LITMIR.BIZ

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credit for possessing the kind of guts he hadn’t seen in most people.

      When he didn’t say anything, she blurted, “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me.”

      “What was that?”

      “About what I wanted to do with my life. If you were to teach me how to make pastry, I would have learned a marketable skill. When Signor Fragala returns, I’d be able to use all that knowledge I’d learned from you. With a reference from you—provided you gave me a good one if I deserved it—I could find a position in any country.”

      He could hear her mind working. It was going like a house on fire. To his astonishment he was listening to her because she was making a strange kind of sense.

      “After a half year in hiding, I’m positive my family will have disowned me so it wouldn’t matter where I chose to live and work. I’d be a normal woman with a good job.”

      “You’ll never be a normal woman, Principessa.” his voice grated. Nor would he want her to be. He liked her exactly the way she was. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me the thought of being disowned doesn’t pain you?”

      She lowered her head. “I guess I don’t know how I’d feel about it until it happened. But what I do know is that I’m never going to bow to my parents’ wishes again. Hopefully before long Jean-Michel will have comforted himself with another mistress while he hunts for a new titled princess to marry.”

      Cesare rubbed the back of his neck, unable to believe he was actually toying with the idea of teaching her the rudiments. In a perfect world, if she did follow through and did learn how to cook, it would give her the independence she’d never known. It would allow her to earn money and she’d be free to make her own choices, something that had been denied her from birth.

      At some point in time she’d decide to get in touch with her parents, or not. He couldn’t believe he was allowing his thoughts to go this far.

      Quiet reigned before she said, “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have any money right now to pay you to teach me. But if I were a good student and could work at the castello, you wouldn’t have to pay me any money. Not ever! I’m already indebted to you for your sacrifice. It would be my gift to you for saving my life.”

      The last was said in a trembling voice. It was the wobble that did it to him.

      “Are you a fast learner?” Cesare knew she was grateful. He didn’t want her to go on begging for the chance to repay him. Her willingness to take a risk of these proportions made her a breed apart from anyone he’d ever known.

      She stared at him with those heavenly gray eyes. “I guess that depends on the subject matter, but I graduated with honors in European history.”

      “Congratulations, Tuccia. That’s no small feat. But to make a pastry chef out of you... I don’t know.”

      “You’re right. It’s too much to ask and I’d probably be a disaster.”

      He didn’t like the discouraged tone of her voice and it made up his mind for him. “Maybe not.”

      A gasp escaped her lips. “You mean you’re willing to entertain the idea?”

      Her excitement put a stranglehold on him. “Let’s just say I’ll put you on probation for a few days and see how it goes.”

      “You’re not teasing me?” she cried.

      “No. I wouldn’t do that. Not about this.”

      He could tell she was fighting tears. “When would I start?”

      “As soon as we’ve eaten dinner.”

      “So soon? Aren’t you exhausted after everything you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours?”

      Her question stunned him because her first thought had been for him. He could have asked the same of her after being on the run.

      “Not at all.” In fact he’d never been so wired in his life.

      “Does that mean we’re going up to the castello right now?”

      He stood up. “No. This pensione is going to be your home, your school room and your lab. You’ll do everything hands-on right here. After a few days I’ll decide if I can turn you into the next executive pastry chef at the Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi. Otherwise I’ll put you on the plane for New York.”

      Tuccia let out an incredulous cry of joy and she jumped to her feet. She rushed over to him and put a hand on his arm. The contact sent a shock through him. His awareness of her made it hard to breathe.

      “You mean it? You’re not joking? But you just said you weren’t joking. I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you’re willing to give me a chance.”

      “Everyone deserves a chance.” He looked her in the eye, trying to get a grip on his emotions. “What fake name were you going to use when you applied for the greenhouse job in Catania?”

      His question made her blink, and she let go of him. “Come on,” he prodded her. “You’ve obviously had one in mind for a long time.”

      “Not the same one my zia used to charter that plane for me. I guess... Nedda Bottaro.”

      “Nedda? The heroine in the opera Pagliacci?”

      “Yes. I love opera and Pagliacci is one of my favorites.”

      “But Nedda meets such a cruel end.”

      “I know. She and Carmen suffered the same fate. I always cry.”

      Cesare heard pain in her voice. “Why use the last name Bottaro?”

      “It means a wine cask maker. There’d be no connection to any of my family names.”

      He nodded. “Wise decision. If I deem you a promising pupil, we’ll go with both when I introduce you to my partners. I’ll tell them I stole you from the finest ristorante in Palermo.”

      She rubbed her hands against womanly hips in a nervous gesture. “How soon will that happen?”

      “Not for a while. I’ll have to teach you a lot first, and quickly, too. After dinner we’ll start with something simple. I’ll take a taxi to the grocery store and get the needed ingredients. While I’m at it, I’ll buy you a new Pay as You Go phone to reach me if you need to and program it. By the time you go to bed, you’ll be able to make the recipe I have in mind in your sleep.”

      She paced the floor, then wheeled around in front of him. “If I can pass your tests, that means I’ll be making desserts for hundreds of people a week.”

      “That’s right. Kings, sheikhs, presidents of countries.”

      Her radiating smile illuminated those hidden places in his soul that had never seen light. That thought appeared to delight her.

      “You’ll have assistants to help you.”

      “But I don’t look anything like a chef.”

      No. She didn’t look like anyone else in the whole wide world. “You will after we dress you properly. When I bring my partners to the kitchen to introduce you, no one will ever guess you’re Princess Tuccianna.”

      Her cheeks had grown becomingly flushed. “I want to be good enough to meet your standards. You’ll never know what this means to me.”

      He was beginning to. While she stood there, Cesare phoned for a taxi. After he hung up, he turned to her. “I’m starving and am going out to pick up a meal for us after I shop. When I get back, we’ll get started.”

      She followed him to the door. “If I can’t do the job you need done, does this mean you’ll have to be the head pastry chef at your own hotel?”

      He liked it that she was a little worried about him. “Yes. My partner’s wife, Gemma, can no longer handle the job this late

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