Compromising Positions(9)

Giovanni stepped around a pillar and smiled.

Mina jumped, her reflex sending a spray of wine into the air. She tried to move to avoid it, but it was no use--her beautiful blue dress was now a la spumante.

“Don’t do that,” she said, searching fruitlessly for a way to clean up the mess. Giovanni laughed and waved his hand at one of the waiters and instantly there was a cloth, a person wielding it, and a new glass of wine to replace the one that had died so ignominiously.

“Don’t do what, Dottoressa?” His eyes sparkled and Mina glared at him half-heartedly, but there wasn’t any real venom in it.

“Well, don’t sneak up on me and scare the wits out of me, for starters,” she said, frowning over the dark splotches on her dress. “And don’t call me Dottoressa.” She held her wine glass up, stopping any argument. “No--I told you before: I didn’t go to University here, so Italian rules don’t apply. No titles, no honorifics… I’m just plain old Mina Hemingway, thank you very much.”



All week she’d felt like a fraud when people assumed that since she was handling the exhibit for the museum she must have degrees out the wazoo. Why else would she be given such an honor?

Why else, indeed?

Mina sighed and shook her head. It wasn’t like she asked for this--this was all Marco’s doing. Let them tell him his choice for Curator was wrong. She was right out of it.

“It isn’t an insult you know.” Mina’s mental calisthenics jerked to a stop. “The title, I mean. People recognize that you’re a scholar--a very beautiful scholar, but a scholar, nevertheless.” Giovanni’s tone surprised her. She’d never heard him so serious, but he just didn’t understand.

“It isn’t something you just see in people,” she said. “I mean, it isn’t like I have anthropologist tattooed across my forehead.”

Maybe I should try that, she thought. At least it would be better than Marco’s Mistress.

“No,” Giovanni agreed, “you don’t. You have curiosity in your eyes, and intelligence in your questions. You have care in your hands and passion in your heart.” He turned to face her square on. “No one watching you handling the artifacts could mistake it.” He paused. “I could tell as soon as I met you--there you were in the Italian sun, wearing a bikini and a frown, practically drowning in diagrams and reports. Only someone who loved it would do that.”

Mina laughed. “You sound like you have some experience with it--have you dated many Dottoressas in your day?”

He paused and looked at her, a corner of his mouth finally quirking into a little smile. “You might say that.” He grinned down at her, the seriousness gone. “But none of them looked quite like you do in a bathing suit.”

They stood laughing together for a moment, until a wave of motion caught their attention.

“I thought you said your mother wasn’t going to play hostess.” Mina murmured under her breath as she watched the Genovese matriarch glide across the parquet floor towards them. She took a quick sip of wine to fortify herself, and shifted a little uncomfortably, hoping the bland expression on the older woman’s face was an accurate indicator of her bellicosity.

“Mamma always plays hostess,” Giovanni answered, turning slowly to greet his mother, his arm under Mina’s elbow. “She was simply sending Marco a message, just not that one, in particular.”

I’ll bet she was, Mina thought, a pretty, counterfeit smile pinned to her face. Something along the lines of “cross me and die.”

“Here you are, Giovanni.” Bianca let her eyes drift over the two of them, lingering where his arm wrapped around Mina’s. “It seems, Signorina Hemingway, that you have managed to catch the attention of both of my sons. You must tell me how you do it,” she stared at her son for a moment before turning dark eyes on Mina, “I cannot seem to keep either of them in line.” Her tone made it clear that she didn’t approve of either of their interest in her, but that wasn’t anything new. Giovanni wasn’t happy with her tone though.

“Mamma…” Giovanni began, but Mina squeezed his arm. He looked at her for a second and nodded, allowing Mina to handle the situation herself.

“They are both credits to your parenting skills,” she said finally, her tone careful but not too deferential. “They have been very kind to me as both a foreigner and a guest.”

Unlike some people I could name….

“They are good boys,” Bianca nodded. “Usually.” A glimmer of satisfaction shone in her eyes for a moment before drifting down over Mina’s dress, landing on the still dark wine spots splattering the skirt. “Have you been conducting one of your experiments again, mio figlio?” She raised an enquiring eyebrow at Giovanni and he shook his head.