Page 11 of Beneath the Dawn

He stood. “Do you want a refill on your lemonade to go along with it, or would you rather have coffee?”

“Coffee, if it won’t be too much trouble.”

“Not at all. How do you take it?” he asked.

“Black with sugar.”

“The same way I like mine,” he said, grinning. “Two expressos coming up.” He then left the screened patio to go into the kitchen.

As Marti watched him walk away, she couldn’t help smiling. It had been easy to share a meal with Dante, mainly because they’d held impersonal conversations as they ate. Who knew that a discussion about the weather could go so deep? Unlike other parts of the country, Oregon didn’t have to worry about hurricanes or tornadoes. However, because coastal Oregon was situated along several fault lines, it did experience the odd tremor every once in a while.

She was well aware that they had steered clear of continuing their earlier conversation. Namely, the one they had shared on the beach. That made her wonder what they would talk about over dessert. She had a feeling that things were about to shift from impersonal to personal. And although she was expecting such a change, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

Usually, she prided herself on being a very observant woman, but her focus had never been centered on a man the way it was on Dante. Everything about him deserved a woman’s attention, including the husky sound of his voice that stirred something deep within her. Maybe… possibly, it wouldn’t affect her so much if his English didn’t have an inflection of Italian in certain words that he spoke. She found that extremely alluring. She would even go so far as to say, absolutely captivating.

Then there was the way he could look at her, as if she were the most interesting person he’d ever met. He didn’t just hear what she said, but more importantly, he listened. Unlike some men, whose expressions would show that they thought a woman’s words were insignificant, Dante’s expression told her that he thought her contribution to the conversation was very important.

She dismissed it as having nothing to do with the fact that he was older than her. She’d had affairs with older men ─ some a lot older than Dante ─ and they didn’t have half his charm. Those men had been just as randy as a man half their age and hadn’t been able to wait to get her in bed, as if to prove they still had it. Usually, unfortunately for her, they didn’t.

Dante appeared so handsome while sitting across from her. The lighting on the screened patio was perfect ─not too bright and not too low—just right for two people enjoying a meal together. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d set this evening up deliberately, to establish a romantic mood. And the smooth, soft sound of jazz coming from a speaker didn’t contradict that idea.

Marti took a deep breath. She was out of her depth here. When he had made that comment earlier about being good with his hands, she had looked at them and imagined just how good they would feel in her hair—and on her skin.

It was apparent he had gone out of his way to make tonight special. Was there an underlying reason? And what if there was? Marti was intelligent enough to know Dante’s efforts could actually work in his favor. She had slept with men before on the first date, where all she had gotten out of it was a meal at a restaurant that hadn’t tasted half as delicious as the one she had been fed tonight.

But then, the idea of building heat between them was tempting. Granted, it would prolong the inevitable, but by the time they finally shared a bed, they would be consumed with so much lust, they’d likely burn up the sheets. It was something she’d never experienced before. And one thing she would love to get from this temporary escape from reality would be the chance to fully enjoy herself. Especially since she had no idea what she would encounter when she got back to Billings. As much as she’d love to think that the nightmare she’d run from would be over, she had a feeling it was still there, waiting for her to return.

Before she could dwell further on how this month with Dante might end, he returned with a serving cart carrying plates of slices of pie and cups of coffee. The aroma of the coffee smelled good, though it was unfamiliar to her. When he placed the cup down in front of her, she quickly took a sip and then looked at him in surprise.

“I’m a coffee girl and can’t function worth a damn until I’ve had my first cup in the morning. I’ve probably tried them all in my lifetime, but I have to say this is different…and very good.” She took another sip, then smiled. “Actually, this is better than good, Dante. It’s delicious. The best I’ve ever tasted. What brand of coffee is it?”

“Avera.”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Did you say Avera?”

“Yes, Avera Coffee, whose beans are grown and produced in Italy.”

“Your family owns a coffee company?”

“Yes, in Sicily. It’s operated by my five uncles and their offspring. Avera Coffee is sold throughout most of Italy and various other countries. They haven’t broken into the United States market yet.”

He rejoined her at the table. “Americans prefer the taste of coffee imported from Colombia and Brazil. The Avera Coffee Company is doing well while managing the vast markets it now serves. It keeps them pretty busy.”

“I can imagine,” she replied, taking another sip.

“Whenever I’m in Sicily, everyone pitches in,” he said. “All the Averas own shares in the company and want it to be successful.”

“I think your family is overlooking the possibilities of expanding here. I am a devout coffee drinker, and after tasting this, it wouldn’t be hard for me to make the switch. I believe most American coffee consumers would feel the same way.”

Dante nodded. “I’ll bring up the idea at our next board meeting.” He took a bite of his pie and said, “This is delicious.”

“It is.”

After a few more bites, he sat back and looked at her. “Tell me about yourself, Marti.”

She glanced over at him. “What do you want to know that we didn’t cover on the beach earlier today?”

“Is there a hobby that you enjoy?”