The Artist's Love (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance) Read online

  “Si,” he says, jumping and flapping his arms excitedly at the sea.

  I take his hand and run as fast as he can into the water. A smooth wave washes up to his feet, and he gets even more excited. I sweep him into my arms, and we move deeper into the crystal-clear water. Together we laugh and splash and ride the gentle waves. Aiden always gets a kick out of watching other kids jumping and diving and splashing in the water. He always tries to mimic them.

  I lose track of time, and all of a sudden remember we’re supposed to be meeting Gianfranco here. I scan the beach and see a guy at the edge of the sand, wearing a well-fitted white T-shirt with tan beach shorts, shading his eyes with his hand. He has Gianfranco’s build, and he’s probably scanning the other patrons, many of whom are topless—and bottomless for that matter—to see if he can spot me.

  I can tell Aiden is losing interest in the water anyway.

  “Are you ready for a snack?” I ask Aiden.

  He looks at me and nods. I kiss his wet, salty cheek.

  Gianfranco sees us walking out of the water. For the first time since my earlier days in Italy, I’m well aware that I’m topless. Thank goodness I have a nice rack.

  Once I make it back to the sand, I give Gianfranco a hug and notice that he’s having a difficult time not staring at my breasts.

  “You came,” I say.

  “I said I would.”

  We peer into each other’s eyes as we did much of last night.

  “Great, let’s go sit,” I say, gesturing toward our blanket.

  Aiden is already a little tuckered out, but he smiles at Gianfranco as he eats his peeled apple.

  “Hello, Aiden,” Gianfranco says before apologizing for being late. “I’ve been inspired lately.”

  My eyebrows perk. “Yeah.”

  Aiden is lying against me, eating and looking at Gianfranco with a half smile and big eyes.

  “He likes you,” I say.

  “Is that so?” Gianfranco leans forward and tickles Aiden’s belly.

  “Yeah, and he’s been playing in the water, doing somersaults and dreaming about being one of the big boys.” I look at Aiden. “Whom he can only keep up with in his dreams.”

  “No way,” Gianfranco says while making swimming motions with his arms. “You want to play like the big boys?”

  Aiden laughs.

  “Si,” Gianfranco says, nodding.

  “Si,” Aiden says.

  “Then let’s go.” He looks at me, and his eyebrows rise at my beautiful breasts. “And Mommy can come too!”

  “Okay!” I say.

  We go back to the water and play some more. Gianfranco is stronger than I am, so he takes us a little deeper into the water and holds Aiden while he makes believe he’s swimming on his own. Gianfranco goes under the water, then up. Aiden does the same, and I follow. Gianfranco splashes me, and Aiden follows suit.

  “Is that what you like doing? You like to splash Mommy?” I say.

  Aiden laughs and splashes more.

  We play in the water for so long that I have to put sunscreen on Aiden twice before we return to the blanket. Aiden lies down between both of us and is soon asleep. I cover him with a towel to protect him from the sun.

  “That was fun. Thanks for making my son’s day,” I say.

  “It was fun for me too. And I also had a really great time at the party with you last night,” Gianfranco says.

  I smile, looking toward the sky and recalling him turning me into a human canvas. “That was nice. I’m glad you caught me before I left.” I hand him a cracker with some cheese on it, then I make one for myself.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “So,” I say in a tone that indicates I’m changing the subject. “I told you a lot about myself last night. What about you? Any sins from the past you like to keep from the light?”

  He chuckles, looking into the distance. “Of course. I too was once in love. And now I am not.”

  “What about your family?”

  “You know so much about my castle. Do you not know about my family too?”

  “I know that you mother and father died in a car accident when you were seven. Your mother’s brother took you in. He had no children or wife. However, you inherited the castle, and your fortune, from your father’s family.”

  He leans forward as if he’s about to speak a secret. “It seems you know everything.”

  I narrow an eye suspiciously. “Everything?”

  He takes a breath. “I was married once.”

  “Oh? There’s no record of that.”

  “Our marriage lasted two months, then it was annulled. I was not her forever lover and she was not mine.”

  “Are you looking for your forever lover?”

  He stares deeply into my eyes. “Aren’t we all?”

  I feel flush with emotion, as though he’s looking into my soul, and I into his.

  He shifts his position. “I would like to take you on a proper date soon. Very soon.”

  “Absolutely.” I look at Aiden then the sky. It’s getting late, and he’s clearly spent. “He likes you.”

  “And I like him.”

  Again, we smile at one another.

  “Then I will call you soon,” he says.

  I tilt my head and narrow one eye. “You will call, or Juanita will call?”

  “Juanita will call?” He looks at me blankly, then laughs. “This time, I will place the call.”

  Aiden snores.

  “Terrific.” I begin putting everything away to head for home.

  “One last thing,” he says, his hand gently on my arm. “Can I kiss you?”

  I tingle all over, remembering last night’s kiss. “You may.”

  Our lips connect, and again my body is splashed with warmth inside. We remain connected for a few seconds before we part.

  17

  Elsa is leaning against the doorjamb, reading a letter aloud. “‘Due to your segment featuring our estate, The Emerald Vineyard, bookings for accommodations have increased by 110%. We thank you for your lovely report, and we send you a gift of gratitude.’” Her smile is as big as this day’s been long. “There are six more letters like this.”

  I sigh and sit back in my chair, resting my head on the top of the seat. “What was the gift?”

  Elsa raises a finger. “One moment.” She steps out of the doorway, then reappears holding a gift basket. “Ta da!”

  “Oh nice,” I say without much enthusiasm.

  Elsa tilts her head to examine me. “Are you here, on earth?”

  “Sort of,” I say.

  She walks into my office, sets the gift basket on my desk, then sits in the chair across from me. “Is everything okay?”

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply. “Everything is fabulous.”

  “Then why do you look so dreary?”

  “Because I’m falling for another man, and I can’t trust my judgment.”

  “Ah…” she says as if she finally understands. “Liza?”

  “Yes.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  I do as she says.

  “Is it Gianfranco, the artist?”

  My lips press together in a slight grimace as I nod.

  She grunts thoughtfully and resettles in her seat. “He is certainly a good catch.”

  “I know… we went to the beach yesterday. He played with Aiden so well. He’s like no one I’ve ever met.”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “That could be a plus.”

  I sigh again. “He’s so careful and considerate. He listens to me.”

  “He’s handsome,” Elsa adds.

  “He’s funny and adventurous.”

  “He lives in a castle.”

  I snicker and roll my eyes. “Actually, that’s a great thing. He has his own money, so he won’t come looking for mine. Well, not my money but my father’s. He was the wealthy one.”

  My lips curl in anger as I think about how I brought into my dad’s life a man who could’ve possibly killed him for hi
s fortune. Bill Sharpe wasn’t always wealthy. Our family had a history of working in coal mines and dying from black lung disease. My dad worked the mines for two years after high school. As soon as he started to develop a nagging cough, he quit and applied to college. All he knew was that he wanted to be a successful businessman.

  My father used the money from his family trust, which consisted of settlements and death insurance benefits, to purchase his first motel. He was still in college, learning how to grow his investment, but he was captivated by the idea of real estate investment trusts. By the time he graduated from college, he, along with other investors, owned his first four-star hotel. One by one, he began training his male cousins so that no one in his family ever had to work the mines again.

  “Well, you can’t guard your heart forever,” Elsa says.

  I blow out my cheeks. “I guess not.”

  “And if you miss him, then you’ll miss him.” She winks.

  I pinch my bottom lip anxiously. She’s so right. “We’re going on our first official date this weekend.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “Sounds like it could be serious.”

  “It’s just a date.”

  “From what I remember, Gianfranco Guardi doesn’t go on dates. He barely leaves the castle. However…” She presses her finger against the side of her mouth. “Yesterday he went down to the sea.”

  I chuckle at her suggestive tone. “Indeed he did.”

  She shrugs cutesy-like. “Apparently, you are worth it.”

  We have a good laugh, then we share the wine and fresh bread from the gift basket.

  This is the last week before my show goes on hiatus for four months. I planned to use the time off to fly back to Minnesota and congratulate Abby, my former executive assistant, and Nolan on their engagement. After I left the Minneapolis office I ran to become a full-time mother, Nolan took over. He became her new boss, and now they’re engaged.

  Also, it’s just time to go home, at least for a little while. I have to figure out what to do with my house there. Should I sell it? Rent it? Live in it? Will I ever return to Minneapolis for good? Pretty soon Aiden will be two, and I have to start thinking about putting him in preschool. Should he go to school in America or here in Italy? I just don’t know. I can always find a good nursery school here where both English and Italian are taught. Regardless, I don’t have to think about any of that right now.

  I spend the rest of the week wrapping up interviews. Gianfranco calls me every night, and we talk for hours about art, the best views in the world, the quietest places, the best beaches, how he dealt with his parents’ deaths, how I dealt with my father’s death. How he’s dealing with his uncle’s request that he paints the portrait of a man he believes to be a corrupt politician.

  It’s Friday night—the night before our big date. Gianfranco’s on the phone, and he has just finished telling me about how I’ve been inspiring his painting, and it makes me feel insecure.

  “Is that why you like me—because I’m your American muse?” I snap.

  I immediately want to take the words back, but then I don’t. It’s not like me to challenge a man, but I’m sick of discovering that I’m being used when it’s far too late to stave off a broken heart.

  “No way. Not at all,” he says as though I’ve offended him.

  “Are you sure? Because I’ve been hurt far too many times to go through that yet again.”

  “If you become hurt, it will not be because of what I do. I can never hurt you, Liza. It will kill me.”

  I breathe in his words. I so want to believe them, but I’ve come to learn that words are merely words and actions speak a thousand of them.

  We fall silent. I think we’re both ready to change the subject.

  “How was your time with Aiden tonight?” he asks.

  I smile, remembering my afternoon after I got home from the station. “My good friend Elsa’s sister-in-law, Rosa, brought her son over to play with Aiden. Rosa plays the guitar, so she churned out songs and we danced.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “It was.”

  “Your son has a remarkable mother.”

  My smile grows bigger. “I work at it. I don’t want to be anything like my own mother. She’s extremely selfish.” I sigh. “Although she can’t help it.”

  “Indeed. Sometimes the body ages but the mind does not.”

  “Exactamente,” I say.

  “I cherish your drops of Italian. Don’t ever change it.”

  I laugh. Gosh, I want to kiss him right now.

  “Allora. Devi riposare,” he says.

  “Altrettanto, likewise,” I say.

  I feel him smiling during the silence. I imagine him peeling off my bra and panties, remembering how his fingers caressed my skin last Saturday when he spray-painted my thigh.

  “Well,” I say breathlessly, “buonanotte.”

  “Notte,” he says. “Ti vedo domani?”

  “Yes, see you tomorrow.”

  I hang up and squeeze my thighs together. I’m tingling down there. He turns me on so much. I have never been this sexually attracted to a man because I wouldn’t let myself go that far. But I will now. I’m throwing caution to the wind, and I’m going to let my body feel the pleasure it seeks. If it doesn’t work out between us, then at least I let myself have fun for once.

  18

  I try on about thirteen dresses before Gianfranco arrives to pick me up. I meet him outside, and he waits for me at the passenger side door, holding it open.

  “Ciao, bella, you look fantastic,” he says as I pass and catch a waft of his scent.

  I look at him from inside the car. “Ciao. So do you.”

  I wasn’t sure what to wear, but it looks as if we’ll be a knockout together. He’s in a navy suit, and my DVF dress is almost the same color, with a striking white floral pattern.

  He takes me to the Ristorante Grotto Palazzese. It is an open-air enclave, or cave, right next to the sea.

  “This is my favorite place,” I say.

  After he parks, he presses his lips close to my ear. “I know. I heard what you said.”

  The warmth of his breath chills my neck.

  He gets out of the car and walks around to my door and opens it for me. He takes my hand and helps me out.

  “Thank you,” I croon.

  He bends his arm for me to walk by his side. I cradle my arm in his, and we enter the restaurant. A wooden floor goes from one edge of the cave to the other, like the deck of a boat. There is still plenty of daylight left, so the stone walls are lit by dancing aqua reflections from the water below. Our host shows us to our seats. We’re located at the edge, where just several feet below, the waves come crashing into the cliff.

  “How about some wine?” Gianfranco says.

  “That sounds fine,” I say, taking in the view and taking a break from enjoying his sparkling eyes.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  “I can never tell until I see what’s in the kitchen.” I open my menu.

  This restaurant only ever has two options for dinner. One is a six-course meal; the other is a four. The dishes change every week, and this week, they include varieties of shrimp, fish, pasta, and a mango-chocolate parfait.

  “So how hungry are you now?” he asks.

  “I’ll be having the sex.” I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth.

  He looks at me, his face contorted. “The what?”

  “The six. I’ll be having the six-course meal.” I set my menu down and take a large drink of wine. Jeez. What the heck was I thinking?

  Gianfranco winks. “Me too.”

  Our eyes remain connected until the waiter returns.

  “Have you two decided?” our server says.

  “We have,” Gianfranco says.

  He places our orders and the waiter leaves. Afterward, we talk about my hiatus, which starts on Monday.

  “I’ll have four months off, so I might as well go home and visit family,” I say.

&
nbsp; Gianfranco jerks back. “No way… you said you like to travel, no?”

  “Yes.” I tell him what happened when I arrived in Italy, my adventures with Elsa, and that I’d love to do it again, but she’ll be busy.

  “Then we shall travel together.”

  I beam. “That will be nice.”

  A flash of light splashes in our eyes, and we look for the source. An on-looker is taking our photograph. Gianfranco jumps out of his chair and snags the camera from the man’s hand.

  “What is this? What are you doing?”

  The guy tries to explain.

  “You are from that pesky paper, the Enquirer. Si, si?” Gianfranco holds the camera over the edge of the railing, threatening to drop it over the cliff. “Now you leave. I will leave this with the host for you to pick up later. Go on, get.” He shoos the man away with his other hand. After the man leaves, Gianfranco sits back down. “I hate it when they bother me. If you let them, they just come more. If you weren’t here, I’d have thrown his camera into the water.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  He cocks his head, looking surprised. “Really?”

  I nod. “Really.”

  He flips it over the rail into the sea, and I laugh. He laughs too, then leans forward as though he has something to whisper to me. I lean forward so that I can hear what he has to say.

  Instead, he kisses me on my lips.

  My body electrifies, and I whisper, “What was that for?”

  “You are now an accomplice to my crime. If we are to go to jail, I want a kiss.”

  I chuckle. “Then we’d better have another.”

  This time, our kiss is serious.

  A throat clears on my left. “Your food.”

  I find myself blushing, embarrassed.

  We sit back and let the onslaught begin. One delicious course comes after another until the final course arrives.

  “This one, we shall share.” Gianfranco sets the dish in the middle of the table and digs his fork through the thick parfait coated in cocoa crumble and caramel sauce. He tips the bite into my mouth.

  My eyes roll back in my head. “Divine.”

  He feeds me, them himself, then me again. Each time, I can almost feel the heat from his hand and his electricity touches the inside of my mouth through the tines of the fork. I swallow each bite, staring deeply into his eyes.