Full Moon in Florence (15 page)

“Hold on princess, have no fear, Tina, your fairy godmother is here.”

After a bit of shuffling, Laine heard Tina’s fingers tapping madly on a keyboard.

“Okay, I’ll text you the three shops I found. Two are near your hotel and one is in a place called… Oltrarno?”

“Good! That’s where I am now.”

“But don’t go crazy. This is an unexpected budget item.”

“All of this is unexpected.”

“Hey, did you sort things out with Colin?”

“I’ve been trying. Work schmerk’s getting in the way. He’s busy too I think. He’s not answering my calls or texts.”

“Is he going with you to the event?”

“Lorenzo couldn’t provide an extra ticket on such late notice.”

“Hmmmm…. Interesting.”

“It’s not what you think. It’s just work.”

“Fancy dress-up work with a rich Italian dude and a private party. Next time you’re taking
me
on one of these ‘business’ trips, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

Laine’s text notification dinged in her ear. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problemo.”

Laine followed Tina’s text directions to a shop a few blocks away.

Colin

As Colin walked around aimlessly, he decided if Laine called again, he would answer and just play things cool.

Eventually, his mobile did ring again but it wasn’t Laine, it was Raf.

“Apparently, someone in the family is threatening to donate the piece to some museum or other.”

“You can’t be serious.” Colin hadn’t come all this way to lose a bid.

“I’m sure it won’t happen, but the prospect is complicating things.”

“You’re sure it’s not a stall for more money?”

“Could be. If I can arrange, can you meet with the seller tonight?” said Raf.

“Of course.” His plans with Laine had gone up in smoke.

“I’ll text you when I know.”

“Listen Raf, I’m not going home without that Botticelli.”

He hadn’t actually seen it in person yet, only digital images. He thought the small portrait of a nameless young woman looked a little bit like Laine, but that might only be because he couldn’t get her off his mind. His mind kept tricking him into thinking that half the women he saw walking down the streets of Florence could be her. Just now he thought he’d seen her go into a shop across the street. And that wasn’t possible. If he thought about what she was really doing, his stomach felt sick and his hands got all clammy.

* * *

Later that evening, Colin was still waiting for Raf’s call. He was biding his time in the hotel sitting room. Drinking. He’d drunk two lagers by the time Laine appeared.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, walking over to him, sashaying more like. She was all dressed up, looking gorgeous. Colin’s heart had lurched at first sight, a small part of him melting at her beauty. And then that part had solidified when he remembered she was dressed up for someone else. He reminded himself he’d decided to play things cool.

Signora Natalia brought him his third lager. She seemed somewhat reluctant when she set it on the side table next to his chair.

“Giammo wouldn’t like this,” she muttered.

Laine sat down in the chair on the other side of the table. She didn’t order anything to drink.

“You look nice,” said Colin, trying, at least, to be polite.

“Thanks.” She shrugged. “Work.” She looked down at her hands and then asked, “Is your phone working?”

He checked his phone, which he’d set on the table, for Raf’s text, but still no word about the meeting address. “Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering if you got my messages about having to work tonight.”

He nodded, sipping his beer. “No worries, turns out I have to as well.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t need to be as dressed up though.” Colin took another slug of beer.

“Or sober?”

He gave her a look, put his bottle down for a minute.

“Sorry,” she said. “Look, about this morning…I…”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. We’re both working. You couldn’t linger. Forget it.”

“It’s partially that but…”

She reached over and put her hand on Colin’s. Her fingers were so warm. He felt a tingle. He had to be strong. His impulse was to run back upstairs, rip off her pink dress, and make love to her in such a way that she’d never look at another man again. He resisted. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

“Colin, I need to explain something…”

Was this the part where she confesses about the other bloke? Colin didn’t know if he could bear it, though he did believe that honesty was the best policy. Laine’s warm fingers had slipped away from his and he now felt a different kind of tingle, the kind that meant that he really had to go to the loo.

“Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

Laine

Laine thought Colin was acting strange. Even a little angry. He seemed to be drinking too much, as if he were upset about something. Clearly he’d misunderstood her disappearance this morning. It wasn’t just about work. She wanted apologize, tell him the truth, tell him how scared she really was. Once this situation with Lorenzo and the painting was dealt with, she’d be able to focus all her attention on Colin. If she could just get through tonight.

Colin’s phone lit up with a text message. He’d left it on the table before rushing off to the restroom. Laine couldn’t resist taking a peek. It was from someone named Rudi.

Hotel booked in Brighton. 2 blokes and 2 babes equals shag city. Cassandra is wetly awaiting your return. Finish up with your American ass and hurry home, Mate!

Laine sat back in her chair. Then she leaned forward, grabbed Colin’s beer bottle and took a long swig. She blinked rapidly to hold back tears of shock. So that was why Colin was acting so strange. One night was enough for him. He’d had his ‘American ass’ and now he was moving on to brighter and better things. In Brighton. She took another sip of beer to push down the lump in her throat.

The Signora called into the sitting room.

“I see a fancy black car outside.”

Laine stood up. “That’s probably for me.”

She didn’t bother waiting for Colin to return.

She was pretty sure he wouldn’t care.

Colin

While in the loo, Colin had an epiphany. What he had to do was fight for Laine. That was it. He had to stand up against all this Italian machismo and show Laine he loved her best. Even if he looked like a fool doing it. He had to win her. He couldn’t remain cool and distant. He had to fire up his own passion and prove to her how much she mattered.

He strode across the lobby with fresh determination. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of pink and a streak of black. A dark car pulled away from the curb outside the hotel.

Quickly, he checked in the sitting room.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered when he saw she was gone. “Goddamned bloody hell.”

He picked up his phone to call her and saw that there was finally a text from Raf. It included the address and another bit of info:
dress formally.

Bugger, he’d have to haul ass. Rudi had sent a text, too, but he didn’t have time for Rudi’s adolescent pesterings right now.

Laine

As the chauffeur-driven Mercedez cruised slowly alongside the river, Laine noticed the full moon beginning to rise. She choked back tears threatening to rise with it. Tonight there would be a full moon over Florence and she’d be alone. She’d be attending a beautiful event but for work rather than pleasure. She was dressed like a princess but she’d made a mistake about her Prince Charming.

At least she had tried. She’d listened to her heart and she’d taken a risk. She’d even had second perfect night with Colin. She had secretly hoped there would be many more to come, a lifetime’s worth, but she’d been wrong about him. She swallowed deeply, forcing her tears down. She had to get through tonight. Then she could cry for the next three months. Maybe Tina had been right. Maybe Colin was the rebound and the next guy would be her true love.

The car pulled up in front of an exclusive club along the riverbank. As Laine emerged from the back seat, wearing her rose-pink gown, heads turned. Lorenzo was waiting. He smiled when he saw her. His dark eyes seemed to grow darker with appreciation and, if Laine wasn’t mistaken, the stirrings of desire.

He escorted her into the building.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered into her ear, getting close enough for her to smell his deliciously scented aftershave.

Laine looked up at him. Was Lorenzo supposed to be her true love? Is that why Fate had brought her to Florence?

She’d been intrigued ever since his tantalizing offer at lunch, by the idea of being swept away in his private car, and by his temptation of a romantic, presumably sexual, afternoon interlude. She’d declined, of course, telling him she thought it was unprofessional to mix business with pleasure. Lorenzo had laughed and assured her that he considered that an outdated American attitude. At least he hadn’t pushed her. He’d graciously accepted her refusal though she could tell, by his attentions tonight, that he hadn’t fully given up. The romantic attention of a man as handsome and worldly as Lorenzo was very flattering. She couldn’t deny it. But she also couldn’t deny that she didn’t actually
feel
anything around him. Her head said, “Why not?” Her heart only whispered, “Colin.”

She had to put Colin out of her mind. It hurt too much to think he’d had his bit of fun and was now thinking about his next conquest.
Cassandra
. Laine forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. She gripped Lorenzo’s arm more tightly. He could distract her for tonight. He could make her forget about Colin. And after he’d presented her with the painting, their work would be done and then maybe she could consider a bit of pleasure. Or maybe not. It wasn’t going to be that simple to get over Colin.

Lorenzo steered her through the exclusive club. The who’s who of the Florence art scene filled the rooms and the large stone balcony overlooking the river.

Lorenzo introduced Laine to a variety of people, none of whose names she could remember. She was too preoccupied thinking of Colin. She helped herself to glass of bubbly as a black-suited waiter glided by. When he passed by a second time she grabbed a second glass. She drank both very quickly.

As she floated about the room feeling like a princess on Lorenzo’s arm, she considered whether or not she could get used to this kind of lifestyle.

Laine saw a stage set up at one end of the room. On display were several paintings, the Botticelli girl among them, as well as a few small sculptures.

Lorenzo leaned toward her. “I will make a small speech in a little while and I’d like you to be with me to accept the Botticelli. It is such a treasured painting, and you are the perfect one to take it back to San Francisco to honor my grandfather’s wishes.”

His dark eyes searched hers for a moment. Then he drew her toward a small alcove. He stared at her lips, her cheekbones, and then lifted one hand and touched a lock of her hair. “You look so much like the girl in the painting. I have wondered these last two days why Fate has delivered you to me…” He leaned in closer. ”I have not stopped thinking about you, Miss Dixon.
Laine
.”

His fingers left her hair and traced the outline of her jaw and brushing awfully close to her lips. “Promise me you won’t rush back to America. Stay in Florence a little longer.”

Though she was already feeling intoxicated by the bubbly, his words, and the fragrance of his aftershave, she resisted his entreaty, murmuring, “I have to go back to work.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. Stay. Come with me to my villa in Tuscany. We can leave tomorrow.”

Laine looked into his dark, desiring eyes. She sensed he might kiss her, but then someone called his name from across the room.

“Lorenzo! Come speak to Minister Grimaldi. Settle this argument for us.”

Lorenzo kissed Laine’s hand. “Don’t go far. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

After Lorenzo excused himself, Laine stood by the doors leading to the balcony to catch her breath.

Lorenzo’s invitation to stay had caught her off guard. She didn’t know what to make of it. As she watched the beautiful crowd milling about the lavish room, she realized she felt out of place. She might have been dressed to fit the scene, but she felt so very far from home. And then it hit her that San Francisco didn’t even feel like home anymore. When
was
the last time she’d felt truly at home? She nearly burst into tears when the thought,
in Colin’s arms
filled her mind. She hadn’t even felt like that with Richard and she’d almost married him. Laine might have looked soft and beautiful in her dress but everything under it was suddenly hurting. Colin didn’t want her. She might never feel at home again.

Some latecomers were arriving. Among them, Laine recognized Lorenzo’s brother, Antonio. When he caught her eye, he hesitated. Perhaps he remembered her from his brother’s office. He held her eye as he slunk across the room. In a minute he was by her side.

“Why don’t you run off back to America. I’ve sold the painting already.”

Laine stood her ground. She refused to be intimidated by him. “To whom?”

“He’s on his way here right now.”

Laine glanced up at the stage, where the Botticelli was still on display. “You know you can’t do that. Your brother is going to present the painting to me any minute. It’s what your grandfather wanted.”

“My grandfather.” Antonio scoffed. “How many silly stories has my brother told you? Lorenzo romanticizes his memory and tries to be like him but he only succeeds in taking after our grandfather in all his philandering ways.”

“What are you talking about?”

Antonio looked at her, really looked at her. “I suppose he’s right. You do look a bit like Botticelli’s girl in the painting.” He raised his eyebrow suggestively. “Has he seduced you yet?”

Laine felt a blush begin to rise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It will be tonight then.” He nodded definitively.

Laine didn’t think it was any of his business. In her slightly inebriated state, she also thought about how tiresome it would be to have Antonio for a brother-in-law. Then she chided herself for jumping too many steps ahead, and drinking too much Spumante.