Miracle for the Girl Next Door / Mother of the Bride: Miracle for the Girl Next Door

She laughed so hard she almost cried. He threw his head back and laughed with her. Only Valentino would come up with something so completely outrageous. Beneath the brim, his sensual mouth had broken into a heart-stopping smile she couldn’t help but reciprocate.

Everyone else wrapped her in cotton wool, but not Valentino. He was such an original and so charismatic, her heart took flight around him. Right now it was racing too fast and made her slightly dizzy. “Until you got out, the old truck and the kind of hat my grandfather used to wear had me completely fooled.”

“Then it’s possible I’ve eluded the usual horde of paparazzi.”

Before she could countenance it, he went around to open the truck’s tailgate. The next thing she knew he’d produced about twenty new bushel-sized baskets that he stacked near the table.

“Is this all that’s left of today’s produce?” He motioned to the few remaining baskets of fruits and olives.

“Yes.”

Without saying anything else he loaded them in the back of his truck and shut the tailgate. Then he pulled out his wallet and put some bills in the cash box. They represented double the amount she would have received if she’d sold everything by the end of the day.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reading the question in her eyes. “The produce I’ve purchased won’t go to waste.”

She shook her head in amusement. “What are you up to?” The sunglasses hid a lot from view.

“What do you think? I intend to spend the rest of the day with you. Now that you’ve been bought out, you’re free to take the time off and enjoy yourself. Vieni com me! I’ll drive you up to the house so you can take the money inside, then we’ll go.” He opened the passenger door.

He’d put her in a position where she could hardly refuse. In truth she didn’t want to no matter how tired she was already, no matter how loudly Silvio’s warnings rang in her ears. “Will the truck make it that far?” she baited him.

His dark brows lifted. Under that hat he looked devastatingly handsome. “Shall we find out?” He helped her inside, then handed her the box after he’d climbed behind the wheel.

“Where did you get this truck?”

“From Giorgio, the sous chef at the restaurant. He has agreed to let me borrow it for a while. I’ve given him the use of my Ferrari whenever he wants.”

“That’s a trade he’ll never forget, but he’ll probably be terrified to drive it.”

“You don’t know Giorgio. Before the day is out we’ll probably see him whizzing around the countryside racking up speeding tickets.”

She laughed. “No doubt with the press hounds in hot pursuit.”

“Exactly.” He drove them up to the farmhouse, then handed her the metal box after she got out.

“I’ll take this inside, then I’ll be back.”

“There’s no hurry. I’m planning to feed you after we get to our destination.”

“That sounds exciting, but I hope it’s not too far. This evening I have plans I can’t break.” It was the truth. After a day’s work she was too tired to do anything but rest. “I’ll need to be home by five-thirty at the latest.”

“Message received,” he muttered.

She jumped down from the cab with the money box and hurried inside the farmhouse to freshen up. Luckily her mother wasn’t in the kitchen at that moment. After the run-in with Silvio, she couldn’t take defending her actions to anyone else, least of all her parents, who killed themselves trying to remove the stumbling blocks from her path.

While Valentino waited for Clara, his jaw hardened in frustration because she continually kept him on a short leash. Yet the minute she emerged from the farmhouse the sight of those translucent green eyes lighting up as she smiled at him broke through his borderline anger to mesmerize him.

When she climbed in the cab, he turned his head toward her. “You’re meeting Leandro later?”

She averted her eyes. “I haven’t seen him for a while. For your information I’m going to watch the children while the rest of the family attends my great-uncle’s birthday. It’s the party Lia’s coming to. None of them gets a break very often. My family wants to go early so they can get home early.” She flashed him an impish smile. “Both Bianca and Maria get morning sickness at night.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that, since he had nothing else to do with his evening, he’d be more than happy to help her with the children. However, he thought the better of it when he remembered that, besides Paolito, the other three were Silvio’s offspring. Clara’s brother would probably explode in a fine fury to discover Valentino in the house. That in turn would place Clara in hot water.

“I had something else in mind for us, but under the circumstances I’ll drive us to the Trattoria Alberto. They’re supposed to give quick service.”

“That’s the place where a lot of tour buses stop. It’s not too far from here. I haven’t been there in years.” She sounded so relieved he wondered what in blazes was going on with her.

He started up the truck and they left the farm. “How would you like to play spy?”

A chuckle escaped her throat reminding him of the old Clara. “At the trattoria?”

“Yes. One of the reasons I’m in Monta Correnti for the summer is to see what I can do to help improve business at Rosa.”

“You’re here for the whole summer?” The shock in her voice wasn’t feigned.

“Your comment yesterday decided me.”

“What comment?”

“That it will take time to get anywhere with my father.” He could also see that he was going to need that much time to get back in Clara’s good graces. Nine years away without checking in had done its fair share of damage.

“But what about your bike business and your racing?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I can run it with my laptop and phone calls. Missing a few races is of little consequence right now. Papa is heavily in debt. Something needs to be done before he plunges any further. Isabella’s doing her best. I need to do my part.”

A hand went to her throat. “I had no idea.”

“Yesterday I met with some tour operators who gave me their itineraries. They all stop at the Trattoria Alberto when they pass through Monta Correnti. I’d like to find out why they think it’s a better place than Rosa. While we’re eating, let’s make a list of what’s good and bad about the place and the food. We’ll check prices and the number of menu items.”

Her face lit up. “This is going to be fun.”

Valentino laughed in pure delight to see her act excited. “I thought it might appeal to you.”

It didn’t take long before they reached the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking area at the side of the trattoria. He showed her inside and they took a seat that gave them visual access to all areas of the dining room. Without a tour-bus crowd, there were quite a few empty tables because it was still early.

Clara chose chicken and he opted for the veal, the two dishes most tourists ordered. They tested two house wines and ordered the most popular desserts. “Your father will be impressed you went to this much trouble in the name of research.”

Valentino let out a caustic laugh before swallowing the last spoonful of his gelato. “To tell you the truth, his opinion of me is so low, I doubt he’ll give me the time of day to present my findings, but I have to try. He raised me, after all.”

She looked at him in seeming consternation. “Why do you say that? What father wouldn’t be the proudest man in the world to have a son who has accomplished so much?”

“You’d be surprised.” He studied her through shuttered lids. “You’re very sweet, Clara.”

He had half a mind to unload his secrets on her, but she seemed to have run out of steam. Her eyelids fluttered like someone who was exhausted. When he saw her glance at her watch, he knew the drill. Defeated for the moment, he laid some money on the table and ushered her outside to the truck.

On the way back to the farm she tried to keep up her end of the conversation, but the spark she’d shown earlier had fled. After he turned onto the road leading up to the farmhouse he said, “Will you have coffee with me at Bonelli’s in the morning and we’ll compare notes before I head to the restaurant to see my father? I’ll pick you up.”

“No—I mean y-you don’t need to do that,” she stammered before opening the door. “I’ll come on the bus, but it will have to be early, say nine o’clock. I have a dentist appointment at ten.”