Italian Knights (2 page)

Despite Sal’s reputation as a womanizer, he had an old-fashioned sense of honor and loyalty, and that was one of the things she’d always respected about him. But she wouldn’t use his sense of honor to tie him to her anymore. Two years was long enough for him to carry the burden of her widowhood.

Annie had loved her husband, and it had hurt when he died. But there was a time for grieving, and a time for living. The pain of Tony’s death had eased to a distant memory; they’d been married for almost a year and a half; she’d been in mourning for longer than that. And to no one, not even Sal, would she admit that her marriage hadn’t been perfect. What good would it do now? It was in the past. All she could do was go forward. If only she could make Sal understand.

“Sal,” she began gently. “I know how you felt about Tony. But it’s been two years. He’s gone and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. It’s time for me to get on with my life. Just because I’m dating, please don’t think I’m being disloyal to him. You know it’s what he would have wanted. Tony wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone the rest of my life.”

“But, honey, you’re not alone,” Sal protested. “
I’m
here.”

“Sal,” she said, suddenly understanding his concern. “I can’t lean on you the rest of my life.”

“And why not?” he demanded, inclining his head to look at her. “If I’m not complaining, I don’t see why you’re—”

“Sal—” Annie took a deep breath, “—it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet. Don’t think I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for me. I do. I don’t know how I would have gotten through those first awful months without you.” Smiling, she touched his arm. “But you’ve got your own life to lead. I certainly can’t expect you to sit around here holding my hand for the rest of my life.”

“But, it’s just so sudden,” Sal said, clearly unimpressed with her reasoning. The honeyed gentleness of his voice caused a ripple of warmth to shimmy over her. His eyes held hers and her pulse quickened in response.

“Sal, please try to understand. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. You’ve been wonder—”

“I don’t feel obligated,” he said firmly, clenching his jaw. Obligation had nothing to do with what he was feeling at the moment. He hated to admit that what he was feeling right now was nothing but out-and-out jealousy.

“Sal, look,” Annie said tiredly, running a hand through her newly permed locks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped this on you so suddenly. But it just happened. I met David, and it wasn’t like I planned it—”

“But you don’t know anything about this guy,” Sal protested, and Annie heaved a weary sigh. He was back to that again.

“What if he’s a mugger?” Sal challenged, working up a head of steam just at the thought. “This guy could have a police record, for all you know. I can’t believe you’d actually agree to go out with a man you don’t know anything about!” He shook his head as if she’d suddenly taken leave of her senses.

“Sal Giordiano,” Annie cried, losing what was left of her temper. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black! How much do you know about the women you go out with? Generally not much more than the fact that their measurements are bigger than their IQs’.” Standing toe to toe, they glared at each other, neither willing to back down.

“That’s different,” Sal barked, and Annie clenched her fists together.

“And why is it different?” she cried, taking a threatening step closer to him. “And if you tell me it’s because you’re a man, Sal, I’ll—I’ll—” she searched for some appropriate action, “—I’ll bop you,” she threatened, shaking her fist at him.

“Annie!” Sal said with a grin, grabbing her fist and holding on tight. “Are you threatening a police officer?”

“Yes!” she confirmed, scowling at the sudden warmth that engulfed her from his touch.

Sal cocked his head to look at her intently. He’d never met a woman like her. She was one of a kind, beautiful and gentle, yet she could hold her own with any man.

His eyes suddenly fastened on the moistness of her mouth. His muscles tensed in response. A sudden, fierce urge to tug her close and cover her lips with his caused an unexpected stirring in his loins. What the hell was the matter with him? This was Tony’s widow, for God’s sake!

Annie stared at him in confusion, watching a series of emotions play across Sal’s face. There was a fierce gleam in his dark eyes, a gleam she didn’t recognize and had never seen before. Bedroom eyes, Annie thought immediately, suddenly warmed by the image.

Flustered at her response, Annie pulled her hand free and took a self-conscious step back. Sal was looking at her—no, studying her—the way a man looks at a woman…an attractive woman. Oh, Lord, Annie thought suddenly. She’d seen Sal look at other women that way, but never at her. Annie swallowed hard, feeling unaccountably flustered.

Their eyes met and held, their faces suddenly only inches apart. Tension froze the air and Annie couldn’t seem to breathe. She didn’t dare. Something she didn’t quite understand was happening here. It had been a long time since she’d had a man’s…attention, but not so long that she didn’t recognize it or respond to it.

Annie blinked, her thoughts frozen. Sal was close enough for her to feel his breath ruffle her hair. Why hadn’t she ever noticed the rugged maleness of his aftershave, the rippling width of his shoulders, the way one dark curl dipped rakishly across his forehead?

Watch yourself, Annie
, she cautioned herself, trying to ignore the increased tempo of her pulse. Sal was a friend—her best friend—and she shouldn’t be having these romantic feelings about him.

“I…I have to put my groceries away,” she stammered, trying to sidestep around him. She felt like running—anything—just to get away from the errant thoughts and feelings storming through her.

Sal dropped his hand and caught her arm the same way he’d done thousands of times. The gesture was achingly familiar, yet different somehow. The warmth of his skin enveloped hers and Annie self-consciously withdrew. Wide-eyed, she slowly raised her gaze to his, and her breath withered.

What on earth was the matter with her? She was suddenly responding to him like an adolescent in the throes of her first crush. This was good ole Sal.

But the look in his eyes wasn’t quite what she’d expected from good ole Sal. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, good ole Sal had turned on the industrial-strength charm, and apparently she wasn’t any more immune to it than any other woman.

“Annie.”

Her lashes lowered at the gentleness of his voice. His touch sizzled her tender skin, causing her heart to thud recklessly in her breast.

The doorbell rang, shattering the quiet, and Annie jumped back guiltily. She shook her head, trying to loosen the cobwebs and put things in perspective. It was only natural for her to be nervous, she decided, blaming her sudden attack of anxiety on the fact that she was going on a date. She hadn’t been on a date in years. What she was feeling had nothing to do with Sal, she insisted to herself. Nothing at all.

Annie dropped her poor, ragged grocery bags onto a table and turned toward the door. Lord, it was probably David and she hadn’t even changed yet. She still had on her white deli apron over a pair of faded jeans and a shirt. At least her hair was fixed, she thought dully, absently touching her new curls.

“Annie, wait.”

A shiver rippled over her as Sal dropped his hand to her shoulder, jolting her poor nerve endings into spasms of shock. She didn’t dare turn; she didn’t trust herself. Sal was too close, and she too flustered. Without a word, Sal reached around her but Annie planted her foot in front of the door to prevent him from opening it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she said angrily, trying unsuccessfully to push past him and keep her foot on the door at the same time.

“I’m just going to answer the door,” Sal told her sweetly, his eyes glinting in amusement. “I want to meet this…stranger before you go waltzing off into the night with him. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, his tone of voice indicating it was just too bad if she did.

“I’m warning you,” Annie whispered, ducking under his arm and turning to glare up into his face. “You’d better behave yourself, and none of that macho police bull, either. David is a very nice man, and I don’t want you scaring him.”

“Now, Annie, would I do that?” Sal inquired, managing to look quite innocent. She heaved a weary sigh.

“Sal, please?”

Grinning, Sal bent down and pulled the curtain back.

“Now what are you doing?” Annie cried, mortified that he was spying on her date.

“Oh, my God!” Sal groaned, craning his neck for a better look at David. “Annie, what the hell kind of a guy are you going out with?” He turned to look at her, his face aghast. “This guy has a skirt on!”

Chapter Two

“What! Let me see,” Annie demanded, elbowing Sal out of the way to do a little spying of her own. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Cow cakes!” she muttered. David had on what she recognized as a traditional ethnic costume. At least she
hoped
it was a costume. He wore a tartan kilt, a white shirt, knee socks and shiny little round-toed shoes. The entire ensemble was capped off by a jaunty little plaid tam that was perched directly on top of his slightly balding head.

Good Lord, Annie thought, staring at him in disbelief. His outfit was prettier than hers. Her mother had always told her never to date a man she could swap clothes with. At the moment, Annie wished she could take her mother’s advice.

“It’s not a skirt, Sal. It’s a kilt,” she clarified, although she didn’t know why she bothered. Skirt. Kilt.

From the expression on Sal’s face, she could tell he wasn’t in the least bit interested in the specifics of David’s attire. Sal looked as if he’d managed to identify it all on his own.

Why on earth did David choose this particular evening to wear that blasted thing? Annie wondered darkly. If Sal was concerned about her going out with David before, now he was practically frothing at the mouth.

“He’s probably part of some radical fringe group,” Sal muttered dubiously. His head was only inches from hers and Annie caught a faint whiff of his aftershave. Pleasant, intoxicating and definitely masculine. It suited Sal.

“He’s got blue eyes,” Sal informed her gravely, as if blue eyes were an arrestable offense. “And he sweats. You know I’ve never trusted a guy who sweats,” he muttered, and Annie moaned softly.

“Sal, please? You’re not making this any easier for me,” she complained, trying to push past him. Sal bit back a smile. That was the whole idea.

Annie scowled as she peeked at poor, unsuspecting David again. For two cents she would send him back to wherever it was he came from. She no longer felt like going out with him, or anyone else, for that matter. It just wasn’t worth the wear and tear on her nerves. But to back down now would only make Sal think he’d won. On principle alone she was going to go through with this date, just to prove to Sal that she could stand on her own two feet. It was for his own good, she assured herself. But somehow she had a feeling that Sal didn’t see it that way.

“I don’t know about this guy,” Sal growled, shaking his head. “I don’t like this, Annie. Not at all.” He glanced at David again and felt an unfamiliar tightening in his belly. If Annie thought he was going to let her just up and waltz out of here with some guy she didn’t know, who had a fondness for shiny little shoes and dancing skirts, she was in for a very rude surprise.
Where on earth did she find this character?
he wondered in disgust.

“Will you stop this?” Annie hissed. She could understand Sal’s concern, but now he was carrying this protective bit too far. He was beginning to annoy her. “No wonder the poor man’s sweating. He’s probably nervous. Wouldn’t you be if some menacing-looking man wearing a gun was peeking at you through a window? Now, I’m warning—”

“You’re not leaving this house, Ann Marie,” Sal said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly. He knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. He’d learned long ago to never, ever tell Annie she couldn’t do something. You could ask, plead or cajole, but never
tell
her. Telling or ordering Annie to do something was like waving a red flag in front of a bull’s face.

Her shoulders straightened and she drew herself to her full five-foot frame. “Salvatore,” she said slowly, deciding this situation warranted the use of his full name. “Like it or not, I’ve made a date, and I’m going out with David tonight. If you want to stay and meet him, fine. You can entertain him while I change. But I’m warning you, Sal,” she said, shaking one slender finger in his face, “you’d better behave.”

“Me, behave?” Sal drew back and made a great show of checking his gun. His eyes filled with mischief. “I promise to be on my…best behavior.”

She looked at him carefully, fearful of what was going through his cop’s mind. Poor David, she thought a bit belatedly, wondering how he was going to react to Sal’s intimidating presence. “Sal, I’m warning—”

“Come on, Annie,” he encouraged, trying to fight her for the door. “You don’t want to leave your…
date
just standing there, do you? It wouldn’t be polite.”

Leaving David outside might not be polite, but faced with the prospect of letting him in so Sal could breathe down his neck hardly seemed a pleasant alternative, either. Fluffing her hair, Annie gave Sal one last warning glance before taking a deep breath and pulling open the front door.