had opened her eyes to the other qualities in his nature that had nothing to do with his striking male looks. Everything about him from his intellect to his humor stimulated her. So much, in fact, that she was breathless as she waited to see him again today.
The knock on the door came sooner than she had expected, sending her pulse racing as if she had a sickness. She put down the cup she’d been using to add the final lemon glaze to the tarts she’d made. There were still three to be coated and decorated.
After wiping her hands on a towel, she hurried to answer the door, knowing flour still dusted part of the same blouse she’d worn last evening. There was even some on her forearms.
When she opened it, their eyes met for a quiet moment. His were smiling, if there was such a thing. She got a fluttering in her chest as his gaze wandered over her.
“I bet you didn’t know there’s flour on the tip of your nose.” Before she could blink, he removed it with his thumb. His touch sent an electricity-like spark through her body. “If I don’t miss my guess, I would say you’ve already been hard at work this morning.”
She was worried yet excited to show him. “Come in and find out.”
Cesare walked through to the kitchen with another bag of food and the empty pan. He put them both on the counter and pulled a phone out of his pocket.
“This is for you. All programmed.” He put it at the end of the counter.
Tuccia thanked him, but she had no idea where the batch of tarts he’d left with had ended up. She didn’t think she wanted to know.
Without asking her permission, Cesare took a finished product from one of the small round pans. He examined it first. Then he bit into it. An anxious Tuccia waited while he took another bite and another, until it was all gone. Uh-oh. Here it comes.
“Why are you closing your eyes?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I don’t know. So I can handle the bad verdict better?”
“On your fourth try, you’ve achieved perfection. The cinnamon balance is just right. As for the shapes, my mother wouldn’t know them from her own. If I didn’t have a knowledge of your upbringing, I’d think you came out of the same nunnery.” This time he brushed her mouth with his own.
She opened her eyes, trying to contain her joy. “Thank you, Cesare, but you don’t have to overdo it.”
He ignored her comment. “I’m even more impressed you found something else to cook them in. This apartment is ill-equipped for a chef. When Mamma told me you were resourceful, I don’t believe that even she understood the scope of your abilities.”
Tuccia scoffed. “She was only quoting my zia who thinks I can do no wrong. She and my zio wanted babies so much. What they got was me when my parents didn’t know what to do with me. Bertina was the one bright light in my existence.”
“As you still are in hers,” he came back, seemingly deep in thought. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have risked everything to help you.” His blue gaze swerved to hers, sending more darts of awareness through her body. “That includes using my mother who happens to have the same favorable opinion of you.”
“I’ll never be able to thank her enough for what she’s done. But right this minute I want the honest answer to one question. After talking to your partners, should I be getting ready to leave for Catania?”
He lounged his rock-hard body against the edge of the counter with his arms folded. “I’d like your honest answer to another question first. Why did you get up at the crack of dawn and go to all the effort of making another batch when you could have stayed asleep?”
She took a deep breath. “Because I needed to find out for myself if I was capable of following that recipe on my own.”
“Which you’ve demonstrated beyond all doubt. Would it interest you to know my partners devoured the tarts you made?”
“No, they didn’t,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle.
“One bite told them everything they needed to know. They stuffed themselves and took the few uneaten mounds with them when they left my room.”
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel good because...because that’s the kind of man you are,” she said, her voice faltering.
“You don’t have to compliment me back.” Yes, she did. She owed him her life right now. “Let me prove it to you.”
Tuccia watched him pull out his cell phone and make a call to Vincenzo, the present Duc di Lombardi. They talked for a few moments before he hung up.
“Vincenzo’s wife, Gemma, will be arriving within the hour. Shall we eat the breakfast I brought now? Then I’ll clean up the kitchen while you get ready for our guest.”
A slight gasp escaped her lips. “Why would she be coming here?”
He reached for the bag of food and set it on the table. “You’ve passed your first test by baking a dessert the castello ristorante would be proud to serve. But this is only the beginning if you decide to accept the daunting challenge facing you.”
She averted her eyes. “You’re right. It’s so daunting, I’m terrified.”
“Be frank with Gemma and see what happens.”
“What’s she like?”
“Only a few years older than you and one of the nicest, kindest women I’ve ever known.”
“Besides being a master pastry chef.”
He nodded. “A chef who’s about to become a mother. She can’t wait for their baby to arrive and is anxious to let someone else take on her former mantle.”
“Which no doubt you will be doing before the day is out, Cesare. Please forgive me if I skip breakfast. That was very kind of you to bring it, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything right now.”
She rushed to the bedroom to take a shower and change into jeans and a knit top. Tuccia had only packed a few understated clothes at Bertina’s because she knew she would have to travel light on her trip to Catania and didn’t dare stand out.
After being sheltered at Lina Donati’s villa for one night, she could never have known she would end up here in Milan to face a situation undreamed of.
Be frank with Gemma.
Tuccia interpreted that to mean she must put the princess part of herself aside. For once she had to dig down to her core and decide if she thought she could pull this off.
This could all end in a second if she asked Cesare to call Vincenzo back and tell him not to bring his wife to the pensione. Within a few minutes Tuccia could be driven to the train.
That would leave Cesare to take on the exclusive role of executive pastry chef until he found someone else exceptional, or until Signor Fragala recovered.
But for Tuccia, it would mean never seeing him again. Her heart told her she couldn’t handle that. He’d become too important to her.
Sucking in her breath, she reached for the brush to style her curls. Once she’d applied some light makeup and lipstick, she left the bedroom to face what was coming.
* * *
Cesare walked outside when he saw Vincenzo’s Mercedes pull up in front. While his friend came around from the other side, Cesare helped a blonde, very pregnant Gemma out of the front seat and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s my privilege. How à propos that the princess is staying here in the same apartment I did.”
“I thought it the safest place to conceal her.”
“You’ve found the perfect spot tucked out of the way. It takes me back to those first days when I left the pensione to meet you for the first time. I was shaking in my boots to be interviewed by the internationally