"She reminded me of someone."

Interesting. Angelina smiled. Well, if ever there was a skittish filly for Luke to love and help to heal, it would be Cassie. He certainly was a rescuer at heart. Maybe Angelina could help bring the two of them together. He might also help the reclusive artist reconnect with her long-buried playful side. Karla said she used to be fun-loving and carefree. Luke didn't take himself or anything seriously. He was also a rock-solid man with a firm but gentle hand and a big heart. Perfect to help Cassie recover the parts of herself she'd lost.

Luke took Angel's elbow and guided her up the steps and inside the house, feeling a shiver course through her. Why had she come outside wearing nothing but a flannel shirt and jeans? He wasn't dressed much warmer, but he was used to the strong winds whipping down from the mountain pass.

He glanced once more up at Iron Horse before following Angel inside. He'd tried a couple of times since Adam's cougar attack to get Cassie to notice he existed, but she seemed hell-bent for leather on running from him as far and as fast as she could. Once at Adam's, she'd opened up a bit about her love of art, which at least gave them some common ground. He'd even gone to see one of her art exhibits in Denver, but she'd nearly had a panic attack when he walked in, as if she thought he was stalking her or something. That's when he'd decided he'd better just steer clear of Cassie Lopez, dream or no dream.

Maggie, you sure know how to send a guy on an impossible mission.

While he'd noticed the beautiful woman sitting across the waiting room at the hospital, it hadn't been an appropriate place to hit on her. When his wife delivered a message loud and clear that Cassie was the angel she'd promised in a dream, he looked a little closer at the Peruvian recluse.

Not that he needed his dead wife's help finding dates and not that he'd heard from Maggie, even in a dream, since the hospital. He just hadn't been interested in women until recently. Cassie had some serious issues when it came to men, judging by the response he'd gotten from her when he went to her gallery opening in Denver a while back. At the moment, he had his hands full trying to get his mustang fillies to trust him.

No, he didn't need a woman in his life to complicate matters. He'd done just fine since he'd lost Maggie. Although it sure was nice having Angel around. He watched her warming her hands by the fire he'd laid in the Buck Stove this morning. Last night, she'd prepared a feast. He never could understand how she could take the same ingredients he cooked with and turn them into such mouthwatering dishes.

What the hell was Marc's problem? Luke hadn't seen much of his former SAR partner since he'd moved out here, but if anyone could break through Marc's barriers, Angel was the one. Finding out they were having problems pissed him off. Maybe he needed to have a talk with the big lug. Might help if he knew a little more about the problem.

Angel turned around to warm her backside. "Where'd you learn to play guitar?"

"An elective at UT. Maggie was taking the class, and I wanted to make a move on her." He grinned, remembering how the woman who later agreed to be his wife had warmed up to his serenading her on dates-clothing optional.

At least Angel hadn't found him singing in the nude.

He sat on the couch and motioned to her. "Come here, darlin'. We need to have a talk."

She came to him without reluctance. Why couldn't Cassie be more like Angel? Trusting. Open.

He gave himself a mental headshake. He needed to forget about Cassie. Maggie was just plain wrong about her being the one he needed-unless Maggie thought it was Cassie who needed him? Damn. How could he turn away from her if there was something he could do to help her get over her fear of men? He was pretty laid-back and non-threatening. He thought so, anyway. Cassie apparently begged to differ.

Angel sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. "Now, tell ol' Luke what happened to bring you out here last night?"

She sighed and paused for a while before responding. "Marc and I have been, well, having some problems. I can't really go into what's going on, but there's something from his past he's not facing."

"Does it have to do with Gino's death?"

"Not directly, but I'm sure that hasn't helped any. It's definitely something to do with his childhood and his family, especially his parents. I don't want to divulge anything more, but until he faces the past, he's stuck. We're stuck."

"Want me to talk to him?"

"Anything could help, I guess."

Luke chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, baby girl."

Angel retreated, and he saw the anguish in her eyes, which made him regret teasing her.

She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. Damn. Not tears. He hated seeing a woman cry. "Marc is so stubborn and totally shut down emotionally. He won't let me in." She sniffled. "I had to leave. I couldn't stand to watch him in so much pain while he refused to let me help."

"Lie down." Luke guided her to stretch out on the couch, her feet in his lap. He pulled her boots off. "Darlin', you can't make someone face something they don't want to face. They have to want to do it themselves."

He kneaded the soles of her feet, and she moaned as she closed her eyes and let him minister to her. Marc would have probably turned her over his lap and whaled the tar out of her butt until she released her anxiety, but that was neither Luke's style nor his place. When he sent Angel back to Marc, he didn't want his buddy to think anything improper had gone on between them. Luke's romantic interest in the woman ended before it had started, really.

Marc and Angel were meant for each other. Didn't take a message from Maggie in a dream or a sketch on a piece of paper to prove that.

Quit thinking about Cassie.

He pushed at a knot in the ball of her foot, and she winced. He decided to probe the knot, and Angel, a little further. "What do you plan to do, darlin'?"

She stared at him as he continued to work on the stress she was holding in her feet. "Do? Ouch!"

He grinned but didn't let up on that tender spot. "Yeah, do. Marc's stubborn. And proud. Hell, you know what Italian men are like."

She snorted.

"You also know he's not going to make the first move to get you two back together again."

Angel tried to yank away from him, but he wasn't finished with her yet and firmed his grip on her dainty foot. She squared her shoulders. "He did try to win me back once."

Luke assumed she meant the costume-party night at the Masters at Arms Club where Marc, Luke, and Adam had helped pull a mindfuck on Angel. Luke had enjoyed the hell out of getting the woman to submit to him, even if only for a few minutes before Luke had to pass her back to his buddy where she belonged.

He ran his finger down the sole of her foot and she recoiled. Ticklish? "Why weren't you ticklish a few minutes ago?"

"Mind over matter."

He cocked his head and waited.

"Marc has been training me to control my response to being tickled. If I know what's coming-or can at least see what's happening-it's easy. I knew what you planned to do, so I steeled my body to keep from becoming a giggling mess when you rubbed my foot."

"But you did jump back eventually."

"Lost my train of thought. I was remembering that costume night at the club."

"Maybe it's time for a little more mind over matter. Maybe this time you'll need to make the first move, baby girl."

She raised her chin higher. "Luke, I'm pretty darned stubborn, too. Until I know he's going to deal with this issue, I'm not going to do a thing."

Luke laughed. "Two stubborn Italians."

She rolled her eyes and looked away, then grinned sheepishly when she glanced back at him. "Dio, help us both."

"Ask nicely before you go to bed tonight. I'm sure He will."

Worry returned to her big brown eyes. "You think so?"

"Reasonably certain, if He agrees it's what's best for you two. I want to see you two together, too. You were made for each other."

Her chin quivered before she shored up her defenses and put up a good front. "I'm sorry I've put you out of your bed."

"No worries. I spent the night out in the barn with O'Keeffe. She needs to get used to sleeping with me if we're going to be doing rescue and other close work over long hours, or even days. I think being out there all night helped me get as far as I did with her this morning."

Angel smiled. "I'm glad you've found yourself out here. You weren't meant to be cooped up in a Denver townhouse. And giving these poor horses a place to recover and regroup, not unlike what you're doing for me, is... Well, you're a gentle soul with a big heart, Luke. Your parents sure raised you right."

Luke glanced away. "I think buying this spread is the first thing my old man approved of me doing since I played football in college." Luke had been a bitter disappointment to his dad, that's for damned sure. The man had wanted an athletic son, but Luke had been more interested in photography, art, woodworking, and girls. He'd learned carpentry to gain his dad's respect, which was how he'd met Marc and the others at the club. But his heart wasn't in building cabinets. He preferred working on unique play-scene equipment for the club and other custom-carved furniture, including a bed he was working on in his workshop right now. If his dad saw him carving whimsical creatures into the headboard of a perfectly functional bed, he'd shake his head and walk away.

Angel's cool fingers reached out to stroke his cheek, bringing him back to the present. "I'm proud of you, Luke. Although I could have done without you making that 'MINE' paddle for Marc."

He grinned. "See? The big lug knows what he wants-he knows what's his. He just needs a little time to get his head on straight." Now for changing the subject. "While you're waiting, darlin', the way to this man's big ol' heart is through his stomach. What's for dinner?"

"That's a good eight hours away. I'll surprise you."

"No, darlin'. Where I come from, dinner's the midday meal, followed by supper at night. I need something to tide me over for my workout with Cassatt and Picasso this afternoon in the corral. I aim to be on the back of either the mare or that gelding before I come in tonight."

Angel swung her feet off his lap, enthusiasm showing in her eyes at the prospect of doing what she loved most. "Well, I checked your pantry last night to take stock. Pretty basic, but I think I can find something to tide you over 'til supper." She padded across the braided rug to the hardwood floor. He was keeping the house warmer than he normally would because he didn't want Angel to get cold.

She turned her head toward him as she continued to walk away. "Give me thirty minutes to rustle up some grub." Her wink made him smile.

Marc, you're an ass if you let this woman get away.

Chapter Thirteen.

Marc sat in a corner of the hotel restaurant, watching as each male patron entered. None seemed to be searching for anyone they didn't know. He glanced at Gino's Breitling on his wrist. Marc had worn it since he'd met Staff Sergeant Anderson at Adam's wedding. He hadn't wanted that tangible a reminder of Gino before, but he'd forgiven his brother and begun to make peace with his loss that day. Being here in Tuscany, the neighboring province to his native Lombardy, he'd thought a lot about his brother this morning while expending some nervous energy walking around Siena.

The man was late. Figured. About thirty-four years late, to be exact, not that Marc wanted any kind of father-son relationship with him after all of these years.

Granted, he was in Italy where time had very little meaning. He'd grown up in a society obsessed with punctuality, not to mention his time in the Navy.

He just needed to know where he came from. He'd spent much of his early years feeling as if he didn't belong. Perhaps this man could provide the missing clues to his identity. His past.

He'd stopped in at a jeweler's this morning in search of something special for Angelina, thinking a Lady Breitling would be nice. Her watch was the most unreliable thing ever assembled.

Angelina hadn't been far from his thoughts, either. Everywhere he went he wished he could be sharing the sights with her. So why hadn't he brought her here with him?

Would she be waiting when he arrived home? He hoped so but couldn't blame her if she'd bailed. He'd treated her badly. Problem was he didn't have a clue why he'd refused to let her get any closer. What was he so afraid of happening?

Her leaving him.

Well, how's that working for you?

Another ten minutes passed. Apparently, meeting his son wasn't high on Paolo Solari's list of priorities today, if Marc had been even a second thought for him. Marc began to feel like a fool for having contacted the man. He'd never even managed to speak with him over the phone. A house servant had finally returned Marc's call this morning and relayed messages between the two men to arrange this meeting location. Did Solari intend to show up or had he just given a time and place to get Marc off the phone?

Did he even remember he had a son? Shit, two sons. Marc had been three when his mother died and Gino three years older. In several decades one could forget a lot of things, but his own sons? Marc couldn't fathom that.

A tall man in a white silk suit entered the room and commanded every ounce of attention in the very air around him. Exuding confidence, not a strand of his silvering hair straying onto his tanned forehead, the man's gaze didn't scan the room. Instead, he gave a female server the once over, eliciting from her a blush and a smile. Taking the response as an invitation, he went up to her, bent down to whisper in her ear, and pinched her ass. She giggled and jotted something on a piece of paper, handing it to him.

He was old enough to be her grandfather. Marc felt a tightening in his gut. No doubt this man was Marc's father-birth father. Suddenly, the thought of conversing with him made Marc want to run out the back door, mainly to avoid the feeling of looking at himself in the mirror twenty or thirty years from now. Until Angelina had come into his life, Marc had an early history of treating women as his personal smorgsbord, just as this man seemed to do.

Chip off the old block.

Until Angelina had changed him.

Before he could bail out on this train wreck in the making, as if in slow motion, the older man scanned the room slowly and zeroed in on him. Fighting the urge to flee, Marc heard Angelina's voice. Keep breathing. The time for running was over. He needed to face his past if he was going to avoid a similar fate for his future. He couldn't move forward with Angelina until he knew who he was, good or bad.

While he would have hated for Angelina to see the man whose sperm had contributed to making him, he wished Angelina was here with him. Her steady presence or a comforting touch of her hand. She would have given him much-needed courage right now to face this man from the past who slowly approached Marc's table.

"Marco Solari?"

The name jarred him for a moment, but he recovered and stood, automatically extending his hand and trying not to flinch as the man shook it. Firm grip. Eye contact. "Marc D'Alessio." He'd never carry this man's name.

"Of course. Good-looking young man. Tutto tuo padre."

Even though Marc thought the same thing when he'd first seen Solari, he detested being compared in any way to the man who had spawned him. He hoped the similarities ended at the facial features. Motioning for Solari to be seated, Marc resumed his own seat.

They ordered drinks and dinner before staring silently at each other a moment, both at a loss for words. After an awkward period of time passed, Marc broke the silence. "So I take it you knew I'd come looking for you one day."

Solari shrugged. "I figured you'd have a healthy curiosity and might wonder about your origins someday. Though it took you longer than I expected."

Marc ignored the censure in his voice. "I didn't really know about you until recently." And now I wish I'd never heard about you.

An arched brow told him he'd surprised the man. Solari nodded. "I guess you were a bit young when your mother took you back. She always regretted giving you to her sister to raise."

His words confused Marc. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his mother was his aunt. "What do you mean?"

"Well, times were different then. Here in Italy, it was frowned upon for a single girl to turn up pregnant."

Marc grew even more confused. "I thought you and Emiliana married before Gino was born."

"Indeed. I'm talking about your mother. Your grandmother had encountered the stigma and shame of carrying an American Marine's bastardo after the Second World War. When Natalia got pregnant, your grandmother forced her to give you to Emiliana to raise with our son, Gino."

Marc's heart began to pound. Hearing Paolo call Mama-Natalia-a bastard bothered Marc, but more upsetting was hearing a radically different story from the one Mama had told him. Who had lied? Or had he just gotten this increasingly complicated story confused?

"Maybe it would help if you started at the beginning."

The server who had probably slipped Solari her number or address earlier came to the table and brushed her hip against his father's arm, distracting the man from the conversation. After setting plates of antipasti in front of them, she winked at Marc and walked away. Marc turned his attention back to his father.

No, Solari. Papa was the only father Marc had ever or would ever know.

"You were saying."

"Well, I'm sure Natalia filled you in on most of this. She and I slept together once-our hormones got away from us, I suppose-but that indiscretion resulted in you."