The Vendetta (3 page)

Kimmi nodded and then closed her eyes briefly before she took over the shallow compressions from Lisa.

Reduced to the role of spectator, Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the two women at work. One thing he could say for sure, Lisa Schumacher was not at all as he had expected. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned and looked right at him.

Dio
, that jolt of electricity zapped him every time her green gaze met his. It had hit him earlier too, when she had glanced up from her coffee preparations behind the bar.

He wanted her
.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth in automatic denial.
No
.

Her sunny smile and long honey-colored hair had intrigued him from the moment he’d walked into this little gallery-café, but it was the determined set of Lisa Schumacher’s jaw that recalled the portrait he’d seen in Rome of Italian Principessa Giovanna Severino di Giorgio in her younger days. And why not? The woman was Lisa’s grandmother.

He had never imagined that his bargain with the shrewd old woman would place him at this remote ski area in the middle of winter. But, on reflection, he had done many unexpected deeds in pursuit of his revenge. Nick had already deduced that Lisa was very like her grandmother in more ways than just her appearance. The old woman’s determination mirrored a similar quality in Lisa. As far as he knew, none of Nick’s acquaintances had the skill and courage to save the life of a stranger as Lisa was doing right now.

Nick’s father’s face flashed in his mind, the gray eyes dark with pain, and then blank and staring. He shook his head to clear the image. The situation was not the same at all. There was no knife here. No blood. No despair. He clenched his fists, willing away the memory of Papa’s death.

“Mr. Carnavale.”

Startled, he looked at Lisa, who was taking a momentary break while the younger girl, Kimmi, administered the chest compressions.

“Please,” he said, “call me Nick.”

“OK. Nick, I need you to do me a favor. Can you look in this guy’s bag to see if he might have an EpiPen for his peanut allergy?”

“Of course.” He walked over to the bench seat where the man’s backpack rested. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

“It looks like a thick pen or a marker, about the length of your hand, and it contains a dose of epinephrine. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“I’ll tear the bag apart if you think it will help.”

Her mouth lifted in a small smile. “I think a thorough search is enough.” Her smile faded, and she shut her eyes for a second. “God, I hope you find it. It may just save his life.”

Nick opened the backpack on the table and began rummaging through the man’s business items—laptop, files, pens, phone. He spied a small toilet kit, pulled it out, and unzipped it.

The jumble of toiletries made him curse in frustration. He made a mental list as he sorted the items onto the table. Shaving cream, toothpaste, razor, toothbrush. Small bottles held shampoo and cologne. He seized on a leather case, but it was only a grooming kit with adhesive bandages and nail clippers. The toiletry bag was now empty. He turned it upside down and shook it. From somewhere inside the bag, a black and white cylinder fell to the table.

“Is this it?” he asked, holding up the pen.

Lisa’s head turned and her eyes widened. “Does it say EpiPen on it?”

It did. In large letters.
Grazie a Dio
. He brought it to her.

“This
is
it. You’re a hero,” she said with conviction. “I could hug you right now.”

His turn to smile—he would welcome a hug.

“Help me get his pants down,” Lisa said to Nick. “I have to inject it into his thigh.”

Kimmi continued CPR as Lisa and Nick wrestled Berger’s designer ski pants down to his ankles. Dignity in an emergency was hard to come by. Nick observed Lisa’s efficient movements as she prepared the injector. She swiftly brought it down into the meaty part of Berger’s leg.

A scraping gasp came from Berger as his airways cleared. He coughed and sputtered, but he definitely breathed.

Nick let out the breath he’d been holding.

The bell on the door jangled again.

“Somebody call for an emergency?” The EMTs, fully geared up, entered the gallery.

“Over here, George.” Lisa waved them over to the man on the floor. “Anaphylactic shock. Just administered an EpiPen, and he’s coming around now.”

“Oh, hey, Lisa,” said the largest of the emergency responders. Though they clearly knew Lisa well, the EMT and his colleagues were all business, taking the man’s vitals, securing the patient to a stretcher, and asking quiet questions of Lisa and Kimmi.

As the responders did their job, Nick took a seat on the floor next to Lisa. The man was going to live. He met Lisa’s gaze and was stunned when her green eyes filled with tears and delayed panic. His fists clenched against the unexpected need to draw her close to his body, to comfort her. He knew he could not touch her, though. He was a stranger to her. A fact that would have to change, and soon.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded but didn’t know what to say as his heart eased its pounding tempo. No matter what her grandmother had told him, Ms. Lisa Schumacher was as courageous as they came. But now there was no doubt she could make his task to bring her back to Rome as difficult as possible.

Chapter Two

“Lisa, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Kimmi said, not unkindly. “Ty’s gonna want to talk to you some more—you know he’s freaking out right now—but that can wait. Food and rest will help. That wasn’t a small thing you did in there.”

They were standing outside the gallery, watching George and the other EMTs load Mr. Berger into the back of the ambulance. Lisa tucked her hands into her armpits.

“It wasn’t small for you either. And I’m fine,” Lisa said. “I just need to, ah, sit down for a minute. Out here.”

Kimmi gave her a sharp look but nodded, reaching for the door to go back into the café.

Still watching the EMTs, Lisa sat on the wrought iron bench that graced the front of the store. In the summer months, café tables clustered out here with tubs of bright-colored flowers, but right now the bench and the snow were all she had. But she preferred the cold seat to the stuffy air inside.

She rubbed her forehead. Now that the immediate danger was over, she was a wreck. It always happened that way. It was the main reason she didn’t do the EMT gig anymore. The aftermaths had always sucked.

Berger’s face flashed in her mind, and she felt hot, prickly. The wind turned the sweat at her temples to ice. The dizziness increased, and she lurched forward, put out a hand.
Damn, do not pass out, Lisa.
The lights on the ambulance spun in a slow circle, then gray faded to black, and the sensation of the ground rushing up at her abruptly ceased.

A voice called her name from what seemed to be a very long distance. At some point she remembered to breathe. The cold mountain air filled her lungs and cleared her head. She opened her eyes.

Her vision filled with Nick Carnavale’s face, his eyes a stormy sea of concern and…impatience, was it? At this range Lisa could almost measure the ridiculous length of his eyelashes.

She felt a rush of blood as her heart started to pound. Then every muscle in her body tensed as Nick gathered her up and clasped her high in his arms.

“Easy.” His deep voice rumbled. That note of worry stole into her belly and curled there like warm brandy. “I don’t want to drop you.”

“Believe me, I don’t want that either.” But the idea of a man, this man, carrying her made her stomach jump. She resisted the urge to squirm and made herself relax as he walked away from the commotion at the gallery.

“Jeez, I did pass out after all, didn’t I?” she said to fill the silence. Her fingers plucked at the top button on his shirt. “I think I can walk now, though.”

His mouth quirked at the corner. “I’ve got you. It’s just a few more steps.”

A few more steps to where? Where was he taking her? For some reason, though, it didn’t matter. He showed impressive strength and no small amount of agility as he picked his way across the snowy street. She luxuriated in the warmth of the long cashmere coat—his apparently—that he’d wrapped around her. Her eyes were level with his dark-shadowed jaw.

She drew in a breath to help calm her still-swimming head. He smelled good. Like Mediterranean seas, spicy ginger, and a hint of…mmm…chocolate.

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“Kidnapping?” He frowned, the dark brows winging down. Then, to her surprise, he laughed. It was the first time she had seen him laugh. Her heart beat in counterpoint to her jumping stomach.

“No, not kidnapping. I just thought you needed to get out of there.”

“Oh.” He’d thought correctly, obviously.

He shouldered open the door to one of the luxury hotels on the main street. Inside, the lobby was bright, warm, and mostly empty. He lowered her to a seat near the massive fireplace. She rearranged his coat and looked up to find him on one knee in front of her.

Hot blood bloomed in her cheeks.

He grabbed her hands, chafed them in his warm ones. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried so much about her well-being.
Why now?
She almost wailed. Why was it this man, this total stranger, her body chose to respond to after years of practiced indifference to men in general?

She pulled her hands away. There was still work to do. The aftermath of saving a man’s life, for God’s sake. She felt her hands start to shake and clenched them in her lap.

“Warm enough?” he said.

She nodded. She was very warm now. Hot, in fact.

“I’m going to find you some water and a snack.”

“OK.” It came out as a whisper.

He stood with smooth grace. Then he leaned down and cupped her jaw, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone.

“I’ll be right back. You’ll not faint again?”

She swallowed. “No,” she said, but she shivered when he pulled the warmth of his hand away.

His brows snapped together.

“I’ll be fine,” she added, firming her voice.

He appeared to consider that for a moment. Still frowning, he turned and walked toward the reception counter.

As soon as he was out of sight, Lisa curled forward in her seat and covered her face with her hands. Nick’s coat wrapped around her, and his scent filled her head as she took a deep breath. She rubbed her forehead.
Focus
.

First, the emergency. The whole thing from beginning to end was a blur. She had not given much thought to her actions at the time, and she was grateful for the training that made that possible. But now her whole body vibrated in delayed reaction. Little shivers and aches in her spine and joints made her feel fragile, ragged. She was sure the feeling was temporary, but like Kimmi had said, she needed some food and rest to recover. God, she hoped Sam Berger recovered as well.

She shook her head to clear the parade of images. She had to consider her second problem, an Italian businessman named Nick Carnavale. Unprecedented, disconcerting, and sizzling hot.
Off limits, Lisa
. He was a potential client—an art world high roller—a fact that her boss, Ty, had driven home to her as soon as he’d peeled her away from the emergency. Ty had already bombarded her with his concerns about lawsuits and allergies. In fact, Ty’s relentless questions had been the main reason she’d gone outside for some air.

But truthfully, aside from Nick Carnavale’s gorgeous face and body, what fascinated her most about the man was the brief look of anguish she had seen in his eyes during the emergency. Or had it been frustrated anger? She frowned and fought back the jab of interest. She must be mistaken. His actions had been both timely and appropriate. Not everyone reacted well during a crisis, she knew, particularly without training.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, letting her breath out slowly. Her attraction to a client was still a problem. She was not the kind of person who jumped in bed with every bored businessman who indicated an interest. But was he interested? She had flight attendant friends who could pick and choose that “perk,” but she’d never indulged, no matter how compelling the reason. Or how yummy.

She smirked and looked down at her hands, still clutching his coat. A sigh escaped her.

She looked up to see Nick, mysterious billionaire businessman, standing in front of her with a paper cup and teabag in one hand, and a packet of crackers in the other. Now if he were naked holding that cup and teabag, that would be something. Coffee, tea, or… She burst out laughing.

She laughed until her stomach hurt and tears came to her eyes. It felt good to laugh, but when she saw Nick staring at her with alarm, she knew she had to stop. She wasn’t hysterical. She was just, well, relieved. Relieved that no one had died today. Relieved that she was OK too. Relieved that she hadn’t succumbed to the temptation to wrap herself around this man and never let go.

“No, no,” she said to Nick, nodding at the teacup and controlling a fresh burst of giggles, “that’s my job.”

“I know.” He grinned. “And it’s definitely more complicated than it looks.”

Lisa nodded and then swallowed, hard. Nick Carnavale had literally picked her up off the ground, ensured her comfort, and even brought her tea. And her main thought was when would she get a chance to press against his hard, lean body?

Suddenly she didn’t feel remotely like laughing.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Lisa still wasn’t feeling much like laughing as she clicked off her cell phone and leaned her head against the wood-paneled wall in the hotel’s ladies’ lounge. Ty Reynolds’s voice had transmitted reassurance over the line, but the underlying message of the call had been pure anxiety. With an eye to his future business prospects, Ty had asked her to make sure the potential client, Nick Carnavale, was well taken care of after his “trauma.” She sighed. What she needed now was some alone time, not customer service duty with Nick Carnavale, the man who could turn her insides to mush with a glance.