Читать книгу 'I Do'...Take Two! - Merline Lovelace, Merline Lovelace - Страница 8

Chapter Two

“Kate!” Dismay chased across Dawn’s expressive face. “Tell me you’re not actually going to traipse off with the man!”

“I said I’d consider it.”

“But...but...”

“I know,” Kate admitted with a grimace. “The whole idea of this trip was to help me remember there’s a big, wide world out there that doesn’t have to include Travis Westbrook.”

“Now you want to narrow it down again?”

“Maybe. For a week. Or not. I don’t know.”

The less-than-coherent reply had Dawn swiveling on the crimson brocade sofa lavishly trimmed with gold rope. It was one of two plush sofas in the sitting room of their suite at the five-star Rome Cavalieri. A member of the Waldorf chain, the hotel sat perched on fifteen acres of private parkland overlooking the Eternal City. With its elegant decor, breath-stealing view of St. Peter’s Basilica in the near distance and shuttle service to the heart of Rome, the Cavalieri provided a home base of unparalleled luxury and convenience. The stunning vista framed by the doors of their suite’s balcony was the last thing on the minds of anyone at the moment, however.

Ignoring the city lights twinkling like fireflies in the purple twilight, Dawn made an urgent appeal. “Talk to her, Callie. Remind her how many times she and Travis tried to bridge the gap. When he was home long enough to do any bridging, that is.”

“She doesn’t need reminding. She knows the count better than we do. And God knows you and I haven’t scored any better in the love-and-marriage game.”

Dawn scrunched her nose at the unwelcome reminder while Callie searched their friend’s face. “Which way are you leaning? Yea or nay?”

Sighing, Kate unclipped her hair and raked a hand through the sun-streaked blond spirals. She kept intending to get the shoulder-length curls cut, maybe have them tamed into a sleek bob. Another manifestation of the new Kate Westbrook, like the tailored suits she’d invested in for her move to the World Bank and the two-bedroom condo she’d rented in DC.

“I keep swinging back and forth,” she admitted. “My head says it would be a monumental mistake. If I think of it in terms of a return on investment, I can’t see how a few days together will alter the long-term viability of our marriage. Not unless we introduce some new variables into the equation.”

“Forget equations and investment returns,” Callie urged. “Don’t think like a banker. Think like a wife who has to decide whether she wants to give her husband one last chance. It’s that simple.”

“No, it isn’t! You and Dawn figure into the equation, too. I can’t desert you at the very start of our vacation.”

“Sure you can. Granted, it won’t be anywhere near as much fun without you. I suspect we’ll manage to keep ourselves entertained, though.”

“But I planned our itinerary in such detail.” Of all the iterations of this trip Kate had devised over the years, this was the most elaborate. “I’ve laid out all the train schedules, subway maps, museum hours, hotel locations.”

“Dawn and I are big girls. We can get ourselves from point A to point B. Can’t we?”

“I guess.”

With that reluctant concession, Dawn shoved off the sofa and skirted a coffee table topped with what seemed like an acre of black marble to plop down beside Kate. Tucking one leg under her, she reached for Kate’s hand and threaded their fingers.

“Much as I hate to admit it, Callie’s right. Rambling around Italy won’t be nearly as much fun without you. But she’ll get us where we need to go, and I’ll do my damnedest to hook us up with a couple of studly Fabios. So don’t factor us into your equation. All you have to do is decide whether you want to give Travis another chance to break your heart.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way...”

“Dawn, for heaven’s sake!”

With an exasperated laugh, Callie joined them on the sofa. Wiggling her bottom, she wedged in on Kate’s other side and grasped her free hand.

They’d huddled together like this so many times as young girls to watch TV or giggle over the silliness of boys. As teens, to whisper secrets and weave dreams. As women, to share their joys and heartaches. More heartache in the past few years, it seemed, than joy.

“It sounds to me as though your head and your heart are pulling you in opposite directions,” Callie said quietly. “So my advice, girlfriend, is to go with your gut.”

* * *

When the three women went down to dinner, Travis was seated at a table in the Cavalieri’s gorgeously landscaped outdoor restaurant. Hurricane lamps flickered, the tables were draped in snowy linen and tall-stemmed crystal goblets gleamed. The floodlit dome of St. Peter’s Basilica looming against a star-studded sky a mile or so away took the setting out of the realm of sophisticated and straight into magical.

Kate suspected her husband would have preferred she deliver her answer to his outrageous proposal in private. Callie and Dawn had made no attempt to conceal their animosity at the Trevi Fountain, and Travis had to know they would be even less thrilled over the possibility Kate might abandon them. No special ops pilot would ever turn tail and run in the face of the enemy, however. Whatever her decision, he would take his licks.

Pushing his chair back, he rose as a hostess escorted the three women to the table. He’d topped his jeans and blue Oxford shirt with the gray suede sport coat that Kate knew packed easily and wore well. All he needed was a salon tan and a leather shoulder satchel slung over the back of his chair to fit right in with the casually sophisticated European males in the restaurant.

Kate, too, had dressed for the occasion in the caramel-colored slacks and matching hip-length jacket she’d bought especially for this trip. Made of a slinky, packable knit, the outfit could be dressed up with the black silk camisole she now wore or down with a cotton tank and chunky wooden necklace. The appreciative gleam in her husband’s eyes as he seated her said he approved of her new purchase.

No surprise there, she thought ruefully as he and the hostess seated Callie and Dawn. Travis had pretty much approved of anything and everything Kate pulled on, from cutoffs and baggy T-shirts to tailored business suits to the strapless, backless gown in screaming red she’d bought for one of their formal military functions. He’d approved of that sinful creation even more, she remembered with a jolt low in her belly, when he’d discovered how easy it was to remove.

Oh, God! Burying her suddenly tight fists in her lap, she was asking herself for the twentieth time if she really wanted to put them both through all the hurt again when Travis reclaimed his seat.

“Almost like old times,” he said with a cautious smile.

“Which times?” Dawn oozed honey-coated acid. “Before or after you got up close and cuddly with your little captain?”

Callie winced. Kate’s nails dug deeper into her palms. Travis folded his elbows on the table and took the knife thrust head-on.

“Okay, I know Kate shared that Facebook business with you two. I’m sure she also shared my pathetic defense. I’ll state it once more, for the record. And only once.”

His eyes as hard and flat as agates, he held Dawn’s glare.

“I did spend time with Captain Chamberlain talking goals and career paths. More than I should have, obviously. I did not, however, touch, kiss or otherwise indicate I wanted to have sex with her. Nor did I have any idea she’d posted those pictures of me sweaty and stripped to the waist.”

Fairness compelled Kate to intervene before blood was spilled. “They were taken during a volleyball match between aircrews. Travis sent me the uncropped versions later, after...”

She lifted a hand, let it drop. No need to bring all the ugliness into this starlit night. She’d got past it. Mostly.

“After the crap hit the fan,” he finished when she didn’t. “Now do you think you can sheathe your claws long enough for us to have dinner, Dawn?”

“I can try. But I’m not making any promises.”

Surprisingly, the snarky reply took some of the stiffness out of his shoulders.

“Actually,” he said gruffly, “I asked Kate to let me buy the three of you dinner for a specific purpose. I want to thank you, Dawn. And you, Callie. You stood shoulder to shoulder with her all these months. I’m more grateful than I can say she had you to turn to.”

Dawn blinked, and even Callie was surprised into a semithaw. “It hasn’t been easy for you, either,” she replied. “We know that. And we want you to know we’re good with whatever Kate’s decided to do for the rest of her stay in Italy.”

“Yeah, well, I want to talk about that, too.”

Their server arrived at that point to take their drink orders. The women opted for the Italian classic Bellini, Travis for a scotch rocks. He waited for the server to retreat before laying his cards on the table.

“I know I’m putting a major dent in your plans by asking Kate to spend this time with me. I’d like to make up for it by proposing an alternative to your itinerary, too.”

Kate had to bite back an instinctive protest. All her work, all the timetables and reservations and prepaid museum passes stored in her iPhone, appeared to be going up in a puff of smoke right before her eyes.

“As Kate may have mentioned, I’m on temporary assignment to the NATO base up near Venice. I’m working with a project involving several of our closest allies, one of whom is an Italian Special Ops pilot.”

“So?”

Dawn wasn’t giving an inch. Travis took her belligerence in stride and continued. “So Carlo’s family owns a villa in Tuscany. He says it’s within easy driving distance of Florence and Siena and on the fast train line to Milan and Venice. He also says the villa is currently vacant but fully staffed. It’s yours if you want to make it your home base for the next week or so.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Dawn admitted, surprised out of her hostility by the generous offer, “but the hotel here in Rome was our big splurge. We can’t afford to spring for a fully staffed villa.”

Actually, she could. Since Kate regularly advised her on various mutual funds and investments, she knew precisely how much her friend raked in each year as a graphic designer for a Fortune 500 health-and-fitness firm in Boston. She might come across as bubbly and carefree, but she was damned good at her job and had invested wisely.

Callie was a different story, however. She’d walked away from her job as a children’s ombudsman with the Massachusetts Office of the Child Advocate just weeks before this Roman holiday. After watching how the heartbreak of the cases she had to adjudicate shredded her emotions, both Dawn and Kate had cheered the decision. They’d also offered to pay her share of expenses for the trip, which she’d adamantly refused. Still, they suspected she’d had to dip into her savings, and neither wanted her to dig deeper.

Then Travis made it clear she wouldn’t have to. “Actually, there would be no charge. Carlo commands one of Italy’s crack special ops units. He and I took part in a joint mission some months back, and he now thinks he owes me.”

“For what?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Nothing worth writing home about.”

Although he dodged the question with a careless shrug, a familiar pressure built in Kate’s chest. The American media gave scant coverage to forces from other countries engaged in the war on terror, but she knew troops from dozens of different nations were engaged in the life-and-death struggle. They, like Travis and his crews, put their lives on the line every day.

If this Italian major thought her husband owed him, the joint mission they’d participated in had to have been hairy as hell. Kate’s chest squeezed again as she tried not to imagine the scenario.

Their server arrived at that point with the three Bellinis and a crystal tumbler of scotch. When she’d served the drinks, Travis picked up where he’d left off.

“So what do you think? Want to spend an all-expense-paid week in Tuscany?”

“That depends on what Kate’s decided.”

Three questioning faces turned her way. She looked at them blankly for a moment while she tried to factor this unexpected bonus for her friends into an equation made even more complicated by the stress of knowing Travis and this Italian commando had shared what she guessed had been a life-and-death situation. Torn, she took Callie’s advice and went with her gut.

“I think you should take this guy... What’s his name?”

“Carlo.”

“I think you should take Carlo up on his offer.” Her gaze turned to her husband. “And I’ll take you up on yours.”

* * *

Dinner went reasonably well after that. The tantalizing prospect of a week in a Tuscan villa with a full staff to see to her needs blunted the sharpest edges of Dawn’s antagonism. Kate knew the fiery redhead would snatch up the sword again in a heartbeat, though. So would Callie. Kate would have loved them for that no-questions-asked, just-let-us-at-him support even if the three of them weren’t already bonded by so many years of BFF-hood. She loved Travis, too, for setting them up so comfortably.

The insidious thought sneaked in before she could block it.

Damn! Had he preplanned this whole maneuver—leveraged whatever debt this guy Carlo owed him to preempt Kate’s nagging guilt over abandoning her friends? Was he that focused, that determined to achieve his objective?

Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Major Travis Westbrook never skimmed down a runway and lifted off without extensive preflight planning. Nor would he hesitate to deploy all available countermeasures to deflect or defeat enemy fire. Still, Kate had to admit he’d orchestrated a pretty impressive op plan for separating his primary target from its outer defenses.

Travis texted Carlo between drinks and dinner to let him know Ms. Dawn McGill and Ms. Callie Langston would arrive at his family’s villa the day after tomorrow, assuming it was still available. The Italian Air Force officer texted back confirming availability. The same text provided both directions and the code for the front gate.

Travis shot them to Callie’s and Dawn’s cell phones before the four of them settled in for a truly remarkable meal. Abandoning any inclination to count either carbs or calories, Kate ordered a grilled-peach-and-buffalo-mozzarella salad followed by a main course of lobster ravioli in a sinfully rich cream sauce.

She would have quit at that point if Dawn hadn’t talked her into sharing a spun-sugar-and-limoncello confection that depicted an iconic scene from Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling. She felt almost sacrilegious forking into the portrayal of Adam’s hand reaching up to touch God’s. After the first taste, though, she and Dawn attacked the edible art with the same fervor as the Visigoths who’d sacked Rome in 410 AD.

It was almost 10:00 p.m. when their server cleared the table and poured the last of the sweet, sparkling asti spumante Travis had ordered to accompany dessert. Another countermeasure, Kate guessed, to prevent a final round of hostile fire from either Dawn or Callie. If so, it didn’t work.

When Kate indicated she wanted to talk to Travis for a few moments, her friends waged a short but spirited battle to pay for their share of dinner. Defeated, they pushed away from the table. If Travis thought he’d bought a reprieve with the astronomically expensive dinner, he soon learned otherwise. Dawn took only a few steps, turned back and aimed her forefinger like a cocked Beretta.

“Do not forget, Westbrook. Callie and I are only a phone call away. All Kate has to do is hit speed dial, and we’re there.”

“Good to know that hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known the Invincibles.”

His obvious sincerity angled Dawn’s chin down a notch. Just one. The mulish set to her mouth, however, suggested she wasn’t ready to quit the field until Callie bumped her hip.

“He got the message. Time for us to make an exit.”

“I guess I deserved that,” Travis commented as the two women wove their way through the candlelit tables.

“Actually, they let you off easy. You don’t want to know the various surgical procedures Dawn performed on you in absentia.”

“Most, I would guess, done with a rusty pocketknife.”

“In her more generous moments. Other times she went to work with a hacksaw.”

“Ouch.”

His exaggerated shudder earned him a faint smile. He had to fight the urge to follow it up by reaching across the table and folding her hand in his.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told her instead.

“About?”

“About being grateful to them. They were there for you when you needed them.”

When he couldn’t be.

Facing his wife across the table, Travis acknowledged that he’d abrogated his role as a husband too many times. When the Bank of America promoted Kate in recognition of her adroit handling of foreign investments during the recession that panicked markets around the world, he’d been swatting mosquitoes at a remote airstrip in Kenya. And just months ago, while she’d agonized over whether to accept the offer from the World Bank and move to DC, he’d been freezing his ass off at a classified location he still couldn’t talk about. Time now, he vowed silently, to realign his priorities and reclaim a place in her life.

Assuming she would let him. He’d cracked the door open by getting her to spend this time with him, but the determined expression that now settled over her face suggested he’d have his work cut out to push it open all the way.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked her.

“We need to discuss the ROE.”

“Are we speaking your language or mine?”

ROE in her world stood for return on equity, a formula that assessed a company’s efficiency at generating profits for its stockholders. In his, ROE stood for the rules of engagement outlining the type of force that could be employed in various situations.

“In this instance, they represent the same thing. We need a set of parameters that define what we should and shouldn’t do during this time together.”

Travis didn’t much like the sound of that. “I figured we would play it by ear.”

“Right. Like you did with the villa? Tell me you just pulled that idea out of the air.”

“Okay, I might have scoped out a few possible courses of action...”

“Exactly. And if I remember the principles of war correctly, the purpose of a course of action is to achieve an objective.”

She didn’t add at all costs, but the implication hung heavy on the air. His brows snapping together, Travis shook his head.

“We’re not at war, Kate. At least I hope to hell we’re not.”

“No, we’re not. Now. And I want to keep it that way.”

“All right,” he conceded, not particularly happy with the direction this conversation was taking. “Let’s hear your ROE.”

She raised a hand and ticked them off with a decisiveness that told him she didn’t intend to negotiate. “One, separate bedrooms. Two, we share all expenses. Three, we decide on the itinerary together. Four, no changes unless by mutual consent. Five, no surprises of any size, shape or dimension.”

He took a moment. “Okay.”

“That was too easy,” Kate said, frowning. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you want to add to the list?”

“I think you’ve covered the essentials.”

Her frown deepened. “This won’t work if we’re not honest with each other, Trav.”

“I am being honest. I can live with those ROE. As long as you understand I intend to focus most of my energy on number four.”

Focus, hell. He intended to use every weapon at his disposal to make it happen.

“That’s my sole objective, Katydid. Gaining your consent...to changes in bedrooms, expenses, itinerary and—oh, yeah—our pending divorce.”

“Well.” She sat back, her brown eyes wide. “That’s certainly honest enough.”

“Good.” He pushed back his chair, figuring he’d better make tracks before she added to their list of rules. “Why don’t you text me a proposed itinerary? I’ll look at it tonight and we can negotiate if necessary. Just be sure to factor in some driving time. I want you to see Italy the way it should be seen.”

“I, uh... Fine.”

* * *

The blunt declaration left Kate feeling flustered as they crossed the Cavalieri’s elegant lobby to the elevators. Travis didn’t touch her this time, not even a gentlemanly hand on her elbow, and she was furious with herself for missing that small courtesy. So furious she jabbed the elevator button before she could miss more than his touch. Like the feel of his breath tickling her ear. The whisper of her name when he...

The elevator doors pinged open. Kate almost jumped in with a promise to zap him a proposed agenda within an hour.

Dawn and Callie were still up and open to further discussion on plans for the remainder of their time in Italy. Snatching up her notebook filled with maps and detailed descriptions of major tourist attractions, Kate worked up an alternate itinerary for them based out of the Tuscan villa. Then she went to work on one for her and Travis.

Driving time. He’d said to factor in driving time. So...

Lips pursed, Kate studied her heavily annotated map of Italy. Since driving in Rome was a nightmare, Kate decided she and Travis should depart the city in the morning, tour the countryside and save Rome for the end of the trip...assuming they were still together at that point. The uncertainty of that churned in her belly as she emailed the proposed itinerary to Travis’s phone.

He emailed back while she was still studying her map. The flight plan looked good. No negotiations or changes necessary. He’d pick her up at eight thirty.

* * *

Kate fully expected to lie awake the rest of the night riddled by doubts. She slid between the satiny sheets, still mulling over Travis’s stated intention to do whatever he could to change her mind about their future. But almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, the combination of rich food, several glasses of wine and mental exhaustion following hours of wildly conflicting emotions put her out.

The alarm she’d set on her iPhone went off at 7:00 a.m., but the happy marimba barely penetrated. Fumbling for the phone, she hit the snooze button. Twice. So when she finally came fully awake, she glanced at the time, let out a yelp and scrambled to get showered, dressed and packed.

Luckily, she’d packed light for the trip. All three of them had. Just one tote and roll-on each. The absence of heavy luggage made traveling so much easier but restricted choices. Kate had opted for two pairs of jeans, one pair of khaki twill slacks, tanks and Ts in various colors, a lightweight cotton sundress, and her slinky, caramel-colored pants and jacket. Since she would spend the day driving, she decided on jeans and a cap-sleeved black T paired with the chunky wooden necklace.

Callie was up when Kate dashed out of her bedroom, but Dawn hadn’t seen the light of day yet. Noting the tote and roll-on, Callie smiled.

“No second thoughts?”

“God, yes! Second, third and fourth. But... Well...”

“You don’t have to explain. Just keep safe, Kate, and keep us posted on how things go.”

“I will.”

The doubts hit with a vengeance while she waited in the Cavalieri’s lobby. The break with Travis had been agony enough four months ago. She had to be certifiable to court that kind of pain again.

She swiped her palms down the sides of her jeans and tried to settle her nerves by admiring the magnificent triptych that dominated the wall above the reception desk. The Cavalieri’s website boasted that it was home to one of the greatest private collections in the world. The hotel’s art historian even offered private tours of the old masters, rare tapestries and priceless antiques that included, among other things, a crib commissioned by Napoleon for his baby son.

At the moment, Kate was too revved to appreciate the art displayed in niches and on pedestals. Last night she’d thought she’d been so precise, so clearheaded and unemotional by laying out those ground rules. Then Travis had to turn them—and her—upside down with his statement of intent.

And that nickname. Katydid. He’d tagged her with it one hot summer evening when they’d spread a blanket under the stars and listened to the quivering whir of grasshoppers feasting on fresh-cut grass. Only he could call her an insect and make it feel like the soft stroke of a palm against her skin. And only he could blot out every one of those zillion stars with a single kiss.

Oh, God! What was she doing?

She tightened her grip on the roll-on, almost ready to scurry back to her room, when she caught a flash from the corner of one eye. Turning, she spotted her husband at the wheel of the convertible that pulled up at the front entrance. It was low, sporty, hibiscus red, and it gleamed with chrome. It also, she saw when she exited the automatic doors, displayed a distinctive logo on its sloping hood. Like the bellman and parking attendant, she was riveted by the medallion depicting a rampant black stallion silhouetted against a field of yellow.

“Is this a Ferrari?”

“It is,” Travis confirmed as he waved off the parking attendant who hurried forward. Rounding the hood, he took Kate’s case and stashed it in the trunk. “Compliments of Carlo.”

“Free use of a villa and a Ferrari? He owes you that much?”

“He doesn’t owe me anything. He just thinks he does.”

Shadowy images of what must have gone down to rack up such a large debt, real or imagined, made Kate swallow. Hard. Trying to blank her mind to the possible circumstances, she folded herself into the cloud-soft black leather of the passenger seat.

“It’s got a retractable hardtop,” Travis said as he slid behind the wheel. “If the wind is too much, let me know and I’ll put it up.”

She nodded, still trying to force her thoughts away from downed aircraft and skies ablaze with tracers from enemy fire. Her husband didn’t help by sharing a bit of historical trivia.

“Did you know Ferrari derived his logo from the insignia of a World War I Italian ace?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kate said drily. “The symbol for such a lean, mean muscle machine could only have come from a flier.”

“Damn straight.” Grinning, Travis keyed the ignition and steered past a parade of taxis waiting to pick up departing guests. “Count Francesco Baracca was cavalry before he took to the air, so he painted a prancing black stallion on the sides of his plane. Baracca racked up so many kills he became a national hero, and when Ferrari met the count’s mother some years later, she suggested he paint the same symbol on his racing car for good luck.”

“The ace didn’t object to having his personal symbol co-opted?”

“He probably wouldn’t have, but we’ll never know. He went down in flames just a few months before the end of the war.”

Both the dancing stallion and the sleek vehicle it decorated lost their dazzle in Kate’s eyes. “Some good-luck charm,” she muttered. “I hope your pal Carlo hasn’t stenciled it on his plane.”

“No, the aircraft in his unit sport their own very distinctive nose art. The wing’s name in Italian is the Seventeenth Stormo Incursori, if that gives you any clue.”

When she shook her head, his grin widened.

“It translates literally to ‘a flock of raiders.’ Not so literally to ‘watch your asses, bad guys.’”

“Of course it does. Do they fly the K-2, too?”

K-2 was their shorthand for the Combat King II. The latest model of the HC-130 was still relatively new to the USAF inventory and dedicated to special ops.

“They do,” Travis confirmed. “Just got ’em in this year. Carlo and his crew were still doing a shakedown when we got tagged for that joint op.”

Kate dug in her purse for a fat plastic hair clip, thinking that her husband and his Italian counterpart had forged quite a bond. It might be of recent origin, but it sounded almost as deep and unbreakable as the one between her, Dawn and Callie.

“I’d like to meet this new friend of yours sometime,” she commented as she anchored her hair back with the clip.

“I’d like that, too.” He cut her a quick glance. “Want to amend our itinerary to include the base at Aviano? And maybe Venice?”

“I...uh...”

For pity’s sake! They hadn’t even left the Cavalieri’s landscaped grounds and were already making changes to the agenda. But the lure of Venice proved almost as powerful as the desire to meet this new friend of her husband’s.

“Okay by me.”

“Great.”

When they reached the bottom of the long, curving drive, Travis downshifted and hit the brake. His hand rested casually on the Ferrari’s burled walnut gearshift knob while its engine purred like a well-fed feline.

“This baby can go from zero to sixty in three-point-five seconds,” he confided as they waited for the cross street to clear. “Once we shake free of Rome, we’ll open her up.”