couldn’t get over the huge selection of chef apparel at the back. While she was taking it all in, Cesare seemed to know exactly what he wanted.
“Here. Try this on.”
Cesare handed her a short-sleeved white lab coat that fell above the knee. After she put it on, he shook his head. “It needs to be larger to cover a T-shirt and chef’s pants.” He handed her a coat two sizes bigger. She tried it on.
“That will do fine. We’ll take six of them. Now for six sets of pants and T-shirts that fit. Everything white.”
Once she’d pulled the clothes off the racks and handed them to the clerk, they walked over to the counter to look at the chef hats and beanies of all kinds. Again, Cesare already had something in mind and reached for the traditional white floppy hat.
He handed it to Tuccia. “Go in the changing room and try it on where no one will see you. If it’s not the right fit, call outside the door to me and I’ll get the right one.” They walked down the little hall. “Don’t get any ideas about slipping out the back way, or you’ll be on your own, Principessa.” He said it with a slow smile that sent a river of warmth through her body.
Once inside, she removed her scarf and tried on the hat. It was too big. She told him as much. He returned in a minute with a smaller version. This one was just right. It would keep her hair snug inside and prevent any strands from slipping.
She put the scarf and glasses back on before emerging. “This one is the right size.”
“Good. We’ll take six of them.”
He walked her over to the counter and before long they left the shop for his car with her new clothes. Talk about fun. Being with Cesare like this was turning out to be the happiest day of her life. To know the two of them would be working together for months and months was her idea of heaven. She didn’t care how hard she had to work.
He drove her around to another store featuring eye glasses. “Stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”
With his brown hair and tall male physique, he made every man walking along the street look pathetic in comparison. When he came out of the store a few minutes later and flashed her a smile, she couldn’t breathe. He handed her a bag with several sets of eye glasses for her to choose from.
“I have an idea,” he announced. They’d already left the city for the village. “I’ll pick up a meal and ask Takis to join us. My other partner needs to meet you. When he walks in the apartment, I want you to be wearing a complete chef’s outfit. Of course he knows what you look like. If you can pass his inspection, then we’ll know we have a chance that your identity will remain a secret.”
“It has to,” she whispered.
For a second time in several days Cesare reached for her hand and squeezed it. “This is going to work, Tuccia.” She got the feeling he wanted this to work as much as she did. Soon they reached the grocery store and he let go of her. “I’ll try not to be too long.” He turned on the radio. “In case you want to listen.”
While he was gone taking his warmth with him, she moved the tuner and heard the top-of-the-hour news. Her disappearance was still the lead story and a reward was being offered for help in finding her.
How odd that she felt so removed from the princess they were describing. In just a few days she felt like she’d turned into someone else. People were walking around the village and here she was, right in the middle of them with no one the wiser.
Cesare’s energy was something to behold. He came back to the car loaded with more groceries and their dinner. She smiled at him. “That was fast. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of help.” She would adore shopping for groceries with him. Anything where they could be together.
He started the car. “One day all this will be behind you. Let’s go home. I gave Takis a call. He’ll be here at five which doesn’t give you much time to work on your disguise.”
“I have an idea about what to do with my hair. If I pull on a nylon stocking first, it will help keep it in place.”
“That ought to work. Do we need to buy you some nylons?”
“No. I have a pair with me. Do you think it will be all right if I wear my leather sandals?”
“If they’re comfortable, I don’t see why not.”
When they reached the pensione, she got out and helped carry in the bags. “I’ll put the clothes in my bedroom.”
“Don’t come out until you’ve morphed into a chef. I admit I can’t wait to see what you look like.”
Neither could Tuccia. After a quick shower she put on a pair of white semi-baggy drawstring pants. Next came the short-sleeved crew neck T-shirt. Now for the tricky part. She took off the scarf and rummaged in the dresser drawer for a stocking.
She fit it around her head so no hair could escape and pinned it to the crown. After grabbing a chef’s hat and sack of eye glasses, she dashed in the bathroom. First she pulled out a pair of the clear lenses with neutral brown frames. Very professional looking. They fit over her ears just fine. Then she put on the hat, slanting the floppy part. The whole thing actually worked. She didn’t recognize herself.
Tuccia normally wore a melon colored lipstick. She decided that wouldn’t do and wiped off all traces. Pleased with the effect, she went back in the bedroom and pulled on the lab coat. It had pockets and seven buttons down the front opening, leaving the top of the T-shirt exposed. Her figure was non-existent, but that was the whole point.
Still dressed in her sandals, she felt ready for the fashion show. With pounding heart she tiptoed in the living room and found Cesare putting the groceries away. He’d laid the table for their dinner.
“Signor? May I have your attention, per favore?”
He wheeled around with a sack of flour in his hand. But when he saw her, it dropped to the counter, reminding her of the night in his mother’s kitchen. She burst into laughter at the shock on his painfully handsome face.
She moved into the kitchen. “Perhaps you don’t recognize me. I’m the new executive pastry chef at the Castello Supremo Hotel Ristorante in Milan, Italy. I can see by your expression that I’ve achieved a certain amount of success in that department, signor.”
Loving this, Tuccia turned around like a model on a runway. “If you’ll take a closer look, you’ll see the detail of the stitching on the pockets of this stunning creation.” His eyes played everywhere, as if trying to figure out where she’d gone.
“Pay attention to the large puffy hat, the latest in chic chef wear. This designer was chosen by the world famous five-star restaurateur Cesare Donati. He features nothing but the best in his kitchens, whether here or in New York. It’s the greatest privilege I’ve ever known to be working for him.”
His hand rubbed his chest as if he were in a trance. “I saw you go into the bedroom a little while ago,” he began in a deep voice. “But I still can’t believe it’s you underneath all that white.”
“Then you think I’ll do?”
A knock on the door prevented him from responding. “Come on in, Takis.”
Tuccia watched his dark-blond partner walk inside and shut it. Here was another incredibly attractive man who she’d been told had come from the island of Crete. His hazel eyes narrowed on her before he turned to Cesare. “I thought you said that Princess Tuccianna would be here.”
“Did you hear that?” Cesare asked her.
“Yes. If the signori will excuse me, I’ll tell her your guest has arrived for dinner.”
She darted back to the bedroom so excited, she had trouble taking off all of her disguise. In a few minutes she returned to the living room with her hair brushed and lipstick on her mouth, wearing the same clothes she’d worn to town with Cesare.
His eyes pierced