Oceans Between Us (A Cinderella Romance) (5 page)

She donned oven mitts and pulled the lasagna she'd prepared from the oven. Serving lasagna to Dino, who must be used to the genuine Italian version, was a risk. But the dish was a favorite among their guests, so she had her fingers crossed Dino would approve. She placed the small ceramic bowl on a plate and while the pasta cooled, prepared a mixed salad. Then she wrapped two warm rolls in a linen napkin and nestled them in a basket.

At eight on the dot, his tread sounded on the stairs. She poured a glass of chilled water from the refrigerator, added it to the tray, then went into the dining room. Usually he was seated and waiting, but tonight he stood at the bay window, his back to the room. The stiff set of his shoulders alerted her something was wrong. As she entered and placed the tray on the table, he pivoted around.

"Is everything all right, Dino?"

"This is not right." He gestured at the food, and Maria's heart dropped. She should have known not to serve the British version of lasagna to an Italian.

"I'm sorry. This is one of our most popular dishes." She hastened to remove it, wracking her brain for another dish she could prepare quickly.

"No, no, I do not mean the food. It is not right that I should eat here alone while you do the same in the kitchen. Good food should be shared. Mealtimes are for relaxation and talk, a time to savor and enjoy. You will please join me for dinner tonight."

Maria's heart fluttered like a trapped bird and her hand went to her chest. His invitation simply meant he wanted company. Yet she felt as though she was slipping, falling, her emotions out of her control.

She glanced around the dining room at the other eleven polished wooden tables, the Victorian tiled fireplace on the far wall, the hearth resplendent with a huge display of dried flowers. She had lived at the Crow's Nest all her life, but she could count on her fingers the number of times she had eaten in the dining room.

When she looked back at Dino, he had moved to the chair opposite his and pulled it out. "It will be good to share the meal." He smiled.

Common sense told her to decline. But there was no way to turn him down without being rude and hurtful. She gave a hesitant smile. "Okay, then. Let me fetch my plate."

She hurried back to the kitchen and gripped the edge of the sink. How had her wish to help a stranger in distress become so complicated? Her mum and dad would have a fit if they found out she was here alone with a man. It was strange that being alone with him didn't worry her after what had happened in Austria. But Dino was different, not intimidating or threatening. She instinctively trusted him.

With a fortifying breath, she placed her lasagna dish, salad, and roll on a tray and carried it through to the dining room. She half expected to find he had started eating, but he was standing just where she'd left him with his hand on the back of her chair. She laid herself a place, and as she sat, he pushed the chair in for her.

Only then did he take his seat, a smile of satisfaction on his face. "You see." He gave an expansive gesture. "This is much more pleasant. Now we can eat and talk and enjoy this lovely evening." He tasted his lasagna and closed his eyes. "This is delicious, wonderful, sublime. You are a culinary angel,
cara
. You have a magical touch."

Maria glanced down at her plate, her cheeks heating. She was used to guests thanking her for a nice meal. But she wasn't used to such extravagant compliments.

Looking at Dino's animated expression and sparkling eyes, she could hardly recall the quiet, miserable man who had turned up on her doorstep a week ago. Delighted as she was to see him happy, this vibrant, charismatic man also made her nervous. "So you like walking?" she asked, struggling for something to say.

"Yes, I walk. A lot," he added with a wry smile. "I walk to think, to plan, to dispel anger and frustration, to enjoy the beautiful countryside, for the pleasure of being alive."

"You don't find it too hilly along the coast here?"

"Your hills are nothing to me,
cara
. Where I come from, the hills are like this." He angled his palm vertically.

"Where is that?" Maria was glad she had joined him for dinner if it meant she could find out more about him.

"Have you heard of the Cinque Terre, the five lands?" When she shook her head he continued. "These are five small towns on the Italian Riviera. It is rocky, very steep. My family, they live in Riomaggiore. Very beautiful, but full of tourists. When I was a boy, there were not so many and it was quiet. But now..." He gave a dismissive gesture and sighed.

"Is it anything like Porthale?"

"Yes and no. Here, I show you." He fished his phone from his pocket and switched it on. The device chimed to alert him to messages, but he ignored them and scrolled through his pictures. "Here, Maria, this is Riomaggiore."

She took the offered phone and examined the screen. The village was like something out of a fairy tale. Narrow, multicolored houses, three and four stories tall, were stacked up the cliffs like children's building blocks. Brightly-colored fishing boats drawn up on the pebbles around the harbor resembled fish laid out to dry. Above the village, what looked like rows of grapevines patterned the terraced fields. "Wow! This is pretty. How could you bear to leave it?"

He shrugged and gestured in a way she was coming to recognize meant he didn't want to answer that question.

"So your family still lives here?"

"My father and two of my brothers are fishermen, as I told you, and my eldest brother, he has a fish restaurant. One of my sisters is at college in Rome and the other is married to a fisherman from Manarola, the next town along the coast."

"That's convenient."

He smiled. "That is how things are there. People are good at providing for themselves. For years the area was cut off from the rest of Italy by mountains. It is only recently that a road was built."

His warm tone of voice betrayed his affection for the place. "You obviously love it."

"I try to return when I can."

"So what took you away from home?"

"I have to travel a lot," he said glancing away. She noticed he avoided answering the question, and although she wanted to know more about him, she let it go.

"And before you came here to Cornwall, were you in London?"

"Ah, London." Dino pulled a face. "London is like Roma, too many people. Always people running everywhere like little ants. I needed a quiet place to think. So I came here." He gestured again, taking in the village and the guesthouse.

She itched to ask him what he'd needed to think about. But she shouldn't pry. She forked in a mouthful of lasagna to help stifle the urge to ask. He became quiet, looking down at his plate as he ate, obviously remembering what it was that brought him here. If only their conversation had not gone in this direction. She hated to see him subdued. He was so vital when he was happy, more alive than anyone else she knew.

"So you, Maria, why are you here in this place? Do you not have college or university to attend?"

"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt," she replied.

He frowned. "A T-shirt?"

She smiled at his bemused expression. "I've been to college, Dino. I studied hospitality management."

"That is right for you, I think, but why are you not the manager of a big hotel now?"

"I like looking after the families with children who stay at the guesthouse. We're one big happy family here."

Their eyes met. A moment of understanding passed between them that stroked across Maria's senses like a caress. Dino appeared to be different from her, but in some ways they were the same.

She broke eye contact and changed the subject, telling him about the village and the playgroup committee and their fundraising activities. As soon as they finished the meal, she excused herself to tidy up, not wanting to draw out the evening as she would if she'd been dining with a friend. It was difficult to keep her distance from Dino, but she had to be careful. She knew from bitter experience that men could easily get the wrong impression.

***

After breakfast the following morning, Maria waited until she heard the front door close then scooted down the hall and peered out the window at the car park. The black BMW started and glided away down the lane.

With a sigh of relief, Maria went back to the kitchen and pressed Play on the CD player. She had thought she would never get a moment alone to listen to the
Dirty Dancing
disc. The strains of "Be My Baby" flooded the kitchen and brought a smile to her face. She loved the movie's wonderful, romantic plot and soundtrack but hadn't seen it for ages. As she prepared dough for more rolls, she danced on the spot, kneading and humming along with the music. Once she had put the rolls in the warm drying room to rise, she shook her floury apron out the door and danced back into the kitchen, practicing the salsa steps Dino had taught her.

She laid out the ingredients to make peanut chicken and cut up the chicken breasts, then washed her hands and moved on to the rest of the preparation. As she added each ingredient to the slow cooker, she did a twirl, giggling to herself. She had forgotten how much fun dancing could be, how music lifted the spirit.

Once the peanut chicken was in the slow cooker, she retrieved her risen dough and put the baking tray in the oven. She swayed her hips and spun around, flapping the tea towel in time to the music. And nearly collapsed with a heart attack at the sight of Dino in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder resting against the door frame.

Heat flooded her cheeks until they felt like they were glowing. "What are you doing back so soon?" she blurted rudely. But he didn't appear offended. All he did was hold up a newspaper.

He sauntered into the room, wagging a finger at her. "Ah, Maria, Maria. You waited for me to go out before you played your music. Do you not want to practice your dance steps with me?" His tone held a note of censure, but she could see he didn't mean it because he fought a smile.

He dropped his newspaper on the kitchen table and held his hands out to her. "No, Dino. I'm in the middle of cooking." She glanced over her shoulder at the counter, searching for a good excuse not to dance with him. "I haven't finished preparing your dinner."

He clucked his tongue. "It is morning,
cara
. You have all day to do that."

"My hands are dirty." She held them out and realized she had just washed them. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he caught her hands in his and backed up, pulling her into the only clear space in the kitchen, in front of the fridge.

"You remember the steps I taught you?"

"Yes, but..." She had run out of excuses, and he was so persistent it probably wouldn't matter what she said.

He shimmied forwards and back, leading her. Maria looked down at her feet, but she didn't need to. She had practiced the steps a number of times that morning and her feet followed his easily. A song ended and another called "Hungry Eyes" started. While the singer carried on about love and desire, she glanced everywhere but at Dino. Dancing with him to romantic lyrics was a great deal different from practicing in silence. Her face was still hot from her earlier blush, and she couldn't see it going away any time soon.

Although she tried not to look at him, her eyes drifted to his face without permission. He watched her, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth. And she couldn't help smiling back. He spun her around and a light, airy feeling invaded her chest as though she could float through the dance.

The song finished and the notes of a slow romantic ballad filled the kitchen. Dino drew her closer. Suddenly there wasn't enough air to catch her breath. Surely he didn't intend to slow dance with her? He hesitated. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. With a small shrug, he released her hands and stepped back. "Now you must practice on your own, and I will read my newspaper." He grabbed the paper from the table and held it up like a prize as he backed towards the door. "Tomorrow, we practice again." Then he pivoted on one foot and headed off along the hall.

Maria leaned back against the counter and put a hand to her racing heart. If he had drawn her into his arms for the slow dance, she wasn't sure what she would have done. But he hadn't. Her relief slowly gave way to disappointment, and she silently chided herself for being silly. Slow dancing with her Italian was asking for trouble, even at eleven in the morning.

***

Dino took his newspaper to the small conservatory at the back of the sitting room and angled one of the wicker chairs so he could see in through the kitchen window. Maria moved around purposefully, doing her chores, her lips forming words he could not hear. Singing to the music, he guessed.

The paper lay forgotten on his knees and he blew out a breath. He should stop flirting with her, making her blush, but she was so charming, so sweet. He loved the way she reacted to him, shy and yet eager. It took him back to his past, before women started throwing themselves at him, when he had to use his charm to catch the attention of a pretty girl. With Maria, he could be himself, just as he was with his family and friends back home. He didn't have to worry about maintaining an image or giving his fans the wrong impression. The pain of losing his son still burned, but Maria's gentle care and this quiet, calming place had helped him cope.