Italian Knights Page 2

  Annie blinked, her thoughts frozen. Sal was close enough for her to feel his breath ruffle her hair. Why hadn’t she ever noticed the rugged maleness of his aftershave, the rippling width of his shoulders, the way one dark curl dipped rakishly across his forehead?

  Watch yourself, Annie, she cautioned herself, trying to ignore the increased tempo of her pulse. Sal was a friend—her best friend—and she shouldn’t be having these romantic feelings about him.

  “I…I have to put my groceries away,” she stammered, trying to sidestep around him. She felt like running—anything—just to get away from the errant thoughts and feelings storming through her.

  Sal dropped his hand and caught her arm the same way he’d done thousands of times. The gesture was achingly familiar, yet different somehow. The warmth of his skin enveloped hers and Annie self-consciously withdrew. Wide-eyed, she slowly raised her gaze to his, and her breath withered.

  What on earth was the matter with her? She was suddenly responding to him like an adolescent in the throes of her first crush. This was good ole Sal.

  But the look in his eyes wasn’t quite what she’d expected from good ole Sal. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, good ole Sal had turned on the industrial-strength charm, and apparently she wasn’t any more immune to it than any other woman.

  “Annie.”

  Her lashes lowered at the gentleness of his voice. His touch sizzled her tender skin, causing her heart to thud recklessly in her breast.

  The doorbell rang, shattering the quiet, and Annie jumped back guiltily. She shook her head, trying to loosen the cobwebs and put things in perspective. It was only natural for her to be nervous, she decided, blaming her sudden attack of anxiety on the fact that she was going on a date. She hadn’t been on a date in years. What she was feeling had nothing to do with Sal, she insisted to herself. Nothing at all.

  Annie dropped her poor, ragged grocery bags onto a table and turned toward the door. Lord, it was probably David and she hadn’t even changed yet. She still had on her white deli apron over a pair of faded jeans and a shirt. At least her hair was fixed, she thought dully, absently touching her new curls.

  “Annie, wait.”

  A shiver rippled over her as Sal dropped his hand to her shoulder, jolting her poor nerve endings into spasms of shock. She didn’t dare turn; she didn’t trust herself. Sal was too close, and she too flustered. Without a word, Sal reached around her but Annie planted her foot in front of the door to prevent him from opening it.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she said angrily, trying unsuccessfully to push past him and keep her foot on the door at the same time.

  “I’m just going to answer the door,” Sal told her sweetly, his eyes glinting in amusement. “I want to meet this…stranger before you go waltzing off into the night with him. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, his tone of voice indicating it was just too bad if she did.

  “I’m warning you,” Annie whispered, ducking under his arm and turning to glare up into his face. “You’d better behave yourself, and none of that macho police bull, either. David is a very nice man, and I don’t want you scaring him.”

  “Now, Annie, would I do that?” Sal inquired, managing to look quite innocent. She heaved a weary sigh.

  “Sal, please?”

  Grinning, Sal bent down and pulled the curtain back.

  “Now what are you doing?” Annie cried, mortified that he was spying on her date.

  “Oh, my God!” Sal groaned, craning his neck for a better look at David. “Annie, what the hell kind of a guy are you going out with?” He turned to look at her, his face aghast. “This guy has a skirt on!”

  Chapter Two

  “What! Let me see,” Annie demanded, elbowing Sal out of the way to do a little spying of her own. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Cow cakes!” she muttered. David had on what she recognized as a traditional ethnic costume. At least she hoped it was a costume. He wore a tartan kilt, a white shirt, knee socks and shiny little round-toed shoes. The entire ensemble was capped off by a jaunty little plaid tam that was perched directly on top of his slightly balding head.

  Good Lord, Annie thought, staring at him in disbelief. His outfit was prettier than hers. Her mother had always told her never to date a man she could swap clothes with. At the moment, Annie wished she could take her mother’s advice.

  “It’s not a skirt, Sal. It’s a kilt,” she clarified, although she didn’t know why she bothered. Skirt. Kilt.

  From the expression on Sal’s face, she could tell he wasn’t in the least bit interested in the specifics of David’s attire. Sal looked as if he’d managed to identify it all on his own.

  Why on earth did David choose this particular evening to wear that blasted thing? Annie wondered darkly. If Sal was concerned about her going out with David before, now he was practically frothing at the mouth.

  “He’s probably part of some radical fringe group,” Sal muttered dubiously. His head was only inches from hers and Annie caught a faint whiff of his aftershave. Pleasant, intoxicating and definitely masculine. It suited Sal.

  “He’s got blue eyes,” Sal informed her gravely, as if blue eyes were an arrestable offense. “And he sweats. You know I’ve never trusted a guy who sweats,” he muttered, and Annie moaned softly.

  “Sal, please? You’re not making this any easier for me,” she complained, trying to push past him. Sal bit back a smile. That was the whole idea.

  Annie scowled as she peeked at poor, unsuspecting David again. For two cents she would send him back to wherever it was he came from. She no longer felt like going out with him, or anyone else, for that matter. It just wasn’t worth the wear and tear on her nerves. But to back down now would only make Sal think he’d won. On principle alone she was going to go through with this date, just to prove to Sal that she could stand on her own two feet. It was for his own good, she assured herself. But somehow she had a feeling that Sal didn’t see it that way.

  “I don’t know about this guy,” Sal growled, shaking his head. “I don’t like this, Annie. Not at all.” He glanced at David again and felt an unfamiliar tightening in his belly. If Annie thought he was going to let her just up and waltz out of here with some guy she didn’t know, who had a fondness for shiny little shoes and dancing skirts, she was in for a very rude surprise. Where on earth did she find this character? he wondered in disgust.

  “Will you stop this?” Annie hissed. She could understand Sal’s concern, but now he was carrying this protective bit too far. He was beginning to annoy her. “No wonder the poor man’s sweating. He’s probably nervous. Wouldn’t you be if some menacing-looking man wearing a gun was peeking at you through a window? Now, I’m warning—”

  “You’re not leaving this house, Ann Marie,” Sal said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly. He knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. He’d learned long ago to never, ever tell Annie she couldn’t do something. You could ask, plead or cajole, but never tell her. Telling or ordering Annie to do something was like waving a red flag in front of a bull’s face.

  Her shoulders straightened and she drew herself to her full five-foot frame. “Salvatore,” she said slowly, deciding this situation warranted the use of his full name. “Like it or not, I’ve made a date, and I’m going out with David tonight. If you want to stay and meet him, fine. You can entertain him while I change. But I’m warning you, Sal,” she said, shaking one slender finger in his face, “you’d better behave.”

  “Me, behave?” Sal drew back and made a great show of checking his gun. His eyes filled with mischief. “I promise to be on my…best behavior.”

  She looked at him carefully, fearful of what was going through his cop’s mind. Poor David, she thought a bit belatedly, wondering how he was going to react to Sal’s intimidating presence. “Sal, I’m warning—”

  “Come on, Annie,” he encouraged, trying to fight her for the door. “You don’t want to leave your…date just standing there, do you? It wouldn
’t be polite.”

  Leaving David outside might not be polite, but faced with the prospect of letting him in so Sal could breathe down his neck hardly seemed a pleasant alternative, either. Fluffing her hair, Annie gave Sal one last warning glance before taking a deep breath and pulling open the front door.

  “David,” she said with false cheer, elbowing Sal aside. “How nice to see you again. Please come in. I’m not quite ready yet.” She babbled nervously, glancing at Sal quickly. “But I’m sure you won’t mind waiting while I change. It will only take a moment.”

  David’s face broke into a wide smile when he saw her. But the smile slowly slid off David’s face when he caught sight of Sal, who stood firmly rooted in the doorway. His long legs were planted wide apart in a threatening stance that no doubt intimidated murderers and muggers alike.

  “David,” she said quickly, noting the way the two men were visually appraising one another. “I’d like you to meet Sal Giordiano. He’s an old family friend. Sal, this is David Donaldson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Sal said with a pathetic lack of sincerity. Annie rolled her eyes.

  “Come on in,” Sal invited, grabbing David’s hand. Pumping hard, Sal gave David’s hand a hearty yank, pulling him through the doorway and nearly off his pretty patent-leather feet.

  Recovering his balance and composure, David turned to stare at Sal in dismay. David was a good five inches shorter than Sal, Annie noted, and as light and fair as Sal was dark. David had a rather round, nondescript face, and even more nondescript features, in direct contrast to Sal’s. Sal’s face was dark and intense; his jaw was firm, his eyes intelligent. Once someone saw Sal Giordiano, they never forgot him. His handsome features were forever etched in their memory.

  David on the other hand was a face in a crowd. He was kind and nonthreatening, which is why she’d decided he would be a perfect man for her first date. To begin with, she was nervous enough about this whole business of dating.

  The whole purpose of starting this dating fiasco was strictly so that Sal would realize she could stand on her own two feet, and so he wouldn’t feel obligated to her anymore. Sal had his own life to live, and it was time he got on with the business of living it, without worrying about her.

  If the truth be known, Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to start playing the dating game again. She hadn’t liked it the first time, when she was barely sixteen. At twenty-six, the prospect was even less thrilling.

  But she was tired of being a weight around Sal’s neck. If he thought she was dating someone, then maybe he would stop worrying about her. She hoped.

  She’d planned to spend a nice, quiet evening in the company of a nice, safe man. A man with whom she wouldn’t have to worry about being pressured into any kind of romantic involvement. Annie knew she wasn’t ready for that part, yet. Even though she’d only known David a few weeks, he seemed pleasant enough, if a bit pompous. Conversation with David would be light and meaningless, nothing intense or probing. Just what she needed right now. Annie had thought David would be perfect for her first date.

  But now, watching Sal eye him like a fox after a hound, she wasn’t quite so sure.

  “I’m sorry about my outfit, Ann,” David said with a smile, deliberately ignoring Sal. “But I play in a bugle corps, and we had a reception at a consulate this afternoon. I didn’t have time to change, so I thought we could stop by my apartment on the way to dinner.”

  “One date and he’s already taking you to his apartment!” Sal whispered in her ear. His warm breath teased her delicate skin and her senses warmed in immediate response. Annie flashed Sal a warning look. There was a long, awkward silence for a moment, as the men continued to appraise each other.

  “So…David,” Sal finally said, rocking back and forth on his heels and crossing his arms across his chest. “What do you do?”

  “Do?” David stiffened, recognizing an interrogation when he saw one.

  “For a living,” Sal clarified.

  “I’m in real estate. And you?” he inquired politely.

  “Detective,” Sal said succinctly, deliberately adjusting his shoulder holster while David eyed the gun.

  “Do you…uh…carry your gun all the time?” the smaller man asked nervously.

  Sal grinned. “Do you wear a skirt all the time?”

  “Salvatore!” Annie exclaimed softly, wondering what the charges were for gagging a police officer. Whatever they were, she was ready to risk it.

  “No.” David shook his head, flashing Sal a patronizing smile. “Only on special occasions.” He matched Sal stare for stare, apparently not in the least bit intimidated by him.

  “I always carry my gun. You just never know when you might need a weapon.” Sal’s tone of voice indicated he expected to need his gun at any moment.

  Oh, Lord. Annie shook her head, resisting the temptation to whack Sal. Again.

  “David,” Annie said abruptly, jumping in and trying to ease the tension between the two men. She didn’t particularly care for this macho baloney. “Please make yourself at home. I have to change, but I’ll only be a minute.” She had second thoughts about leaving Sal and David alone, but she had no choice. She wasn’t about to go out on her very first date in a smelly apron and jeans just because she was worried that two seemingly adult men couldn’t behave themselves.

  “Sal, could I see you for a moment?” she inquired with forced sweetness. She headed toward the stairs and Sal followed, occasionally glancing back at David.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sal called over his shoulder, his words more a threat than a promise.

  At the top of the steps, Annie whirled on him. “Sal,” she began, working hard to hold onto her temper. “What on earth has come over you? You’re acting like an overprotective father! I want you to stop it, right now! My own father didn’t give me this much trouble when I went on my first date at sixteen.”

  “Well, maybe he should have,” Sal said to annoy her. “What on earth do you see in this guy? He hardly seems your type.”

  “My type!” Annie cried. She immediately remembered David was downstairs and lowered her voice. “What is that supposed to mean? I don’t have a…type! I didn’t have one at sixteen and I don’t have one now.”

  “See what I mean,” Sal said smugly, flashing her a wicked grin that caused her heart to pound. “If you don’t have a type, Annie, then how do you know you want to go out with this guy?”

  She hated it when he insisted upon being reasonable. “I…I just know,” Annie stammered, unable to think of one really good reason why she wanted to go out with David. She didn’t have one. It wasn’t as if he were her “type,” but rather that he just happened to have asked her out. But she couldn’t very well admit that to Sal. “David’s very…nice, and…clean and…” Sal was standing so close, looking so mischievous, Annie forgot what she was saying.

  “Nice and clean, huh?” One dark brow rose in amusement. “Well, Annie, I assure you, those are definitely sterling qualities, but hardly what I call a reason to go on a date with someone. Mrs. Altero’s parrot is nice and clean, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to see you go on a date with him, either. Although, I must admit, the parrot does seem to have a bit more personality.”

  “Sal—” Annie rubbed a spot between her brows that had begun to throb, “—I don’t see what the big deal is,” she whispered, leaning close so he could hear her. “What’s all the fuss about one little date? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were jealous!”

  “Jealous!” Sal thundered, realizing how close to the truth she’d come. “Why the hell would I be jealous of that—that—”

  Annie clamped her hand over his mouth. “Will you be quiet,” she cried. “He’ll hear you.”

  “Annie,” Sal mumbled, pulling her hand free so he could speak. “What’s your rush?” His eyes held hers. When he laced his fingers firmly through hers, Annie shivered as the warmth of his hand engulfed her, causing her pulse to quicken in response. Startled, she withd
rew her hand. “There’s no reason for you to run off with the first guy who asks you out.” Sal was stalling for time, hoping against hope he could find a way to change her mind about going out with this guy. She’d hit too close to the truth about his being jealous.

  “I’m not running off, and David is not the first guy to ask me out,” Annie said, trying to banish a grin at the sudden alarmed look on his face.

  “He’s not?”

  “For your information, Detective Giordiano,” Annie began smugly, crossing her arms across her chest, “last week Mr. Finucci invited me to go to the movies.” Mr. Finucci was eighty-one years old, had one gold tooth and walked with the aid of a goat-handled cane. Mr. Finucci was also a champion boccie ball player. Despite his age, he still had an eye—his good one—for the ladies. He was not above sneaking a pinch when he felt the need. But, Annie mused, widows couldn’t be choosers. A date was a date. And she loved Mr. Finucci dearly.

  “Ahh,” Sal drawled, his grin widening. “I always knew Mr. Finucci had good taste.” He leaned forward and spoke directly into her face, unnerving her with his closeness. “At least I know Mr. Finucci. I don’t know anything about this David character.”

  “He’s not a character,” she defended, growing irritated again. She wasn’t certain if she was annoyed at Sal for his behavior, or with herself because of the strange reaction she was having to him.

  “I have an idea,” Sal said, suddenly brightening. “Why don’t you just let me interrogate David a little? Just enough to put the fear of God into him? I’d feel much— Annie, why are you looking at me that way?”

  Closing her eyes, Annie took a deep breath and struggled for control. “Sal, listen to me very carefully. You are not going to interrogate David, nor are you going to put the fear of God into him or anyone else. And you are going to stop treating me like a rebellious twelve-year-old who is about to have her virtue stolen. I’m twenty-six years old and quite capable of handling a man on my own. Now, what you are going to do is behave, because if you don’t…” Annie paused and took a deep breath. “If you don’t I’ll—I’ll—tell Mrs. Altero you hate her cooking.” She would do no such thing, but it was the worst threat she could think of at the moment. In spite of Sal’s macho posture, he had the kindest heart she’d ever known. He was the only one in the neighborhood who still allowed Mrs. Altero to use him as a guinea pig for her culinary catastrophes. Sal would rather suffer permanent indigestion than hurt her feelings.