Her Italian Millionaire by Carol Grace Page A

“I don't think so. Why?”
    “Why? Because my cousin Marco is working for the...”
    At that moment the kitchen door flew open, Marco and his grandmother came in carrying large steaming bowls of pasta and sauce to the round oak table.
    Anne Marie started guiltily and pulled her hand from Rocco's grasp.
    “What in the hell is going on here?” Marco asked, glaring at his cousin.
    “Niente affatto,” Rocco said with a shrug. “Just getting acquainted with your friend Ana Maria. You can't have an exclusive on all the pretty women in town, Marco.”
    “No, I leave that to you,” Marco said.
    Their grandmother shook her finger at both of them. Then she kissed Rocco on the cheek and motioned him to sit at the table. A few minutes later, a young woman with a baby in her arms came in the front door.
    Nonna waved her toward a seat at the table. Marco explained she was a next-door neighbor and her name was Magdalena and her baby daughter was called Cecilia. They told her Anne Marie was a tourist and Magdalena asked where she was going next.
    “A Paestum,” Anne Marie said.
    “Per macchina?”
    “No, per autobus,” Anne Marie said.
    “Santo Cielo,” Magdalena said, clapping her hand to her forehead.. “No lei sentire? El autobus e soppresso.”
    “What?” Anne Marie said.
    “She says the buses aren't running. The drivers are on strike,” Marco said.
    “Oh, no.” Now what? She had to get to Paestum tonight or Giovanni would think she'd stood him up and she wasn't coming.
    “Don't worry,” Rocco said. “I'll drive you there.”
    “No you won't,” Marco said. “She's going with me. It's already been decided.”
    “Is that true?” Rocco asked.
    Anne Marie looked from one man to the other. She had to get to Paestum by ten. Giovanni had told her to come alone. Which man would she have the least trouble getting rid of?
    “Nothing has been decided,” she said. “Excuse me. I have to make a phone call. Telefono . Is that all right?”
    Nonna waved her hand in the direction of the kitchen. Anne Marie went into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. She stood in the middle of the room listening to the voices from the next room. She put her hand on the old fashioned black telephone receiver that hung on the wall and stared at it. She could call the hotel at Paestum and make sure Giovanni had made a reservation for her. She could ask the desk clerk if anyone had asked for her.
    Another idea - She could use her calling card to call home and find out what had happened at the wedding. Or she could walk quietly out the back door, take her suitcase from the trunk of Marco's car, and walk down the side streets until she found a taxi to take her to Paestum and leave Marco and his cousin Rocco behind. She stood there, wavering. She didn't really care what Marco or Rocco would think if she left. But Nonna was a different matter. She didn't want that dear old lady to think she didn't appreciate her offer of lunch. Then there was the lunch itself. Maybe she could eat first and sneak out afterward.
    Before she could do any of these things, there was a loud crash in front of the house and the sounds of glass splintering and metal crunching.

 
Chapter Six
     
    Anne Marie stood frozen in place on the rustic earth-tone tiles in the kitchen listening to the shouts from the other room, then footsteps and the slamming of the front door. Finally her feet propelled her through the kitchen door past the empty dining room table laden with bowls of pasta and sauce and out the front door. There a crowd of neighbors, including Marco, his grandmother and his cousin had gathered around Marco's car with its rear end smashed and shards of glass and chrome in the street.
    Anne Marie felt like she'd stumbled into an Italian movie, with extras on the sidelines, gesturing and shouting. Marco, obviously the star of the movie, with his dark good looks, his eyes narrowed, his jaw like granite, stared at his damaged car in disbelief. In the