Her Italian Soldier

“Why?” he snapped at her. Finally he was listening.

“You live with a constant ache and are probably dealing with some arthritis. The plate the doctor put along the side of your thighbone is helping bear your weight and has made early movement possible. However, the plate is shielding your bone from stress, which is not necessarily a good thing.”

He sat forward. “Are you saying the doctor didn’t know what he was doing?”

“No, Lucca …” She shook her head. “After your crash, you needed the surgery immediately to safeguard against further nerve damage. But because some stress on the bone is necessary to strengthen it as it heals, this stress-shielding has had some consequences, like your pain, for example.”

His features broke into a grimace. “The news gets better and better.”

“Actually it does,” she assured him. “Considering that you experience pain when you’re fatigued, I’d advise you to consult an orthopedic surgeon here and see if you’re a candidate to have the plate removed at some point down the road.”

She saw his hands close into fists. “If I thought I could get that thing out of there …”

“I know it’s possible, but I’m not a doctor. Only he can determine if it’s a procedure for you and how soon it could be done. If so, you could probably do most everything you used to do and be free of pain. If nothing else, it will improve the quality of the life you’re living now.”

He stared at her through new eyes. “You’ve given me hope I thought was gone.”

“Hope is everything, isn’t it? But if the doctor advises against it in your particular case because it could leave your bone with a residual weakness, I know you’ll handle it. You’re not an ace pilot for nothing.”

She didn’t have to look at him to feel his energy. Something earthshaking was going on inside him. “Do you want dessert?”

“After that fabulous meal, I couldn’t eat another thing.”

“Then let’s go home, unless you’ve decided you’d rather stay at the Casa Claudia.”

She wouldn’t desert Lucca now. The possibility that something could be done for his leg meant he would want to talk about it. Since she’d brought it up, she needed to see it through.

“No. Much as I think it would look better to those on the outside, I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with your house.” With you.

“Good, because I already canceled your reservation and paid your bill.”

While Annabelle sat there astounded, he got to his feet. She followed suit. There was a new gleam in his eyes.

“Papa had something delivered to the farmhouse earlier today. I’d like you to help me christen it.”

Her heart thumped. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”

One side of his seductive mouth lifted. “It’s not a mattress, although that item is going to be next on my shopping list.” He left money for the bill and ushered her out of the restaurant.

She walked out to the car with him. “The word christen has a definite connotation. I’m intrigued.”

He squeezed her around the hip. “It signals that something new has been launched.”

Lucca’s choice of words reminded her of Guilio’s plans for his fabulous new sports car. But she could hardly concentrate because Lucca was touching her and now her legs felt like mush.

“Sort of like your new life when you thought the other one was over after you landed in that war zone?” It was a miracle she could start up the engine and pull out on to the main road without having an accident.

His arm rested across the back of both their seats, creating havoc with her body. She felt him finger the ends of her hair. Electric currents shot through her. “That, and other things,” he murmured, sounding the slightest bit cryptic.

“Shall we drive to Solerno for some more torta?” She couldn’t take much more of his attention. It was driving her mad with desire. They needed to stay busy.

He angled his striking face toward her. “Are you afraid to go home with me? The nerve at the base of your throat started throbbing before we got up from the table.”

His eagle eye didn’t miss anything. You idiot, Annabelle. He had to have eagle eyes to be a pilot, so it shouldn’t have surprised her. “Maybe. Having agreed to stay with you, this is all new to me.”

“Your honesty is refreshing.” He tugged on a strand. “I promise not to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“Signore Cavezzali—” Her mouth had gone dry. “We can’t sleep together.”