Deborah Mello - Tuscan Heat

But Donovan had secrets, too, the likes of which would make his whole family sit up and take notice. His very conservative, very organized lifestyle had always been an open book, and now he was keeping details close to the vest. His interest in Italy was just the tip of the cache of secrets he’d been keeping from his family. A full grin pulled wide across his face.

He focused on the lengthy list of email messages that filled his inbox folder. He was searching for one in particular, and when he found the familiar email address his smile widened.

For months now he’d been pen pals with a woman who lived in Italy. A woman he had yet to meet or speak to in person. He only knew her from the award-winning books she was renowned for, her promotional photo gracing the back cover of each. But he’d become obsessed with the email messages from her that came daily, the engaging exchanges brightening his otherwise dull existence. And now he was being afforded an opportunity to visit Italy and meet her in person. Never much of a risk taker, Donovan rarely found himself out of his comfort zone. He could only begin to imagine what his siblings would have to say if any of them were to find out.

He didn’t have to imagine what his parents would say. He could already hear their admonishments and concerns, both asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers for. He had never heard of any online relationship turning out well. For all any of them knew, he could have just as easily been chatting with Bubba in the state penitentiary. He no more knew who was on the other end of that computer than she did. He only knew what he was being told, and any of it could have been a bold-faced lie. The anonymity of the internet made embellishing and stretching the truth an easy thing to do. But something about the eloquence of her words had Donovan trusting that he did indeed have a connection with the illustrious author.

He read the message that had come hours earlier.

I live a charmed life. I get to live in a beautiful villa in the Tuscan Maremma, eat pasta prepared by an amazing Italian chef and travel to charming cities whenever I want. What’s not to love? I imagine that finally meeting you will be the icing on some very sweet, sweet cake! So, please, come. I can’t wait to show you everything exquisite about Italy.

A shiver of excitement surged up Donovan’s spine. He reached for the four-hundred-page mystery novel that rested on the corner of the desk. Mayhem and Madness by Gianna Martelli had landed on the New York Times bestseller list three weeks earlier and didn’t seem to be going anyplace anytime soon. He flipped the book in his hand to stare at the photograph on the back jacket.

Gianna Martelli was a stunning beauty, and he imagined that the professionally shot black-and-white image didn’t begin to do her justice. Her dark eyes were focused on the camera, and he felt as if she were staring directly at him. The look she was giving was searing, her gaze intense. But there was something about her expression that gave him pause, made him wish he could reach through the pages to draw her into his arms and hold her tight. He sighed.

Two books ago he’d reached out to email her, wanting to offer his opinion of her current novel at the time. He’d been excited to share his opinions about her characters, the protagonist a math professor at a historically black college. He’d been eager to tell her where she’d gotten it wrong and what had been wholeheartedly right. He had only half expected a polite but scripted response. Instead, he’d gotten an intriguingly worded reply that had challenged his sensibilities. Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he’d written back, receiving another reply that had him suddenly wanting more. Before he knew it, they were exchanging lengthy emails and a delightful friendship was born.

He typed a quick message back.

You’ve convinced me and now I’m counting the days. I can’t wait to see that sunset you are always bragging about.

After adding his travel details, he pushed the send button. Moving from his office to his bedroom, he pulled an oversize suitcase from a closet shelf and began to pack.

* * *

Rushing into the large kitchen, Carina looked from her husband to her father and back. Both men paused, concern washing over their expressions.

“What’s wrong?” Graham questioned.

“Are you okay?” Franco asked, resting the knife in his hand on the butcher-block counter.

She shook her head vehemently. “Gianna’s going to kill me!”

The two men cut eyes at each other.

“What did you do, Carina?” Franco asked, eyeing his daughter with a narrowed gaze.

She raised both hands. “It’s really not that bad, but Gianna isn’t going to like it!” she exclaimed.

“What isn’t she going to like?” Graham asked.

Carina crossed the room to stare out a window. She moved from one to the other, and then to the door, to ensure that her twin was nowhere near.

Franco shook his head. “Gianna went into town for me. She’s not here.”

“He’s coming to Italy,” Carina blurted. “He’ll be here next week.”

“Who’s coming to Italy?”

“Donovan Boudreaux, the math professor from the United States.”

Both men seemed confused, tossing each other another look.

Carina sighed. “The man she’s been communicating with, except she doesn’t know she’s been communicating with him because I’ve been sending the messages.”

Both men snapped in unison. “You’ve been doing what?”

The young woman nodded. “I’ve been pretending to be Gianna. He’s been writing to her, and I’ve been answering.”

“Carina, why would you do something like that?” Graham snapped.

“Because I knew she wouldn’t, and I think they would make a really great couple. He’s just as nerdy as she is.”

“But he hasn’t been building a relationship with your sister, Carina—he’s been building one with you,” Franco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Carina shook her head. “That’s not true. Every word I sent, she wrote. I copied them out of her journals.”

“You read your sister’s journals?” Her father’s look was disapproving.

“I’ve been reading her journals since we were twelve. Besides, I am her personal assistant. I’m supposed to answer her mail.”

“I don’t think that’s what your sister intended, daughter.” Franco shook his head from side to side. He went back to chopping the bulb of garlic that rested on the wooden chopping board. “Gianna is going to kill you!”

Graham laughed. “She is definitely going to kill you,” he said.

Carina rolled her eyes at her husband. “Thanks for the support.”

“So, what do you know about this guy?” Graham asked. “How do you know he’s not a psycho?”

“He teaches at Tulane University in New Orleans. He comes from a big family, and he reads the same boring stuff Gianna reads.”

“So he is a psycho!”

“He’s very sweet and a bit of a romantic. He’s exactly what Gianna needs.”

“So, tell me,” Graham said, turning to stare at his wife, a wooden spoon waving in his hand, “exactly when were you going to tell Gianna about this guy?”

“I hadn’t figured that out. I thought I had a little more time until he decided to come to Italy to meet me... I mean her.”

Graham continued to eyeball her. “I’m having some issues with this,” he said. “You’ve been having a relationship with another man for weeks...”

“Months actually,” Carina interrupted, her tone casual.

Graham paused, his eyebrows raised. “Months?”

His wife nodded as she gave him a quick shrug. “I was building a friendship between them. That takes time. And I was going to tell her. I think.”