The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(40)

“No, no,” she said at once. “I just didn’t realize you had gone to so much trouble, didn’t expect it when I’m no one, certainly not one of your—”

The wild color that flooded her face was a secret delight. “One of my women, you meant to say?”

“Your family, rather, your aunt, your grandmother, Carita or Carisa,” she said hastily.

“Of course,” he took her up at once, his tone saying the exact opposite. That she knew it was plain from the sparks that went off like fireworks in her eyes. “But I assure you it was no trouble at all.”

“You—”

“Si?” he said in soft challenge as she paused.

“Nothing.” She looked away. “Speaking of Carisa, I hope she wasn’t too upset.”

“Not on the surface, but I fear she may be brooding about it.”

“You can hardly blame her.”

He lifted a shoulder as he frowned at the far side of the pool. “I thought to spare her the worry.”

“At least she won’t feel left in the dark.”

“No.”

“If you brought her photos of Carita—”

“That’s been arranged for some point in the next few days, when she finally wakes from her coma. Her doctors feel it’s only a matter of time.”

Nico wondered briefly if Amanda had any idea what a concession it was, his bowing to her suggestion, her judgment. She seemed to have an affinity for Carisa, a better understanding than most. She was also female, and he trusted it might give her an edge in knowing what was best for his sister. He had no other reason. Certainly not.

“Now that Carisa is aware of what’s going on, will you have Carita brought here?”

“Here, to the villa?”

“Not right away, of course, but later, for her convalescence, when they are positive she’s out of danger.”

“She’s well looked after where she is.”

Her gaze was troubled as she met his. “You could always bring in nurses and the special equipment she might need. Carisa could see her so be easy in her mind. And Carita may well do better in familiar surroundings, with people she knows and loves around her.”

“Including your brother, who would be better here as well, I suppose.”

“He is devoted to Carita, so it might be beneficial,” she answered, her voice not quite steady. “But no, I would not — we would not impose in that way. Naturally, Jonathan and I will return to the States as soon as he’s able to travel.”

He gave a short laugh. “I don’t know why you think he’ll go when he has been living in Italy.”

“I thought he was having an extended vacation.”

“I’m told he had taken an apartment in La Spezia.”

Her gaze was clouded as she met his. “Something else you learned while having him investigated, I suppose.”

“As you say.”

She shook her hair back as she looked away again. “He will need help for some time. If he returns with me, I’ll be able to look after him. You aren’t the only one concerned about family, you know.”

She had certainly demonstrated that much, he admitted with a wry twist of his lips as he recalled how she had abandoned everything to come with him. Would she show the same concern for an injured lover or a husband?

He and Amanda were much alike, he had to concede. Beyond their concern for their siblings they had both lost their parents in one way or another, both had assumed responsibility at a young age, both had avoided other entanglements.

And both had high standards they could not abandon.

~ ~ ~

Amanda could barely concentrate on what Nico was saying as she gripped one end of her towel that he was using to dry his arms. She would not release it entirely because the last thing she wanted was to sit there so close beside him while virtually naked.

She wished he had a towel of his own instead of sharing hers, for the miniscule black Speedo he wore seemed to emphasize his own near nakedness. The small, wing shape of it almost disappeared as he sat beside her.

His muscled arms and shoulders were like a statue in bronze; his thighs with their light coating of hair were tautly powerful. When he dried his face and arms and moved to the water droplets that spangled the hair on his chest, she felt her mouth go dry. That kite-shape of hair sprang into whorls and curls that appeared feathery soft. The need to touch them, smooth them, dry them was so strong she clutched the towel to prevent herself from reaching out to him.

A single drop of water trailed southward, following the line of dark hair that ran over his abdomen and the flat surface of his stomach. Her eyes burned as she followed its tortuous progress until it was absorbed into black fabric.

“You may be right that Carita would benefit from your brother’s presence. I am told her vital signs were stronger after he was with her this morning. If I should decide to move her, he could come here for a few weeks.”

She lifted her gaze to his face, unable to accept what she’d heard until she could look into the hot coffee blackness of his eyes. “Are you saying that you no longer object to his visiting her?”

“I am not so foolish as to argue with success. Carita’s health is more important at the moment than my reservations about his place in her life. Whether it should be permanent is something that will have to wait until later.”