Sabrina had the next twelve hours to reconsider the wisdom of the lecture she'd given Vincenzo on the flowered path. During those hours she saw no sign of her once-enthusiastic employer. But she relived, over and over, the surprised pain and shock in his eyes.
Several times during the day she strolled about the hotel grounds. Her feet found every landscaped path. Not that she was looking for Vincenzo. Why would she do that? He was a grown man, could take care of himself. She didn't feel...responsible for him, or whatever state he might be in.
But with every hour that passed without finding him, her anxiety grew. A weird anxiety, more on behalf of Vincenzo than herself. It was as if his problems weighed more than her own. They shouldn't have. Her own problems were quite urgent. She'd be up a creek without a paddle if he'd decamped permanently.
It was after midnight before Sabrina gave up her non-search for Vincenzo. In the hotel coffee shop, the sole patron at that hour, she sat in a booth while the one waitress flirted with the short order cook. Under a pool of warm yellow light Sabrina picked at her food.
Okay, she admitted it. She was worried about Vincenzo. Where had he gone? What was he doing?...Feeling?
That's when a shadow fell over her cooling pile of mashed potatoes. Sabrina's heart jumped like a startled kangaroo. Slowly, she lifted her head.
Vincenzo looked considerably the worse for wear. His buttoned-down collar was undone and his sweater hung like a rag around his neck. Once crisply pleated, his trousers were limp and dusty.
"May I sit at this table?" he asked.
A very strange lump appeared in Sabrina's throat, making it difficult to say anything. "Please," she managed to croak out.
Slowly, as if bone-tired, he sank into the upholstered seat opposite herself. He reached for a plastic menu from the metal holder on one side of the table and asked, "What is good to eat tonight?"
That lump wouldn't move from Sabrina's throat. "I had the special." She choked the words past the lump somehow. "Meatball and mashed potatoes. Not bad."
"Bene." He closed the menu. New lines radiated out from his eyes and bracketed his mouth.
Sabrina's heart sank. He'd aged ten years since she'd last seen him.
The waitress came, Vincenzo ordered, his food arrived and he picked at it in much the same manner that Sabrina had her own dinner.
At last, they each gave up the pretense of eating. Vincenzo rose to pay the tab.
Sabrina stood as well, feeling a little dizzy. During the last twenty minutes she'd realized something very odd. She, the hard-nosed con artist, actually felt bad—about nothing more serious than hurting another person's feelings.
She felt really bad. So bad she wondered if there was anything she could do to ease the sensation.
They walked silently together up the stairs to their floor. Vincenzo stopped with Sabrina outside her door.
Now, she thought. She should do or say something—though she had no idea what—now.
But it was Vincenzo who spoke. Looking uncertain, he said, "I would like...to come in and talk for a minute. Would that be all right?"
"Yes, of course." She didn't even consider refusing, or suggesting another venue. Maybe once inside her room she could figure out what she was supposed to say to him.
Nervously, her fingers fumbled with the lock before she managed to get it open. Then, while Vincenzo waited for her to precede him into the dark room, she switched on the overhead light by the door.
As soon as he stepped in, Vincenzo switched the bright light off again. Instead he reached into the bathroom directly off the entry hall and turned on the light in there.
"This is better, I think," he diffidently pointed out as they walked into the main part of the room.
With only the bathroom light, it was dim where they ended up standing by the dresser. They couldn't see each other that well and it felt, oddly, safe. "Yes," Sabrina quietly agreed. "This is better."
Some of the tension softened in his shoulders and he threw his mangled sweater on top of the dresser. For Vincenzo to have treated his precious clothes that way—
Her hands curled into fists against the thighs of her jeans. "Oh, Vincenzo—"
"Sabrina." He cut her off.
But she'd finally figured out what she had to do. Apologize. Incredible, but true. She had to apologize to her mark. She had to tell Vincenzo she was sorry she'd so obviously hurt him.
Looking up, she swallowed and persevered. "All those things I said this morning—they were terrible, awful—"
"No." He cut her off again, this time more forcefully. His hands came down on her shoulders. "No, Sabrina. Don't apologize. Everything you said—all of it was true. Completely true." Sighing, he released her shoulders. "Especially the part about my refusing to feel grief." With a shake of his head, he reached to fiddle with the sleeve of his sweater where it lay on the dresser.
Slowly, he made a fist in the material of his discarded sweater. "You were right...about Carlotta. Today I did what you said. I...told myself to realize she is gone." He gave a deep, shuddering sigh as he stared at his sweater. "I knew that, of course; I just hadn't let myself believe it. Not really."
She could see his face in profile, the finely chiseled nose, the sensuous mouth, all drawn now with grief. Sabrina felt a tense helplessness. Her apology hadn't helped. But what else could she do? Floundering, she asked, "So now you do believe it?"
The corners of his mouth drew down as he nodded. "You were right." His voice dipped down to a hoarse, nearly inaudible whisper. "It hurt to think that she is gone, truly gone."
"Oh, Vince—" Inside of Sabrina the strangest sensation began. It felt as if a tough shield around her was cracking. Meanwhile something warm and soft struggled to emerge.
Vincenzo's hand went up to the bridge of his nose.
The gesture was such a clear indication of pain that the warm, soft creature inside Sabrina moved. Before she knew it, she'd closed the small distance between them. His tall length shuddered as her arms went around his waist.
"Oh, Vincenzo, I'm so sorry." She hung onto him even as he stood there, unresponsive. "So sorry." It had been years—years!—since she'd spoken such words. Compassion was an emotion she'd taught herself to despise. Now, giving into it made her feel light-headed.
She shifted even further off balance when his arms went around her, suddenly, convulsively. "I miss her so much!" Vincenzo whispered, fierce.
"I know." Sabrina closed her eyes. It felt as if his pain moved through their embrace into her. Oddly, once it was in her, it didn't feel like pain, but simply dissipated. "It's okay to miss her," she told Vincenzo.
He shivered and his arms tightened around her. She had a feeling he was crying. The idea frightened her, but she held on, taking that too. In the strangest way, the warm soft creature pulsing out of her shield of armor seemed to...strengthen.
At length he sniffed and stilled. The dim light from the bathroom gave no urgency to breaking apart, though. They simply stood there, locked in each other's arms. It felt so comforting that Sabrina didn't even notice how long they stood that way, their breath going quietly in and out.
Then one of his hands moved in a circle over her back. "Sabrina?" His cheek rested against the top of her head.
"Yes?"
"It feels very good to hold you."
Sabrina blinked against his rumpled shirt. "It feels good to hold you, too," she admitted. It did. Very good. The lean strength of his back muscles resisted her embrace quite nicely. The faint scent of him, distinctively Vincenzo, was pleasant where her head rested on his chest. The whole thing felt...safe.
He sighed, making her feel every muscle in his chest and diaphragm. "I don't want to let go of you."
The warm creature inside her expanded. "All right," she whispered. "Don't let go."
He rubbed his cheek against her hair and then she felt a soft kiss pressed against her forehead.
Her eyes shut tight as a mysterious wash of emotion rushed through her.
"Lie with me," Vincenzo said.
"What?" Her eyes popped open again at his naked words.
"Just to lie down." His hand passed gently over her hair. "That is all."
She pulled back enough to look up at him.
His gaze down at her was simple, sober. He really meant that all he wanted was to lie down together, nothing more.
The warmth in her chest swelled. "All right." She barely recognized her own voice, it sounded so soft. "Just to lie down."
Taking her by the hand, Vincenzo led her to one of the beds. Without drawing back the cover, he sat down and didn't even take off his shoes as he scooted back. She didn't take off her shoes, either, as she sat next to him.
The light from the faraway bathroom hit only one side of his face. His eyes were very dark, very serious. "This way," he said, and took her by the waist.
"What?" Sabrina started as he pulled her down to a lying position. "Oh." Understanding, she turned so that her back was facing him. His hands crossed over her waist, pulling her against his chest and legs. She fit very nicely into the warm cradle he made.
"There," Vincenzo breathed, obviously well satisfied. "That is good."
Yes, it was good. Very good. His arms locked across her front, just under her breasts, pinning her body against his hard strength. But she didn't feel caged or hemmed in. She felt...protected.
Sabrina's eyes drifted closed. For a little while she wouldn't think about anything, she decided. Not what this meant or didn't mean or how it would affect the future. For a while, she'd just relax. She could feel him breathing by the expanding and contracting of his chest against her back. She began to breathe rather steadily and slowly herself.
Sabrina wasn't sure how much time passed before she woke up. It was still night-dark outside the drawn curtains and the bathroom light still shed its fluorescent glow from down the hall.
Lying in the relaxed state with which she'd fallen asleep, she would have been happy to stay in the warmth of Vincenzo's embrace, but the waistband of her jeans was starting to cut into her stomach and the underwire of her bra was piercing her ribs. She needed to get into something more comfortable.
Carefully, she unlocked Vincenzo's arms from around her front. Fast asleep, he didn't resist or even stir. Breathing out slowly, Sabrina eased herself from the bed.
Standing, she looked back at him. He lay loosely curled, his hair rumpled against the bedspread over the pillow, the lashes dark against his cheeks.
A curious warmth filled her chest. There was something vaguely threatening, though, as well as peaceful in that warmth. The sensation didn't mesh well with what she knew to be her basic nature. Frowning at the thought, Sabrina turned away.
She found the suitcase that lay at the foot of the other bed, opened it up and withdrew a clean, oversized T-shirt. With the shirt clutched in her hand, she shot another glance toward the opposite bed.
Vincenzo remained sound asleep. Gratefully, then, she unsnapped her jeans. It only took her a few seconds to get out of the confining clothes, sitting on the floor to work off her jeans and then quickly unbuttoning her shirt. It was a wonderful relief to divest herself of the bra.
Kneeling on the floor, Sabrina had just pulled the clean T-shirt over her head when she became aware of a subtle change in the quiet room. Pulling her head out of the neck of the shirt, she checked the opposite bed again.
Vincenzo hadn't moved. He lay in the same relaxed position as before. But Sabrina could see a glimmer of light beneath the dark lashes. Very quietly, he'd been watching her.
She put a hand to her forehead and nervously brushed back her hair. It would be cowardly to look away, she decided. And besides, she wasn't some naive little girl to get flustered just because a man had seen her without her shirt on. All the same, her heart began beating very fast.
He didn't say a word, just kept watching her. In the air an increasing electric charge grew between them. Before, they'd lain in each other's arms like innocent children. Now there was nothing either innocent or childlike in the several feet of distance that separated them.
It's different now, Sabrina thought, with an oddly pleasant panic. He was not watching her, waiting for her, as though he were a married man. That obstacle no longer lay between them. As she knelt there, her bare legs getting cold, Sabrina wondered if there were any barriers left at all.
That was when suddenly, abruptly, he sat up.
In reflexive retreat, Sabrina fell back from her knees to her rump.
Ignoring her bit of nervous clumsiness, Vincenzo ran both hands through his hair. "Get into bed, Sabrina," he ordered in a night-husky voice. "I will be back in a moment."
She made no move to get up, her weight caught between her rear end and the palms of her hands behind her. "Uh... What are you going to do to me?"
He smiled, as though he could hear the way her heart was pounding. Squatting down to her level, he reached to cup her cheek with his hand. "It is my turn now. I'm going to take care of you."
Then he got to his feet and strode toward the connecting door.