Free Shadow's Lady (A Pajaro Bay Cozy Mystery + Sweet Romance) by Barbara Cool Lee Page A

really bothering him, but he was being macho again and trying not to admit that he was in pain.
    "DiPietro?" The name rolled off her tongue as she tried to say it with the soft Italian-flavored lilt his voice had when he pronounced it.
    He said nothing, but his eyes were wide open now.
    "Where have I heard that name?" she asked again. "Your family's from Pajaro Bay, isn't it?"
    He nodded. He was trying to look nonchalant, but he was so tense. She adjusted the pillow under his leg, hoping that would ease the pain.
    Finally it came to her. "I remember! Matteo's Oceanside Pizzeria. On the Wharf. Aunt Zee took me there. Best Pizza in Town —"
    "— Only Pizza in Town ," he finished the phrase, quoting the saying etched on the front door.
    "So the restaurant was named after you?"
    Again that tenseness. "My grandfather," he said. "The restaurant and I were both named after him."
    "He must be proud."
    "He's dead."
    "Oh."
    "It's okay. A land mine in World War II. Not exactly recent history." It did seem to bother him, though. But he brushed it off, and instead asked: "So what did you have for dinner?"
    "Abalone pasta. With those soft breadsticks—to die for. I thought abalone always tasted like rubber, but this was...," she paused, trying to describe it. "It melted in my mouth. You're lucky; you must have had great dinners at home when you were growing up."
    Matt smiled that devastating grin at her, the tenseness going out of his shoulders as he relaxed back against the pillows. Whatever part of his battered body had been hurting him, the pain had passed. "Yeah. You should try the Anguilla Alla Griglia some time. Now that's to die for." He grinned at her like a mischievous little boy.
    "I will," she promised. "What the heck is it?"
    "Grilled eels," he said.
    She gave him a suitably disgusted look and he laughed, little crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. What fortune had dropped this man into her life? He was smart, and funny, and considerate, and he was handsome beyond all reason. She almost wished he was staying here for more than a night.
    She gathered up the dishes and bed tray.
    Her pirate lay back and closed his eyes. In the lamplight he looked haggard.
    She tiptoed toward the door, trying not to jostle the dishes and wake him up.
    She'd saved him. The reality of it finally sunk in. She had saved a man's life. Little Lori. Helpless Lori. The one who couldn't even take care of herself.
    Well, she had not only taken care of herself but she'd taken care of someone else. She was grinning like an idiot. For the first time she'd done something on her own, without anyone's help, and she'd succeeded at it. She was free. She had proven that she could do it, and when her family heard about this they would have to take her seriously. She didn't need anyone's help.
    She pictured Mom's expression when she explained how she had saved a man's life all by herself. And even Aunt Zee would be in shock hearing all about her mysterious pirate, and how she had swept him off his feet. Well, sort of.
    She couldn't resist one last peek at him before she shut the door. He looked like a little boy lying there clutching her fluffy blankets up to his chin, his face at rest looking gentle and serene.
    Matt DiPietro. And now that mystery was solved. Her handsome pirate was a simple restaurateur from the local village.
    Halfway down the hall she froze, horror washing over her like a wave.
    No he wasn't.
    Matteo DiPietro. Matteo's on the Wharf. The best and only Italian restaurant in a small town where gossip traveled as quickly as the ocean breezes. It all came rushing back to her. The dinner in the restaurant on the wharf: 'You ought to have more kids to keep up with this crowd,' she had joked to Mrs. DiPietro. The DiPietro daughters zipped past them, taking orders and bussing dishes with clockwork efficiency while a crowd waited impatiently in the lobby for one of the coveted tables to become available.
    But instead of smiling at the joke, or