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They were once again on their own as Gio and his grandfather had hurried back to the house much too quickly for Faith to keep up in her high-heeled sandals. “How did you find out about Taylish and Kaden?” she asked, posing the question to Tino she could not get out of her mind.
“My mother.”
Stunned, Faith stopped walking altogether. She could not imagine Agata sharing Faith’s confidences without a prompting to do so. Not even in the effort to match-make. “You asked her?”
“Yes.” Tino stood only a couple of feet away, but the moonlight was not strong enough to illuminate the expression in his eyes.
She could feel its intensity though.
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“In what way?”
She rolled her eyes, though she doubted he could see it. “Don’t play dumb. It showed a more-than-passing interest in me.”
Something he’d said he didn’t want his mother to get wind of.
“It was worse than that, even,” he said, sounding rueful, but not particularly bothered. “I allowed it to slip that we had discussed the statue in my bedroom.”
Did he have any idea what he was revealing of his inner thoughts? Tino—Mr. Certainty, the man who never changed his mind and always knew best—was acting as if he did not know his own mind. Acting in direct opposition to his stated purpose. Maybe he had a deeper insight into the long-term effect of his words than she did.
She shook her head. “You’re kidding.”
“Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me.” He did not shrug, but the negligent movement was there in his voice.
“I guess,” she said with emphasis. “I don’t see your mother making a list of wedding guests as you feared.”
“She is matchmaking, but being surprisingly low-key about it.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“That she is matchmaking?”
“Yes.” What the heck did he think she meant?
“So long as she maintains subtlety and does not make it into a family argument of dramatic proportions, no.”
Maybe she understood his insouciance better now. “In other words, as long as it’s easy for you to avoid the outcome she is looking for.”
“You could put it that way.”
“I just did.”
“Si.”
“Don’t play with me, Tino.”
He closed the distance between them but did not touch her. “I am not playing. I want you back.”
“As your mistress.”
“And my friend.”
“That’s not what you told your mother.”
“I explained that.”
“And I found your explanation lacking.”
“Faith—”
Lucky for her, because she really didn’t want to get into this right now—or ever really—Giosue came running up. “You two are too slow. Nonna said we could swim if you wanted, signora.”
Faith moved toward Gio, putting distance between herself and his father once again. “Actually, I think it is time I returned home.”
There was that look, the disappointment Faith hated to see, but Gio did not attempt to cajole her. He simply nodded and looked down at the ground.
And it was more effective than any type of whining might have been.
She grabbed his hand and said, “Maybe just a short swim. All right?”
He looked up at her, eyes shining. “Really, signora?”
“Yes.”
“We can play water ball. Zio Calogero sent me a new net.”
Faith had seen the basketball net attached to the side of the pool on a short pole. “That sounds like fun.”
“Yes, it does.” Tino took Gio’s other hand. “Your papa will join you as well. Provided I am invited?”
“Of course, Papa.” Gio’s voice rang with joy.
And why shouldn’t it? This was exactly what her favorite pupil wanted—the three of them together. Faith had wanted it, too, but she couldn’t fight a ghost.
Tension filled her as she contemplated the next thirty minutes. She hadn’t counted on Tino joining them in the pool, but she would have to deal with it. She wasn’t about to renege on her promise to Gio. Though, for the first time in her life she was seriously tempted to back out on a commitment she’d made to a child.
Fifteen minutes later she was desperate enough to do so.
Tino had been teasing her, touching her under the guise of the game. A caress down her arm. A hand cupped over her hip. An arm around her waist, ostensibly to stop her from going under. But the final straw was when he brushed his lips over the sensitive spot behind her ear and whispered that he wanted her.
She shoved herself away from him and climbed out of the pool in the space of a couple seconds.
“Signora, where are you going?”
“It is time for me to leave.” She tried to keep the frustration and anger she felt from her voice. It was not Gio’s fault his father was a fiend.
“But why?” The little boy’s eyes widened with confusion. “We were having fun.”
“Si. I thought we were having a great deal of fun,” Tino said with a purr.
“Really?” she asked—this time making no effort to hide her displeasure. “I’ll leave it to you to explain to your son why I need to leave, then.”
It was Tino’s turn to look confused and he was the mirror image of his son in that moment, only older. Would their child take after him or her? What was she thinking about? This was not the time to consider whether the baby in her womb would resemble its father. Not when she wanted to bean the man.
Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed to the cabana where she changed back into her clothes. A shower would have to wait until she got home.
She left moments later after hugging Agata and a hastily dried Gio. Rocco had gone to check on something in the wine cellars.
Her goodbye to Tino was perfunctory and verbal only.
Valentino stood outside Faith’s apartment in Pizzolato, uncharacteristically hesitant to knock. The evening before had been an exercise in frustration for him. Every time he got a step closer to Faith, she took two backward. And he did not understand why.
He’d used their time in the pool to remind her of what they were both missing. Valentino was sure it had been working, too. Faith’s breath had shortened, her nipples growing hard under her one-piece swimsuit. Heaven above knew he’d been hard enough to drill through cement. But then she had pushed away from him with the clear intent to reject and climbed from the pool, saying she had to go. She didn’t back down, either, not even when Gio looked heartbroken.
She’d left him there to explain her precipitous departure to his upset son.
What the hell was going on with her?
It was not like her to be so unfeeling. But the look she’d given him could have stripped paint.
It had been weeks since they made love in his family home, but it was not merely her body he craved. He missed her. Like an ache in his gut that no medication could take away. Which was why he was here right now, ready to make it right.
Whatever it was.
He gave the closed door a glare. What was he? A wimp? He did not think so. Not Valentino Grisafi.
He knocked on the door. Loudly.
His mother had told him that Faith got caught up in her work and didn’t hear the door lots of times. That she worked whenever the mood struck her, the hour of the day not a deterrent no matter how late or early. She’d said a lot more about Faith.
Add this knowledge to everything she’d told him previously about TK, and Valentino had a completely new picture of his lover, an image that convicted him about how little he’d known before. Not that it should have mattered, but with Faith it did. Their relationship would be a year old in two more weeks, and he didn’t want to spend the anniversary of their first date grieving her loss.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked again.
“Coming,” came from inside.
A few seconds
later the door swung open. “Agata, I wasn’t expect—”
“My mother is at a fundraising meeting for Giosue’s school, I believe.”
Faith looked at him with something like resignation and sighed. “Yes. That’s what I thought she was doing.”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
“Will you go away if I don’t?”
“No.”
“Why do you want to come in? You’ve never stepped foot in my building, much less my apartment. I didn’t think you even knew where I lived.”
He hadn’t. He’d had to ask his mother, but Faith didn’t need to know that. “I want to see where you work.”
She grimaced, but stepped back. He followed her into the apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small, either. She’d converted the main living area, which opened to a glassed-in balcony, into her studio. The half-glass ceiling bathed the room in the glow of natural light, and he could easily see why she’d picked this location to work.
Although the area was clearly a working studio, she had created a conversation area in one corner with a love seat and two chairs around a low table decorated with traditional Sicilian tiles.
He settled into one of the chairs after declining a drink. “Is my mother the only person who visits you here?”
“No, a couple of the teachers from the school have been by, as well, but since the school day is not yet over…” She let her explanation trail off.
“What about other artists?” He was trying to get a picture of her life, but it was still pretty fuzzy and that bothered him.
She gave a half shrug. “I’m a private person.”
“You always came off as friendly and outgoing to me.”
She wiped at a spot of clay on her hand with the rag she held as she took the seat farthest from his. “Yes, well, maybe I should say that TK is a private person. I have some friends in the artistic community, but none of them live close enough to drop in during the middle of the day.”
He considered this and what she had said about other teachers coming over sometimes, which he read to mean rarely. “You’re a very solitary person, aren’t you?”
