“Ciao, Angela!” he called into the courtyard.
He heard a fluttering like bird wings before a tiny woman appeared from the kitchen on the ground floor.
“Ciao, Nino!” Angela covered his cheeks with her small, wrinkled hands and pulled him down for a kiss, chattering as he laughed.
Angela had to be in her late sixties, but she still had the bright eyes and impeccable style of a woman much younger. She’d run Giovanni’s house in Rome for most of her adult life with a healthy balance of efficiency, warmth, and Tuscan comfort food.
“You’ve gotten taller since Christmas,” she said.
“No. I promise I haven’t.” He’d filled out a bit in the shoulders, but he was done growing. Almost six feet would have to suffice.
“You’re too thin!” She pinched his arm. “Nino, what do they feed you in California? It’s not enough. Come.” She waved him into the kitchen. “I’m making meatballs for you and Fabi for dinner.”
He rubbed his eyes. Now that he was within the familiar walls of Residenza di Spada, he felt the delayed exhaustion hit. He’d bypassed the offer of Giovanni’s plane, choosing to use some of his frequent-flyer miles to upgrade to first class, but he hadn’t really slept for almost twenty-four hours.
“Angie, I think I might lie down for a little bit.”
“Not too long!” The housekeeper was accustomed to international guests. “Sleep for a little. I’ll wake you up for dinner. You need to get on Roman time.”
“Sì, zia.”
“Your room is made up. Fresh sheets on the bed and I washed the clothes you left here. Not many summer things, I don’t think.”
Because he usually avoided the furnace of Rome in the summer. He could already feel his shirt sticking to his back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll pick up some new things tomorrow.”
At least there was no lack of shopping in Rome. It was expensive, but Ben thought the quality was worth the extra cash, and he saved most of his formal shopping for Italian visits.
He walked upstairs and tucked Giovanni’s notes and the journal in the safe in the master suite, then made his way to the cool shadows of his room where he toppled face-first into bed.
❂
SHE was playing with the curls of his hair when he woke. Soft humming and the warm smell of citrus and bergamot she’d worn since she was a teenager. Ben rolled over and grabbed Fabia around the waist.
“Gotcha,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
Fabia laughed as she fell against his chest.
“Bad boy,” she said, brushing a kiss against his jaw. “The beard is so sexy. I love your hair longer. You should always wear it that way.”
Ben lay back, her familiar weight resting against his body. He took a deep breath and let his fingers trail over her smooth shoulders as Fabi laid her head on his chest and hugged him.
Women were just so… delicious.
Other than friendly kisses and a few teenage fumblings, he and Angie’s niece had never been more than friends, but the flirtation of more had always lain between them. Fabia was a beautiful girl. Smart and effortlessly sexy. She’d shorn her red-brown hair into a pixie cut when she entered her graduate program and moved to Rome. It suited her.
“I missed you,” she said.
“Why did you get a boyfriend then?” He smiled at her when she looked up. “I can’t kiss you—well, I can’t kiss you as much—if you have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t want a boyfriend who lives in California most of the year.” She pouted. “I am not made for a long-distance lover, Ben.”
“You could move to LA.”
“And you could move to Rome.”
They both grinned at the same time.
Ah well. Not meant to be, no matter how the chemistry taunted them.
He leaned down, gave her a quick kiss, then rolled her to the side while he went to use the attached bath.
“So how hot is it?” he asked through the door as he splashed water on his face and pulled off his sweat-stained shirt.
“Not too bad yet,” she said. “But July is just around the corner.”
He walked out and caught her admiring his bare chest with an arched eyebrow.
“I don’t have many clothes,” he said. “I’ll need to go shopping.”
“I can go with you tomorrow.” She sat up and went to the wardrobe, opening it and surveying the contents with a frown. “You’re right.” She threw a shirt at him and closed the doors. “Wear that for dinner. It’ll do. We’re meeting some friends tonight by the river.”
“Is the fair going on?”
“Sul Lungotevere,” she said. “Good restaurants this year.”
During the summer, the banks of the Tiber were taken over by restaurants and vendors who took advantage of the cool evenings to lure locals and tourists to the river. It was a combination of food, drink, and art that Fabi had told him about, but he’d never had a chance to visit.
“You can meet Elias.” Fabi fell back on the bed. “I really like him, Ben. He’s kind. Smart, but not full of himself—”
“Not like me then.” He grinned at her as he dressed.
“No, not like you.” She rolled her eyes. “He is handsome though. His mother is Ethiopian. He’s gorgeous. And so tall.”
“You trying to make me jealous?”
“Is it even possible?”