Guardian Angel by Leanne Banks Read Free Book Online

to call me Italia to my face since seventh grade. I finally had to break his nose.”
    At the image of a feisty young Talia and a howling Don, Trace let out a deep laugh, feeling the tension leave his body.
    â€œCan I get you something from the bar?” a waitress asked.
    â€œScotch, neat,” Trace said, and turned to Talia.
    â€œI’ll take a Bloody Mary.”
    As they waited for their drinks, Trace noticed the way she looked around the room with carefully veiled curiosity. Dismay seemed to cloud her eyes, and she bit her lip.
    â€œSo what made your mother name you after Italy?” he asked in an effort to regain the earlier mood.
    She turned to him, the bleak expression fading. “My grandmother died in Italy the week before I was born. Mom was devastated that she couldn’t attend the funeral. And though my grandmother liked America, her first love was Italy. She was always telling my mother never to forget Italy.”
    Talia paused as the waitress set their drinks on the table. “When she first mentioned the notion of naming me after my grandmother’s homeland, my father thought she was crazy with grief. But he went along with it, hoping she’d change her mind when it came time to fill out the birth certificate.” Talia smiled and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “She didn’t. I’m just glad Grandmother wasn’t from Turkey.”
    Trace grinned and watched the motion of her finger around the glass. “Imagine how many more noses would have been broken.”
    Her hands were small, he mused, but capable-looking. She wore no fingernail polish, yet they still looked feminine. It was probably the way she fluttered them expressively when she talked. She trailed a finger through the beaded sweat of the glass, and his throat tightened. Amazing how sensual that gesture seemed.
    â€œWhat are you staring at?” she asked.
    He gulped down some Scotch. After debating how to answer, he opted for the truth. “The movement of your hand and fingers. I was imagining them in a different setting.”
    Her hand stilled abruptly. She wrapped it around the glass and took a sip. He could tell she was remembering his assessment of her breasts, and longed to pick up where they’d left off that day. He figured if he did that, though, they’d never make it to the dining room.
    Keeping her expression blank, she said, “Tell me about who we’re meeting tonight.”
    He complied with both requests, one spoken, the other unspoken. She wanted to keep the conversation platonic. He could handle that. “Two spinster sisters. The backbone of the country club. Martha and Prudence Fitzgerald.”
    â€œOh.”
    Her tone had him studying her. What he saw surprised him. She wore a look of sheer dread. The realization dawned on him that she was nervous. He would never have believed it. She seemed so indomitable.
    â€œHey, they’re not so bad,” he said. “The only problem is that they both have memories like elephants. Prudence never fails to bring up some embarrassing incident from my childhood.”
    â€œBackbone of the country club,” Talia repeated miserably. “Memories like elephants. In other words, if I spill my wine or drop my fork, they’ll never forget it.”
    â€œNever ever,” he said cheerfully. “But you don’t need to worry. They’ll be too busy telling you all about me. I don’t suppose you’ve met them,” he added hopefully. When she shook her head, he gave an exaggerated sigh. “I was kinda hoping you could take some of the heat.”
    His playful attitude teased a smile from her. He took that as encouragement to move to the dining room. After draining his Scotch, he stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. It’s time to move into the trenches. By the way, you look great. Keep your legs out of my sight and I might have half a chance at saying something