A Taste of Italian Sunshine by Leonie Mack

Author:Leonie Mack [Mack, Leonie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

Tiziano whistled and sang along with the radio, beating the old pleather steering wheel in time to the music, as he cruised home from Verona. He was pleased Jenn wanted to keep this… thing with him going a little longer. Even seeing the letter still crumpled and stained in the boot, only caused a momentary twinge of guilt He would deal with that after Jenn left. For now, he had at least a week and the perfect idea for how to help her.

The grappa issue was a problem, though, and he was having trouble deciding what to do. He’d nearly choked when she’d told him about the new addition to her assignment that morning, although she hadn’t seemed to notice. He’d think about it later. For now, he wanted to think about how she’d looked, leaning on the railing and grinning down at him, her hair mussed and her pyjamas so short. He even liked the hint of diffidence in her smile, now he understood it wasn’t arrogant pride, as he’d first thought.

Dinner last night had been unexpectedly pleasant in a lot of ways. Jenn had seemed surprisingly comfortable and although he'd been worried that Maryam would say something, it was clear she hadn’t. Jenn wouldn’t have flirted with him and teased him and grinned shyly down at him if she’d known. He shuddered to think how her attitude would change if she found out everything he’d been through. She’d be like all the others back then, when it had happened – all soft, pained words and concerned looks reminding him that he was falling apart.

He didn’t want that from Jenn. He wanted her to think he was a carefree country boy who avoided responsibility. He didn’t want her to know why he couldn’t think about the future.

He could have a vacation from his real life with her, someone who didn’t know his history, and she could have a vacation with him and then decide afterwards, with a clear head, what she wanted to do about Filippo. Niente danno, niente affanno – no harm, no worries.

The car rattled across the Ponte di Vidor, the expanse of the Piave river bed on both sides, and he gave a sigh to be home. The white stones and criss-crossing streams of blue-green looked inviting and he imagined bringing Jenn here to swim.

He enjoyed wondering what she was doing as he passed through Valdobbiadene and headed into the hills. The sun was baking and it had been weeks since they’d had any decent rain. His fingers itched as though they could sense the impending harvest.

Feeling like an eager puppy, he coaxed the groaning little Fiat up the drive and turned into the courtyard to park while he opened the garage. But he stamped on the brakes when he found another car already there.

It was a silver BMW that he didn’t recognise. The first shiver of misgiving prickled on his skin when he noticed the provincial code on the licence plate: MI for Milan.

Yanking on

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