mamma.”

“That’s good because I don’t want my sweet bambina getting hurt in the process.”

“Silvio gave me the same lecture earlier.”

“Your brother feels more fiercely than the others because you grew up together. What affects you, affects him. That’s how it is with twins.”

Clara knew that, too. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She took a ragged breath. “When I’m with him, he treats me like we were young again, you know?” She didn’t dare say she felt like an invalid around the family or it would hurt her mother. “You think I should just tell Valentino it’s time for us to let the friendship go?”

“It’s not what I think—it’s what you feel that matters!” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m just afraid you’re too vulnerable right now. He wasn’t voted the world’s most irresistible playboy for nothing!”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

“I happened to see it in a magazine Bianca was reading. I’m afraid your sister used to have a terrible crush on him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? If my words sound cruel, I’m sorry because you know I love you to death.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered in turmoil.

“I would never say such a thing in front of the men in our family, but I say it to you. And now that I have, it is your decision what happens from here on out.”

Her mother’s words stayed with her while she washed the tears from her face. “I’ll see you later today, Mamma.” On the way out the door she grabbed an apple from the bowl to eat on the bus.

By the time she joined Valentino a half-hour later, she’d made up her mind to enjoy this morning’s get-together. Maybe by the end of this day she would have gained some wisdom and would know how to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore.

The problem was, he was sensitive deep down; Clara knew that and she would never want to hurt his feelings. No one would believe an insecure man lived beneath his famous persona. It stemmed from the troubled relationship with his father. He’d let her see inside him just enough for her to feel a little of his torment.

Oh, Tino.

Valentino stood at the bus stop waiting for Clara. Through his sunglasses he watched the activity in the piazza. So far his navy headscarf and striped sailor shirt with the long sleeves had disguised him enough to keep the paparazzi away.

His outfit must have done a better job than he realized because when she got off the bus at ten to nine, she walked past him in her blue print blouse and denim skirt without realizing it. He followed her into Bonelli’s.

There were half a dozen people drinking coffee at individual bistro tables while they read the newspaper. He’d already staked out their table in the same corner as before.

“I’m over here, Clarissima.”

She wheeled around in surprise. A slow smile broke out on her stunning face. “I would never have guessed it was you! You look like a French seaman on leave from Marseille or some such port.”

“That’s the way I’d like to keep it.”

“I know,” she said in a quiet voice. “I won’t give you away.”

He held her chair, then sat down opposite her. “Help yourself.” He’d already taken their cappuccinos and ham-filled croissants to the table.

“Thank you. After all the food we ate last evening, can you believe I’m hungry again?” She bit into her breakfast.

Valentino smiled as he devoured his. “How did the babysitting go?”

“None of them wanted to go to bed. We ended up having our own party.”

He’d wanted to be there. The night had been endless for him. “Is that why you seem a little tired this morning?”

“Yes,” she murmured, but she didn’t look at him as she said it.

“Did Lia bring the limoncello with her?”

Her lips curved upward. “She did.”

“Good. I’m already salivating for it.” Color seeped into her cheeks. “Have you given serious thought to the plus side of the trattoria?”

Clara sipped her cappuccino. “Yes. The placement of the tables was conducive to private conversation. The service was good. The chicken was tender, the gelato excellent.” He liked watching her mouth as she spoke. Even when she had been a girl it had a passionate flare.

“What about the negatives?”

“The bruschetta was mediocre, the wine so-so, the pasta seemed too greasy and the bathroom needed attention.”

He chuckled. “My sentiments exactly, piccola. Bravo. I was going to add that the prices were too high.”

“Yes, but they obviously lower them for the tour-bus crowds. Oh—something else. The decor wasn’t that unique. Not anything like your father’s restaurant.”

“Well, it’s possible Papa will be interested in our findings and can point out the differences to the tour directors when I invite them to Rosa for a meal.”

“Rosa’s sauce is to die for, Tino.”

“My father will be delighted to hear that Signora Rossetti’s daughter has given her seal of approval. What Papa really needs is your mother in his kitchen. I ate most of your lunches at school, if you remember.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she admitted in an odd tone before suddenly getting to her feet. “Thank you for breakfast. Now I need to get going to my appointment.”

For once Valentino was ready for that and stood up. “I appreciate your taking the time to meet me first.” He walked her outside. “After I’ve met with Papa, I’ll call you and tell you what he said.”

As she gazed at him her eyes clouded over. “I hope he shows you how thrilled he is that his wonderful son is trying to help him.” Her earnestness resonated to his insides. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m not his wonderful anything, Clara. He’s not my biological father. You might as well know I’m the product of an extramarital affair.”

He heard her long gasp. “Your mother was unfaithful?”

“Yes. She and Luca hit a bad patch in their marriage, but they made up.”

She looked devastated for him. “Do you know your birthfather?”

“No, and when I learned about it, I didn’t want to know him. Neither did Luca apparently, so I was raised as a Casali.”

“Then he must have loved your mother and you very much.”

Valentino studied her upturned features. “You come from a very loving, close-knit family. You see only the good. It’s a remarkable trait. Don’t ever lose it.”

She bit her lip. “You’ve never told anyone?”

“Isabella and Cristiano know. Our parents told all of us before Mamma died so there’d be no secrets, but it’s not common knowledge.”

“I’ll never say anything,” she whispered.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Tino—” She sounded distressed. “I—I’d like to stay longer and talk to you, but I have to go or I’ll be late. Forgive me.”

“Of course. I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded before hurrying away across the piazza. Once she disappeared he rushed after her, realizing she’d taken the set of stairs where she’d come down that first day.

When he reached it and mounted the narrow staircase to the next level of the town, she was nowhere in sight. There were more residences than shops in this area. He looked all around, noticing the local clinic on his left. He’d never known a dental office to be in there, but maybe things had changed.

Give her a few more minutes before you burst in looking for her, Casali.

If he did find her inside, he’d be risking her anger because it smacked of invading her privacy. She might never speak to him again.

After the conversation they’d had the other day on the subject of maintaining one’s privacy, there was a certain irony to this kind of thinking—and danger. But that was what he thrived on. At this late date he couldn’t change his character if he tried and determined to take his chances.

He watched the locals go in and come out the doors of the clinic. He waited another minute, then walked inside. Just as he’d thought, the wall plaque didn’t indicate any dentists in the building. Beyond the foyer was a waiting room full of patients. He couldn’t see Clara among them. She might not be here at all, but he had to check.

Chagrined that he hadn’t followed her more closely, Valentino had no choice but to approach the receptionist at the desk. When she got off the phone he said, “Could you tell me if Clara Rossetti has already gone in for her appointment?”

“I’m sorry. Even if she were a patient here, I can’t give you that information unless you’re the police or her next of kin.”

For no good reason the hairs lifted on the back of his neck. The receptionist had given nothing away, yet for the first time since coming back to Monta Correnti a little frisson of alarm darted through him. It was that same feeling he got on the racetrack when he sensed something wasn’t right and braced himself for what was coming around the next curve.

“I’m her fiancé,” he lied without compunction. “I’ve been at sea for a long time, but got shore leave specifically to see her. Her sister Bianca told me I’d find her here for her ten o’clock appointment.” If lightning struck him, he didn’t care.

“In that case, go back to the foyer and down the hall to the dialysis clinic.”

Dialysis—

A shudder rocked his body. That meant kidney failure. People died from it.

No. Not Clara. He’d just come from being with her. Though she’d looked tired, she’d seemed healthy to him.

He shook his head, trying to make sense of it.

She couldn’t be dying. That was preposterous! Valentino didn’t believe it. He must have misunderstood the receptionist.

Bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Signore? Are you all right?” The woman at the desk stared up at him anxiously.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You didn’t know?”

A groan escaped his throat. Her question made it all too real. It meant that the first day he’d seen her on the staircase between the buildings, she’d just come from the clinic.

And the other morning when she’d said she had shopping to do, she’d been on her way here…

He half staggered out to the foyer where he saw the sign for directions to the dialysis clinic.

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER having to tear herself away from Valentino, Clara had been plunged into a new low of despair. This time it was for him.

Luca Casali wasn’t his birthfather?

Though Valentino might have been living with that knowledge since childhood, a boy would still yearn to know his own flesh and blood father, or at least have some information about him. While Cristiano and Isabella had lived with the security of enjoying both parents’ love, Valentino couldn’t claim the same thing.

If Clara’s life didn’t depend on this treatment, she wouldn’t have left him standing there in front of Bonelli’s looking tortured.

Like a slot machine that went chink chink chink, little pieces of memory started fitting together in a mosaic that explained to some extent why he’d been drawn to Clara more than his own siblings during those early years. When he’d lost his mother, he’d needed a friend, no doubt because he didn’t feel as if he belonged to the Casali household in quite the same way as the other two.

No one at school had had any comprehension of his struggles, including Clara. While she lay there, she wept for the boy inside the incredible man he’d become.

It was impossible to settle down and concentrate on anything else right now. Normally after she was hooked up to the large hemodialysis machine and the clinician had left the room, she could absorb herself in a good mystery novel. She’d put a new one in her purse, but hadn’t opened it yet. She couldn’t.

As weak as she’d felt after getting off the bus earlier today, the sight of Valentino wearing jeans that molded his powerful thighs had set off a burst of adrenalin, giving her an extra boost of energy.

He was an impossibly handsome man. In that headscarf and sailor shirt revealing his welldefined physique, he looked like a cross between a dashing pirate and a Gypsy. It couldn’t be easy being so famous he had to go to such lengths to avoid the constant crush of the media.

It took a remarkable man to rise above his pain. Valentino made every moment of life exciting. That was one of his many gifts. Who else would have ordered a decadent chocolate dessert they could share and make the moment seem like a fabulous party he’d created just for her?

If Silvio knew the true Valentino the way she did, he wouldn’t have grilled her so mercilessly the other morning while she’d been running the fruit stand. He’d fired questions at her she couldn’t answer and wouldn’t anyway.

When Valentino had come by the farm in the latest model Ferrari, it had reminded her brother of the differences between them, but that wasn’t the underlying reason for his bitterness. To her dismay, the girl her brother had been infatuated with in high school had wanted nothing to do with him because she’d been so crazy about Valentino and he had gone through girls like water.

Even though Silvio had moved on to other women and had eventually married Maria, her brother’s pride had never got over the rejection. As Valentino’s fame grew, so did Silvio’s envy for the women—the money—everything that seemed to come to him with what looked like no effort at all. In truth he couldn’t forgive Valentino and didn’t want Clara to have anything to do with him. In this area, he’d become irrational.

If he knew how hard it had been for Valentino growing up, even if Luca had been good to him, her brother would have a different perspective. Silvio basked in the love of both parents. All of the Rossettis did. How lucky they were!