Free Italian Knights by Sharon DeVita Page A

to brush her lips across his. Need rippled over her, dulling her senses. No matter how much she longed to kiss Sal, to hold him in her arms just once more, Annie knew she couldn’t. She still had some pride left. She wasn’t going to be Sal Giordiano’s personal burden anymore.
    “I didn’t say I wouldn’t see him again,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to avert her gaze. “I said I knew you didn’t want me to see him again.”
    “You mean you’re going to go out with him again?” He turned her around to face him, his eyes searching hers.
    “Why shouldn’t I continue to see David?” she asked, knowing she didn’t care if she ever saw the man again. “He’s very nice, Sal,” she protested. “I don’t know why you don’t like him.”
    Sal muttered an oath under his breath. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I like David. I don’t. I think he’s scum.”
    “Sal!” Annie stared at him. It was so unlike him to lose his temper—at least with her. He had always been calm and easygoing. She was seeing a different side of Sal tonight. Many different sides. “I think you’re being unfair to David. He’s really a very nice man.” She never would have defended David so strongly if Sal hadn’t been so obstinate. Never would she admit that David gave her the creeps. If only Sal would understand that she was doing this for his own good.
    “ Nice is hardly the word I’d call him,” Sal growled, his eyes darkening. “We had a chat when you went to take those aspirins. It seems that David thinks you’ve been without…” Sal searched for a delicate way to phrase what he had to say. “David thinks you’ve been without a man’s… attention too long, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his brows suggestively and Annie blushed.
    She knew what he meant, all right, and it infuriated her to no end to think that the two of them had talked about her lack of…“attention” from a man.
    When she was first widowed some of Tony’s so-called friends had offered her the same kind of “attention” just to help her through the long, lonely nights. But what Annie missed more than physical closeness was love and affection, the close intimacy that two people who were in love should share. Not even to Sal would she admit that she’d never had that kind of closeness with Tony.
    While she’d loved Tony, he’d never really opened up to her. There’d been a part of him she couldn’t reach. Their marriage looked ideal from the outside, but inside at times Annie had felt very alone and lonely. Even after nearly a year and a half of marriage, she sometimes had a feeling she never really knew her husband. Next time—if there was a next time—she was going to find a man who could share everything with her, be a real, equal partner; someone who would give his all to her, both physically and emotionally. Men like that were hard to find.
    She glanced at Sal. He was the kind of man who didn’t give his love, physically or emotionally, very often. But she had a feeling that when he did, it would be encompassing and overwhelming. Forever. That’s what she was looking for.
    Oh, Lord, she had to stop thinking about Sal in those terms. Sal wasn’t the marrying kind, she reminded herself. And not about to be domesticated, so she’d better not let her imagination run away with her; she would only be looking for trouble.
    Her temper flared. “Do you mean to tell me that the two of you were discussing my…my…lack of…?”
    “Yes,” he said, smiling in spite of himself at the horrified look on her face.
    Despite her gratitude for Sal’s help and his presence, she wanted to whack him. Again. “My ‘attention,’” she said stiffly, trying not to die of mortification, “or lack of it, is hardly what I consider polite dinnertime conversation, for you or David.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe you two!”
    “Oh, you can believe it,” Sal assured her with a wicked grin, visibly bracing himself for