An Apartment in Venice Page 2

  She said nothing. He stood ready to leave, but leaned over the table to stare straight into her unusual eyes and said, “I will ask again.”

  * * *

  She watched him stride away, tall and assured. Power there. Influential power at this insular post no doubt. I’d be better off to avoid involvement with this man—any man. If I didn’t live up to his standards, he could send me packing even if he can’t get rid of that idiot Oliver. She scraped the last of the creamy foam lying in the bottom of her cup and mused. Would Marlowe, the American woman also new to the program, know about this Chuck Novak?

  Darn. Only two weeks and already life feels complicated. And of course, the complication would have to be a man with shoulders a mile wide, blue-black hair and eyes the color of the ice caves on Mount Rainier. And that mouth. Shew! His dark mustache defined the most voluptuous lips on a man she’d ever seen. With that masculine face all sharp angles and prominent Roman nose, those generous lips were flagrantly sexy. I’ve worked too hard to get here and need to stay focused. But her thoughts bounced right back to Major General Chuck Novak. They say that clothes make the man, but that crisp dark-blue uniform with the ice-blue shirt, the color of his eyes, didn’t do this man justice. He’d be impressive in or out of that uniform. Oh Lord. I’m in trouble now.

  * * *

  A natural beauty, Chuck thought as he left the coffee bar. No perfect makeup, no goopy eye stuff. Doesn’t need it with those bewitching eyes. God I hope she’s not as young as she looks. Can’t be, there’s too much presence about her, and maybe a past hurt hidden away? Lord, those eyes. An elemental swelling in his body went beyond basic lust. He imagined carrying her to his hidden cave to fend off the rest of the tribe. That image amused him, but he could see his hands running over her smooth, olive skin.

  He nodded blindly to people on the way to his office. He wondered whether Giulia wanted to stay in Italy like Marlowe did? I’m overdue on inviting Marlowe and Marc to dinner. Maybe Giulia would accept if it was a foursome.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Giulia had been tempted to not tell her landlords, Luciana and Gino Cavallo, about her position at the base. It would have been easy because Luciana had assumed from the first that Giulia had grown up in the Veneto. But no, she didn’t want to begin her new life with lies.

  “Signora, my accent is from my parents. They both grew up nearby.”

  Luciana beamed. She lifted her hands up, palms out, and brought them into a half-prayer position.

  “My Italian professors at the university wanted me to get rid of my Veneto accent, but I refused.”

  Luciana’s eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped. She turned to Gino as if to say what kind of woman is this who disagreed with professors?

  “Don’t look so shocked, Signora,” Giulia said on a half laugh. “After I told them I planned to live here for the rest of my life, they understood but made me agree to use standard Italian when I worked with their students.”

  “Do you teach Italian?” Gino asked.

  “No. English literature. But I hope to tutor American students who want to learn Italian while they’re here.”

  Both Signora and Signor Cavallo smiled their approval.

  After only a couple of weeks, Giulia decided she needed more room to work at home and told them she’d have to find another space.

  “Aspetta, wait, signorina,” Gino said. “I might have a perfect place for you, come with me.” He showed Giulia an apartment in the rear of the large building. Several apartments were back there. On the internet, their establishment had been listed as a pensione, but that was only the front of their property. She was thrilled to see the apartment included a second bedroom large enough to set up a study with a corner niche for a fold-away futon. Maybe her best friend, Nancy, would visit.

  The unit had the standard living/dining area, kitchen and bath and also a small balcony overlooking a quiet street. She liked the idea of having a separate outside entrance. Gino led Giulia to the balcony and they looked down a flight of steps.

  “The number seven bus per il centro, to the center of town, leaves only a half block behind your steps.” He pointed to a post with a bus-information sign. “And returning, it stops just there across the street.”

  “Signor Cavallo, put me down for this apartment! I’ll wait until it’s free.”

  Back in her room with it’s tiny fridge and hotplate, she decided to try to catch Nancy Metz, her financial advisor in Eugene. But first, Giulia prepared a cup of coffee. A big part of talking to Nancy involved coffee. Like some love affairs, theirs had been “love at first sight,” and in a short time, their relationship had developed from strictly business to being confidants and close friends.

  “Hey girl,” Nancy said, “it’s about time. I wondered if you’d fallen into a canal never to be seen again.”

  “I know. I know. I wanted to call sooner but it’s been crazy since I arrived, and because of the time difference, whenever I had a chance, it was the middle of the night for you. Have you had your morning coffee?”

  “In my hand as we speak,” Nancy said.

  Giulia could hear the smile in Nancy’s voice. “Good. Me too. Can you spare a few minutes? If not, let’s plan a time when we can connect. With the nine hours difference, it’s tricky.”

  “It’s a perfect time. I’m not going in today. They’re painting all the offices on my floor, and I’m free to hang on the phone like a lady of leisure. Remind me, though, what time is it there?”

  “It’s about four in the afternoon,” Giulia said. “Oops, I mean sixteen hundred hours and that means it’s oh seven hundred for you, right?”

  “Right,” Nancy snorted under her breath.

  Nancy had pulled herself out of poverty by joining the army, which made college possible. She liked to use military time whenever they made plans and had often teased Giulia about her civilian status.

  “Okay, give me all the news.”

  Giulia gave Nancy her impressions of the military base and her students. Told about her living quarters in Vicenza and ended her summary with how she had met Chuck.

  “Ran smack into his arms after kicking another guy in the balls. Way to go, Squirt.”

  Nancy stood five nine in her bare feet and liked to wear high heels. Not long after they met, she’d begun to call Giulia “Squirt.” They were opposites and had enjoyed their differences from the start. Ash blond with natural corkscrew curls, Nancy’s hairdresser had highlighted the top layer. The result was a striking Valkyrie with brassy, blond corkscrews bouncing with each stride she took. With those blond curls and her golden-brown eyes instead of the expected Teutonic blue, people noticed her. Giulia admired Nancy and felt lucky to have found a true friend.

  When Aunt Loretta’s attorney announced she’d left a small bequest, Giulia had set out to find financial advice. Not only was Nancy stunning, she was smart, street savvy and had rescued Giulia from a money-grubbing “advisor.” Her twin brothers hadn’t done as well with their bequests.

  “So,” Nancy said, “you had coffee with him, and?”

  “And nothing. You know I’m not looking for a man.”

  “If not now, when, for God’s sake? You’ve lived like a nun long enough.”

  “What about you? How’s your love life?”

  “Roughly the same as yours, now that I dumped Gabe.” Her big sigh conveyed to Giulia more than her brave words did. “No, that’s not really fair. It was… a mutual thing.”

  “Aw, Nance, I’m sorry. The usual problem?”

  “He wasn’t as obvious, but yeah, I think so.”

  “Surely there’s a guy who doesn’t fade when he realizes you don’t need his protection. Or was it having your own business?”

  “Maybe both.”

  “Maybe next time you could be up-front right away about your sole proprietorship, huh?”

  “And maybe there won’t be a next time.”

  “Don’t say that. You love sex too much.”

  “I could try
casual one-nighters?”

  “No, you couldn’t! You know you want more than that out of life.”

  They chatted another half hour and settled on connecting next time when it would be nine or ten p.m. in Venice and twelve or one p.m. in Eugene.

  * * *

  Chuck saw Marlowe walk across the base and called out to her.

  “Hi, Chuck. How are you?” She waited for him to catch up.

  She seemed like a small doll to him. More so to Marc, her husband, who stood six four to her five four, if she was that. The first time Chuck and Marlowe met was in mid-December at a lunch interview in Venice. She’d worn a conservative black suit with white blouse and sensible pumps, and Chuck had explained the position for which she would interview the next day. Marc had told Chuck earlier, “Find anything to keep her here so she won’t go back to the States where I might lose her.”

  Attractive and sharp, Marlowe homed in on pertinent questions about teaching business law to undergraduate military personnel. And she had a quirky sense of humor. Even though Chuck could josh in Italian, no matter how hard he’d tried with the Italian women he’d dated, not one had an ounce of humor in her bones.

  He hadn’t seen Marlowe again until the New Year’s Eve Gala. When she and Marc had walked toward him that night, Marlowe had looked and acted like a red-hot sex kitten, dressed in a short shimmery dress. With “fuck-me” stilettos and tousled dark hair, she looked to him as if she’d come straight from Marc’s bed. Chuck had felt envious the rest of the evening. Ever since New Year’s, Chuck had longed for someone like Marlowe. Someone real, open and with a sense of humor.

  Marlowe got the job and she and Marc married before classes started in March. It was obvious to the most casual observer they were living in bliss. More and more Chuck longed for a relationship like theirs. How weird was that? After all his years of believing he never wanted to commit again, and with only one “sort-of” coffee date with Giulia, he was leaning in the other direction.

  “Do you have time for a coffee?” Chuck asked Marlowe, who was now conservatively garbed in a white turtleneck top, black slacks and jacket to match. He mused about how women could easily change their appearance. Maybe persona as well.

  “Sounds good,” she said, “but first I need to give a report to Oliver Ogle. Care to come along while I enter his den?”

  “Delighted to stand guard for you.”

  Good. He knows about Ogle. After her first encounter with him, she’d told Marc about the obnoxious bastard who first stared at her feet, then let his eyes move slowly upward lingering too long on her crotch and then again on her breasts. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he did his slimy scan every damn time she met him! The most basic psychology course taught that such behavior could escalate, and she was glad to have Chuck with her.

  Marlowe knocked on Oliver’s door. He opened it and invited her in with open arms.

  “Here’s the report you requested, Mr. Ogle,” she said holding it out. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Marlowe, baby, I always need more from—” he stopped when he noticed Chuck standing opposite the door. His legs were planted firmly apart with clenched fists at his sides.

  Oliver coughed, grabbed the report and slammed the door in her face.

  She turned to Chuck and gave him a little salute. “Thanks, Sir.”

  “At your service anytime.”

  “But it’s not that funny,” she said. “Within one week of being here, I heard of a pact among other women instructors. When it’s necessary to have a confidential meeting with Oliver, a woman brings a girlfriend to wait outside to listen for trouble.”

  “Hey, I know he’s a menace for the women employed by Maryland University.”

  She nodded but continued to walk with her head down. “About that coffee,” he said following her. She stopped and turned back. He almost ran into her and started to put his hands on her shoulders but thought he might be accused of harassment himself.

  “Sorry, Chuck. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” She laid her hands on his forearms, “But Oliver’s brand of covert sexual harassment is worse here than in other work places because women are in the extreme minority. And military types don’t always see his behavior as a problem. I could ask Marc to catch him in a dark alley, but other women don’t always have a Marc as backup.”

  “Marlowe, some of us ‘military types’ do want to get rid of him. Come on, let’s get that coffee and talk more about it.”

  They went to the same coffee bar where he’d taken Giulia, but he wasn’t sure Giulia would want him to tell Marlowe—or anyone—what had happened in Ogle’s office. He needed to clarify that with her and obtain her permission to put her name in his report. Without it, the report would be meaningless.

  “French Press sounds great to me,” Marlowe said in response to his spiel about the glories of the new shop. They grabbed a table to wait for their coffees.

  “Maybe we can figure out how to derail Ogle,” Chuck said and looked squarely into her eyes. “First off, it will be an uphill battle. Technically, he doesn’t work for the military, so we have channels on top of channels.”

  “I see.” She slumped against her chair. “Guess bureaucracy’s in his favor. But maybe more intimidation like what you offered today could be a start. That seemed effective. I just hope he won’t mess with my personnel file because I brought you with me.”

  “Surely he’s not that stupid. What if we’d set up a reliable system to pull a man from another duty whenever a woman needs a guard to visit Ogle. Kind of like the night-time escort services Marc and I were involved in on Pepperdine’s campus.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Marlowe said. “But, you know… there could be a problem with that. A big one.”

  “Oh? What?”

  An Oliver intimidator could also be an intimidator to the very woman who requested him.”

  Chuck ran his hand through his thick black hair and said, “God. I keep forgetting about the world you women live in day in and day out. And not only on our post.” He placed both palms on the table and leaned toward her, “We need to remove him don’t we?”

  “As in The Godfather?”

  “Maybe that’s the only way,” he said in a soft, gravelly voice trying to imitate Marlon Brando. She was laughing as the waiter brought their coffees.

  Marlowe sipped the brew with her head down wondering if it would be a betrayal of her discussion with other women if she told Chuck of their hopes to entrap Oliver?”

  “Marlowe?” he said. “What’s the verdict?”

  “The verdict?”

  “The coffee?”

  “Oh. You’re absolutely right. French Press is the way to go. It lets you know you’re drinking coffee. I can almost chew it.”

  “You were thinking of something else, though, weren’t you?”

  She leaned back and sipped more coffee. “I can see why Marc likes you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You aren’t totally M and M.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s ‘M and M?’”

  “A term I picked up since I’ve been here. Military Macho.”

  He leaned back and laughed with gusto. She loved it when she could elicit a full belly laugh like that. His laugh wasn’t as engaging as her Marc’s mellow baritone rumble. Chuck’s was a basso profundo. But maybe she was biased.

  “Many women have been talking about Oliver. In fact, he seems to be the main topic whenever a group gathers,” she said.

  “And?”

  “I’ve heard a lot of talk about catching him in flagrant sexual harassment, but so far, no one’s volunteered as bait.”

  “I can understand that after the disgraceful stuff that went on at my alma mater. The honorable Air Force academy in Colorado Springs,” he said. And a dark frown creased his ruggedly handsome face when he said honorable.

  He noticed her glance at her watch. “You need to leave. But Marlowe, I did have another purpose for this coffee, other than Mr. Og
re Ogle.” He smiled and a softening dimple formed. “I have a rather delicate question to ask you.”

  It was her turn to ask, “And?”

  “The other day, I met a woman newly arrived who started teaching English Lit about the same time you started teaching law and… I worry she’s too young for me. I wonder if you could help me out?”

  “Since there aren’t that many new women teachers of English on the post, I’m guessing you mean Giulia uh…”

  “Cavinato,” Chuck said.

  “Yes, that’s right. Chuck? What would be too young for you?”

  “She doesn’t act too young. I’ve only talked with her a short time, but she’s quick and well educated and charming and beautiful and—” He stopped and Marlowe was blown away when she saw a blush creep across the big guy’s face. She’d always seen Chuck as cool and controlled.

  “How old are you? Is that too delicate?” she asked.

  “Not at all. I’m thirty-eight… going on forty.” He seemed almost shy.

  “I do know Giulia. We clicked the first day. Don’t know her age but considering what she told me about working before entering college and also working part-time right on through grad school, I’d guess she’s not too young. But you could twist Oliver’s arm and check her file, couldn’t you?

  “Maybe. But I don’t want to go behind her back.” Hell, with my Spec-Ops skills, I could be in and out of Ogle’s office in a heartbeat.

  “But you’ll come to me behind her back, huh?” Marlowe said getting a kick out of putting this self-assured guy on the spot. He even squirmed in his chair. She couldn’t hold out any longer. “Oh Chuck, don’t take it that way. All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Thanks, Marlowe. I owe you one. But—”

  “Don’t worry, I can be discreet. I feel sure Giulia and I are going to be good friends for a long time. We have a lot in common. Like me, she wants to live in Venice the rest of her life.”

  Chuck rolled his broad shoulders, relaxed and sat back in his chair.