The photo taken in Vietri nailed him to his seat. She looked like some exotic Etruscan princess come to life who was so damn beautiful in those braids, he was hypnotized. You could believe the rich green sports car was her personal chariot. The sight brought another chorus of bravos from the crowd.
His father’s exceptional vision had found Annabelle clear across the ocean.
What exactly do you do for my father, Signorina Marsh?
I’m helping him with his ad campaign.
Guilio had brought her to Italy and now his finished product had been translated into something wondrous to behold. Not until this evening did Lucca fully appreciate his father’s expertise that would blow every other car off the road once it hit the market. With Annabelle’s help, he would succeed in triple spades.
Still staggering from the impact of so much beauty, his eyes fastened on the shot of her dressed in a cheongsam, looking out over the waters of Capri from the side of the metallic-blue sports car. He’d been to China many times, but he’d never seen beauty like hers.
With each photograph, the energy in the room had become electric. The talk had grown louder as they reacted to what they were seeing.
“I saved December’s photo for last,” Guilio finally said.
Oohs and ahs came out unsolicited as every eye was riveted to the bride at the footsteps of the church in Amalfi with the flame-red sports car parked below her. The sudden explosion of excitement in the room went over the top. Everyone was on their feet shouting congratulations to Guilio.
But Lucca couldn’t move from the chair. His lungs were frozen at the exquisite sight of Annabelle in that gown and mantilla. He couldn’t make a sound. He’d had a complete physical before coming home from the hospital, but wondered if his heart could withstand this.
“Basilio?” his father called out. “If you’ll turn on the lights, I’d now like to introduce you to the woman in the photos.”
As the lights went on, Lucca turned in time to see her make her entrance from the back of the room. She was wearing the purple cocktail dress and diamonds. The whole room burst into stunning applause and stood to clap as she walked up to a smiling Guilio.
Lucca’s gaze took in her tremulous eyes, then the other parts of her, bit by gorgeous bit, until it fell to those fabulous legs where the frothy purple fabric danced and teased him.
He watched his father put his arm around her shoulders. “Annabelle Marsh is from Los Angeles, California. She works for Mel Jardine, my best dealer in the States, who’s here tonight. Annabelle is my not-so-secret weapon anymore.” Everyone laughed. “She’s going to put the Amalfi MB-Viper on the map. Ladies and gentlemen? May I present, the Amalfi Girl!”
When the applause finally died down, Guilio quickly led Annabelle out through a side door to escape the crowd. As soon as it closed, she gave him a hug. “I know this night meant everything in the world to him.”
His eyes watered. “I know it did, too. For both of us. Thank you again for not giving my surprise away.”
“As if I would have!”
He wiped his eyes. “It would have been understandable. My son had to have been dying of curiosity since he arrived at the farmhouse. It’s just a miracle you could keep it from him.”
“It was brilliant of you to move up the date of the party. He had to know something unusual was going on. As for your car, it’s sensational, Guilio. I listened in the back during the slide show. Every dealer was bowled over with excitement to start selling them.”
“Let’s hope the sales reflect my belief that we have a winner here.”
“You’re too modest. You already know it is.”
“And you’re too kind.” He walked her over to a table. “We’ve put you out here so you can sign the posters. People are coming through now. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Annabelle sat down, looking out on the garden. The lights had been turned on, transforming it into a fairyland. Guilio’s new sports car sat on a raised platform. It was the one in flame-red. The dealers could examine it, climb in it, check out the engine and take home a brochure with all the specs printed.
While she was looking for Lucca, one of the dealers came up and asked for a signature
of the Amalfi Girl. At that point a line started to form. For the next while she was besieged just as Guilio had predicted. While she answered dozens of questions, she wrote on each poster as fast as she could, losing track of time.
“Sign mine ‘from Annabellissima,’” instructed a deep, beloved voice.
She threw her head back and discovered Lucca’s grey-green eyes staring down at her, liquefying her bones with his intimate gaze. He’d dressed in a formal light grey suit and tie. She didn’t know a man could be that handsome. His eyes swept over her in a restless motion, missing no curve or detail about her. Blood swarmed into her face, making her go hot.
“Lucca …” she whispered in an aching voice.
“I can’t find words, either,” came his husky admission.
She knew what he meant because the sight of him robbed her of breath. Her fingers curled around the marking pen. “Maybe now you won’t be as upset with me.”