Forever in My Heart Page 2

  Recollection of that evening—the last one before he left for boot camp—stained her cheeks pink with arousal. After all this time, was it possible that memories of this man could still make her blush…and yearn for what could have been?

  With her fingers pressed to her temples, she attempted to rub away the throbbing ache. It would be okay…she would be okay. It had taken her all these years to grow up and learn her own self-worth. Now, she was no longer a helpless young girl who would follow versus lead. Her café was off to a successful start, and she refused to allow someone to dictate her actions. No way. No how.

  She needed to put all thoughts of Jamie DiSilva far from her mind—not necessarily an easy feat. Feeling slightly better after taking a few deep breaths, she began assembling the boxes.

  Her best friend, Lucy, burst into the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.”

  “I’m sorry, Vick. I never knew him, although the reputation of his family and his brothers is familiar enough,” her friend rambled.

  Yeah, Salvatore and Mario DiSilva were quite unforgettable, and not in a good way.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides, you were too busy ogling him,” Vicky replied.

  “Was not.”

  Vicky narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  Lucy blew out a breath. “Okay, I may have been totally captivated by his face. His eyes are such a dark blue, and then there’s that thick black hair.”

  His hair had been shorter than Vicky remembered, though still long enough to show its natural wave. And with the scruff of an unshaven face, he’d looked sexy and dangerous.

  “Then there was his body. I mean, did you see those shoulders?” Lucy continued, fanning her face at the memory.

  Despite Vicky’s shock and anger at seeing him, it was hard to miss Jamie’s broad shoulders along with the bulging biceps. His form-fitted T-shirt, which showcased a firm chest and trim waist, was tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans. Vicky knew those long legs would be lean and muscular—and just as fine as the rest of him.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” Vicky said, placing pies in the boxes.

  “Now who’s lying? You’d have to be dead not to notice. Did you see the tattoo on his arm? I couldn’t see all of it, but it looked like a military insignia.”

  “He joined the army after high school.”

  “When was that?”

  “My junior year. He left at the end of the summer following his graduation.”

  And what a summer it had been. She’d spent three weeks at the Jersey shore—Wildwood Crest—like her family did every year. As usual, the DiSilva family came, too, and stayed in the top apartment of the duplex they rented.

  Back then, Vicky’s older sister, Kate, had been married to the middle DiSilva son, Mario. Vicky had to share a room with them and pretend to ignore the times the bedroom door was locked and she couldn’t get her portable CD player.

  Jamie’s oldest brother, Sal, worked and came out occasionally. Which was fine with Vicky since she never liked the creep vibe she got around him, a telling sign of what would transpire years later. Too bad he couldn’t have gone into the military instead of Jamie. With her own brothers at the shore occasionally, the only person Vicky had to hang out with was Jamie.

  She supposed it was natural for them to hook up after spending days on end only clad in bathing suits. They’d gotten close that summer, messing around until that fateful night right before he left for boot camp. While she’d thought she’d put the past behind her, seeing Jamie dredged up all those memories and the humiliation that went along with them.

  “Is he as messed up as his brothers?” Lucy asked.

  “He never was. I’m not sure about now.”

  “So what’s the story between you two? There were serious sparks flying out there.”

  “We have a history…of sorts.”

  “Of sorts?”

  Vicky exhaled. “I’ll share the sordid details later, ’kay?”

  “Damned straight. I need details.” Lucy held out the business card Jamie had pulled out earlier. “He dropped this.”

  Vicky took the card and studied it closely. “Two Guys Home Improvement” was printed across the top. Interesting but not surprising. Jamie’s talented hands had saved her family on more than one occasion from needing to call a repairman for the dishwasher when the café had been a pizzeria. She rubbed her lips together to suppress a sigh. Thoughts of Jamie’s talented hands were hard to forget and transcended fixing appliances.

  “Do you think he’ll return? He didn’t seem too intimidated by your threat to call the cops,” Lucy asked, jolting Vicky back to reality.

  Although it had been a long time since she’d seen Jamie, the challenge in his eyes had been clear. He wouldn’t back down from her threat or from a couple broken pastries. Rather, he’d see it as an opportunity to worm his way back into her life.

  At least she had the satisfaction of shoving the bag in his chest—his ridiculously rock hard chest. She hoped she smashed whatever he’d gotten—cannolis used to be his weakness—although it was a complete waste of her hard work.

  “Yeah. I think he’ll be back. Let me know when he is. I don’t want you getting in the middle of this.”

  Vicky closed the lids on the pies, grabbed a long cardboard box, and stacked them inside. Then, she reached into the refrigerator and removed several other boxes, handing them to Lucy. “I’m going to bring these over to the trattoria for today’s lunch and dinner crowds before my mom calls and asks where I am. I won’t be long. Call my cell if you need me.”

  Before opening the trunk of her SUV and loading the box, Vicky scanned the back alley, something she’d been doing since the incident earlier in the year involving Sal. Call her crazy, but paranoia kicked in after seeing Jamie. Not that she thought he’d hurt her, but then again, she hadn’t thought Mario and Sal would have done the crazy things they’d done to her sister and their family.

  No, she needed to keep her eyes open and stay on full alert around Jamie. Aside from the psycho gene that ran in his family, she couldn’t forget the way he’d hurt her. And she didn’t need any more drama, especially after the shame from her divorce. Given her track record with choosing the wrong men, she’d stick to being on her own for a while. With her priorities clear, it was time to focus on her life and the café. Who needed a man anyway?

  Chapter Two

  Jamie squinted against the bright rays of the sun and flicked on the sunglasses that hung from the collar of his shirt. The beauty of the warm April morning dimmed after his crash and burn with Vicky. He needed to regroup and come up with a new strategy for making amends.

  Modernizing her café was a good plan that would show the town there weren’t any bad feelings between their families and prove he wasn’t like his brothers. But more so, he’d always regretted how things had ended with Vicky. And after less than five minutes with her, he felt the chemistry between them strong as ever. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—turn away from that again.

  Crossing the street, he approached the used van he’d bought when he returned home. A body shop had painted the outside with the logo for his business—his along with Tristan Connelly. A fellow sergeant in the army, they’d become quick friends in boot camp. Assigned to the same squad, their friendship had grown over the past nine years. Jamie considered Tristan a brother—better than a brother given his sorry two.

  “Took you long enough,” Tristan said as Jamie opened the door. “I hope that means it went well.”

  “Does this answer your question?” Jamie pointed to the dampened spot on his shirt.

  Tristan reached for the coffees. “What the hell is that?”

  “Cannoli filling.”

  “You seriously pissed her off.”

  “I’m thankful it wasn’t the coffees she dumped on me.” Jamie carefully ripped open the bag, picked up a broken piece of cannoli, and swept it into his mouth. Flavor from the sweet ricotta cheese exploded on his tongue. Broken o
r not, he’d never had better.

  “They’re salvageable.” Jamie handed the bag to Tristan before reaching in the back for a spare T-shirt he kept for emergencies. Usually not due to attacks by enraged Italian café owners, but it worked, nonetheless.

  “While I waited, I stopped in a couple stores and dropped off some cards,” Tristan said.

  “Did you have any more luck than I did?”

  “I didn’t get chased out with a broomstick like the one place you went to,” Tristan replied.

  “Lucky you.” Jamie shook his head at the memory of old Mrs. Santangello who owned the corner convenience store. She stood no more than four feet eight but was intimidating as all hell when she charged him with a broom.

  It wasn’t only her who’d been giving him grief, though. An assortment of people had slammed doors in his face, chewed him out, and one had sent their German shepherd after him. At the rate he was going, he would have to cross the bridge into Jersey to get business.

  Tristan scooped up a bit of pastry. “Mmmm. Damn if you weren’t right about these.”

  Jamie opened the schedule on his tablet. “We should head over to the Bertolis’. Mrs. B. wants an estimate to fix the half-assed job her husband did refinishing their basement.”

  “How bad could that be?”

  “Remembering Mr. B. and his ten thumbs, it could be a pretty huge mess. Then at one, we’re expected at the Mastrianos’ to start the crown molding in their family room.”

  “Sounds like a busy afternoon.”

  His friend was right. Today was busy, but the outlook for the rest of the week wasn’t as promising. There was only so much work to be had from friends of his parents. They needed to drum up business. Which brought him full circle to Vicky.

  “What’s the deal with the babe?” Tristan asked.

  Jamie sighed and tossed the paper bag in the back. “Vicky DiFrancesco. She owns the café. Growing up, our families were tight. Her sister, Kate, was married to my brother, Mario.”

  “The woman who’s responsible for his death?” Tristan said.

  “And Sal’s. My former sister-in-law has a thing about car chases and crashes.”

  “Sounds like she needs to have her license revoked.”

  Jamie snorted. “For starters. Details of the chase were conveniently left out of the newspaper—a benefit of having a cop in the family, I suppose.”

  “That’s rough, man. I’m not sure I could live in the same town as the people responsible for the deaths of two family members.”

  “I’m sure whatever happened was brought on by my brothers. They both had their issues.”

  “And yet your parents stayed?”

  “I’ve tried to get them to move to Florida or anywhere away from here, but Northeast Philly is their home, and they refuse to leave,” Jamie explained.

  “I suppose you can’t blame them. It’s not as though they did anything wrong.”

  Nothing wrong except raise two boys who grew up into psychotic adults.

  “I’m hoping my being around will help pull my mom out of the funk she’s been in since Mario’s death.”

  “It sure as hell can’t hurt.”

  “In the meantime, getting this business up and running is my priority. Which means understanding what’s behind the slammed doors and odd looks people cast my way.” Jamie put the van in gear and headed into traffic. “There’s more to the story than my parents told me, and to get to it, I’m going to need to make another visit to Decadent DeLites.” Fiery Italian temper and crushed cannolis be damned.

  ****

  Vicky propped open the back door to the kitchen at Trattoria DiFrancesco and was embraced by the smell of sautéed garlic. Next to baked goods, it was her favorite smell and reminiscent of her mother’s cooking. Vicky inhaled deeply, and her stomach growled in response. Almost lunchtime, especially since she’d gotten up at four. She made a mental note to snag a pizza before she left. Maybe a DiFranceso pie would brighten the rotten day.

  Returning to the SUV, she removed a box and carried it inside. After two more trips, she stored the contents in the reach-in fridge along the back wall.

  “Hey, Sis,” Vinnie called out.

  “What’s up, Vin?” she asked, walking over to give him a hug and kiss.

  Not the tallest of guys, her youngest brother stood about five foot eight and wore black pants and a white chef’s jacket. He buzzed his hair in attempt to hide that he was starting to go bald at thirty. He had a handsome face and a good heart, when he stopped thinking about only himself, which wasn’t often enough.

  “Same ol’ crap,” Vinnie said.

  Something in his voice made her pause and look closely at him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.

  She cocked her hip and narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t been gone from the house so long that I can’t tell when something’s off. Spill.”

  Vinnie rolled his shoulders. “I’ve been working a lot of hours, experimenting on a couple new dishes for the menu. It’s good to keep things fresh.”

  “How’s Angela?” Vicky asked about his girlfriend of two years.

  Vinnie stared at his shoe.

  Bingo.

  “We broke up.”

  “What happened?”

  “She complained I worked too much and didn’t have time for her. And when I did, I was too beat to do more than fall asleep in front of the TV when she wanted to go clubbing.”

  Ouch.

  “Seems kind of harsh,” Vicky said.

  “Yeah, well we’d been fighting for a while. She wants to move to California. Wanted me to go, too, but you know I could never leave home.”

  Nope. Vinnie needed to be surrounded by his family. Living across the country wouldn’t work for him.

  “I thought you were going to propose.”

  “I was planning to at Christmas. Maybe I’ll buy a motorcycle instead.”

  Nice try, but I know you’re hurting.

  “And deal with Ma’s overprotectiveness?”

  “Good point.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Vinnie shrugged. “You’ve been busy with the café. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “I’m never too busy for you. Next time something’s on your mind, you need to come find me. You hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Let’s go to a movie on your next night off, okay? If it’s up to you, you’ll stay burrowed in the house.”

  “You got it. I’ll look at my schedule and text you.”

  “How’s business doing?”

  “Lunch crowd’s been steadily picking up,” Vinnie said.

  “Dad said the numbers are looking good.”

  “They are. Easter weekend was a win. And Ma has something special planned for Mother’s Day weekend.”

  “Now maybe you’ll admit you were wrong about the restaurant expansion being a bad idea,” Vicky teased.

  “It seems to be working out good…for now.”

  A door slammed behind them. “Did I hear Vin admit to being wrong?” her oldest brother, Nick, called as he strode toward them.

  “Hey, I can man up when I’m wrong,” Vinnie said with a scowl.

  Her brothers embraced, as instinctive as breathing in her family. Anyone who came to the DiFrancesco house found themselves hugged and kissed before the night ended. It was the Italian way—at least in her family.

  “Hey, squirt. I got your message,” Nick said, leaning down to greet her.

  In contrast to Vinnie, Nick stood a little over six feet. Taking after their northern Italian side of the family, he had an olive complexion and dark brown hair that was desperately in need of a trim, falling past the collar of his shirt.

  “Thanks for coming over so quickly,” Vicky said.

  “Everything all right? You sounded upset on the voicemail.”

  Vicky toyed with her ponytail. “I’m not sure. I had a visitor at the café today.”
She paused to make sure she had the attention of both her brothers. “Jamie DiSilva.”

  “What’s he doing back?” Vinnie snapped.

  Nick, accustomed to disguising his anger from his job as a detective, only raised an eyebrow. Although he outwardly maintained his cool, Vicky could tell her older brother’s concern by the tightening of his jaw.

  “So baby boy DiSilva has returned. Thought he was off defending our country?” Nick said.

  “He was until a month ago.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. “He’s starting up his own business.”

  Nick took the card and studied it. “Home improvement, huh? He always was good with his hands.”

  Nick’s comment was probably referring to Jamie’s childhood talent as a pick-pocket, but brought a flash of memories of their last night together. Oh yeah, his hands had been real good then, too.

  Thankfully, neither of her brothers seemed to notice the heat that flooded her cheeks.

  “What’s he want with you?” Vinnie asked.

  “He wants me to display his cards in the café and offered to give it a facelift at cost to help boost awareness in town.”

  “You’ve been talking about having work done,” Nick said. “What did you tell him?”

  “To take his coffees and get out—and not to come back unless he wanted me to call the cops.”

  Vinnie snorted. “I’m sure that really scared him off. Now he’ll come by to spite you.”

  Nick rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Vin’s right. Unfortunately, you don’t have a reason to keep him out of your store.”

  “So, what? You don’t think I should be worried given our family is tied to the deaths of both his brothers?” Vicky asked.

  “Jamie did his share of mischief when he was young, but he’s not cut from the same cloth as his brothers. I’ll do some checking on his whereabouts all these years and this new business,” Nick said. “There’s another name on the card. Tristan Connelly. Either of you ever heard of him?”

  Vinnie shook his head.

  “Jamie came into the café alone,” Vicky said.

  “I’ll let you know what I find. In the meantime, call 9-1-1 and then me if anything looks suspicious. Okay?”