Uh-oh, round two. Or three. Were we up to four? What the hell – seconds out.
Signora Carello served us breakfast on a small, private terrace to one side of her villa. She had a tiny garden filled with bougainvillea that was just coming into its full glory.
We invited her to have her coffee with us, and she happily accepted our invitation.
“So, you are hoping to find family in Capezzano Inferiore?”
“Well, that would be the icing on the cake, but really, I just want to see the village where my father came from. If I find family, well…”
She smiled sympathetically and patted my hand.
“Perhaps you will find family in a different way,” she said, glancing at Sebastian, who grinned back at her.
There were several ways I could interpret her remark; I chose to ignore all of them. Although, it wasn’t easy with Sebastian sitting opposite, smirking at me.
We wandered through Salerno, stopping to admire the neat yachts lined up in the harbor.
“I should take you sailing some time,” said Sebastian, staring out at the deep, blue waters of the Mediterranean. “If we had more time, I’d rent us a boat and teach you how to sail.”
“I already know,” I said, smiling at him. “Although I haven’t been out on a sailboat for years.”
“Really?” he said, intrigued. “I didn’t know you could sail.”
“Ah, you don’t know all my talents yet, Hunter.”
He smiled. “I’m looking forward to finding out. But when did you learn?”
Damn, I should have kept my mouth shut – we were definitely sailing into dangerous waters.
“David taught me,” I said, mildly.
Sebastian’s face clouded over at once. “The asshole?”
It was his favorite name for my ex-husband.
“The very one.”
His good humor evaporated and I sighed. I could have predicted that response – I should have predicted that response.
“It was a long time ago, Sebastian. And we agreed we couldn’t change the past, so stop looking so mad, or I’ll have to kiss you indecently in public.”
His expression changed to one of surprise, then darkened perceptibly to lust.
“Nope, still pissed off, Caro. You’ll have to kiss me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but you could try.”
His eyes were challenging.
“Are you sure, Sebastian?” I said, in my most sultry voice. “Because I don’t want to get you all hot and bothered.”
“I’ll risk it,” he said, arrogantly.
I turned to face him, standing so close that our bodies almost touched. And then in full public view, I ran my hand over his ass, up beneath his T-shirt, and dragged my nails down his back. With my other hand I pulled his head down towards me and kissed him hard. And I might have also rubbed him over his zipper, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath.
“Fuck, Caro,” he whispered. “Let’s go back to our room right now.”
I laughed. “No, Sebastian. That was just my distraction technique: which, by the way, I didn’t learn in the Marines.”
He groaned and had to adjust his pants.
“Shall we go to Capezzano Inferiore now?” I said, innocently.
He gave me a look that said payback would be a bitch.
It was a steep walk to my father’s village, but the view more than made up for it. Salerno glittered jewel-like below us, the Mediterranean a polished glass of an implausible cerulean blue. In the crystal-sharp air, we could see a landmass on the horizon that I guessed must be Anacapri.
The village itself was quiet and dusty: a few cars passed us, all heading downhill. There was a fountain in the center that coughed and spurted arthritically, and a skinny dog idly scratched itself. All the life seemed to have been bled out of it, draining down the hill to the more confident town of Salerno. For the first time, I truly understood why my father might have wanted to leave; why America, with all its garish, New World charms, advertised by a thousand color movies, had been such a draw. And, perhaps, why my blonde, blue-eyed mother had seemed like a dream worth chasing.