Tuscan Heat Read online

  “I know her writing. Vanessa bought me a copy of her book to read. It’s really good.”

  “She’s extremely talented,” Donovan stated.

  “She’s also quite the looker, if I remember correctly,” Kendrick noted with a nod.

  Donovan shrugged. “She’s all right,” he said, trying to keep his tone in check.

  Kendrick gave him a swift punch to his upper arm. “Look at you, big brother! I think you’re actually blushing! Wait until I tell the family!”

  Donovan laughed, lifting his hands up as if in surrender. “You wouldn’t. You cannot tell the girls! I would never live it down.” He mocked his sisters, imitating Tarah’s shrill tone. “Don Juan has a girlfriend? Don Juan is actually speaking to a woman? Let’s give Don Juan some advice!”

  Kendrick laughed heartily. “You’re right. I can’t do that to you!”

  “Thank you!” He changed the subject. “So have you and Vanessa decided on a honeymoon spot yet?”

  As the two men continued their conversation, the flight attendant gestured for their attention. “Gentlemen, we’re ready for you to board now,” the woman said politely. She gave them both a smile, her gaze shifting between them.

  Donovan reached for his carry-on bag and led the way. Minutes later the two men sat comfortably, secured in the plush leather seats as the plane taxied down the runway. He relished the camaraderie he shared with his siblings. He could laugh easily with his brothers, and since it wasn’t often that the two were able to spend time together, he was grateful that Kendrick was taking the trip with him, whatever the other man’s reasons.

  Donovan also didn’t mind the teasing from any of his family. He knew that no matter what, he had their support, and the tight bond they all shared was unconditional. But as he thought about Gianna and what might be waiting for him when they finally landed, he was only willing to share so much about the exquisite woman and what he felt about their unique situation. As he stared out the window, watching as the plane lifted easily into the cloud-filled sky, Donovan took a deep breath and then another, hoping that the fear he felt in his heart didn’t show on his face.

  * * *

  Sophie Mugabe and Alessandra Donati stood at the arrival gate of Pisa International Airport waiting for the American professor to gather his luggage and exit the travel center. Both were excited as they stood with handmade signs, Donovan’s name printed in bold black letters across both sides.

  Sophie was Donovan’s host and the department chair at the University of Siena. She’d been following him since they’d first met three years earlier at the International Conference on Mathematics and Statistics. That year the conference had been held in London, and Donovan had been presenting the theories he’d published in his book, The Deconstruction of Associative Algebras of Prime Characteristic.

  Sophie had been enamored from day one, her enthusiasm for the professor and his work almost compulsive. Her regular emails had been just shy of stalking, but he’d been exceptionally kind in his responses. The prospect of getting to know him personally through the next year had her excited in a way she would have never imagined. She was fighting to contain the emotion bubbling through her midsection, desperate to maintain her decorum in front of her student.

  Alessandra Donati stood with indifference, her gaze sweeping around the airport lobby. Since the girl’s freshman year, Professor Mugabe had mistaken her proficiency with mathematics for interest, singling her out for attention that Alessandra had neither needed nor wanted. But the perks of being the teacher’s pet outweighed the disadvantages. So despite wanting to be in Venice with her friends who’d driven up for the day, she’d agreed to come with her mentor to welcome some visiting professor from the United States. She sighed heavily as she looked down at the thin gold watch on her wrist.

  “He’s landed,” Sophie said, excitement ringing in her tone. “It should not be too much longer now.”

  Alessandra forced a smile onto her face. She was about to comment when she caught sight of the college professor, the man eyeing them both curiously. The distinguished black man smiled sweetly, and the gesture took her breath away. Tall, dark and handsome to the nth degree, he actually had her heartbeat fluttering. She threw her teacher a quick look, not missing the other woman’s glazed stare. Her professor was likewise moved.

  “He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Sophie muttered as she waved excitedly.

  Alessandra chuckled beneath her breath. “Oh, yes, he is!” she exclaimed.

  “Professor Mugabe! What a surprise!” Donovan said, moving to their side. He leaned in to give his benefactor a warm embrace.

  “Dr. Boudreaux, welcome to Italy! I could not let you arrive and not be here personally to welcome you. I hope that your trip was pleasant?”

  Donovan nodded. “The flight was great. My brother flew with me, and it gave us an opportunity to catch up.”

  Sophie tossed a look over his shoulder, her eyes skating back and forth. “Your brother is with you?”

  Donovan smiled again. “He’s actually headed on to Greece as soon as they refuel his plane.”

  Alessandra cleared her throat, stepping forward for attention. Her eyes swept from one to the other, settling on the beautiful black man.

  Sophie tapped her hand to her forehead. “Forgive me. Where are my manners! Dr. Boudreaux, allow me to introduce you to one of our prized students. This is Alessandra Donati. Alessandra is a senior mathematics major. She’s quite gifted and looking forward to being in your class this semester.”

  Alessandra smiled, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly. “Dr. Boudreaux, it’s very nice to meet you,” she said as she tossed the length of her blond hair over her shoulder. She extended a manicured hand in his direction as she batted her false eyelashes.

  “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Donati,” he said, shaking her hand.

  “I was very excited to hear that you would be coming to the university. Your paper on Lie algebras was quite engaging.”

  Donovan laughed. “It really wasn’t, but I appreciate you saying so.”

  The young woman’s smile was bright, the glint in her eye even brighter.

  Sophie interrupted the moment. “I thought we’d get you settled into your cottage, then take you by the school and out for your first meal here in Italy. Unless you have other plans?”

  Donovan took a deep breath. “I’d actually love to visit the school, but I’m having dinner with friends. I apologize, I didn’t know...”

  She shook her head swiftly, interrupting his comment. “Oh, please, no apology necessary. I just thought I’d make the offer.”

  “You have friends here in Tuscany?” Alessandra asked.

  Donovan smiled. “Yes, Gianna Martelli and the Martelli family. They have a vineyard in the heart of the Tuscan Maremma, not far from the province of Grosseto.”

  Both women shrugged indifferently. “Martelli is a very common name here in Italy,” Sophie said, disappointment shimmering in her tone.

  Donovan nodded. “Perhaps we can have breakfast in the morning and you can show me around? I’m very excited to see the campus and get acquainted with the faculty.”

  The older woman grinned. “Definitely! That is definitely doable.”

  * * *

  Gianna was as nervous as her sister, the two women scurrying about trying to ensure everything was perfect before Donovan Boudreaux arrived for dinner. Freshly cut flowers decorated the home, resting atop the tables and counters. All the windows had been opened, and a warm breeze blew like a whisper through the space. A roasted chicken scented the air, and handmade pasta waited on the wooden countertop to be dropped into lightly salted water.

  Franco and Graham exchanged a look as both women came to an abrupt halt, eyeing each other from across the room. A silent conversation passed between them, something unique that only they unde
rstood. The brevity of it could have filled a thimble, but in that brief moment there was something magnanimous that happened between them.

  Gianna sighed softly, and as if she’d caught the warm breath, Carina folded her hand into a tight fist, pulling it to the spot between her breasts. Both women smiled, and then just as abruptly resumed their frantic fussing about.

  Franco broke the silence. “Have you spoken to this man, Gianna?” he asked curiously.

  She paused to meet her father’s stare. “I sent him a text message. His flight should have landed by now, and once he gets settled he’s going to find his way here.”

  “Did you want me to go get him?” Graham asked.

  “No!” both women answered in unison.

  “It’s just a ride!” Graham replied, bristling slightly.

  “You would tell him. I know you,” Carina said.

  Gianna nodded in agreement. “It has to come from us. From Carina.”

  “Why from me?” her sister asked, turning to stare at Gianna.

  “Because this is all your fault. You’re the one who allowed this lie to snowball.”

  “You could have told him already,” Carina said. “You’ve been emailing back and forth for the last two weeks. So you’ve been playing in that snow, too!”

  “I could have,” Gianna said matter-of-factly. “But then he might not have come.” She cut an eye in Carina’s direction.

  Her sister laughed. “I knew you would like him!”

  “I find him interesting. So, yes, I’m curious.”

  Carina jumped up and down excitedly. “You really like him!” she exclaimed.

  Franco laughed as he rose from his seat, peering out the front window. “That’s a good thing because your new friend just pulled up outside!”

  Chapter 4

  Donovan stood nervously outside the luxury villa. After settling into the one bedroom cottage the university had rented for him for the next year, he’d asked the property owner for directions to the winery. The rotund woman looked like soft biscuit dough and spoke little if any English. She had stared at him, chattering away in Italian, and despite the obvious communication issues, he’d felt right at home. It had taken a moment, but she’d eventually pointed him in the direction of the groundskeeper, who spoke perfect English and had been happy to give him a ride.

  Donovan had read the winery’s promotional brochures, scouring their website for anything he could learn. Cantina Moderna was a restored country farmhouse situated on a luxurious hilltop. It was surrounded by vineyards and olive groves, and the views were breathtaking. He knew from his readings that the entire wine estate included the vineyards, a state-of-the-art wine cellar and the private villa.

  The bottaia, or wine cellar, was modern, yet sat in perfect harmony with the surrounding landscape. It showcased massive, hand-hewn oak barrels that held aged and refined wine. There was a meeting room that looked out to the Ombrone Valley and could host up to sixty people, and a tasting room with panoramic views equipped with one hundred indoor seats and a professional, gourmet kitchen. There were also rooms for the actual wine-making and a warehouse that had been designed to carry out the production needs of the winery from wine-making to bottling.

  Now, standing at the edge of the floral beds that bordered the stunning home and wine facility, Donovan found himself feeling like a teen on his first date, anxiety flooding every muscle in his body. In one hand, he held a stunning bouquet of orange and pink roses, lisianthus, orchids and vibrant green ruscus tied with a simple yellow ribbon. In the other, he clutched a bottle of homemade strawberry vinaigrette, courtesy of his landlady, because how could you bring wine to a family with their own winery? He took a deep breath, and then a second one before moving slowly toward the entrance to knock on the front door.

  Donovan was just about to knock a second time when Franco Martelli swung open the door, greeting him cheerily. The man pumped his arm enthusiastically as the two shook hands. “Benvenuto, Dr. Boudreaux!” he said as he pulled him inside the home, the door closing easily behind them.

  Donovan smiled. “Buonasera, Signor Martelli. Thank you for having me in your home.”

  “Please, call me Franco.” The patriarch gestured around the room. “Let me introduce you,” he said as he pointed to a man sitting on a stool at an oversize counter. “This is my son-in-law, Graham Porter. Graham is married to my daughter Carina.”

  Graham came to his feet, extending his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, eyeing Donovan with reservation.

  Donovan nodded. “The pleasure is mine. Gianna has told me a lot about you. She holds you in very high regard.”

  Graham smiled ever so slightly as he and Franco exchanged a look. “The girls should be out in a moment,” he said. “You know how women do. It takes forever to make sure their faces are just right.”

  Donovan nodded his understanding. “I have four sisters. I understand perfectly.”

  “If you are like my husband and my father, then I’m sure you exaggerate,” a warm voice chimed from the other side of the room. “We really are not that bad.”

  Donovan turned, his eyes skipping anxiously in the direction of the voice. He was greeted by a bright smile, the young woman moving quickly to his side. “Donovan, hello. I’m Carina Martelli-Porter. Gianna’s sister. Welcome!”

  “Carina, hello!”

  “How was your trip?”

  His head continued to bob up and down. “It was good. Very good. Thank you for asking.”

  Carina moved to her husband’s side. An awkward silence suddenly filled the space, the family watching Donovan anxiously. They all seemed to take a collective breath, heavy sighs blowing around the room.

  Carina pressed a palm to her husband’s chest. “Darling, pour Dr. Boudreaux a glass of wine!” she said, her voice quivering ever so slightly. She shifted her gaze in Donovan’s direction.

  “Dr. Boudreaux, please, have a seat!” she said as she gestured toward the couch with her hand.

  “Thank you, and please, call me Donovan.”

  He suddenly remembered the bottle in his hand. “This is for the family. It’s...”

  Carina interrupted. “Strawberry vinaigrette! You must be staying with Signora Rossi.”

  He smiled. “I am. How did you know?”

  Carina held up the bottle he’d passed to her. “This stuff is pure gold and hard to come by. I’d recognize it anywhere. We are always trying to copy her recipe, and no one in the village has ever been able to get it right!”

  Graham handed Donovan a full goblet of red wine as he took a seat in an upholstered chair, the floral bouquet resting in his lap. Carina moved to the chair across from him.

  “I guess there really is no easy way to say this,” she started.

  Donovan eyed her curiously. “To say what?”

  Her eyes flitted between the men in the room, pausing momentarily over each one of them. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Are you boring my company with one of your stories about me, Sissy?” another female voice interjected.

  Everyone in the room turned at the same time. Gianna Martelli stood in the doorway, a bright smile painting her expression. Donovan pushed himself up from his seat, a wave of anxiety washing over him. Gianna met his stare, a nervous twitch pulsing at the edge of her lip. Light danced in her eyes as her gaze shifted from the top of his head to the floor beneath his feet and back, finally setting on his face.

  Donovan Boudreaux was neatly attired, wearing a casual summer suit in tan-colored linen with a white dress shirt open at the collar. Brown leather loafers completed his look. His dark hair was cropped low and close, and he sported just the faintest hint of a goatee. His features were chiseled, and at first glance she could have easily mistaken him for a high-fashion model. Nothing about h
im screamed teacher. The man was drop-dead gorgeous, and as she stared, he took her breath away.

  The moment was suddenly surreal, as though everything was moving in slow motion. As she glided to his side, Donovan was awed by the sheer magnitude of the moment, feeling as if he was lost somewhere deep in the sweetest dream. And then she touched him, her slender arms reaching around to give him a warm hug.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Gianna said softly. “Welcome to Italy.”

  Donovan’s smile spread full across his face, his gaze dancing over her features. Although she and her sister were identical, he would have easily proclaimed Gianna the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The photo on the dust jacket of her books didn’t begin to do her justice. Her complexion was dark honey, a sun-kissed glow emanating from unblemished skin. Her eyes were large saucers, blue-black in color and reminded him of vast expanses of black ice. Her features were delicate, a button nose and thin lips framed by lush, thick waves of jet-black hair that fell to midwaist on a petite frame. She was tiny, almost fragile, but carried herself as though she stood inches taller. She wore a floral-print, ankle-length skirt and a simple white shirt that stopped just below her small bustline, exposing a washboard stomach. Gianna Martelli was stunning!

  Starstruck, Donovan suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken, standing with his mouth open in awe. He swallowed hard as he took a deep inhale of air.

  “Gianna, hello!” he finally exclaimed, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. He suddenly remembered the flowers he was still clutching, and thrusted them at her. “These are for you,” he said.

  She grinned as she pressed her nose into the bouquet, taking a deep inhale of their sweet aroma. “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she said politely.

  The two stood face-to-face, nervous energy like a match and lighter fluid igniting the space between them. Their gazes danced back and forth together, both taking in the moment.

  “I hope everyone’s hungry,” Franco interrupted as he lifted the lid on a pot bubbling with salted water. Everyone turned to watch as he added in a bowlful of homemade ravioli. “These won’t take any time at all.”