Never Without Hope (Sacred Vows Book 1) (2 page)

But I liked this guy. I noticed he wore no ring on his left hand.

I also noticed his eyes were two different colors. Not like one was green and the other blue, but more like each were two-toned brown and hazel. Very beautiful.

Amazed I hadn
’t realized that before, I just blurted without thinking, “You know, you have such gorgeous eyes. Maybe I’ll have the hero in one of my books with eyes like yours. You don’t mind if I borrow them, do you?” I chuckled.

He looked confused for a moment, but quickly recovered.
“No problem.”

I noticed Tony
’s eyes trailing from mine and sliding to my lips again, lingering there longer than what seemed normal. My stomach tensed. While accustomed to being flirted with by men, this man seemed more passionate than most. For a brief moment I regretted giving him my business card, but decided he was no threat. I was a happily married woman, right? And he did seem pretty shy around me. I didn’t think he had anything to hide, but I didn’t really know him.

So what if Tony had a hot Italian accent and now seemed to be flirting with me? I could handle it. Besides, I wasn
’t flirting with him and it wasn’t like I’d ever see him again. His eyes were merely a prop for me. I’m a people watcher. That’s how I get my characters developed in my head. I model their unique traits after people I either know or have met.

“
Ready to go?” I stood.

Tony glanced at his watch and nodded.
“We must hurry or luggage may be missing.”

He led the way, walking briskly and glancing at me once or twice on the way to baggage claim. I followed as he still carried my bag. I wondered what he was thinking when his gaze lingered, but would never ask. We searched until we located our bags. His suitcase was large and dark, just like him. Mine
was more petite, but not by much. A woman never travels light.

I scanned the tag on his bag. Uh
-oh. We lived in the same small town. What was the likelihood? I couldn’t help noticing him sneaking more glances at me as I adjusted my purse. Then he winked at me!

My chest fluttered. Why the wink?

I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath. During lunch we’d kidded around like we’d known each other for years. He was nice, seemed pretty harmless, and was fun to talk to. I hated to say goodbye, but as they say, all good things must come to an end. In this case it was for the best, since I couldn’t deny my attraction to him.

After shaking his hand, I said the typical
“see you later,” of course, never expecting to see or hear from him again.

Not five minutes after I left the parking area my cell phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“
This is Tony. How are you doing?”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his heavily accented English. Uh
-oh. I never expected him to call me. Just e-mail me. And why did his voice have to sound so sexy?

Now what to do? I decided to try my usual strategy since it tended to be the most effective. But this time I
’d talk a bit more about my family. That usually makes my commitment clear to guys, or turns them off.

I chuckled.
“I’m just fine. And you?”
Come on, mention your faith.

“
I’m good.” I heard the smile in his voice. “I drive behind you.”

Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw him wave. How weird.

“I thought maybe we get together again. Like for lunch.” His voice deepened. “We could talk more. Get to know more.”

Surely his question was innocent enough. I really should talk about
my faith.
So why haven’t you so far, eh?

I shook off the thought.
“Uh, lunch would be okay, I guess. But I’d rather meet at your house…like maybe on a Sunday after church.” Sucking in a deep breath, I released it with a whoosh. “I think it would be nice to meet your wife. I think you’d get along great with my husband, too. Maybe you could even go to church with us.”

He hesitated; his voice sounded less confident.
“Is not good idea. My wife, she is very…how you say…possessive? She would not understand.”

That should
’ve tipped me off right there. But I can be pretty naïve sometimes. “Okay, well, then I guess you can send me an e-mail. If you think your wife might change her mind, let me know.”

“
Sounds good. I send you e-mail.”

“
Sure.” I paused. I really didn’t want to meet him in person again. It would be too…awkward. I’d feel like we were doing something behind our spouses’ backs—at least on his end it would be sneaking around—and that wouldn’t be okay. Sure was a nerve-wracking conversation, and I wanted it to end, but was not sure how to do that tactfully, since I really did need his input on Italian culture for my book series.

“
Hey! Where you live?” he asked with a smile in his voice, like he was on the verge of laughing.

“
Why?” I glanced in my rearview mirror. His large black truck tailed me. What if he was a pervert? My chest tightened.

“
Because I drive behind you. I live near Colorado Drive and Miller Road.”

I peered closer. Yep, that was definitely him in the truck behind me. Thankful that Miller Road was over twenty miles long, I considered answering his question, but decided against it.

His signal clicked on and he took a left turn.

“
See you later,
Bella Speranza
.”

Bella
Speranza
? What in the world?

“
That means beautiful hope.”

“
Okay, uh, bye, Tony.” I winced.
Why didn’t I say something about his comment?

He turned off the road and within seconds was out of sight.

Again, I wondered what had I gotten myself into. He lived less than five miles from my house. Out in the country, yes, but off the same main road. That couldn’t be good, or could it? I decided it wasn’t good. Told myself that, anyway. Even if I didn’t have enough courage to confront him on calling me beautiful Hope in Italian.

I snapped my cell phone shut.

Later that evening I logged onto the computer and checked my e-mail.

I saw an address I didn
’t recognize, but I knew it wasn’t spam because the subject line read WE MET ON PLANE. I clicked on it
. Thanks for getting to know you in airport. This made my day nice. Tony
. He attached an adorable smiley to his signature.

So his grammar was a bit off, but I figured if my first language was Italian I wouldn
’t do much better. I knew he was a nice guy. Sometimes I am just too paranoid. I decided since his comment was innocent enough, I’d write him back.
Same here. Hope
.

His reply came quickly.
You still plan to mail chapters for me?

Sure,
I replied and attached the completed chapter of my most recent work. Maybe he’d learn something about my faith from my story. After all, that was the only reason I’d keep in any kind of contact with him. At least that’s what I’d told myself.

I
’d gotten the impression over lunch that he wasn’t a man with a strong belief system. While I hate to judge anyone, the hints I dropped that would normally draw out that type of conversation had fallen on deaf ears. So I was pretty sure I was right. With a sigh, I logged off the computer and got ready for bed.

After four months of e-mailing back and forth, the contact trickled off. I suppose that was okay, because he
’d given me the necessary details about Italy that I needed to enrich the book. Plus, I got a bit nervous after reading some of his comments. Several times he’d reply with a
you are beautiful woman
comment, or
that scene was pretty hot
.

Now don
’t get concerned. I don’t write trash. I think he was referring to the first kiss in my book. I suppose it was pretty unique, and of course, well written. Honestly, I was thrilled that he liked my story for any reason. Yet he never mentioned the faith thread in my novel, and I had much more to say about that than kissing. Other than those comments, not much communication occurred. After all, we
were
just friends.

*****

All through the summer I had suffered with headaches. I finally went to see the doctor a week after Labor Day because it was interfering with my work. As I waited, I sat next to a guy who looked a lot like Tony. What are the odds? Especially in Rochester.

The man teasingly poked me in the arm.
“Hey, Hope. How are you? Is me, Tony. From the plane.”

Startled, I frowned and clutched my head.
“Not so great, you know?”

“
Me either. I have trouble sleeping, so I come see specialist.”

Bags were under his eyes and he had stubble on his chin. He didn
’t look nearly as good to me this time around. Then again, I didn’t look so hot either. I don’t think I even wore any makeup. Not that it mattered.

The doctor called me in first. I groaned. I hated going to the doctor, but I had to get rid of these headaches. Apparently Tony saw someone else because he and I both ended up in the waiting area again at the same time. How strange is that?

Now what to do?

“
Are you going back to work?” I asked.

“
I work 3 to 11 shift at rehab in town. I never work in morning.”

“
Maybe working the late shift has something to do with your trouble sleeping.” I suggested.

He shrugged.
“Maybe. But my baby is also not sleeping so good now. He have colic. I bring him to sitters every day for some hours so I can rest.”

“
You have a baby? Yeah, now I remember. Your wife was pregnant when we met, right? So how old is he now?” My head still hurt like someone squeezed it in a vise grip, but I tried to be pleasant anyway.

“
He be five months, almost six.”

Had that much time pas
sed since March?

“
My son came a month early.” He hesitated and licked his lips. “You have job today?” Tilting his head toward me, his face showed concern. I have no idea why, but I thought it was a nice gesture anyway.

“
No, I haven’t been able to work for over a week. My headaches have gotten bad. When I’m not feeling like this, I work at home transcribing doctor’s notes as an independent contractor. In my spare time I write books, but you already knew that. What do you do at the clinic?”

“
I work in drunk tank. Is interesting job.”

“
Drunk tank? You mean the alcohol treatment center?” Man, my head hurt.

“
Yeah, but we call drunk tank, and so do cops.” He grinned. “You have plans?”

“
Right now? I’m waiting for the order from the doc. They want me to go pick up my CT scan from the hospital next door and bring it back here so they can see it. I have to come back today so the doctor can examine the results and confirm my diagnosis.”

Just then, the medical assistant brought the paper out to me.

“Want to walk over there with me?” I asked, not expecting him to say yes.

“
Sure. I have nothing today. My baby is at sitters and I not on schedule for work tonight.” He smiled and opened the door for me. Sigh. What a gentleman.

Then I had that funny feeling again, but I rationalized that we were just friends, and not even very good ones at that. He hadn
’t written back to me in months, so I’d quit sending him chapters. I darted a sideways glance at him. Maybe he’d tell me why he stopped e-mailing.

Before I could ask, he answered my unspoken question.

“I am so sorry I have not written in months. I have classes in Rochester, and between my work, my classes and my baby, I have no time to get on computer and check messages.”

“
That’s okay. No big deal.” I smiled. At least he still liked my stories. Just too busy to read them. At first I’d thought maybe I’d offended him when I sent a new chapter from the sequel I’d begun. It was a spin off from the same series I had presented to the editor in L.A. The character in the new book had Tony’s first name and his eyes.

Up until the headaches, I
’d had a productive past few months, so I started a new book. I couldn’t help wondering if that had something to do with my headaches.

My dilemma was that I
’d wanted to come up with an exotic hero. Making him Latino would be too cliché. I needed his to be a different language, so I picked Italian since I decided to bring the brother of the Italian man from the first book to the states, where he meets the woman of his dreams.

While there
are
plenty of Italians in New York State, few speak primarily Italian. And the language did sound sexy, which was my goal for a romance.