Free (Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief by Shira Anthony Page B

thoughts. And it was making him anxious. Antsy.
    Cary was doing some crunches on the floor of his bedroom when his cell phone rang. He answered it, half out of breath. “ Pronto ?”
    “Connor?” Antonio said over the connection.
    “Antonio?”
    “You sound strange.”
    Cary’s heart began to race. “Sit-ups,” he responded in English, at a loss for the Italian word. But it wasn’t the sit-ups that had him breathless, and Cary knew it.
    “Ah, capisco ,” Antonio replied after a pause. “ Gli ‘ addominali ’. It sounds like they’re very hard for you.”
    “Give me a break, macho man. It’s not as easy as you’d think when you’ve got a broken wrist.”
    “ Poverino .” Antonio’s voice dripped with mock sympathy, and Cary was sure Antonio was smiling. Poor little thing.
    “Thanks. So you’re calling to make me feel like an invalid, or was there another reason?” He didn’t care either way.
    Right. Keep telling yourself you don’t care, and maybe you’ll believe it!
    “Ah, sì . Yes, two reasons, in fact. First, I wanted to let you know I was back from my business trip to Japan. My flight just landed.”
    Today? The guy was calling from the airport?
    “How was Japan?” Cary covered the microphone with his thumb and forced himself to slow down his breathing.
    “Not very interesting seen from the inside of an office. But I was able to wrap up the contract. And the food was good.”
    Cary chuckled.
    “The second reason I called,” Antonio continued, “was to invite you this Friday.”
    “Another circus?”
    Antonio laughed. “No, not the circus this time. A client gave me two tickets to the symphony. Would you like to come?”
    “Sure,” Cary said without hesitation. Great. So much for not sounding desperate! “I’d like that.” He hoped he sounded both interested and not.
    “Why don’t I pick you up around six, and I can make us some dinner before?”
    Cary grimaced at the prospect of another of Antonio’s home-cooked meals. “How about dinner out this time? My treat.”
    “You sure? I’m happy to pay for dinner.”
    “I’m sure, Antonio. I’d like to treat you.”
    “All right. Thanks. I know a little place nearby you’d enjoy. Do you want to eat before or after the concert?”
    “I don’t mind an early dinner. That way I can just meet you at your place.” Cary had other ideas that didn’t involve eating food. “That’ll save you the trip to pick me up.”
    “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it.”
    “Me too.”
     
     
    C ARY arrived at Antonio’s apartment on Friday night, dressed in a pair of khakis and a wool blazer with a simple silk tie. It had been far more difficult than he imagined to find just the right thing to wear. Too expensive an outfit and Antonio might suspect that his story of being an out-of-work musician working as a waiter was a sham; too casual and he might embarrass the man. In the end, he had gone shopping in a vintage store not far from his apartment, where he had found the English wool blazer. It fit as though it had been made for him.
    “ Buonasera ,” he said when Antonio answered the door. The look of pleasure on Antonio’s face told him his efforts had paid off.
    “ Buonasera , Connor. You clean up well.”
    “Contrary to popular belief, I own some clothing of my own,” Cary quipped. “I can also bathe myself, although it isn’t as fun as when you helped me.”
    The pink flush on Antonio’s cheeks was way too charming.
    Dinner was at a tiny restaurant Cary would have completely missed if Antonio hadn’t opened the door for him and gestured him through it. They were met by a round-faced woman whose eyes lit up when she saw Antonio. “Signor Bianchi, I have missed you! It has been far too long.” She then proceeded to kiss him soundly on both cheeks.
    They sat at a small table in the back corner of the restaurant. Cary guessed by the set of stairs they descended and the ancient bricks lining the walls that this had