Page 11 of Winter

“I’m fine, why?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight.”

He ended the call and hissed out his frustration. Shit. He really had to get used to this idea of not being with Inca anymore.You don’t have the same rights now, buddy.

“I know, I know,” he said to himself and decided to go to bed. He fell asleep quickly, but was haunted by visions of Inca lying dead on the banks of the reservoir.

Aweek passedbefore Inca saw Tommaso again, although he called her every day and they talked for hours. The tearoom had been busy—Christmas season was coming up and the weather outside had turned to snow. Thick snowdrifts piled up at the sides of the roads. Inca was shoveling the sidewalk clear and sprinkling kitty litter down as she heard a car horn. She looked up to see Tommaso in his Mercedes pulling up to the curb. She grinned and shook her head.

“Mr. Winter … roof down? In this weather?”

Tommaso leaped out of the car, not giving a hoot about the slippery ice underfoot. “I like to live dangerously. Hello again.”

She liked that he kissed her cheek and not her mouth. There was something respectful about the embrace. She nodded towards the tearoom. “Come in. I’ll make you something hot.”

Tommaso grinned and Inca blushed, swatting him. “You know what I mean.”

They were still laughing when they walked into the teahouse and they chatted easily. Tommaso looked around. “Busy today.”

“Has been for a week or two.” She lowered her voice. “We’re getting a lot of homicide cops and journalists because of the murders.”

Tommaso nodded. “Did you know the victims?”

Inca shook her head. “No. They weren’t from around here.”

The door opened with a swirl of cold air and a young woman with black hair staggered in. Inca smiled at her. “Hey, Lunatic, long time no see.”

Luna Rosenbaum shook the excess snow of her coat, then looked down at the mess she had made. “Sorry, Inks.”

Inca laughed. “Don’t worry about it.” She went to hug her friend. “Come and meet Tommaso.”

Inca introduced Luna and she studied the Italian carefully. “So, you’re the new billionaire in town?”

Tommaso choked on his coffee. ’You could say that. One of them, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She took the coffee Inca offered her. “Thanks, Inks. Have you met the brother?”

Inca colored and Tommaso grinned. “I’ll say she has.” Luna looked between them both, seemingly to make up her mind about something. She gave Inca a strange look that Inca couldn’t decipher.

“Well, anyway, I just came to say hi before I went to Olly’s. I assume he’s snowed under—ha, ha—with this murder case. I’ll catch up with you later, Inca.”

Inca watched her go, a frown on her face. “That was weird.”

Tommaso sipped his tea. “Are you okay?”

Inca shook herself. “Yes, sure. Sorry, it’s just, well, I used to bewithOlly, as it were. Maybe Luna’s not dealing …” She stopped and shrugged. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

Tommaso reached out and took her hand. “So, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner one night this week?”

Inca smiled. “I would like that … but can I just say? I have a rule—Dutch, all the way. So, if you were planning on something … billionaire style,” she grinned at him, “think again. Plus, I would have nothing to wear at one of those places.”

Tommaso rolled his eyes. “Fine. How about your friend’s place?”

Inca clinked her coffee mug against his. “Deal.”

When he’d gone, she marveled at how quickly they had become friends. Even if they hadn’t had that wonderful night together, she felt like she had known Tommaso Winter her whole life. Was it her imagination? Did that instant connection come from her need for love? God, she hoped not. She hated to think of herself as a needy woman; hell, shewasn’ta needy woman. But Olly had, however gently, shifted her expectations of what men wanted.