Hired: The Italian's Bride Page 10

  “It’s not a challenge, it’s fact.” She bolstered her argument with numbers. If they could just keep this about the hotel, and not about them, then she might stand a hope of keeping things clear and professional. “This invoice alone is for over a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “And every guest who comes out of our spa will feel like a million.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Mari watched as Luca ran a finger beneath his bottom lip and she remembered how their bodies had been close. How she’d shamelessly wrapped her arms around his ribs and pulled him in so that the warmth of his body pulsed through her. That couldn’t happen again. A relationship was out of the question. Boundaries. He’d said they could set the boundaries. She wished he’d let her.

  “Have you ever had a spa day, Mariella?”

  “I’ve had facials and pedicures, sure.” Once, when she’d first moved here and had treated herself. When she’d been reinventing herself.

  “No, not that kind. The kind where you spend a whole day. You are massaged and buffed and polished from head to toe, so that when you’re done you feel like you own an entirely new body.”

  She shook her head.

  “You must. I’ll talk to Gina.”

  Gina again.

  She was losing ground quickly. Somehow this conversation had gotten away from the topic of expenditures and she had to bring it back.

  “I do not have time for a spa day, Gina or not.”

  His smile was crafty. “But if you’re with Gina, she’s out of my hair.”

  “And conveniently, so am I.” She raised her brows so he knew she was on to him. “You made these changes without even consulting me.”

  “I am the owner.”

  Mari unclenched her fingers, relieved they were back to the safe topic of talking about the hotel again. “As I’m well aware.” She smiled coolly. “I have to run these figures again, if they are, as you say, correct. Find a way to trim costs somewhere else.” She didn’t add that she blamed him for the extra work; there was no need. He never seemed to listen to her cautions about money. He simply forged ahead with whatever scheme he had in mind. And he was a great one for schemes.

  “Mariella, you are going to worry yourself into the ground. Take the day. Enjoy it.” He reached over and put his hand over hers. “You’re no good to me or the employees here if you’re out on stress leave because you’ve pushed yourself too hard.”

  Words seemed to strangle when she tried to talk and she paused. He wasn’t goading her or criticizing. His eyes were sincere. He actually sounded like he cared.

  He was so hard to resist when he was this way. It had been easier for her to deal with the work this morning than think about the what-if’s with Luca. But he was here now and work didn’t solve a thing. If anything it only served to increase her awareness of him. To highlight how often during the day they were together. To remind her of how much she’d lost herself in his arms last night. To remind her of how much she longed to trust someone, to have them fill that empty space she’d become so adept at ignoring.

  Luca saw her face change, saw that little hint of vulnerability she tried to keep hidden. He recognized that look. Gina had had it, less now that she had her own family, but he’d seen it enough growing up. In his days here, he hadn’t seen Mariella with any friends. She never talked about her family. She was, to his recollection, the most alone person he’d ever met. And something told him she had it that way on purpose.

  It would be good for her to have a day with Gina. Moreover, it would get them both out of his hair for a blessed few hours so he could work in peace.

  “I want to do this for you, Mariella. I want you to take the rest of the morning and treat yourself to a massage or a wrap or whatever you like.” And he lifted her hand and kissed the back.

  It was a mistake. The scent of her skin as he touched it with his lips made him remember the feel of her last night, soft and pliant in his arms. It had affected him more than he’d expected, but he’d been unable to resist going to her on the balcony. There was nothing brash about her, she had no agenda, and that set her apart from most of the women he escorted to various functions. But that wasn’t all.

  It would be very easy to care for Mari, to care too much. She seemed to need it, but he wasn’t the one to give it. He would be leaving. She was different. He knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to string along. And he didn’t have it in him to give her anything more.

  He dropped her hand and sauntered to the door. As he reached the threshold, he turned his head back. “Oh, if you could, be back at two-thirty. I’ve made us an appointment to see some artwork at a local gallery.”

  He shut the door behind him. Mari could never know that the attraction was becoming very real for him. It would complicate everything, and right now he needed to keep things simple.

  At two-thirty Mari met Luca in the lobby.

  “What, no Gina?” She’d left Luca’s sister after their hot stone massages, refusing an invitation to lunch and instead working in her office, desperate to keep up with the workload.

  “Gina sends her apologies, but Charlie has taken her back to Calgary to catch a flight home.”

  She caught the small furrow between his eyebrows. “Has something happened? Is it your father?”

  “Why would you ask about my father?” The wrinkle deepened.

  She looked up at him and put her hand on his arm. “You said her children were staying with him.”

  He sighed, and put his hand over hers. “No, it’s not Papa. I rather think it’s Gina and Angelo, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He put on a smile, though she saw through it to the worry. How long had he been shouldering the weight of his family? The thought came to her and she realized it fit. Luca felt responsible. He hid it behind a playboy-type façade, but after the way he’d spoken about his father and now his sister, she was sure of it.

  “Let’s not worry about that now. You look lovely. The spa clearly agreed with you.”

  Mari began to lift her hand to smooth her hair again but stopped. It had been wonderful, being fussed over and pampered. The stress had melted away with the heat of the rocks. She straightened her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  Yet she knew days at the spa and art shopping trips were things she couldn’t get used to. She was Mari Ross of small town Ontario. Luca was Fiori of Fiori Resorts, used to glamour and a lifestyle very different from hers. It was understandable why she’d find that seductive. But it was also a reminder of why it was temporary.

  Things like this simply didn’t last.

  When they reached the car, he leaned over and kissed her temple before she got in. “You look radiant,” he murmured in her ear.

  The spot on her scalp where he’d pressed his lips burned. He was acting as though they did this every day, for Pete’s sake! All the feelings from last night’s fairy tale came rushing back, and she tried to push them away. “It’s the facial,” she replied curtly, sliding over and buckling her seat belt.

  They started with a small gallery tucked in behind Banff Avenue. Mari examined piece by piece, from soapstone sculptures to paintings to spectacular photographic work. As the visit continued, Mari felt like she was swept along with a whirlwind…only everywhere she turned, there was Luca, a few steps behind her. Always aware of him, the sound of his voice as he spoke to the proprietor. And using softer, more intimate tones for her.

  It was hard to ignore him. Even if she really wanted to.

  The saleslady was off to wrap a few of their smaller purchases to take with them, when Luca’s hands draped over her shoulders, his fingers gripping the ends of her scarf. She jumped at the contact.

  “Nervous?”

  If only he knew. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to sudden moves like that, even if it were Luca doing it. She breathed away the adrenaline rush. “I didn’t see you behind me.”

  “This is lovely. The shade brings out the gray in your eyes.”

/>   “My eyes are ordinary blue.”

  She turned around to face him, expecting to see him smiling at her. Instead he was gazing at her, a serious expression clouding his eyes.

  “Your eyes, Mariella, are anything but ordinary,” he murmured, and before she could catch her breath, he dipped his head and touched her lips with his.

  Her fingers gripped his arm as the gentle contact seared through her. His lips were soft as they explored her mouth, undemanding yet beguiling. He pulled away slightly, their breath mingling, waiting. Mari dimly remembered they were standing in the middle of a shop, but the noise faded away to a distant hum as she leaned in the inch and a half to kiss him again. Her eyelids drifted closed and Luca’s free hand cupped her cheek.

  The tenderness of it made her want to weep.

  She hadn’t realized, hadn’t thought that the absence of affection had left such a huge hole. She hadn’t wanted contact, or tenderness, or even kindness. Hadn’t wanted to make herself vulnerable. She still didn’t. But when Luca touched her this way, kissed her this way, like she was precious, she craved more of it. Like gentle, steady rain after a long drought.

  He broke the kiss when a car horn honked outside on the street.

  “Luca,” she whispered. She’d come here to keep an eye on his purchases. To make sure he didn’t outspend them again. To make sure she still had a say in the decisions being made.

  Only it had backfired. She’d allowed him in and…dear God. She had feelings for him. Alarm thudded through her. She didn’t do feelings! She had to keep things level. Luca wasn’t really interested in her, she wasn’t his type of woman. She knew that. Thank goodness one of them was thinking rationally.

  Yet the thought that Luca wasn’t interested in her at all left her crushed with disappointment. How could that be, when it was what she wanted? She didn’t want to be closer to him, did she?

  She lifted her confused eyes to his.

  And was shocked to see her feelings mirrored back at her. He didn’t say anything. But she knew. She knew she hadn’t been alone in being affected by the kiss.

  “There you go.” The saleslady held out two bags, smiling like finding them in an embrace was a sweet secret. “The rest of your purchases will be shipped to the hotel.”

  Mari felt Luca’s body behind her as she turned, the solid wall of him against her back as he put his arm around her, cradling her against him as he rested his chin atop her head. Mari wanted to beg him, please don’t be so kind. And somehow she heard his unspoken answer: Let me in.

  They left the shop and ventured on foot to the next, cradled between two restaurants on the busy main street. As he held the door for her, he murmured, “That’s probably not a good idea, letting that happen again.”

  She stepped inside the door, the scent of vanilla and lavender teasing her nose. “No?”

  “You’re the manager, and I’m the owner. It wouldn’t be good for appearances.”

  Mari nearly laughed. Luca, concerned about appearances? He was the one who wandered through the hotel in jeans instead of business suits. He was the one who asked for picnics and dinners and shunned anything traditional. He was the one who had his picture in magazines with a new woman on his arm every month, it seemed. “If I remember correctly, you kissed me.”

  “I believe you kissed me back.”

  Something in the last few days had caused something to break free in Mari. Instead of backing off she lifted her chin. “That’s hardly the point now, is it.”

  “Fiori does have an image to uphold, Mariella.”

  Mari goggled.

  “Who are you and what have you done with Luca?”

  He only offered a tight smile in response. Mari stepped inside the gallery, immediately surrounded by pieces by local artists. She was secretly pleased he wanted to showcase local art. It was part of what the Cascade should be about. She was beginning to see that. This place was like no other place on earth. It deserved to be showcased as such.

  She found some particularly interesting carvings and when she looked up, Luca had moved on. She spied him in a side room, his hands in his pockets as he looked at paintings. She sighed. He was so…something. He was just so Luca. He made no apologies for it. The self-assurance was sexy, she realized. He’d been molded and shaped long ago, when his mother had left all of them. Now he knew who he was. She envied that.

  When she reached him, he didn’t look at her but simply said, “There are some wonderful pieces here.”

  For a moment she wondered about the cost of adding original art to the hotel. But put it aside for once. How could she worry about dollars and cents for her livelihood, when she’d splurged for perfectly selfish reasons today?

  “I haven’t been in here before.”

  “Don’t you like art?”

  He stopped his perusal and turned his head. The kiss they’d shared was suddenly in the front of her mind.

  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  He turned back to the painting before him.

  She found a bench and put down her bags. It was true. She hadn’t had time for things like art appreciation. In the last store she’d merely followed his lead. She’d had more immediate needs, more pressing concerns. Like getting her life back. Taking charge. Moving forward instead of being paralyzed by fear.

  And she’d done quite well, until that phone call. The one telling her Robert had served his time. Had fulfilled his debt to society. It was no solace at all—what about his debt to her? To her mother? Where was he now? She could swear up and down she’d rebuilt her life, but all she’d done was run. Run and pretend. Now she didn’t even know where her mother was. If she’d run, as well. If she was even okay. She’d gone years telling herself it didn’t matter, but now with Robert out of prison, her thoughts kept turning back to the one parent she had.

  Luca didn’t get any of that. Nor would he. She couldn’t bring herself to explain it to him. Despite their newfound closeness, she certainly didn’t know him, or trust him enough to fill him in on the sordid details.

  “Are you feeling well?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Luca was close to her shoulder. “Mariella, you are pale as a ghost. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Show me the paintings you like.” She had to stop giving her stepfather any power. She’d left that life behind.

  He took her hand and showed her his favorites. She dutifully nodded and commented. She ignored the way he looked at her with his brows meeting in the middle.

  She bluffed her way through it, going through the motions as best she could. The paintings he liked were lovely, she could see that. They were mostly landscapes, and with the Rocky Mountains being their backyard, sweeping mountain scenes were prevalent. He favored those over the wildlifes or stills, she noticed numbly.

  “Whichever ones you want will be fine.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “You have no opinion? You’re not going to pull out your calculator and quote budgets to me?”

  Mari swallowed. “You’re going to do what you wish anyway, Luca. Why argue?”

  “Because it’s what we do best,” he replied.

  “I don’t want to argue. The paintings are fine with me. They are very nice.”

  He stepped closer, his face puzzled. “But how do they make you feel, Mari?”

  Feel? “Luca, it’s paint on canvas.” She didn’t want to talk about how she felt. Today she’d felt like she was the girl she’d always wanted to be but hadn’t been allowed. She could do what she wanted, buy what she wanted, feel what she wanted, and no one would punish her for it. She could take a morning off and no one would berate her. She could splurge on vanity and it was fine. The self-indulgence had been heady. Then reality had crashed in and she felt alone again, too weary to fight. Luca could make her forget, and it was wonderful while it lasted. But coming back to earth was a big thud and it hurt a little more each time.

  “Yes, and the Cascade is a hunk of rock on a hillside. Even you know better th
an that.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not an art aficionado.”

  “You don’t have to be to have feelings, Mari.”

  “Of course I have feelings!” she snapped.

  She turned away, ashamed. Even-tempered, reliable Mari was suddenly all over the place. One moment she was sighing into his eyes and the next she was so overwhelmed she was biting his head off. She didn’t know who she was anymore. He kept pushing at her, demanding things of her and her well-ordered life wasn’t so black and white. She certainly didn’t feel up to dealing with everything she was feeling.

  He led her around a corner. “Look at these. Tell me what you feel. Let them speak to you. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  She sighed, put upon. When he got like this, there was no deterring him. She had learned that already. She may as well humor him.

  These were no landscapes. The paintings here were different, angled shapes and colors and impressions. Mari walked past, feeling no connections. Longing simply to return to the hotel. She was tired. She was drained. The whole day had been something special, but she doubted he’d understand how much it had meant to her. She’d felt a part of something.

  Something based on a lie.

  And then she turned a corner and saw it. Sweeps of blue with a brilliant core of red, exploding out from the middle in splashes.

  It made no sense. But something about it spoke to her and she stepped ahead, lifting her fingers, coming close but not actually touching the canvas.

  “Mari?”

  Mari ignored his voice, but knew he’d been right all along. As hard as she’d fought, he’d been sure of himself. There was something inside her that Luca had set free, and it was right here in oil and canvas, looking back at her. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew she had to have it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “YOU like it.”

  She nodded, her eyes roving over the blend of paint and canvas. “I don’t know why…it isn’t even of anything at all.”