Pietro ignored it as well. “Of course. No problem. She worked extra hours yesterday.”

“I’ll get back to the restaurant and get busy on your pie,” Tito said.

Stefano sent him a quick smile. “Thanks, Tito. I appreciate it. We’ll be there in a few minutes. I have to talk to a couple of people first.” He glanced at Francesca, who hadn’t moved. “We won’t need the coat. It’s just down the block.” Again, before she could protest, he walked away from the counter, to the back of the room where the Faustis were seated.

“Lucia, you’re looking beautiful this evening.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss at her temple. She immediately caught his head in her hands and kissed both sides of his jaw before letting him go. “Is Amo still treating you right? I’d run away with you if I thought I could get away with it.”

She laughed softly. “Amo is the best, but if he ever messes up, Stefano, you are the front-runner.”

His eyebrow shot up. “‘The front-runner’?” he repeated. Switching his attention to Amo, he shook the man’s hand. “How many men does she have waiting in line?”

“Too many to count,” Amo said with a heavy sigh. “Such is the life when a man marries a beautiful woman. You would do well to remember that.”

Lucia laughed again and leaned into her husband. “You two. You always make me feel so special.”

“Because you are,” Stefano said, meaning it.

“She’s very beautiful,” Amo said, indicating Francesca, keeping his voice low. “Very sweet to all the customers. Works hard, that one. She doesn’t talk much and she seems sad. Is she all right?”

“She will be.”

“Anything we can do, Stefano. You’re a good boy. You’ve always been good to us,” Lucia said. “Ever since . . .” She choked, her eyes filling with tears, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, forcing a smile behind her palm.

“Don’t, Lucia,” Stefano said, crouching down beside their table, sweeping his arm around the older woman. “You’re here with the love of your life . . .” He glanced at Amo. “Oh, and Amo, too.”

She laughed. It was a little forced, but still, she managed to make the sound merry. Her husband reached across the table and took her hand in his. “This man is always trying to steal you from me, bella.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “This happens too often, woman.”

“You should be used to it by now, Amo,” Stefano said, rising, brushing another kiss on top of Lucia’s head. “I think my woman is ready to go.”

Clearly she wasn’t, but Pietro had pushed her out from behind the counter. Francesca looked nervous and as if she might be working herself up to telling him to go to hell. He grabbed her hand as he came up beside her, tugging until she was next to him and he could wrap one arm around her waist, drawing her into his side.

“Later, Pietro,” he said, and walked her right out the door while she was too shocked at finding her body locked tightly against his side.

“Later, Mr. Ferraro,” Pietro answered, laughter in his voice.

Francesca placed a protesting palm flat against his chest and then pulled it off of him as if his heat had burned her. “I’m not having a pizza with you.”

“You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry,” he said, covering the pavement in long strides, his arm sweeping her along, forcing her to keep up with him.

He kept her moving, not wanting to give her the chance to protest. “Have you met Lucia and Amo Fausti? The couple sitting in the back? They own Lucia’s Treasures. It’s a little boutique a few stores down from the deli.”

She snuck a little peek at him from under her ridiculously long lashes. She didn’t have mascara on, and still her lashes were thick and long and curled upward on the end. He was fascinated even with that little detail. Her eyes were beautiful. The thought came to him unbidden that he wanted to be looking into her eyes when he took her, when he made her come apart in his arms. When they were locked together, and he was moving in her, bringing her what no other man would ever give her again.

“Yes, they’re a lovely couple. You seem to be friends with them.”

She sounded a little shocked that he could have friends. That made him want to smile, but he resisted, continuing to walk, nodding toward a couple of people who stepped out of their shops to greet him. He kept moving because he didn’t want them to engage him in conversation and give her the opportunity to break away.