The Vineyards of Calanetti
A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti
Susan Meier
A Bride for the Italian Boss
Susan Meier
Return of the Italian Tycoon
Jennifer Faye
Reunited by a Baby Secret
Michelle Douglas
Soldier, Hero…Husband?
Cara Colter
His Lost-and-Found Bride
Scarlet Wilson
The Best Man & The Wedding Planner
Teresa Carpenter
His Princess of Convenience
Rebecca Winters
Saved by the CEO
Barbara Wallace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

A Bride for the Italian Boss

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Return of the Italian Tycoon

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Epilogue

Reunited by a Baby Secret

The Vineyards of Calanetti

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Soldier, Hero…Husband?

The Vineyards of Calanetti

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

His Lost-and-Found Bride

The Vineyards of Calanetti

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

The Best Man & The Wedding Planner

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

His Princess of Convenience

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Saved by the CEO

Introduction

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti

Have you heard?

There’s a new 8-book linked mini-series starting in

Mills & Boon Cherish this July, called

The Vineyards of Calanetti, featuring a stellar line-up of wonderful authors and even more fabulous storylines!

To help us celebrate, we hope you enjoy

this exclusive short story,

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti by Susan Meier

Step into this Tuscan world and prepare

to be swept off your feet!

CHAPTER ONE

Michele Patruno walked into the kitchen of Mancini’s, the new Tuscan restaurant in Monte Calanetti owned by his friend Chef Rafe Mancini. The scents of risotto, sweet sausage, succulent lamb hit him as he stepped into the ultra-modern, stainless steel kitchen.

At the sound of the door closing, Rafe spun from the prep table. His silver-gray eyes widened. His turned-down lips lifted into a rarely seen smile.

“Michele!”

He bounded over, enfolding Mic into an embrace that could only be described as the hug of a bear. Then he pushed him away. “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t think my favorite mentor could open a restaurant and I would stay away?”

Rafe studied him, those gray eyes always astute. “It took you long enough to come by.”

Michele deliberately avoided the unspoken question of why he never returned to his hometown. “I wanted to make sure you had at least one Michelin star before I tested the food.”

“One?” Rafe batted a hand. “Bah! You underestimate me. Everyone underestimates me.”

No one underestimated Chef Rafe. Aspiring chefs emulated him. Apprenticing chefs wanted to be him. Secretly in love with the tall, handsome chef, critics worked to find things wrong with his food, his restaurant, so they wouldn’t be accused of favoritism. Chef Rafe’s star was on the rise … as long as he could keep his temper in check.

“So you are here for food?”

“My aunt and uncle moved south. While I have a little time, I told them I’d stay in their condo until it sold.” He glanced around. “But that risotto does smell nice.”

“Nice! I will have you arrested for insulting me.”

Mic laughed. A feeling of normalcy, rightness, rippled through his blood and muscles. He loved teasing his friend. “Okay. It does smell amazing.”

Rafe dropped his arm to Mic’s shoulders. “It is good to see you, Mic.” He turned them to the door. “Now, we find you a table. And I will treat you to food so tempting, so brilliant, you will fall to your knees and thank your maker.”

Mic laughed again.

He followed Rafe to the dining room. It was exactly as Mic pictured it would be. Though Rafe had added a modern kitchen to the back of the old farm house he’d renovated, he’d kept the dining room true to the house’s origins. Antique tables covered in white linen cloths sat on earth-tone ceramic tile floors. The rustic shutters on the huge window in the back were open, revealing the resting countryside of Tuscany in January. The bar by the kitchen bustled with business as waitresses shouted wine orders.

“Are you the chef?”

Rafe stopped at the question from the customer. Behind him, Mic stopped too.

“Si.”

The customer smiled. “Your spaghetti sucks.”

Rafe scoffed. “My spaghetti is superb. If you disagree, your palate … how you say? … Sucks?”

Rafe’s response didn’t surprise Mic. Rafe was so good at what he did that he sometimes couldn’t relate to ordinary people. What shocked Mic was the laughter that quietly rippled through the dining room.

Rafe moved on as if unconcerned, marching Mic to a table in the back as he waved over a waitress. “Tonight’s dinner is on me. Give me twenty minutes and I will make you the happiest man on earth.”

Watching Rafe leave, he didn’t see the waitress who’d appeared at the side of the table and slid a menu in front of him. He opened it as he glanced up with a smile, then his breathing and—he was sure—his heart stopped.

“Liliana?”

Her waitress smile faded. Her brown eyes darkened. “Mic?”

He tried to think of something clever to say, but words failed him. After two years of teaching himself to forget her and another six years of believing he had. Here she was.

The question was: could he be polite? Or should he demand the answers he should have gotten eight years ago?

CHAPTER TWO

Liliana Norelli’s breath froze. Her body swayed. Was gorgeous Mic—the only man she’d ever loved—really here?

She blinked once to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When her eyes opened again, Michele’s surprising blue eyes still stared up at her. His full lips formed a thin, intolerant line.

That quickly brought her to her senses. She cleared her throat. “I don’t think Chef Rafe wants you to order. I only brought the menu so you could see what he offers.” She turned to walk away but he caught her hand. “This is all you have to say to me?”

Oh, there were a million things she wanted to say. A million questions she wanted to ask. She’d given him up eight years ago so he could pursue his dream. She longed to know her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

But with his fingers sliding across her sensitive skin and every nerve ending in her body tingling with the memory of those clever hands on her, she said nothing. They’d been so crazy in love that her refusal of his marriage proposal had devastated him. But she’d known the cost of supporting two people in Paris would have been nearly impossible. Adding her ten-year-old sister would have tipped the scales from nearly impossible to totally impossible. He would have killed himself trying to afford an apartment large enough for three, and in the end he would have lost his dream apprenticeship. So she’d pretended he had only been a fling for her and he’d gone to Paris hating her for making a fool of him.

So … no. She could not ask him how he was. She could not hug him because she was so happy to see him. She could not anything.

She pulled her arm away.

Totally oblivious, Rafe returned with a seafood platter antipasto with calamari, mussels, smoked salmon, tuna fish and olives.

Mic grinned. His short dark hair was far different than the long curls he’d worn eight years ago. His body had filled out. His shoulders had become broad. His arms were muscled. Memories of her happy time with him raced through her brain, warming her blood and saddening her soul.

Taking advantage of Rafe’s presence, Lily sped away.

But as the night drew to a close with her chef spoiling the only man she’d ever loved, she grew more and more tired. It had taken her years to get over him, but one night in the same space with him and everything she’d worked to forget came tumbling back. Long nights in bed. Shared lattes because they were too poor to buy more than one. How he’d always left the last sip for her.

All she wanted to do was go home and weep.

Mic said goodnight to Rafe and looked over at her. Held in the gaze of those striking blue eyes, her golden memories returned, along with the sense that her real life hadn’t begun until the moment she’d given herself to him.

Shrugging into his leather jacket—a sign of how successful he’d been, proving she’d made the right choice in letting him go—he walked over.

“I think things need to be resolved between us.”

Refusing to let him see her pain, she broke through her own sadness to smile. “Things are fine between us.”

“Fine enough for us to work together?”

Her eyes widened. “You are working here?”

“Yes, Rafe and I decided that while I’m in town, it would be fun to work together again. With two master chefs, this place will shine. I start tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THREE

Lily held back a gasp. Working with Mic? Seeing him eight or ten hours a day for weeks? She’d never survive.

Still, if she gave him even the slightest inkling of how difficult it was to see him, he’d take advantage and push for answers about their breakup. Answers she wasn’t prepared to give and he wouldn’t be happy to hear.

“That’s fine. I’m fine with you being here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gave her a confused look that quickly turned into a look of condemnation, but he said nothing, only turned and walked away.

Lily deflated. The man hated her. How was she going to work with someone who hated her?

The next day, she prepared herself before she walked into Mancini’s. No matter what Mic said or did, she could not react. She had to get through these few weeks.

But after the first hour of ignoring her, Mic slowly came around. At first, it was a simple “you’re welcome” when she said “thank you”. Then he handed her orders across the stainless steel shelf. Soon they were working together normally.

She would have breathed a sigh of relief, except the next time she came into the kitchen she caught him staring at her.

A shiver ran up her spine. Not the shivers of fear, but the shivers of memory. That look he gave her was the same one he had every time she’d undressed for him.

The very thought made her breath catch, as memory after memory flooded her, and she knew she had to get away from him.

With the night ending and the crowd dwindling, she stood at the Maître D podium with Gino Scarpetti, the tall, stiff man who seated guests at Mancini’s.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to close down for the night?” Gino asked, one eyebrow quirking.

“Si.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, Mic came out of the kitchen. He walked to the bar and reached for a bottle of wine—undoubtedly wine for him and Rafe to drink as they closed the kitchen. But when he turned from getting the wine, his eyes met hers.

Their gazes caught and held. He couldn’t hide the look of longing and she couldn’t seem to turn away. She’d pined for him for years, unable to move on, unable to forget the man she’d let go, even though she knew he probably hated her.

Mic blinked and turned to return to the kitchen.

Gino said, “You two knew each other before, didn’t you?”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Lily said, “We dated.”

“From the way he looks at you, I think our Mic might like to start things up again.”

Lily’s heart wanted to say, “Really?” But her head was too smart. Mic was a proud man and she’d hurt him. There was no way he’d want anything to do with her.

“I think if you strolled into that kitchen right now and asked him out, he’d be putty in your hands.”

Oh how she wished she could do that. But she’d had one shot with him and she’d given him up. Sacrificed their love for his success. There was no turning back now …

Was there?

CHAPTER FOUR

Three days later, with beautiful Lily with her long black hair, dark, dark eyes and lush figure only inches away from his itchy fingers every day, Mic wondered if fate wasn’t trying to drive him insane.

She cheerfully walked into the kitchen for a pickup. In the dark pants and white blouses required by Rafe, the other waitresses looked plain. But not Lily. Her curves made the simple garments a treat for the eyes, as her perpetual smile lit up the restaurant.

“Be careful with that butter.”

Mic shook his head and ripped his gaze away from Lily as she exited the kitchen. The butter in the frying pan spit and sputtered. He whipped the pan off the stove. Rafe frowned. “Your mind wanders.”

“A fluke.”

“I think it is more that you can’t keep your eyes off my waitress.”

Mic laughed. “You’re just worried about competition. Afraid your customers will miss me when I’m gone.” But even as he said the words, Lily returned. He took in the thick hair he had at one time run his fingers through and her breasts filling out the plain white blouse. Today she looked every bit as perfect as he remembered her to be.

“You are gone again.”

Mic almost cursed. The woman had spent an entire summer with him. She’d warmed his bed, but then she’d dumped him. Cruelly. How could he still find her enticing?

He shouldn’t.

He refused.

She came bouncing into the kitchen again, her ponytail bobbing.

He slid a warm plate to the stainless steel shelf between them. “Tortellini?”

The smile in her eyes caught him off guard. “Si. Grazie.” Taking the plate, she spun away and raced out of the kitchen.

Mic’s pulse scrambled and his heart kicked against his ribs. Her body might tempt him, but that smile brought back memories far more dangerous than the lure of her body. He’d helped her get beyond the loss of her parents. She’d been his biggest cheerleader. In his mind, their relationship had been as happy as their chemistry had been blistering hot.

But those wonderful memories might be the problem. Because he hadn’t had another serious relationship since the one he had with her, he kept remembering things as if they were perfect. Clearly, they hadn’t been.

At the end of the night, he sat at the bar with Rafe, helping with the next day’s menu, as he surreptitiously watched the waitresses clear the dining room.

Halfway through a suggestion for a tangier sauce, his brain stalled. This time Rafe only sighed. But Mic had had enough.

No one could be as perfect as he remembered Lily to be. Yet, he couldn’t seem to convince himself of that with simple words. Mostly because he was curious.

He’d loved her enough at one time to want to marry her. She’d broken his heart. And now here she was, a waitress. Somehow he’d always believed she’d left him for something more. Something better.

So why was she still here in Monte Calanetti?

CHAPTER FIVE

The next day, Lily placed her order for a latte and scone at the coffeehouse. But before she could pay, a hand came from behind, giving the money to the cashier.

She spun around. Mic.

Her heart speeded up and her stomach plummeted. She’d hoped her time off would be her chance to get away from his probing eyes. The day before, he’d done nothing but stare at her. She’d expected anger. Maybe a little bit of resentment. But curiosity? What if he asked her how she’d spent the last eight years? How sad would it be to have to admit she and her sister would have been destitute had it not been for Signor Bartolini, owner of Palazzo di Comparino, giving them a place to live when she took the job as his maid?

“I can afford my own coffee now.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Funny, I remember when we had to scrape together our pennies to buy one and then we’d share it.”

She smiled. “Yes. Our Sunday morning treat.” Again, she thought of the last sip he’d always saved for her. The memory nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“So how is your sister?”

Her gaze jerked to his. “She’s good. At university now.”

He chuckled. “That was a fast eight years.”

She glanced away as the barista called her name and handed her coffee and scone to her. “Yes. It was.”

“And what about you?”

Her nerve endings quivered. She’d let him leave her so he could become successful. The last thing she wanted to admit was what a failure she’d been. “What about me?”

“How have you been?”

He motioned to an empty table and her heart stuttered. He was going to sit with her?

She sighed at her own stupidity. Of course, he was. Eight years had gone by. Those eight years had been very good to him. She was the one with the past she wanted to hide. And if she made a big deal of this, he’d probe until he discovered the things that would humiliate her. Even if she told him she’d enrolled at university with Melony but had stayed behind the first semester to give her sister a taste of freedom, it would just prove it had taken her almost eight years to get her life together.

She led them to the table, slid out of her coat and sat, pretending that being so close to him didn’t set off a firestorm of flutters in her stomach. “I’ve been fine. Busy. How about you?”

“I’m actually between jobs. I’ve been offered a partnership in a restaurant in Paris. I’m probably going to take it but I have a few weeks to think it through.”

She smiled. “It’s nice that you have options.”

His blue eyes twinkled with the joy of his success. “It is. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate how lucky I am.”

He shifted a little closer, not something the old Mic would have done, and Lily’s nerves prickled. Even in his expensive jacket and designer jeans and shirt, she’d been seeing him as the Mic she’d loved. But as he had said, eight years had gone by. He had money now and fame.

She looked deeper into his shiny blue eyes, and saw an edginess that hadn’t been there before.

“And it’s the fact that I’ve always been lucky that makes it all the more puzzling that you dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you. I just didn’t accept your marriage proposal.”

“Why?” He moved closer and ran his thumb along her jaw. “You certainly couldn’t complain about our chemistry. So what happened?”

CHAPTER SIX

Oh, she was tempted to tell him. To admit that she’d loved him too much to risk the success he was working so hard to achieve. But that glimmer in his eyes scared her silly. Her Mic had been proud but sweet. This Mic was strong. Sophisticated. If she told him she’d worried that she and her troubles would drag him down, God knows how he’d react. Would he see her sacrifice for what it had been? Or would he see her act of love as a slur against his manhood? The great Michele Patruno could make kings putty with his fine food, but he couldn’t support the woman he loved?

She rose from her seat. “It’s over now. Water under the bridge. No point in talking about it.”

He sat back, bracing his arms on the chairs on either side of him, looking so sexy and male she could have swooned. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d simply remind me that you didn’t love me.”

Her face reddened. Why hadn’t she just said that? “Why make me repeat it?”

“Why not? If it’s a simple fact, it should be easy to say.”

“After eight years, it shouldn’t matter.”

“After eight years, you shouldn’t stumble over it.”

She shook her head, furious with him for pushing. “Don’t criticize me for not wanting to say something that was hard enough the first time.”

He rose in a movement so swift and fluid she didn’t realize what he was about to do until he caught her wrist. They stood so close she could almost feel his chest rising and falling and the heat coming from his muscled body.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Criticizing you?”

She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

He shifted a millimeter closer. Everything feminine in her trembled with longing. Reality combined with memories and she had fight not to fall into his arms and beg for another chance. But she’d lost her chance with the Mic she’d loved, and this Mic—Oh, this Mic—might be a little too much for her.

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just curious. Interested.”

The shimmer that came to his blue eyes scared her silly. Eight years of working in some of Europe’s finest restaurants, meeting some of the world’s most sophisticated people, showed in the way he looked at her, the way he moved, the things he said. This was not her Mic.

“Well, I’m not interested in you.”

“Really?” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that skimmed across her skin and raised goose flesh. “I can see in your eyes that that’s a lie.”

“You flatter yourself.”

He laughed, but his head began to lower. “Then you won’t mind a little test.”

Her breath shivered. Her heart stalled. He was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. She was interested and she was curious. She knew nothing could ever come of this. He’d hate her if she told him her real reasons for letting him leave. But she wanted one more kiss. One more taste of the man she hadn’t been able to forget in eight long years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

His lips met hers softly, surely. Her eyes drifted shut, as common sense melted away and sensation took over. He expertly guided them on a slow, sensual journey, using his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss until her bones softened and her blood heated.

When he pulled away, his eyes shone. “So no more telling me you’re not interested.”

She blinked. Common sense returned in a dizzying wave. Why the hell had she kissed him?

She grabbed her coat, her coffee and her scone and raced toward the door.

“Lily!”

She stopped.

“This isn’t over.”

But it was. It had to be. The old Mic was gone. She’d chased him away. There was no going back now.

The next day, Mic arrived at Mancini’s early with Rafe to get a jump on the day’s cooking. But he couldn’t have spent another minute in his aunt and uncle’s empty condo, wondering about that kiss, about Lily’s eager response to him. He’d expected her to slap him. Instead, she’d melted. He was glad for the distraction of cooking and reminiscing with Rafe.

Lunchtime approached. He knew the second Lily arrived for her shift. His senses went on heightened alert. The day before, he’d lowered his head slowly enough that she could have stopped his kiss, but she hadn’t. And then she’d kissed him back, like someone who’d been waiting forever to kiss him again.

Even as it warmed his blood, it made no sense.

She walked out into the kitchen tying an apron around her waist. Their gazes met, her dark brown eyes soft, wary. Then she quickly looked away.

Emory, Rafe’s short, bald sous chef, burst into the kitchen. “Have you heard that the Palazzo di Comparino heir has been located?”

Lily gasped. “Oh, my goodness! Chef Rafe! If they reopen the vineyard, your business will triple.”

Rafe said, “I’m counting on that.”

But Mic watched the color in Lily’s cheeks, the way her eyes shone with pleasure, and confusion overwhelmed him again. She was a good person. Yet the way she’d left him had been cruel. He had to remember that. He shouldn’t be telling her this wasn’t over. He shouldn’t even be speaking to her.

But when she came into the kitchen to retrieve her customers’ meals, their hands brushed every time he gave her a plate, sending the warmth of familiarity through him.

When the night wound down and the waitresses and kitchen staff were nearly done with cleanup, he ambled to the dining room.

The other waitresses had finished before Lily, who was busily counting her tips. The kitchen lights went out and Mic knew they were alone.

“I think I’m going to have to walk you to your car.”

Her brown eyes met his. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe you should be.”

She shook her head. “You think you are funny with your macho words and your stupid tricks.”

“I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

The look she gave him was soft with pain. “Don’t. Please. Let it alone.” She raced to undo the door and left before he could even grab his coat.

He stared after her. The woman had hurt him. The pain she’d inflicted had almost cost him his dream. He shouldn’t be curious about why she was still in the town they’d loved.

He shouldn’t care that she was sad.

But he was.

And maybe he was approaching this all wrong?

Maybe there was a better way to uncover the secrets she kept?

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day, Rafe had an afternoon appointment in Rome and Mic took over the kitchen for dinner. He didn’t have time to think about squelching his feelings for Lily. But at the end of the night, when he went into the dining room, expecting to see it clean and quiet, he found a couple dallying over their meal and Lily sitting at the bar, obviously waiting for them to leave.

He didn’t have to keep her company as she waited, but part of him couldn’t let her sit alone. And maybe if they had a normal conversation, his old feelings for her would go.

He ambled to the bar, walked behind it, pulled out a bottle of wine. “Interested?”

She glanced down at her hands.

“Look. I’m sorry about kissing you. Sorry about pushing you the other night. Let’s share a glass of wine and make peace.”

Her eyes met his. “Okay. Maybe a glass while the customers finish.”

He brought two wine glasses from beneath the bar, opened the bottle and poured.

She said, “You did pretty well tonight.”

He laughed. “Mancini’s is a jewel, but I’ve actually worked bigger.”

“Ah.”

He leaned back against the shelf behind the bar. He didn’t want to be tempted by sitting beside her, but the view from across the bar might actually be better. He could see her face, her flowing hair, her full pink lips.

“You don’t want to hear about the places I’ve been?”

Her gaze jumped to his. “Actually, I do.”

“Though I thoroughly enjoyed every post in Europe, I had a real love for one of my U.S. jobs.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yes. I spent a year at a restaurant in Las Vegas.”

“The place they gamble?” She frowned. “And you liked that the best?”

“The city is full of energy. Life. Lights.” He shook his head. “There’s a party atmosphere everywhere. It spills onto the streets, weaves into the restaurants. The whole town is entertainment.”

“Quite different than the subdued streets of Paris.”

He leaned across the bar, studying her, unable to stop the stirrings of emotions from the past. He’d never really been able to confide in anyone the way he had Lily. And he’d missed that. He’d missed having someone who cared what he did.

“Paris has its nightlife.”

She smiled sadly and glanced down at her wine. “I’m sure.”

Her sadness hit him like a punch in the gut and he was twenty again, simultaneously being offered the adventure of a lifetime and losing the woman who’d been his other half. The confusion of her rejection filled him.

“I would have loved to show you.”

Her serious brown eyes met his. “You couldn’t have shown me.”

He frowned.

“Mic, we didn’t have any money.”

He batted his hand. “There are lots of things you don’t need money for.”

She shook her head. “And there were lots of things that we did need money for. I was uneducated. The best job I could have gotten is what I’m doing now. Waitressing. We would have been cold, hungry.”

A horrible realization rose in him. It coated his mind like smoke in a brush fire, and awakened memories he’d forgotten.

“You were angry that we were broke?”

“I was concerned that you would give up your dream to support me and Melony.”

He stepped back. “Oh, my God. You dumped me because you believed I couldn’t support you?”

“I ended us because I knew I was dead weight. Especially since I came with a little girl. Not just an extra mouth to feed, but two.”

His muscles hardened. His words, when they flowed out of his mouth, felt like dry chips of wood. “You didn’t trust me.”

CHAPTER NINE

The pain on Mic’s face seeped into Lily’s soul. She’d known it would hurt him if she admitted the truth, but tonight she saw it was unfair to make him live with a lie that also hurt him.

“I’m sorry.”

He straightened to his full six-foot-four height. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. She could see it on his face.

“Why don’t you go home for the night? I’ll clean up after this customer.”

“No. I’ll stay. It’s my job.”

“No.” His eyes met hers. “It is my job. And I do my jobs. I always do my jobs.”

Tears flooded her eyes at the humiliation in his voice. “Please, Mic. That’s exactly my point. You would have taken your responsibilities seriously. And you would have lost your dream.”

“So you felt it was better to take the decision out of my hands?”

His righteous indignation finally got the better of her. “Oh, please. You were in the situation every bit as much as I was. You knew I was responsible for my sister. You knew I was still grieving my parents’ deaths. You knew I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, yet when I said no to your proposal you never argued. I said, ‘I don’t love you’, and you left. You never asked why. You didn’t remember my passion for you. You didn’t think that maybe my troubles might have put me in a bad emotional state. You simply got hurt and left.”

He gaped at her. “You’re pinning this on me?”

She rose from her bar stool. Her chin lifted. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Maybe.” A horrible chill enveloped her. The memory of how he’d left raced through her brain. The feeling of abandonment. The knowledge that he hadn’t thought enough of her to even question what she’d said. The memory of the sweeping fear when she realized she was alone and responsible for her ten-year-old sister. “Think back, Mic. You never fought for me. You never fought for what we had.”

“You know, you like to remember your emotional state, but what about mine? I was moving to a city I didn’t know. Alone.”

“Oh, so you only asked me to marry you for company?”

He cursed. “You’re confusing everything.”

“No. Maybe for the first time the truth is coming out.” And it was killing her. All these years, she wouldn’t let herself examine their situation too closely because the pain of losing him had been suffocating. But now she finally saw the truth.

She hadn’t simply lost Mic. She’d proven to both of them that he hadn’t really loved her.

She slid off the bar stool. “I’ve got to go.”

“That’s right. Leave when things get too difficult.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s what you do.”

CHAPTER TEN

Mic was so angry with Lily that he didn’t sleep that night. He actually debated not going to work the next day, but knew he had to, if only to prove he did not run from his troubles.

When she stepped into the kitchen and took a clean apron from the shelf, he stood taller.

Accuse him of being wrong? Ha! That was insane.

“Good morning, Ms. Norelli.”

Her face flamed with color. “Good morning, Chef Mic.”

Rafe waved his knife. “And good morning to me. Now that greetings are over, could we do some work?”

Holding Lily’s gaze, Mic said, “I’d love to work since I don’t let my responsibilities slip.”

Her chin lifted and she left the room.

But the quieter she got, the angrier Mic got. Every “please” and “thank you” grated against his nerves. Her sweet, polite act was just a way to make him wonder if she wasn’t correct. Had he really been the one to bail on her?

As soon as that thought popped into his head, he balked. He had not bailed! She hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself. To prove that he could have supported her, helped raise her sister. She snatched that chance away with her refusal to marry him.

The next time she gave him her overly polite thank you, he yanked the dish away from her. “Perhaps, if it’s too much trouble for you to be honest, I should serve this dish to our customer.”

“Too much trouble? I was sparing you trouble!”

Instantly, Rafe was beside him. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but take it outside.”

Mic ran his hand along the back of his neck. “We’re fine.”

Lily quietly said, “Yes, Chef Rafe. We are fine.”

But Rafe took Mic’s shoulders and turned him to the back door. “No. I hear this all day. I grow tired of it. Go outside and solve it.”

Lily followed Mic out the door. When it closed behind them, he turned on Lily.

“You gutted me with your refusal of my proposal. You said, ‘No. I can’t marry you.’ Then you’d looked me in the eye and said, ‘I don’t love you.’ What did you expect me to do?”

She stormed over to him, as angry as he was, and poked her finger into his chest. “I expected you to think. My God, Mic. I was eighteen and I had a ten-year-old sister who was grieving her parents. You were the bright spot in our lives and at my first confused answer, you left. You didn’t even come by the next day to ask if I was sure. To talk it out. You just left.”

He caught the finger jabbing into his chest. “You want me to say I’m sorry you broke my heart? Are you nuts?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I want you to say my sacrifice was worth it. That you’re who you wanted to be. That you’re grateful.”

“Now I’m to be grateful that you broke my heart?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

The sight of her tears kicked away any common sense he might have. He caught her shoulders and drew her up as his head lowered. Their lips met in a blinding flash of need so intense it seemed to swallow both of them in its angry vortex. Her lips answered his raw need as he plundered her mouth. Desire burst through him. Heat that he remembered from a long-ago love.

Lily. His Lily. Was in his arms.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Breathless desire tumbled through Lily. Fire and ice raced down her spine. It had been so long since anyone had kissed her, touched her, that her soul wept with longing. She just wanted to be loved again. To feel whole again.

The only time she’d ever felt whole had been with Mic. But as quickly as she thought that, she remembered that this might be Mic, but he wasn’t the same man she’d loved. This Mic was strong, smart, sophisticated. In the eight years she’d struggled for food and shelter for a ten-year-old sister, he’d seen the world.

She pushed herself away from him. “Don’t. Stop.”

His blue eyes skimmed her face. “I’m to be sorry for this too?”

She cleared the ache in her throat, took a few more steps back. “No.” Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced to the right, unable to meet his gaze. How did a woman say no to the man who had once been the other half of her?

“This is wrong.”

“This feels right.”

“Really? You’re going to stay this time?”

He laughed. “Wow, you get right to the hard questions. You couldn’t even let us spend a few weeks, or even days, together before you took us right to the bottom line.”

“We’re not the same people.”

“So?”

“So that means we can’t pick up where we left off. We’d have to start over. And I’m not sure that’s possible for us.”

“Because I hurt you?”

She smiled slightly at the fact that he was finally admitting it. She met his gaze. “Because I hurt you.”

“We hurt each other.”

“And in eight years apart we became two different people.”

He looked away, then looked back at her. “I think I see.”

She expected relief to sigh through her. Instead, tears pricked her eyes. “I better get back in.”

She turned quickly and returned to the kitchen, but she didn’t stop or even pause. The tears in her eyes were bursting through and she needed a minute.

A few quick dodges of tables, customers and waitresses took her to the restroom. Inside, she locked the door and leaned against the cool wall.

Though she believed every word she’d said to Mic—they were different people; they could not pick up where they left off—she hated them.

“Lily?” Mila, one of the other waitresses, knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need to talk?”

Her breath shuddered into her lungs, heavy with the need to sob, but she straightened her shoulders. “No. I’m fine.”

She was always fine. In eight years, she hadn’t broken down. She’d done her duties. Raised her sister. Taken care of Signor Bartolini. And even planned a real future when she enrolled in university for next semester. She had everything under control. She did not need a shoulder to cry on, someone to take care of her. She was strong.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want one more night with Mic. One night when she wouldn’t feel alone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mic understood Lily avoiding him the next few days at the restaurant, but he didn’t like it. He scheduled himself for the same day off that she had, but she didn’t go to the coffeehouse as she had on her other day off.

He sat in the quiet bistro, waiting for her, not quite sure what he expected. He only knew that kiss had been explosive. The way she’d clung to him gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, a need to protect her so fierce it threatened to consume him.

After tossing his coffee cup into the trash on the way out, he pushed open the door and breathed the very cold air of Monte Calanetti in January. He decided to take a walk, but didn’t get too far before he saw Lily coming out of an older, but renovated building. He stopped. Not seeing him, she turned to the left and headed up the street. He stared at the building. She’d struggled after he’d left. So what was she doing coming out of a newly renovated building this early in the morning? Unless this was the home of her lover?

Jealousy, swift and hot, raged through him. He followed her up the street, keeping a safe distance, not quite sure what he expected to see. The coffeehouse was in the other direction. So he knew she wasn’t going for coffee for her lover. But maybe a bagel from the bakery?

That quickened his steps. He didn’t know why he cared so much. He’d had lovers over the past eight years. But Lily … was his. Or had been. Maybe it was time to remember that?

He nearly turned to walk away, but she shifted to the right, across the street, toward the fountain.

The place where wishes come true?

He shook his head, thinking that was crazy, then his thoughts speeded up. What if she was wishing for him? Wishing things were different?

He crossed the street and walked up to her as she stood staring at the water that rose then fell almost like a melody.

“Hey.”

She turned as if he’d startled her. “Hey.”

Her knit cap had been pulled low to protect her from the cold, calling attention to her round brown eyes. The long hair beneath the cap curled around her shoulders.

His heart stuttered. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman as beautiful.

“Here to make a wish?”

Her lips turned down in self-deprecation. “Sounds silly.”

He rifled in his pocket for a coin. “Or maybe good?”

“I’m not wishing for you.”

He laughed. “That’s my Lily. Get right to the point.”

“Would you rather I was dishonest?”

He’d rather she was in his bed. Warm. Naked. Laughing. But he didn’t know if sleeping together would bring them closer or drive them further apart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hating her anymore either.

So maybe it was better to let them be friends. He presented the coin to her. “Whatever your wish, I hope it comes true.”

She took the coin and tossed it with a laugh. “Maybe I should wish for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Oh, now you can’t tell a man that, toss a coin and expect me to walk away. Especially since I know the legend.”

Studying his silly expression and not sure if he was teasing, Lily said, “That wishes in this fountain come true?”

“That the wishes of people who can get their coin in the clam shell come true.” He smiled and pointed. “You made it.”

She laughed and her soul lifted. It was the first time the man in Mic’s body behaved like the Mic she remembered.

“So what are you doing at a fountain on a cold morning?”

“Same thing you are.”

She smiled. “Walls of your house closing in on you?”

“Tired of sitting on my mattress, watching reruns of televisions shows on my tablet. When my aunt and uncle asked me to condo-sit, they neglected to tell me that the place was empty.”

She laughed.

His smile faded. “We really blew it, didn’t we?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The sadness in his voice told the story.

“Not really.” She caught the gaze of his beautiful blue eyes, took in the short hair that was growing on her, and smiled. “Mic, we were kids. Neither one of us had the ability to make enough money. And you became the man you wanted to be. The success. That’s not blowing it.”

“So what did you do after I left?” He glanced away then looked back at her, his eyes searching hers. “My God, Lily, if you didn’t think the two of us together could support us, how did you do it alone?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. The longing to be honest warred with her hatred of sympathy. In the end, honesty won. “I lost our apartment.”

He cursed.

“Melony and I lived on the street for a week before Signor Bartolini found us one night.”

He ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t terrible. He needed a maid and as a household servant, I got living quarters.”

She could see from his expression that he disapproved. Her chin lifted. “Many good people start out as maids.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I’m not criticizing your choice. I’m sad that you’d rather starve than depend on me.”

“Oh, yeah. And how well were you faring in France, on the pittance a first-time apprentice makes?”

“I was fine.”

Pride forced her chin up even higher. “We were fine too. And when he died, Signor Bartolini left me enough money for Melony’s education, and my condo. I did as well for myself as I could.”

Unable to stand the sympathy in his eyes, she turned and walked away.

“Lily!”

Her walk became a run. How dare he insinuate that she had somehow failed?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Having chased after her, Mic entered the building housing her condo. As he’d hoped, her last name was on one of the mail slots, but when he rang to be let up, no one answered.

The next day at work, she couldn’t run from him. Or so he thought. Every time he tried to get a minute with her, privately, to apologize, to finish talking this out, she had an immediate need to be away from him.

He cursed.

Rafe sighed heavily. “In my kitchen, only I curse.”

“Apologies, Chef Rafe.”

“Accepted,” Rafe said, casually, knowing it was his due.

Mic would have laughed, except his stomach was in knots.

“You and Lily,” Rafe said as he raised the lid on a pot of marinara. “I forgot you had a past when I invited you to work with us. You both are tense.”

“This time it’s my fault. Yesterday, we met at the fountain. I made her feel bad.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t my intention. Everything between us just keeps getting confused.”

“You should have resolved your problems eight years ago.”

He looked up at Rafe. “I thought we had.”

“You don’t resolve anything by leaving.”

He knew that now. With eight years of life experience under his belt, things were all very, very clear. It was the present he couldn’t fix. “So much has happened in both of our lives that now we’re like strangers.”

“You aren’t like strangers. You are strangers.” Rafe took a long sniff of the marinara, pronounced it good with a nod and looked at Mic again. “She’s a good woman. A strong woman. Not a woman prone to silliness. When she wouldn’t marry you eight years ago, she had a good reason. So maybe it’s better you let her alone.”

Mic glanced at the door. She’d had a good reason, all right. She didn’t trust that he could support her and her sister. God knows how long she’d spent desperately trying to scrape together the money to keep their apartment, then the week on the street before Bartolini had taken her in. The trouble she’d endured shattered him.

She entered the kitchen for two bowls of wedding soup. Her spine was stiff and straight. Her eyes downcast.

He walked over to the pot and took the ladle from her hand. “I will get this.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. You are always fine.” He waited a beat. Long enough for her gaze to rise and meet his. “And I am sorry.” He meant that he was sorry for what happened the day before but when her eyes darkened with hope, he sucked in a breath, caught her hand. “I should have come back the next day. I should have pounded on your door until you would have talked to me. I should have known you loved me.”

She said, “We were young.” But her gaze clung to his.

They weren’t young now. They were both free. A world of opportunities awaited him, and her responsibilities to her sister had been fulfilled.

Would it really be so wrong to try again?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lily scampered out of the kitchen, careful not to slosh her soup. But as the door swung closed behind her, she heard Chef Rafe say, “I thought we decided it is best for you to stay away from her?”

Mic said, “Yeah.” He paused a second, as if considering that, then he said, “But we’re not kids and I’m only here for a few weeks. There’s nothing wrong with us spending some time together.”

Her steps faltered. Another woman might have been insulted that he was thinking of her only as a lover. Maybe even entertainment while he was here. Not someone to keep in his life permanently. But she knew the past would never allow them to have another relationship. And if that wasn’t enough, he was going to Paris and in a few months she’d be renting out her condo and moving to Florence. But she still desperately wanted her one more night.

So when Mila suggested they go to Pia’s Tavern after work and she heard Mic agreeing, she accepted the invitation too. Except she didn’t go directly from Mancini’s to Pia’s. She raced to her condo, showered, fixed her hair and put on makeup and her best jeans and sweater before she left for the local tavern.

When she entered, the short, round bartender was adjusting the channel on the television above the shelves of whiskey, gin and rum behind the shiny wood bar. Flames from the old stone fireplace in the back kept the January cold at bay. In the far corner, playing darts, was the crew from Mancini’s.

As Lily’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed everybody but Rafe seemed to have needed the night out. Their demanding, hyper-vigilant chef was not in attendance.

But Mic was. He’d taken off his chef’s smock and wore jeans and a bright blue sweater that made the color of his eyes seem even bluer. He stood beside Allegra, holding her arm back, showing her how to throw a dart, but Lily didn’t get jealous of the intimate pose. She knew when Mic was romantically interested in someone. A certain look came to his eyes. That look wasn’t there for Allegra.

She slid out of her old black wool coat, hung it on a convenient hook near the dartboard.

When Mic heard her, he glanced up.

“Wanna buy a friend a beer?”

His eyes darkened, then warmed, and she smiled. That was the look he got when he was interested in someone.

“Sure.”

He motioned for the bartender, who came and took orders. Lily ambled to a table when the bartender brought her beer and Mic followed her.

He slid to the seat across from her. “You changed clothes.”

She smiled. “I don’t get out much. I wanted to look nice.”

“Liar. You changed for me.”

She laughed. “So you’re getting smart enough not to accept my silly lies.”

“The last one wasn’t silly.”

“No, but I thought it was necessary.” She sucked in a breath to change the conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the past or the future. She wanted to be with him. “And here we are. Eight years later. Eight years smarter. And neither one of us coy.” She met his gaze. “Would you like to come back to my condo with me?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mic almost spit out his beer. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Lily’s condo with her.

It was what she wanted. He could see it in her eyes. But something wasn’t quite right. They’d never made love just for sex. It had always been about love. And what she suggested now, a hook up, gave him an odd feeling he couldn’t quite interpret.

So he left the decision to chance. “How about if we play darts for it?”

She laughed. “What?”

“If you beat me, we do as you wish.”

She rose from the table. “Wow. I’ve never had a man turn me down before.”

Jealousy speared his heart as he also rose. “There have been many?”

She laughed and took his arm, leading him to the dartboard. “There was no one.”

He said, “What?” but she ignored him, walking to the board and removing the darts for them to play.

The thought that she’d spent eight years celibate rattled through him. Confusion destroyed his dart game, and she easily beat him. And he wondered if that hadn’t actually been her plan.

He met her gaze. “Looks like you get your wish.”

She smiled and reached for her coat on the hook, but he grabbed it before she could and held it for her to slide on. “So we go back to your condo now?”

She turned, her eyes bright with humor. “You must be invited again?”

His heart kicked. He hadn’t realized how much he’d longed for her smile, her presence, until that very second. With the pretense gone and all questions answered, he just wanted to be with her.

“No. I don’t need to be asked twice.”

She headed for the exit. He followed her, opening the door when they reached it, and she walked into the cold night.

Still, as much as he wanted to be with her, something about this troubled him.

“So you worked for Signor Bartolini for eight years?”

“Actually he died a while back. But Melony and I were there for years. He made his home our home.”

He took comfort in that, and relaxed a little. But her statement that there had been no one for her since their relationship popped into his head again, haunting him in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

She’d spent the time they were apart truly alone. A sign that she’d had trouble forgetting him—forgetting what they’d had. She’d genuinely sacrificed so he could live his dream. The power of it humbled him.

He pulled the collar up on his jacket. “It’s really cold.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her simple black wool coat. “Our coldest January in a long time.”

Moonlight spilled over the streets and the glistening water of the fountain.

“You never did tell me your wish.”

“Because I want it to come true.”

He laughed and caught her hand, joy filling his heart. Maybe the thing to do would be forget the past and let this night happen.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

They walked into her building bundled together like longtime lovers sharing secrets. When they entered the elevator, Mic caught her hand, swung her to face him and kissed her. She murmured her pleasure, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across hers, sending chill bumps to her toes.

The elevator bell rang. She heard the doors swish open, but they didn’t stop kissing. Feelings and sensations returned in long, elegant waves of arousal that wound through her, warming her and filling her heart with joy.

The elevator door swished closed again, but Rafe pulled away and swatted the “open” button. As the doors slid apart again, he scooped Lily into his arms.

“Which door?”

“Two,” she said, nuzzling her nose into his neck which was scented with a combination of aftershave and man. She would have thought this a dream, but the muscles beneath her fingers were solid and strong. He was solid and strong. She’d missed him in a way that had slowed her heartbeat and stolen her soul, and now he was here and she was in his arms.

Easy strides took him to her door. She rummaged in her jeans pocket for the key and, leaning back, punched it into the lock and opened the door.

He stepped inside, took a quick glance at her simple furnishings and said, “Nice.” But he didn’t slow his steps. He strode back the short hall to the last room and dumped her on the bed.

She squealed with delight and rolled away when he would have fallen on her, a game they used to play all those years ago. He caught her arm and brought her back to him, but she scooted away again. They tumbled across the bed like two kids before he finally stopped them by pinning her beneath him.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

It was so wonderful, so perfect, to feel his weight on her, to feel his heartbeat thrumming down into her breast. “Only you think so.”

He blew his breath out in a sound of disbelief. “You don’t look around. I see how the apprentices and cooks stare at you. Not to mention customers.”

“Then maybe you should kiss me to make sure I never notice them.”

He laughed and did as she’d asked, but not in the playful way she’d expected. The kiss was slow and deep, merging their mouths, awakening their souls. A lazy haze enveloped her. When he pulled away, she caught his arm to stop him.

“Coat,” he said, jerking off his jacket.

She quickly reached for the buttons of her black wool coat, but he nudged her hands away so he could undo them. As each popped, a piece of her coat slid away. His eyes darkened.

She levered herself up, so he could remove the garment. But she didn’t wait painstaking minutes he was taking. She sat up a little more, put her hands at the bottom of her sweater and jerked it over her head.

He kissed her then. Desire trembled through her, along with her first shadow of doubt. After their breakup, she hadn’t been able to even look at a man in eight years. Was it smart to spend one more night with the man who seemed to ruin her for other men?

Mic awakened hours later. He glanced at the clock. Three-thirty. He needed to be at Mancini’s at seven, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Snuggled into his side was beautiful Lily, the only woman he’d ever loved.

As he got out of bed to dress, he took in her simple bedroom. Airy lace curtains. A comforter of soft colors for beauty and warmth. Thick rugs on hardwood floors. Dressed now, he walked into the living room, seeing it was the same. Warm colors. Simple furniture that spoke of ease and use. No showpiece. No art. Her apartment was a home.

He hadn’t thought of home in a long time. And knew that was because the only woman he had ever wanted to settle down with was in the room down the hall.

There were no ifs, no buts, no ands, no maybes. His life was exciting, but cold and frequently empty. Lily filled up the empty spaces in his heart, gave his life meaning … gave him a sense that he wasn’t just a piece of talent. He was somebody.

Fate had given him another chance to have the woman he loved. And if he walked away without asking her to marry him, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lily was just about asleep again when Mic returned to the bedroom. Eyes closed, she rolled to her side. “I thought you were leaving. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

She felt his weight on the bed beside her and opened her eyes.

“I forgot something very, very important.”

“Really? You look totally dressed to me. Is there a sock under the bed?”

“No.” He glanced away then gazed at her again. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

She laughed. “Of course, I think about the future.”

“No. I mean do you ever really think about the future.” He motioned to the bed. “How this affects our future?”

She studied his serious face, the odd look in his eyes. She had no idea what could take him from her happy lover to this serious man … then it hit her. She and Mic hadn’t ever had a one-night stand. They’d been serious about each other from their first night. Lovers who intended to marry. This night didn’t fit them.

“You worry that you’re going to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you again.”

His serious tone pinched her heart. There was no way she’d let him regret making love. No way she’d have him leave thinking she was a charity case. She wasn’t.

Before he could say anything, she sat up. “Look, Melony isn’t the only one who got money for school from Signor Bartolini. I let Melony get enrolled and settle in before me to give her a sense of freedom, a chance to find friends without me hanging about. But next month I’ll be joining her in Florence.”

His face fell. “You’re going to school?”

She stroked his arm. “Yes. I get to live my dream too.”

He studied her face. “You have a dream?”

“You think I didn’t?” She sat up a little farther in bed, determined not to let him feel sorry for her or regret their time together, even though her heart splintered. Did he really have so little feeling for her that he didn’t see how this conversation would hurt her? Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to say, “Take me to Paris with you.”

But he wouldn’t take her to Paris with him. He wouldn’t be so bold as to ask again, and she wouldn’t be so humiliated as to beg.

“I love art. I visited so many museums that I swear I know more than the curators.” She laughed, working to hide the weird feeling in her heart that nudged her to admit she loved him and beg him to give her a second chance. She had to preserve her pride. She’d known this was only a one-night thing. She could not embarrass herself. “That’s what I want to be.”

“And you have already enrolled?”

“Si. Tuition is paid. I am okay, Mic.” She squeezed his arm. “You do not have to take care of me or worry about me. I’m very good alone.”

He rose from the bed. His eyes skimmed her face and she prayed for the strength not to cry.

“And this is what you want?”

She nodded. “This is what I want.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded again.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, then.” He turned to the door. “I will see you at Mancini’s.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mic cursed the cruelties of fate when Lily arrived at Mancini’s a few hours after him. He had, it seemed, lost his chance. For one shining moment in time eight years ago, his path and Lily’s path had synced. But because he’d gotten hurt rather than investigate why she refused his marriage proposal, he had lost her. After the sacrifice she’d made so that he could live his dream, he could not deprive her of hers by asking her to forget university and move to Paris with him.

But it was hard to work with her, to watch her happily go through the day as if nothing was wrong when his heart was broken. So he was glad when the call came in from his aunt, telling him that her condo had sold.

Not wasting a second, he thanked Rafe for giving him something to do for the weeks that could have been long and boring. Then he walked into the dining room to find Lily.

When he called her name, she faced him with a smile.

“My aunt’s condo sold.”

Her happy smile faded. “Oh.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I am leaving.”

“You’re leaving now?” She blinked. “I thought maybe you could come by again tonight.”

He couldn’t handle the pain of it. He especially couldn’t trust himself not to beg her to give up her dream and follow him to Paris.

“I must leave now.”

He turned and walked out of Mancini’s, his heart hurting, but proud of himself for not asking her to give up her dream for him.

He drove to the condo and packed his duffel bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked to his car, got in and headed for Paris.

Lily fell to a chair in the dining room. Mila raced over. “Are you okay?”

“He’s gone.”

Mila glanced at the door. “You mean, Chef Mic?”

“Si.” Seeing the confused look on Mila’s face, Lily bounced out of her chair. She hadn’t played such a good role in the bedroom that morning for Mic, only to ruin it this afternoon by falling apart in front of her friends.

She pasted a smile on her face as she fought the sting of tears. “I am fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Losing him the first time had killed her, but letting him go this time had a ring of finality to it. He would never be back … and even if he did come back to visit Rafe, neither of them would be so foolish as to let their heart get involved again.

Mic only got five miles before he cursed and slapped the steering wheel. He could not believe fate was so cruel to bring them together only to tear them apart.

But he also knew he could not ask her to sacrifice for him one more time. She had a life, dreams …

Hell, she had a right to her dreams. God knew, he was living his. There were no fewer than eight restaurants that wanted him. He could—and had—named his price. While she’d been stuck in Monte Calanetti, he could go anywhere he wanted—

He stopped his thoughts. He could go anywhere he wanted. Including Florence. He might not be able to ask her to give up her dream for him, but he sure could give up one little restaurant for her.

He turned his car around with a screech of tires.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lily pulled herself together as best she could, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed to go home and cry this out.

She walked into the kitchen to ask Chef Rafe if she could have the afternoon off, but the back door opened and Mic walked in.

Her heart sped up, then slowed to a crawl. He was probably back for something he forgot. She turned and raced out of the kitchen just in time to see Gino escort customers to a table. She grabbed her order pad.

She got as far as saying, “Today’s specials are …” when she was lifted off her feet and swung around.

She blinked a few times and Mic’s face came into focus. “Mic?”

“Si.”

“What are you doing!”

“I’m taking you with me.”

“To Paris?” At first the idea thrilled her. She couldn’t bear to be without him. Then the whole thing sunk in. He was taking her to a city she didn’t know with no promise of a future. No mention of love.

“Put me down!”

“No. I lost you once. I’m not losing you again.” The words were nice, sweet, and filled her heart with such hope it almost burst, but they weren’t enough.

“I’m not going to Paris.”

“Good because I’m not going to Paris either.”

By this point, they were at Gino’s Maître D podium. He reached behind him and slid her coat off its hanger. Handing it to her, usually gruff Gino grinned. “It’s cold out there. You’re going to need this.”

She caught the coat as they whipped by Gino. “Mic!”

He set her down beside his car. “Eight years ago, you gave us up so I could live my dream. Now, I give up one measly restaurant so you can live your dream.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I can work anywhere I want!” He waved his arms as if to indicate the world. “I have two offers in Florence.”

“And you’re coming with me?”

“No. We’re going together. We’re getting married. And then we’ll both live our dreams.”

Her mouth fell. Her head spun. Her heart almost believed him. “But we don’t know each other.”

“We’ve always known each other.” He paused, stepped closer. “Always loved each other.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Your heart tells me.”

Her lips trembled.

“You don’t believe me?”

When she said nothing, he shook his head. “What is wrong?”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say … that I love you?” He laughed. “I love you. I adore you. I have always adored you. And I will not let you tell me no this time.”

A laugh broke through her tears. She bounced to her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Then I say yes. Yes. I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”

She barely got the words out of her mouth before he kissed her and for the first time in eight years Lily Norelli was whole again.

A Bride for the Italian Boss

The Vineyards of Calanetti Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun…

Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino.

Empty for months, rumors of a new owner are spreading like wildfire…and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!

It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?

Find out in this fabulously heartwarming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon® romance!

A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier

Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye Available August 2015

Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas

Soldier, Hero…Husband? by Cara Colter

His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson

The Best Man & the Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter

His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace

SUSAN MEIER is an author of over fifty books for Mills & Boon. The Tycoon’s Secret Daughter was a RITA® Award finalist, and Nanny for the Millionaire’s Twins won the Book Buyer’s Best award and was a finalist in the National Reader’s Choice awards. She is married and has three children. One of eleven children, she loves to write about the complexity of families and totally believes in the power of love.

I want to thank the lovely editors at Mills & Boon for creating such a great continuity! Everyone involved LOVED this idea. Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

ITALY HAD TO BE the most beautiful place in the world.

Daniella Tate glanced around in awe at the cobblestone streets and blue skies of Florence. She’d taken a train here, but now had to board a bus for the village of Monte Calanetti.

After purchasing her ticket, she strolled to a wooden bench. But as she sat, she noticed a woman a few rows over, with white-blond hair and a slim build. The woman stared out into space; the faraway look in her eyes triggered Daniella’s empathy. Having grown up a foster child, she knew what it felt like to be alone, sometimes scared, usually confused. And she saw all three of those emotions in the woman’s pretty blue eyes.

An announcement for boarding the next bus came over the public address system. An older woman sitting beside the blonde rose and slid her fingers around the bag sitting at her feet. The pretty blonde rose, too.

“Excuse me. That’s my bag.”

The older woman spoke in angry, rapid-fire Italian and the blonde, speaking American English, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.”

But the older woman clutched the bag to her and very clearly told the American that it was her carry-on.

Daniella bounced from her seat and scurried over. She faced the American. “I speak Italian, perhaps I can help?” Then she turned to the older woman. In flawless Italian, she asked if she was sure the black bag was hers, because there was a similar bag on the floor on the other side.

The older woman flushed with embarrassment. She apologetically gave the bag to the American, grabbed her carry-on and scampered off to catch her bus.

The pretty blonde sighed with relief and turned her blue eyes to Daniella. “Thank you.”

“No problem. When you responded in English it wasn’t a great leap to assume you didn’t speak the language.”

The woman’s eyes clouded. “I don’t.”

“Do you have a friend coming to meet you?”

“No.”

Dani winced. “Then I hope you have a good English-to-Italian dictionary.”

The American pointed to a small listening device. “I’ve downloaded the ‘best’ language system.” She smiled slightly. “It promises I’ll be fluent in five weeks.”

Dani laughed. “It could be a long five weeks.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Daniella, by the way.”

The pretty American hesitated, but finally shook Daniella’s hand and said, “Louisa.”

“It’s my first trip to Italy. I’ve been teaching English in Rome, but my foster mother was from Tuscany. I’m going to use this final month of my trip to find her home.”

Louisa tilted her head. “Your foster mother?”

Dani winced. “Sorry. I’m oversharing.”

Louisa smiled.

“It’s just that I’m so excited to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” She didn’t mention that her longtime boyfriend had proposed the day before she left for her teaching post in Rome. That truly would be oversharing, but also she hadn’t known what to make of Paul’s request to marry him. Had he proposed before her trip to tie her to him? Or had they hit the place in their relationship where marriage really was the next step? Were they ready? Was marriage right for them?

Too many questions came with his offer of marriage. So she hadn’t accepted. She’d told him she would answer him when she returned from Italy. She’d planned this February side trip to be a nice, uncomplicated space of time before she settled down to life as a teacher in the New York City school system. Paul had ruined it with a proposal she should have eagerly accepted, but had stumbled over. So her best option was not to think about it until she had to.

Next month.

“I extended my trip so I could have some time to bum around. See the village my foster mother came from, and hopefully meet her family.”

To Daniella’s surprise, Louisa laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

The understanding in Louisa’s voice caused Danielle to brighten again, thinking they had something in common. “So you’re a tourist, too?”

“No.”

Dani frowned. Louisa’s tone in that one simple word suddenly made her feel as if she’d crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

Louisa sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit nervous. You were kind to come to my rescue. I don’t mean to be such a ninny. I’m on my way to Monte Calanetti.”

Daniella’s mouth fell open. “So am I.”

The announcement that their bus was boarding came over the loudspeaker. Danielle faced the gate. Louisa did, too.

Dani smiled. “Looks like we’re off.”

“Yes.” Louisa’s mysterious smile formed again.

They boarded the bus and Daniella chose a spot in the middle, believing that was the best place to see the sights on the drive to the quaint village. After tucking her backpack away, she took her seat.

To her surprise, Louisa paused beside her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Daniella happily said, “Of course, I don’t mind! That would be great.”

But as Louisa sat, Daniella took note again that something seemed off about her. Everything Louisa did had a sense of hesitancy about it. Everything she said seemed incomplete.

“So you have a month before you go home?”

“All of February.” Daniella took a deep breath. “And I intend to enjoy every minute of it. Even if I do have to find work.”

“Work?”

“A waitressing job. Or maybe part-time shop clerk. That kind of thing. New York is a very expensive place to live. I don’t want to blow every cent I made teaching on a vacation. I’ll need that money when I get back home. So I intend to earn my spending money while I see the sights.”

As the bus eased out of the station, Louisa said, “That’s smart.”

Dani sat up, not wanting to miss anything. Louisa laughed. “Your foster mother should have come with you.”

Pain squeezed Daniella’s heart. Just when she thought she was adjusted to her loss, the reality would swoop in and remind her that the sweet, loving woman who’d saved her was gone. She swallowed hard. “She passed a few months ago. She left me the money for my plane ticket to Italy in her will.”

Louisa’s beautiful face blossomed with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. That was careless of me.”

Daniella shook her head. “No. You had no way of knowing.”

Louisa studied her. “So you have no set plans? No schedule of things you want to see and do? No places you’ve already scouted out to potentially get a job?”

“No schedule. I want to wing it. I’ve done a bit of research about Rosa’s family and I know the language. So I think I’ll be okay.”

Louisa laughed. “Better off than I’ll be since I don’t know the language.” She held up her listening device. “At least not for another five weeks.”

The bus made several slow turns, getting them out of the station and onto the street.

Taking a final look at Florence, Dani breathed, “Isn’t this whole country gorgeous?” Even in winter with barren trees, the scene was idyllic. Blue skies. Rolling hills.

“Yes.” Louisa bit her lip, then hesitantly said, “I’m here because I inherited something, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She paused, studied Daniella’s face as if assessing if she could trust her before continuing, “A villa.”

“Oh, my God! A villa!”

Louisa glanced away. “I know. It’s pretty amazing. The place is called Palazzo di Comparino.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Yes.” She pulled out a picture of a tall, graceful house. Rich green vines grew in rows in the background beneath a blue sky.

It was everything Dani could do not to gape in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

Louisa laughed. “Yes. But so far I haven’t seen anything in Italy that isn’t gorgeous.” She winced. “I hate to admit it, but I’m excited.”

“I’d be beyond excited.”

“I’m told Monte Calanetti developed around Palazzo Chianti because of the vineyard which is part of the villa I inherited. Back then, they would have needed lots of help picking grapes, making the wine. Those people are the ancestors of the people who live there now.”

“That is so cool.”

“Yes, except I know nothing about running a vineyard.”

Daniella batted a hand. “With the internet these days, you can learn anything.”

Louisa sucked in a breath. “I hope so.”

Daniella laid her hand on Louisa’s in a show of encouragement. “You’ll be fine.”

Louise’s face formed another of her enigmatic smiles and Daniella’s sixth sense perked up again. Louisa appeared to want to be happy, but behind her smile was something...

Louisa brought her gaze back to Daniella’s. “You know, I could probably use a little help when I get there.”

“Help?”

“I don’t think I’m just going to move into a villa without somebody coming to question me.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m going to be at a loss if they’re speaking Italian.”

Dani winced. “Especially if it’s the sheriff.”

Louisa laughed. “I don’t even know if they have sheriffs here. My letter is in English, but the officials are probably Italian. It could turn out to be a mess. So, I’d be happy to put you up for a while.” She caught Dani’s gaze. “Even all four weeks you’re looking for your foster mom’s relatives—if you’d be my translator.”

Overwhelmed by the generous offer, Daniella said, “That would be fantastic. But I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“You’ll certainly earn your keep if somebody comes to check my story.”

Daniella grinned. “I’d be staying in a villa.”

Louisa laughed. “I own a villa.”

“Okay, then. I’d be happy to be your translator while I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Glad for the friendship forming between them, Daniella engaged Louisa in conversation as miles of hills and blue, blue sky rolled past them. Then suddenly a walled village appeared to the right. The bus turned in.

Aged, but well-maintained stucco, brick and stone buildings greeted them. Cobblestone streets were filled with happy, chatting people. Through the large front windows of the establishments, Dani could see the coffee drinkers or diners inside while outdoor dining areas sat empty because of the chilly temperatures.

The center circle of the town came into view. The bus made the wide turn but Dani suddenly saw a sign that read Palazzo di Comparino. The old, worn wood planks had a thick black line painted through them as if to cancel out the offer of vineyard tours.

Daniella grabbed Louisa’s arm and pointed out the window. “Look!”

“Oh, my gosh!” Louisa jumped out of her seat and yelled, “Stop!”

Daniella rose, too. She said, “Fermi qui, per favore.”

It took a minute for the bus driver to hear and finally halt the bus. After gathering their belongings, Louisa and Daniella faced the lane that led to Louisa’s villa. Because Dani had only a backpack and Louisa had two suitcases and a carry-on bag, Daniella said, “Let me take your suitcase.”

Louisa smiled. “Having you around is turning out to be very handy.”

Daniella laughed as they walked down the long lane that took them to the villa. The pale brown brick house soon became visible. The closer they got, the bigger it seemed to be.

Louisa reverently whispered, “Holy cow.”

Daniella licked her suddenly dry lips. “It’s huge.”

The main house sprawled before them. Several stories tall, and long and deep, like a house with suites not bedrooms, Louisa’s new home could only be described as a mansion.

They silently walked up the stone path to the front door. When they reached it, Louisa pulled out a key and manipulated the lock. As the door opened, the stale, musty scent of a building that had been locked up for years assaulted them. Dust and cobwebs covered the crystal chandelier in the huge marble-floored foyer as well as the paintings on the walls and the curved stairway.

Daniella cautiously stepped inside. “Is your family royalty?”

Louisa gazed around in awe. “I didn’t think so.”

“Meaning they could be?”

“I don’t know.” Louisa turned to the right and walked into a sitting room. Again, dust covered everything. A teacup sat on a table by a dusty chair. Passing through that room, they entered another that appeared to be a library or study. From there, they found a dining room.

Watermarks on the ceiling spoke of damage from a second-floor bathroom or maybe even the roof. The kitchen was old and in need of remodeling. The first-floor bathrooms were outdated, as was every bathroom in the suites upstairs.

After only getting as far as the second floor, Louisa turned to Daniella with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the house would be in such disrepair. From the picture, it looked perfect. If you want to get a hotel room in town, I’ll understand.”

“Are you kidding?” Daniella rolled Louisa’s big suitcase to a stop and walked into the incredibly dusty, cobweb-covered bedroom. She spun around and faced Louisa. “I love it. With a dust rag, some cleanser for the bathroom and a window washing, this room will be perfect.”

Louisa hesitantly followed Daniella into the bedroom. “You’re an optimist.”

Daniella laughed. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t need to call a contractor about a few things. But we can clean our rooms and the kitchen.”

* * *

Raffaele Mancini stared at Gino Scarpetti, a tall, stiff man, who worked as the maître d’ for Mancini’s, Rafe’s very exclusive, upscale, Michelin-starred restaurant located in the heart of wine country.

Mancini’s had been carefully crafted to charm customers. The stone and wood walls of the renovated farmhouse gave the place the feel of days long gone. Shutters on the windows blocked the light of the evening sun, but also added to the Old World charisma. Rows of bottles of Merlot and Chianti reminded diners that this area was the home of the best vineyards, the finest wines.

Gino ripped off the Mancini’s name tag pinned to his white shirt. “You, sir, are now without a maître d’.”

A hush fell over the dining room. Even the usual clink and clatter of silverware and the tinkle of good crystal wineglasses halted.

Gino slapped the name tag into Rafe’s hand. Before Rafe could comment or argue, the man was out the door.

Someone began to clap. Then another person. And another. Within seconds the sophisticated Tuscany restaurant dining room filled with the sounds of applause and laughter.

Laughter!

They were enjoying his misery!

He looked at the line of customers forming beside the podium just inside the door, then the chattering diners laughing about his temper and his inability to keep good help. He tossed his hands in the air before he marched back to the big ultramodern stainless-steel restaurant kitchen.

“You!”

He pointed at the thin boy who’d begun apprenticing at Mancini’s the week before. “Take off your smock and get to the maître d’ stand. You are seating people.”

The boy’s brown eyes grew round with fear. “I...I...”

Rafe raised a brow. “You can’t take names and seat customers?”

“I can...”

“But you don’t want to.” Rafe didn’t have to say anything beyond that. He didn’t need to say, “If you can’t obey orders, you’re fired.” He didn’t need to remind anyone in his kitchen that he was boss or that anyone working in the restaurant needed to be able to do anything that needed to be done to assure the absolute best dining experience for the customers. Everyone knew he was not a chef to be trifled with.

Except right now, in the dining room, they were laughing at him.

The boy whipped off his smock, threw it to a laundry bin and headed out to the dining room.

Seeing the white-smocked staff gaping at him, Rafe shook his head. “Get to work!”

Knives instantly rose. The clatter of chopping and the sizzle of sautéing filled the kitchen.

He sucked in a breath. Not only was his restaurant plagued by troubles, but now it seemed the diners had no sympathy.

“You shouldn’t have fired Gino.” Emory Danoto, Rafe’s sous-chef, spoke as he worked. Short and bald with a happy face and nearly as much talent as Rafe in the kitchen, Emory was also Rafe’s mentor.

Rafe glanced around, inspecting the food prep, pretending he was fine. Damn it. He was fine. He did not want a frightened rabbit working for him. Not even outside the kitchen. And the response of the diners? That was a fluke. Somebody apparently believed it was funny to see a world-renowned chef tortured by incompetents.

“I didn’t fire Gino. He quit.”

Emory cast him a condemning look. “You yelled at him.”

Rafe yelled, “I yell at everybody.” Then he calmed himself and shook his head. “I am the chef. I am Mancini’s.”

“And you must be obeyed.”

“Don’t make me sound like a prima donna. I am doing what’s best for the restaurant.”

“Well, Mr. I’m-Doing-What’s-Best-for-the-Restaurant, have you forgotten about our upcoming visit from the Michelin people?”

“A rumor.”

Emory sniffed a laugh. “Since when have we ever ignored a rumor that we were to be visited? Your star rating could be in jeopardy. You’re the one who says chefs who ignore rumors get caught with their pants down. If we want to keep our stars, we have to be ready for this visit.”

Rafe stifled a sigh. Emory was right, of course. His trusted friend only reminded him of what he already knew. Having located his business in the countryside, instead of in town, he’d made it even more exclusive. But that also meant he didn’t get street traffic. He needed word of mouth. He needed every diner to recommend him to their friends. He needed to be in travel brochures. To be a stop for tour buses. To be recommended by travel agents. He couldn’t lose a star.

The lunch crowd left. Day quickly became night. Before Rafe could draw a steady breath the restaurant filled again. Wasn’t that the way of it when everything was falling apart around you? With work to be done, there was no time to think things through. When the last patron finally departed and the staff dispersed after the kitchen cleaning, Rafe walked behind the shiny wood bar, pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, along with a glass, and slid onto a tall, black, wrought iron stool.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, he yelled, “We’re closed.” Then grimaced. Was he trying to get a reputation for being grouchy rather than exacting?

“Good thing I’m not a customer, then.”

He swiveled around at the sound of his friend Nico Amatucci’s voice.

Tall, dark-haired Nico glanced at the whiskey bottle, then sat on a stool beside Rafe. “Is there a reason you’re drinking alone?”

Rafe rose, got another glass and set it on the bar. He poured whiskey into the glass and slid it to Nico. “I’m not drinking alone.”

“But you were going to.”

“I lost my maître d’.”

Nico raised his glass in salute and drank the shot. “You’re surprised?”

“I’m an artist.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“That, too.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to be. I just want things done correctly. I’ll spread the word tomorrow that I’m looking for someone. Not a big deal.” He made the statement casually, but deep down he knew he was wrong. It was a big deal. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the week or two it’ll take to collect résumés and interview people. I need somebody tomorrow.”

Nico raised his glass to toast. “Then, you, my friend, are in trouble.”

Didn’t Rafe know it.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT MORNING, Daniella and Louisa found a tin of tea and some frozen waffles in a freezer. “We’re so lucky no one had the electricity shut off.”

“Not lucky. The place runs off a generator. We turn it on in winter to keep the pipes from freezing.”

Daniella and Louisa gasped and spun around at the male voice behind them.

A handsome dark-haired man stood in the kitchen doorway, frowning at them. Though he appeared to be Italian, he spoke flawless English. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ll let you finish your breakfast, but this is private property.”

Louisa’s chin lifted. “I know it’s private property. I’m Louisa Harrison. I inherited this villa.”

The man’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose you have proof of that?”

“Actually, I do. A letter from my solicitor.” She straightened her shoulders. “I think the better question is, who are you?”

“I’m Nico Amatucci.” He pointed behind him. “I live next door. I’ve been watching over this place.” He smiled thinly. “I’d like to see the letter from your solicitor. Or—” he pulled out his cell phone “—should I call the police?”

Louisa brushed her hands down her blue jeans to remove the dust they’d collected when she and Daniella had searched for tea. “No need.”

Not wanting any part of the discussion, Daniella began preparing the tea.

“And who are you?”

She shrugged. “Just a friend of Louisa’s.”

He sniffed as if he didn’t believe her. Not accustomed to being under such scrutiny, Daniella focused all her attention on getting water into the teapot.

Louisa returned with the letter. When Nico reached for it, she held it back. “Not so fast. I’ll need the key you used to get in.”

He held Louisa’s gaze. Even from across the room, Daniella felt the heat of it.

“Only if your papers check out.” His frosty smile could have frozen water. “Palazzo di Comparino has been empty for years. Yet, suddenly here you are.”

“With a letter,” she said, handing it to Nico.

He didn’t release her gaze as he took the letter from her hands, and then he scanned it and peered at Louisa again. “Welcome to Palazzo di Comparino.”

Daniella let out her pent-up breath.

Louisa held his gaze. “Just like that? How do you know I didn’t fake this letter?”

Giving the paper back to her, he said, “First, I knew the name of the solicitor handling the estate. Second, there are a couple of details in the letter that an outsider wouldn’t know. You’re legit.”

Though Daniella would have loved to have known the details, Louisa didn’t even seem slightly curious. She tucked the sheet of paper into her jeans pocket.

Nico handed his key to Louisa as he glanced around the kitchen. “Being empty so long, the place is in disrepair. So if there’s anything I can do to help—”

Louisa cut him off with a curt “I’m fine.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. Daniella didn’t know if he was unaccustomed to his offers of assistance being ignored, or if something else was happening here, but the kitchen became awkwardly quiet.

When Daniella’s teapot whistled, her heart jumped. Always polite, she asked, “Can I get anyone tea?”

Watching Louisa warily, Nico said, “I’d love a cup.”

Drat. He was staying. Darn the sense of etiquette her foster mother had drilled into her.

“I’ll make some later,” Louisa said as she turned and walked out of the kitchen, presumably to put the letter and the key away.

As the door swung closed behind her, Nico said, “She’s a friendly one.”

Daniella winced. She’d like to point out to Mr. Nico Amatucci that he’d been a tad rude when he’d demanded to see the letter from the solicitor, but she held her tongue. This argument wasn’t any of her business. She had enough troubles of her own.

“Have you known Ms. Harrison long?”

“We just met. I saw someone mistakenly take her bag and helped because Louisa doesn’t speak Italian. Then we were on the same bus.”

“Oh, so you hit the jackpot when you could find someone to stay with.”

Daniella’s eyes widened. The man was insufferable. “I’m not taking advantage of her! I just finished a teaching job in Rome. Louisa needs an interpreter for a few weeks.” She put her shoulders back. “And today I intend to go into town to look for temporary work to finance a few weeks of sightseeing.”

He took the cup of tea from her hands. “What kind of work?”

His softened voice took some of the wind out of her sails. She shrugged. “Anything really. Temp jobs are temp jobs.”

“Would you be willing to be a hostess at a restaurant?”

Confused, she said, “Sure.”

“I have a friend who needs someone to fill in while he hires a permanent replacement for a maître d’ who just quit.”

Her feelings for the mysterious Nico warmed a bit. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all? “Sounds perfect.”

“Do you have a pen?”

She nodded, pulling one from her purse.

He scribbled down the address on a business card he took from his pocket. “Go here. Don’t call. Just go at lunchtime and tell Rafe that Nico sent you.” He nodded at the card he’d handed to her. “Show him that and he’ll know you’re not lying.”

He set his tea on the table. “Tell Ms. Harrison I said goodbye.”

With that, he left.

Glad he was gone, Daniella glanced at the card in her hands. How could a guy who’d so easily helped her have such a difficult time getting along with Louisa?

She blew her breath out on a long sigh. She supposed it didn’t matter. Eventually they’d become friends. They were neighbors after all.

Daniella finished her tea, but Louisa never returned to the kitchen. Excited to tell Louisa of her job prospect, Dani searched the downstairs for her, but didn’t find her.

The night before they’d tidied two bedrooms enough that they could sleep in them, so she climbed the stairs and headed for the room Louisa had chosen. She found her new friend wrestling with some bedding.

“What are you doing?”

“I saw a washer and dryer. I thought I’d wash the bedclothes so our rooms really will be habitable tonight.”

She raced to help Louisa with the huge comforter. “Our rooms were fine. We don’t need these comforters, and the sheets had been protected from the dust by the comforters so they were clean. Besides, these won’t fit in a typical washer.”

Louisa dropped the comforter. “I know.” Her face fell in dismay. “I just need to do something to make the place more livable.” Her gaze met Daniella’s. “There’s dust and clutter...and watermarks that mean some of the bathrooms and maybe even the roof need to be repaired.” She sat on the bed. “What am I going to do?”

Dani sat beside her. “We’re going to take things one step at a time.” She tucked Nico’s business card into her pocket. “This morning, we’ll clean the kitchen and finish our bedrooms. Tomorrow, we’ll pick a room and clean it, and every day after that we’ll just keep cleaning one room at a time.”

“What about the roof?”

“We’ll hope it doesn’t rain?”

Louisa laughed. “I’m serious.”

“Well, I have a chance for a job at a restaurant.”

“You do?”

She smiled. “Yes. Nico knows someone who needs a hostess.”

“Oh.”

She ignored the dislike in her friend’s voice. “What better way to find a good contractor than by chitchatting with the locals?”

Louisa smiled and shook her head. “If anybody can chitchat her way into finding a good contractor, it’s you.”

“Which is also going to make me a good hostess.”

“What time’s your appointment?”

“Lunchtime.” She winced. “From the address on this card, I think we’re going to have to hope there’s a car in that big, fancy garage out back.”

* * *

Standing behind the podium in the entry to Mancini’s, Rafe struggled with the urge to throw his hands in the air and storm off. On his left, two American couples spoke broken, ill-attempted Italian in an effort to make reservations for that night. In front of him, a businessman demanded to be seated immediately. To his right, a couple kissed. And behind them, what seemed to be a sea of diners groused and grumbled as he tried to figure out a computer system with a seating chart superimposed with reservations.

How could no one in his kitchen staff be familiar with this computer software?

“Everybody just give me a minute!”

He hit a button and the screen disappeared. After a second of shock, he cursed. He expected the crowd to groan. Instead they laughed. Laughed. Again, laughter!

How was it that everybody seemed to be happy that he was suffering? These people—customers—were the people he loved, the people he worked so hard to please. How could they laugh at him?

He tried to get the screen to reappear, but it stayed dark.

“Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.”

He glanced up to see an American, clearly forgetting she was in Italy because she spoke English as she made her way through the crowd. Cut in an angled, modern style, her pretty blond hair stopped at her chin. Her blue eyes were determined. The buttons of her black coat had been left open, revealing jeans and pale blue sweater.

When she reached the podium, she didn’t even look at Rafe. She addressed the gathered crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said in flawless Italian. “Give me two minutes and everyone will be seated.”

His eyebrows rose. She was a cheeky little thing.

When she finally faced him, her blue eyes locked on his. Rich with color and bright with enthusiasm, they didn’t merely display her confidence, they caused his heart to give a little bounce.

She smiled and stuck out her hand. “Daniella Tate. Your friend Nico sent me.” When he didn’t take her hand, her smile drooped as she tucked a strand of yellow hair behind her ear. But her face brightened again. She rifled in her jeans pocket, pulled out a business card and offered it to him. “See?”

He glanced at Nico’s card. “So he believes you are right to be my hostess?”

“Temporarily.” She winced. “I just finished a teaching position in Rome. For the next four weeks I’m sightseeing, but I’m trying to supplement my extended stay with a temp job. I think he thinks we can help each other—at least while you interview candidates.”

The sweet, melodious tone of her voice caused something warm and soft to thrum through Rafe, something he’d never felt before—undoubtedly relief that his friend had solved his problem.

“I see.”

“Hey, buddy, come on. We’re hungry! If you’re not going to seat us we’ll go somewhere else.”

Not waiting for him to reply, Daniella nudged Rafe out of the way, stooped down to find a tablet on the maître d’ stand shelf and faced the dining area. She quickly drew squares and circles representing all the tables and wrote the number of chairs around each one. She put an X over the tables that were taken.

Had he thought she was cheeky? Apparently that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She faced the Americans. “How many in your party?”

“Four. We want reservations for tonight.”

“Time?”

“Seven.”

Flipping the tablet page, she wrote their name and the time on the next piece of paper. As the Americans walked out, she said, “Next?”

Awestruck at her audacity, Rafe almost yelled.

Almost.

He could easily give her the boot, but he needed a hostess. He had a growing suspicion about the customers laughing when he lost his temper, as if he was becoming some sort of sideshow. He didn’t want his temper to be the reason people came to his restaurant. He wanted his food, the fantastic aromas, the succulent tastes, to be the draw. Wouldn’t he be a fool to toss her out?

The businessman pushed his way over to her. “I have an appointment in an hour. I need to be served first.”

Daniella Tate smiled at Rafe as if asking permission to seat the businessman, and his brain emptied. She really was as pretty as she was cheeky. Luckily, she took his blank stare as approval. She turned to the businessman and said, “Of course, we’ll seat you.”

She led the man to the back of the dining room, to a table for two, seated him with a smile and returned to the podium.

Forget about how cheeky she was. Forget about his brain that stalled when he looked at her. She was a very good hostess.

Rafe cleared his throat. “Talk to the waitresses and find out whose turn it is before you seat anyone else.” He cleared his throat again. “They have a system.”

She smiled at him. “Sure.”

His heart did something funny in his chest, forcing his gaze to her pretty blue eyes again. Warmth whooshed through him.

Confused, he turned and marched away. With so much at stake in his restaurant, including, it seemed, his reputation, his funny feelings for an employee were irrelevant. Nothing. Whatever trickled through his bloodstream, it had to be more annoyance than attraction. After all, recommendation from Nico or not, she’d sort of walked in and taken over his restaurant.

* * *

Dani stared after the chef as he left. She wasn’t expecting someone so young...or so gorgeous. At least six feet tall, with wavy brown hair so long he had it tied off his face and gray eyes, the guy could be a celebrity chef on television back home. Just looking at him had caused her breathing to stutter. She actually felt a rush of heat careen through her veins. He was that good-looking.

But it was also clear that he was in over his head without a maître d’. As she’d stood in the back of the long line to get into the restaurant, her good old-fashioned American common sense had kicked in, and she’d simply done what needed to be done: pushed her way to the front, grabbed some menus and seated customers. And he’d hired her.

Behind her someone said, “You’d better keep your hair behind your ears. He’ll yell about it being in your face and potentially in his food once he gets over being happy you’re here.”

She turned to see one of the waitresses. Dressed in black trousers and a white blouse, she looked slim and professional.

“That was happy?”

Her pretty black ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “Sì. That was happy.”

“Well, I’m going to hate seeing him upset.”

“Prepare yourself for it. Because he gets upset every day. Several times a day. That’s why Gino quit. I’m Allegra, by the way. The other two waitresses are Zola and Giovanna. And the chef is Chef Mancini. Everyone calls him Chef Rafe.”

“He said you have a system of how you want people seated?”

Allegra took Daniella’s seating chart and drew two lines dividing the tables into three sections. “Those are our stations. You seat one person in mine, one person in Zola’s and one person in Gio’s, then start all over again.”

Daniella smiled. “Easy-peasy.”

“Scusi?”

“That means ‘no problem.’”

“Ah. Sì.” Allegra smiled and walked away. Daniella took two more menus and seated another couple.

The lunchtime crowd that had assembled at the door of Mancini’s settled quickly. Dani easily found a rhythm of dividing the customers up between the three waitresses. Zola and Gio introduced themselves, and she actually had a good time being hostess of the restaurant that looked like an Old World farmhouse and smelled like pure heaven. The aromas of onions and garlic, sweet peppers and spicy meats rolled through the air, making her confident she could talk up the food and promise diners a wonderful meal, even without having tasted it.

During the lull after lunch, Zola and Gio went home. The dining room grew quiet. Not sure if she should stay or leave, since Allegra remained to be available for the occasional tourist who ambled in, Daniella stayed, too.

In between customers, she helped clear and reset tables, checked silverware to make sure it sparkled, arranged chairs so that everything in the dining room was picture-perfect.

But soon even the stragglers stopped. Daniella stood by the podium, her elbow leaning against it, her chin on her closed fist, wondering what Louisa was doing.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Rafe’s voice sent a surge of electricity through her.

She turned with a gasp. Her voice wobbled when she said, “I thought you’d need me for dinner.”

“You were supposed to go home for the break. Or are you sneakily trying to get paid for hours you really don’t work?”

Her eyes widened. Anger punched through her. What the hell was wrong with this guy? She’d done him a favor and he was questioning her motives?

Without thinking, she stormed over to him. Putting herself in his personal space, she looked up and caught his gaze. “And how was I supposed to know that, since you didn’t tell me?”

She expected him to back down. At the very least to realize his mistake. Instead, he scoffed. “It’s common sense.”

“Well, in America—”

He cut her off with a harsh laugh. “You Americans. Think you know everything. But you’re not in America now. You are in Italy.” He pointed a finger at her nose. “You will do what I say.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to do what you say as soon as you say something!”

Allegra stopped dropping silverware onto linen-covered tables. The empty, quiet restaurant grew stone-cold silent. Time seemed to crawl to a stop. The vein in Rafe’s temple pulsed.

Dani’s body tingled. Every employee in the world knew it wasn’t wise to yell at the boss, but, technically, she wasn’t yelling. She was standing up to him. As a foster child, she’d had to learn how to protect herself, when to stay quiet and when to demand her rights. If she let him push her around now, he’d push her around the entire month she worked for him.

He threw his hands in the air, pivoted away from her and headed to the kitchen. “Go the hell home and come back for dinner.”

Daniella blew out the breath she’d been holding. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, but the tingling in her blood became a surge of power. He might not have said the words, but she’d won that little battle of wills.

Still, she felt odd that their communication had come down to a sort of yelling match and knew she had to get the heck out of there.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the old green car she and Louisa had found in the garage.

Ten minutes later, she was back in the kitchen of Palazzo di Comparino.

Though Louisa had sympathetically made her a cup of tea, she laughed when Daniella told her the story.

“It’s not funny,” Dani insisted, but her lips rose into a smile when she thought about how she must have looked standing up to the big bad chef everybody seemed to be afraid of. She wouldn’t tell her new friend that standing up to him had put fire in her blood and made her heart gallop like a prize stallion. She didn’t know what that was all about, but she did know part of it, at least, stemmed from how good-looking he was.

“Okay. It was a little funny. But I like this job. It would be great to keep it for the four weeks I’m here. But he didn’t tell me what time I was supposed to go back. So we’re probably going to get into another fight.”

“Or you could just go back at six. If he yells that you’re late, calmly remind him that he didn’t give you the time you were to return. Make it his fault.”

“It is his fault.”

Louisa beamed. “Exactly. If you don’t stand up to him now, you’ll either lose the job or spend the weeks you work for him under his thumb. You have to do this.”

Dani sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking Louisa’s advice, she returned to the restaurant at six. A very small crowd had built by the maître d’ podium, and when she entered, she noticed that most of the tables weren’t filled. Rafe shoved a stack of menus at her and walked away.

She shook her head, but smiled at the next customers in line. He might have left without a word, but he hadn’t engaged her in a fight and it appeared she still had her job.

Maybe the answer to this was to just stay out of his way?

The evening went smoothly. Again, the wonderful scents that filled the air prompted her to talk up the food, the waitstaff and the wine.

After an hour or so, Rafe called her into the kitchen. Absolutely positive he had nothing to yell at her about, she straightened her shoulders and walked into the stainless-steel room and over to the stove where he stood.

“You wanted to see me?”

He presented a fork filled with pasta to her. “This is my signature ravioli. I hear you talking about my dishes, so I want you to taste so you can honestly tell customers it is the best food you have ever eaten.”

She swallowed back a laugh at his confidence, but when her lips wrapped around the fork and the flavor of the sweet sauce exploded on her tongue, she pulled the ravioli off the fork and into her mouth with a groan. “Oh, my God.”

“It is perfect, sì?”

“You’re right. It is probably the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

Emory, the short, bald sous-chef, scrambled over. “Try this.” He raised a fork full of meat to her lips.

She took the bite and again, she groaned. “What is that?”

“Beef brasato.”

“Oh, my God, that’s good.”

A younger chef suddenly appeared before her with a spoon of soup. “Minestrone,” he said, holding the spoon out to her.

She drank the soup and closed her eyes to savor. “You guys are the best cooks in the world.”

Everyone in the kitchen stopped. The room fell silent.

But Emory laughed. “Chef Rafe is one of the best chefs in the world. These are his recipes.”

She turned and smiled at Rafe. “You’re amazing.”

She’d meant his cooking was amazing. His recipes were amazing. Or maybe the way he could get the best out of his staff was amazing. But saying the words while looking into his silver-gray eyes, the simple sentence took on a totally different meaning.

The room grew quiet again. She felt her face reddening. Rafe held her gaze for a good twenty seconds before he finally pointed at the door. “Go tell that to customers.”

She walked out of the kitchen, licking the remains of the fantastic food off her lips as she headed for the podium. With the exception of that crazy little minute of eye contact, tasting the food had been fun. She loved how proud the entire kitchen staff seemed to be of the delicious dishes they prepared. And she saw the respect they had for their boss. Chef Rafe. Clearly a very talented man.

With two groups waiting to be seated, she grabbed menus and walked the first couple to a table. “Right this way.”

“Any specialties tonight?”

She faced the man and woman behind her, saying, “I can honestly recommend the chef’s signature ravioli.” With the taste of the food still on her tongue, she smiled. “And the minestrone soup is to die for. But if you’re in the mood for beef, there’s a beef brasato that you’ll never forget.”

She said the words casually, but sampling the food had had the oddest effect on her. Suddenly she felt part of it. She didn’t merely feel like a good hostess who could recommend the delicious dishes because she’d tasted them. She got an overwhelming sense that she was meant to be here. The feeling of destiny was so strong it nearly overwhelmed her. But she drew in a quiet breath, smiled at the couple and seated them.

Sense of destiny? That was almost funny. Children who grew up in foster care gave up on destiny early, and contented themselves with a sense of worth, confidence. It was better to educate yourself to be employable than to dally in daydreams.

As the night went on, Rafe and his staff continued to give her bites and tastes of the dishes they prepared. As she became familiar with the items on the menu, she tempted guests to try things. But she also listened to stories of the sights the tourists had seen that day, and soothed the egos of those who spoke broken Italian by telling stories of teaching English as a second language in Rome.

And the feeling that she was meant to be there grew, until her heart swelled with it.

* * *

Rafe watched her from the kitchen door. Behind him, Emory laughed. “She’s pretty, right?”

Rafe faced him, concerned that his friend had seen their thirty seconds of eye contact over the ravioli and recognized that Rafe was having trouble seeing Daniella Tate as an employee because she was so beautiful. When she’d called him amazing, he’d struggled to keep his gaze off her lips, but that didn’t stop the urge to kiss her. It blossomed to life in his chest and clutched the air going into and out of his lungs, making them stutter. He’d needed all of those thirty seconds to get ahold of himself.

But Emory’s round face wore his usual smile. Nothing out of the ordinary. No light of recognition in his eyes. Rafe’s unexpected reactions hadn’t been noticed.

Rafe turned back to the crack between the doors again. “She’s chatty.”

“You did tell her to talk up the food.” Emory sidled up to the slim opening. “Besides, the customers seem to love her.”

“Bah!” He spun away from the door. “We don’t need for customers to love her. They come here for the food.”

Emory shrugged. “Maybe. But we’re both aware Mancini’s was getting to be a little more well-known for your temper than for its meals. A little attention from a pretty girl talking up your dishes might just cure your reputation problem. Put the food back in the spotlight instead of your temper.”

“I still think she talks too much.”

Emory shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

Rafe crossed his arms on his chest. He would suit himself. He was famous for suiting himself. That was how he’d gotten to be a great chef. By learning and testing until he created great meals. And he wanted the focus on those meals.

The first chance he got, he intended to have a talk with Daniella Tate.

CHAPTER THREE

AT THE END of the night, when the prep tables were spotless, the kitchen staff raced out the back door. Rafe ambled into the dining room as the waitresses headed for the front door, Daniella in their ranks.

Stopping behind the bar, he called, “No. No. You...Daniella. You and I need to talk.”

Her steps faltered and she paused. Eventually, she turned around. “Sure. Great.”

Allegra and Gio tossed looks of sympathy at her as the door closed softly behind them.

Her shoulders straightened and she walked over to him. “What is it?”

“You are chatty.”

She burst out laughing. “I know.” As comfortable as an old friend, she slid onto a bar stool across from him. “Got myself into a lot of trouble in school for that.”

“Then you will not be offended if I ask you to project a more professional demeanor with the customers?”

“Heck, no. I’m not offended. I think you’re crazy for telling me not to be friendly. But I’m not offended.”

Heat surged through Rafe’s blood, the way it had when she’d nibbled the ravioli from his fork and called him amazing. But this time he was prepared for it. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that got him going, why their arguments fired his blood and their pleasant encounters made him want to kiss her, but he did know he had to control it.

He pulled a bottle of wine from the rack beneath the bar and poured two glasses. Handing one of the glasses to her, he asked, “Do you think it’s funny to argue with your boss?”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m giving you my opinion.”

He stayed behind the bar, across from her so he could see her face, her expressive blue eyes. “Ah. So, now I understand. You believe you have a right to an opinion.”

She took a sip of the wine. “Maybe not a right. But it’s kind of hard not to have an opinion.”

He leaned against the smooth wooden surface between them, unintentionally getting closer, then finding that he liked it there because he could smell the hint of her perfume or shampoo. “Perhaps. But a smart employee learns to stifle them.”

“As you said, I’m chatty.”

“Do it anyway.”

She sucked in a breath, pulling back slightly as if trying to put space between them. “Okay.”

He laughed. “Okay? My chatty hostess is just saying okay?”

“It’s your restaurant.”

He saluted her with his wineglass. “At least we agree on something.”

But when she set her glass on the bar, slid off the stool and headed for the door, his heart sank.

He shook his head, grabbed the open bottle of wine and went in the other direction, walking toward the kitchen where he would check the next day’s menu. It was silly, foolish to be disappointed she was leaving. Not only did he barely know the woman, but he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend. His instincts might be thinking of things like kissing, but he hadn’t dated in four years. He had affairs and one-night stands. And a smart employer didn’t have a one-night stand with an employee. Unless he wanted trouble. And he did not.

He’d already had one relationship that had almost destroyed his dream. He’d fallen so hard for Kamila Troccoli that when she wasn’t able to handle the demands of his schedule, he’d pared it back. Desperate to keep her, he’d refused plum apprenticeships, basically giving up his goal of being a master chef and owning a chain of restaurants.

But she’d left him anyway. After a year of building his life around her, he’d awakened one morning to find she’d simply gone. It had taken four weeks before he could go back to work, but his broken heart hadn’t healed until he’d realized relationships were for other men. He had a dream that a romance had nearly stolen from him. A wise man didn’t forget hard lessons, or throw them away because of a pretty girl.

Almost at the kitchen door, he stopped. “And, Daniella?”

She faced him.

“No jeans tomorrow. Black trousers and a white shirt.”

* * *

Daniella raced to her car, her heart thumping in her chest. Having Rafe lean across the bar, so close to her, had been the oddest thing. Her blood pressure had risen. Her breathing had gone funny. And damned if she didn’t want to run her fingers through his wavy hair. Unbound, it had fallen to his shoulders, giving him the look of a sexy pirate.

The desire to touch him had been so strong, she would have agreed to anything to be able to get away from him so she could sort this out.

And just when she’d thought she was free, he’d said her name. Daniella. The way it had rolled off his tongue had been so sexy, she’d shuddered.

Calling herself every kind of crazy, she got into Louisa’s old car and headed home. A mile up the country road, she pulled through the opening in the stone wall that allowed entry to Monte Calanetti. Driving along the cobblestone street, lit only by streetlights, she marveled at the way her heart warmed at the quaint small town. She’d never felt so at peace as she did in Italy, and she couldn’t wait to meet her foster mother’s relatives. Positive they’d make a connection, she could see herself coming to Italy every year to visit them.

She followed the curve around the statue in the town square before she made the turn onto the lane for Palazzo di Comparino. She knew Louisa saw only decay and damage when she looked at the crumbling villa, but in her mind’s eye Dani could see it as it was in its glory days. Vines heavy with grapes. The compound filled with happy employees. The owner, a proud man.

A lot like Rafe.

She squeezed her eyes shut when the familiar warmth whooshed through her at just the thought of his name. What was it about that guy that got to her? Sure, he was sexy. Really sexy. But she’d met sexy men before. Why did this one affect her like this?

Louisa was asleep, so she didn’t have anyone to talk with about her strange feelings. But the next morning over tea, she told Louisa everything that had happened at the restaurant, especially her unwanted urge to touch Rafe when he leaned across the bar and was so close to her, and Louisa—again—laughed.

“This is Italy. Why are you so surprised you’re feeling everything a hundred times more passionately?”

Dani’s eyes narrowed. Remembering her thoughts about Monte Calanetti, the way she loved the quaint cobblestone streets, the statue fountain in the middle of the square, the happy, bustling people, she realized she did feel everything more powerfully in Italy.

“Do you think that’s all it is?”

“Oh, sweetie, this is the land of passion. It’s in the air. The water. Something. As long as you recognize what it is, you’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” She rose from the table. “I also hope there’s a thrift shop in town. I have to find black trousers and a white blouse. Rafe doesn’t like my jeans.”

Louisa laughed as she, too, rose from the table. “I’ll bet he likes your jeans just fine.”

Daniella frowned.

Louisa slid her arm across her shoulder. “Your butt looks amazing in jeans.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Louisa gave her a confused look, then shook her head. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’re both reacting extremely to each other. That it’s not just you feeling everything, and that’s why it’s so hard to ignore?”

“You think he’s attracted to me?”

“Maybe. Dani, you’re pretty and sexy.” She laughed. “And Italian men like blondes.”

Daniella frowned. “Oh, boy. That just makes things worse.”

“Or more fun.”

“No! I have a fiancé. Well, not a fiancé. My boyfriend asked me to marry him right before I left.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

She winced. “Yeah.”

“And he proposed right before you left?”

“Yes.”

Louisa sighed. “I guess that rules out an affair with your sexy Italian boss.”

Daniella’s eyes widened. “I can’t have an affair!”

“I know.” Louisa laughed. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs and see what’s in my suitcases. I have to unpack anyway. I’m sure I have black pants and a white shirt.”

“Okay.”

Glad the subject had changed, Daniella walked with Louisa through the massive downstairs to the masterpiece stairway.

Louisa lovingly caressed the old, worn banister. “I feel like this should be my first project. Sort of like a symbol that I intend to bring this place back to life.”

“Other people might give the kitchen or bathrooms a priority.”

Louisa shook her head. “The foyer is the first thing everyone sees when they walk in. I want people to know I’m committed and I’m staying.”

“I get it.”

It took ten minutes to find the black pants and white shirt in Louisa’s suitcase, but Dani remained with Louisa another hour to sort through her clothes and hang them in the closet.

When it was time to leave, she said goodbye to Louisa and headed to the restaurant for the lunch crowd. She stashed her purse on the little shelf of the podium and waited for someone to unlock the door to customers so she could begin seating everyone.

Rafe himself came out. As he walked to the door, his gaze skimmed over her. Pinpricks of awareness rained down on her. Louisa’s suggestion that he was attracted to her tiptoed into her brain. What would it be like to have this sexy, passionate man attracted to her?

She shook her head. What the heck was she thinking? He was only looking at her to make sure she had dressed appropriately. He was not attracted to her. Good grief. All they ever did was snipe at each other. That was not attraction.

Although, standing up to him did warm her blood...

After opening the door, Rafe strode away without even saying good morning, proving, at least to Dani, that he wasn’t attracted to her. As she seated her first customers, he walked to the windows at the back of the old farmhouse and opened the wooden shutters, revealing the picturesque countryside.

The odd feeling of destiny brought Daniella up short again. This time she told herself it was simply an acknowledgment that the day was beautiful, the view perfect. There was no such thing as someone “belonging” somewhere. There was only hard work and planning.

An hour into the lunch shift, a customer called her over and asked to speak with the chef. Fear shuddered through her.

“Rafe?”

The older man nodded. “If he’s the chef, yes.”

She couldn’t even picture the scene if she called Rafe out and this man, a sweet old man with gray hair, blue eyes and a cute little dimple, complained about the food. So she smiled. “Maybe I can help you?”

“Perhaps. But I would like to speak with the chef.”

Officially out of options, she smiled and said, “Absolutely.”

She turned to find Rafe only a few steps away, his eyes narrowed, his lips thin.

She made her smile as big as she could. “Chef Rafe...” She motioned him over. When he reached her, she politely said, “This gentleman would like to speak with you.”

The dining room suddenly grew quiet. It seemed that everyone, including Daniella, held their breath.

Rafe addressed the man. “Yes? What can I do for you? I’m always happy to hear from my customers.”

His voice wasn’t just calm. It was warm. Dani took a step back. She’d expected him to bark. Instead, he was charming and receptive.

“This is the best ravioli I’ve ever eaten.” The customer smiled broadly. “I wanted to convey my compliments to the chef personally.”

Rafe put his hands together as if praying and bowed slightly. “Grazie.”

“How did you come to pick such a lovely place for a restaurant?”

“The views mostly,” Rafe said, smiling, and Dani stared at him. Those crazy feelings rolled through her again. When it came to his customers he was humble, genuine. And very, very likable.

He turned to her and nodded toward the door. “Customers, Daniella?”

“Yes! Of course!” She pivoted and hurried away to seat the people at the door, her heart thrumming, her nerve endings shimmering. Telling herself she was simply responding to the happy way he chatted with a customer, glad he hadn’t yelled at the poor man and glad everything was going so well, she refused to even consider that her appreciation of his good looks was tipping over into a genuine attraction.

She was so busy she didn’t hear the rest of Rafe’s conversation with the older couple. When they left, Rafe returned to the kitchen and Daniella went about her work. People arrived, she seated them, the staff served them and Rafe milled about the dining room, talking with customers. They gushed over the scene visible through the back windows. And he laughed.

He laughed. And the warmth of his love for his customers filled her. But that still didn’t mean she was attracted to him. She appreciated him, yes. Respected him? Absolutely. But even though he was gorgeous, she refused to be attracted to him. Except maybe physically...the man was gorgeous. And having a boyfriend didn’t mean she couldn’t notice good-looking men... Did it?

When the lunch crowd emptied, and Gio and Zola left, Daniella turned to help Allegra tidy the dining room, but Rafe caught her arm. “Not so fast.”

The touch of his hand on her biceps sent electricity straight to her heart. Which speeded up and sent a whoosh of heat through her blood.

Darn it. She was attracted to him.

But physically. Just physically.

She turned slowly.

Bright with anger, his gaze bored into her. “What in the hell did you think you were doing?”

With electricity careening through her, she pulled in a shaky breath. “When?”

“When the customer asked to speak with me!” He threw his hands in the air. “Did you think I did not see? I see everything! I heard that man ask to speak with me and heard you suggest that he talk to you.”

She sucked in a breath to steady herself. “I was trying to head off a disaster.”

“A disaster? He wanted to compliment the chef and you tried to dissuade him. Did you want the compliment for yourself?”

She gasped. “No! I was worried he was going to complain about the food.” She took a step closer, now every bit as angry as he was. He was so concerned about his own agenda, he couldn’t even tell when somebody was trying to save his sorry butt. “And that you’d scream at him and the whole dining room would hear.”

He matched the step she took. “Oh, really? You saw how I spoke to him. I love my customers.”

She held her ground. Her gaze narrowed on him. Her heart raced. “Yeah, well I know that now, but I didn’t know it when he asked to speak with you.”

“You overstepped your boundaries.” He took another step, and put them so close her whole body felt energized—

Oh, no.

Now she knew what was going on. She didn’t just think Rafe was handsome. She wasn’t just physically attracted to him. She was completely attracted to him. And she wasn’t yelling at him because she was defending herself. She was yelling because it was how he communicated with her. Because he was a stubborn, passionate man, was this how she flirted with him?

Not at all happy with these feelings, she stepped away from him. Softening her voice, she said, “It won’t happen again.”

He laughed. “What? You suddenly back down?”

She peered over at him. Why hadn’t he simply said, “Thank you,” and walked away? That’s what he usually did.

Unless Louisa was right and he was attracted to her, too?

The mere thought made her breathless. She sneaked a peek at him—he was distinguished looking with his long hair tied back and his white smock still crisp and clean after hours of work. The memory of his laughter with the customer fluttered through her, stealing her breath again. He was a handsome man, very, very good at what he did and dedicated to his customers. He could have his pick of women. And he was attracted to her?

Preposterous. She didn’t for a second believe it, but she was definitely attracted to him. And she was going to have to watch her step.

She cleared her throat. “Unless you want me to hang out until the dinner crowd, I’ll be going home now.”

He shook his head. “Do not overstep your boundaries again.”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be very, very careful from here on out.”

* * *

Rafe watched her walk away. His racing heart had stilled. The fire in his blood had fizzled. Disappointment rattled through him. He shook his head and walked back into the kitchen.

“Done yelling at Daniella?”

Rafe scowled at Emory. “She oversteps her place.”

“She’s trying to keep the peace. To keep the customers happy. And, in case you haven’t noticed, they are happy. Today they were particularly happy.”

He sniffed in disdain. “I opened the dining room to the view from the back windows.”

Emory laughed. “Seriously? You’re going with that?”

“All right! So customers like her.”

“And no one seems to be hanging around hoping you’ll lose your temper.”

He scowled.

“She did exactly what we needed to have done. She shifted the temperament in the dining room. Customers are enjoying your food. You should be thrilled to have her around.”

Rafe turned away with a “Bah.” But deep down inside he was thrilled to have her around.

And maybe that wasn’t as much of a good thing as Emory thought it was. Because the whole time he was yelling at her, he could also picture himself kissing her.

Worse, the part of him that usually toed the line wasn’t behaving. That part kept reminding him she was temporary. She might be an employee, but she wasn’t staying forever. He could have an affair with this beautiful, passionate woman and not have to worry about repercussions because in a few weeks, she’d be gone. No scene. No broken heart. No expectations. They could have a delicious affair.

CHAPTER FOUR

DANIELLA RETURNED HOME that night exhausted. Louisa hadn’t waited up for her, but from the open cabinet doors and trash bags sitting by the door, it was apparent she’d begun cleaning the kitchen.

She dragged herself up the stairs, showered and crawled into bed, refusing to think about the possibility that Rafe might be attracted to her. Not only did she have a marriage proposal waiting at home, but, seriously? Her with Rafe? Mr. Unstable with the former foster child who needed stability? That was insanity.

She woke early the next morning and, after breakfast, she and Louisa loaded outdated food from the pantry into even more trash bags.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Louisa shook her head at the bag of garbage she’d just hauled to the growing pile by the door. “We don’t even know what day to set out the trash.”

Busy sweeping the now-empty pantry, Dani said, “You could always ask Nico.”

Louisa rolled her eyes. “I’m not tromping over to his villa to ask about trash.”

“You could call him. I have his card.” She frowned. “Or Rafe has his card. I could ask for it back tonight.”

“No, thanks. I’ll figure this out.”

“Or maybe I could ask the girls at the restaurant? Given that we’re so close to Monte Calanetti, one of them probably lives in the village. She’ll know what day the trash truck comes by.”

Louisa brightened. “Yes. Thank you. That would be great.”

But Dani frowned as she swept the last of the dirt onto her dustpan. Louisa’s refusal to have anything to do with Nico had gone from unusual to impractical. Still, it wasn’t her place to say anything.

She dressed for work in the dark trousers and white shirt Rafe required and drove to the restaurant. Walking in, she noticed that two of the chefs were different, and two of the chefs she was accustomed to seeing weren’t there. The same was true in the dining room. Allegra was nowhere to be seen and in her place was a tall, slim waitress named Mila, short for Milana, who told Daniella it was simply Allegra’s day off and probably the chefs’, too.

“Did you think they’d been fired?” Mila asked with a laugh.

Dani shrugged. “With our boss, you never know.”

Mila laughed again. “Only Chef Rafe works twelve hours a day, seven days a week.”

“I guess I should ask for a schedule, then.”

She turned toward the kitchen but Mila stopped her. “Do yourself a favor and ask Emory about it.”

Thinking that sounded like good advice, she nodded and walked into the kitchen. Emory stood at a stainless-steel prep table in the back of the huge, noisy, delicious-smelling room. Grateful that Rafe wasn’t anywhere in sight, she approached the sous-chef.

“Cara!” he said, opening his arms. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there was a schedule.”

The short, bald man smiled. “Schedule?”

“I’m never really sure when I’m supposed to come in.”

“A maître d’ works all shifts.”

At the sound of Rafe’s voice behind her, she winced, sucked in a breath and faced him. “I can’t work seven days a week, twelve hours a day. I want this month to do some sightseeing. Otherwise, I could have just gone back to New York City.”

He smiled and said, “Ah.”

And Daniella’s heart about tripped over itself in her chest. He had the most beautiful, sexy smile she had ever seen. Directed at her, it stole her breath, weakened her knees, scared her silly.

“You are correct. Emory will create a schedule.”

Surprised at how easy that had been, and not about to hang around when his smile was bringing out feelings she knew were all wrong, she scampered out of the kitchen. Within minutes, Rafe came into the dining room to open Mancini’s doors. As he passed her, he smiled at her again.

When he disappeared behind the kitchen doors, she blew out her breath and collapsed against the podium. What was he doing smiling at her? Dear God, was Louisa right? Was he interested in her?

She paused. No. Rafe was too business oriented to be attracted to an employee. This wasn’t about attraction. It was about her finally finding her footing with him. He hadn’t argued about getting her a schedule. He’d smiled because they were beginning to get along as employer and employee.

Guests began arriving and she went to work. There were enough customers that the restaurant felt busy, but not nearly as busy as they were for dinner. She seated an American couple and walked away but even before she reached the podium, they waved her back.

She smiled. “Having trouble with the Italian?”

The short dark-haired man laughed. “My wife teaches Italian at university. We actually visit every other year. Though this is our first time at Mancini’s.”

“Well, a very special welcome to you, then. What can I help you with?”

He winced. “Actually, we were kind of hoping to just have soup or a salad, but all you have is a full menu.”

“Yes. The chef loves his drama.”

The man’s wife reached over and touched his arm. “I am sort of hungry for this delicious-sounding spaghetti. Maybe we can eat our big meal now and eat light at dinner.”

Her husband laughed. “Fine by me.”

Dani waved Gio over to take their orders, but a few minutes later, she had a similar conversation with a group of tourists who had reservations that night at a restaurant in Florence. They’d stopped at Mancini’s looking for something light, but Rafe’s menu only offered full-course meals.

With the lunchtime crowd thinned and two of the three waitresses gone until dinner, Dani stared at the kitchen door. If she and Rafe really had established a proper working relationship, shouldn’t she tell him what customers told her?

Of course, she should. She shouldn’t be afraid. She should be a good employee.

She headed for the kitchen. “May I speak with you, Chef Rafe?”

His silver-gray eyes met hers. “Yes?”

She swallowed. It was just plain impossible not to be attracted to this guy. “It’s... I... Do you want to hear the things the customers tell me?”

Leaning against his prep table behind him, holding her gaze, he said, “Yes. I always want the opinions of customers.”

She drank in a long breath. The soft, seductive tone of his voice, the way he wouldn’t release her gaze, all reminded her of Louisa’s contention that he was attracted to her. The prospect tied her tongue until she reminded herself that they were at work. And he was dedicated to his diners. In this kitchen, that was all that mattered.

“Okay. Today, I spoke with a couple from the US and a group of tourists, both of whom only wanted soup or salad for lunch.”

“We serve soup and salad.”

“As part of a meal.”

“So they should eat a meal.”

“That was actually their point. They didn’t want a whole meal. Just soup and salad.”

Rafe turned to Emory, his hands raised in question as if he didn’t understand what she was saying.

She tried again. “Look. You want people to come in for both lunch and dinner but you only offer dinners on the menu. Who wants a five-course meal for lunch?”

The silver shimmer in Rafe’s eyes disappeared and he gaped at her. “Any Italian.”

“All right.” So much for thinking he was attracted to her. The tone of his voice was now definitely all business and when it came to his business, he was clearly on a different page than she was. But this time she knew she was right. “Maybe Italians do like to eat that way. But half your patrons are tourists. If they want a big meal, they’ll come at dinnertime. If they just want to experience the joy that is Mancini’s, they’ll be here for lunch. And they’ll probably only want a salad. Or maybe a burger.”

“A burger?” He whispered the word as if it were blasphemy.

“Sure. If they like it, they’ll be back for dinner.”

The kitchen suddenly got very quiet. Every chef in the room and both busboys had turned to face her.

Rafe quietly said, “This is Italy. Tourists want to experience the culture.”

“Yes. You are correct. They do want to experience the culture. But that’s only part of why tourists are here. Most tourists don’t eat two huge meals a day. It couldn’t hurt to put simple salads on the lunch menu, just in case a tourist or two doesn’t want to eat five courses.”

His gray eyes flared. When he spoke, it was slowly, deliberately. “Miss Daniella, you are a tourist playing hostess. I am a world-renowned chef.”

This time the softness of his voice wasn’t seductive. It was insulting and her defenses rose. “I know. But I’m the one in the dining room, talking with your customers—”

His eyes narrowed with anger and she stepped back, suddenly wondering what the hell she was doing. He was her boss. As he’d said, a world-renowned chef. Yet here she was questioning him. She couldn’t seem to turn off the self-defense mechanisms she’d developed to protect herself in middle school when she was constantly teased about not having a home or questioned because her classmates thought being a foster kid meant she was stupid.

She sucked in a long, shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I pushed.”

He gave her a nod that more or less dismissed her and she raced out of the kitchen. But two minutes later a customer asked to speak with Rafe. Considering this her opportunity to be respectful to him, so hopefully they could both forget about their soup and salad disagreement, she walked into the kitchen.

But she didn’t see Rafe.

She turned to a busboy. “Excuse me. Where’s Chef Rafe?”

The young kid pointed at a closed door. “In the office with Emory.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

She headed for the door. Just when she would have pushed it open, she heard Emory’s voice.

“I’m not entirely sure why you argue with her.”

“I argue with her? I was nothing but nice to that girl and she comes into my kitchen and tells me I don’t know my own business.”

Dani winced, realizing they were talking about her.

Emory said, “We need her.”

And Rafe quickly countered with, “You are wrong. Had Nico not sent her, we would have hired someone else by now. Instead, because Nico told her I was desperate, we’re stuck with a woman who thinks we need her, and thinks that gives her the right to make suggestions. Not only do we not need her, but I do not want her here—”

The rest of what Rafe said was lost on Dani as she backed away from the door.

Rafe saying that she wasn’t wanted rolled through her, bringing up more of those memories from middle school before she’d found a permanent foster home with Rosa. The feeling of not being wanted, not having a home, rose in her as if she were still that teenage girl who’d been rejected so many times that her scars burrowed the whole way to her soul.

Tears welled in her eyes. But she fought them, telling herself he was right. She shouldn’t argue with him. But seriously, this time she’d thought she was giving a valuable suggestion. And she’d stopped when she realized she’d pushed too far.

She just couldn’t seem to get her bearings with this guy. And maybe it was time to realize this really wasn’t the job for her and leave.

She pivoted away from the door, raced out of the kitchen and over to Gio. “Um, the guy on table three would like to talk with Rafe. Would you mind getting him?”

Gio studied her face, undoubtedly saw the tears shimmering on her eyelids and smiled kindly. “Sure.”

Dani walked to the podium, intending to get her purse and her coat to leave, but a customer walked in.

* * *

Rafe shook his head as Emory left the office with a laugh. He’d needed to vent and Emory had listened for a few minutes, then he’d shut Rafe down. And that was good. He’d been annoyed that Dani challenged him in front of his staff. But venting to Emory was infinitely better than firing her. Especially since they did need her. He hadn’t even started interviewing for her replacement yet.

He walked into the kitchen at the same time that Gio did. “Chef Rafe, there’s a customer who would like to speak with you.”

He turned to the sink, rinsed his hands and grabbed his towel, before he motioned for Gio to lead him to the customer.

Stepping into the dining room, he didn’t see Dani anywhere, but before he could take that thought any further, he was beside a happy customer who wanted to compliment him on his food.

He listened to the man, scanning the dining room for his hostess. When she finally walked into the dining room from the long hall that led to the restrooms, he sighed with relief. He accepted the praise of his customer, smiled and returned to his work.

An hour later, Dani came into the kitchen. “Chef Mancini, there’s a customer who would like to speak with you.”

Her voice was soft, meek. She’d also called him Chef Mancini, not Chef Rafe, but he didn’t question it. A more businesslike demeanor between them was not a bad thing. Particularly considering that he’d actually wanted to have an affair with her and had been thinking about that all damned day—until they’d gotten into that argument about soup and salad.

Which was why the smile he gave her was nothing but professional. “It would be my pleasure.”

He expected her to say, “Thank you.” Instead, she nodded, turned and left the kitchen without him.

He rinsed his hands, dried them and headed out to the dining room. She waited by a table in the back. When she saw him she motioned for him to come to the table.

As he walked up, she smiled at the customers. She said, “This is Chef Mancini.” Then she strode away.

He happily chatted with the customer for ten minutes, but his gaze continually found Daniella. She hadn’t waited for him in the kitchen, hadn’t looked at him when he came to the table—had only introduced him and left. Her usually sunny smile had been replaced by a stiff lift of her lips. Her bright blue eyes weren’t filled with joy. They were dull. Lifeless.

A professional manner was one thing. But she seemed to be...hurt.

He analyzed their soup-and-salad conversation and couldn’t find anything different about that little spat than any of their disagreements—except that he’d been smiling at her when she walked in, thinking about kissing her. Then they’d argued and he’d realized what a terrible idea kissing her was, and that had shoved even the thought of an affair out of his head.

But that was good. He should not want to get involved with an employee. No matter how pretty.

When the restaurant cleared at closing time, he left, too. He drove to his condo, showered and put on jeans and a cable-knit sweater. He hadn’t been anywhere but Mancini’s in weeks. Not since Christmas. And maybe that was why he was having these odd thoughts about his hostess? Maybe it was time to get out with people again? Maybe find a woman?

He shrugged into his black wool coat, took his private elevator to the building lobby and stepped outside.

His family lived in Florence, but he loved little Monte Calanetti. Rich with character and charm, the stone-and-stucco buildings on the main street housed shops run by open, friendly people. That was part of why he’d located Mancini’s just outside of town. Tourists loved Monte Calanetti for its connections to the past, especially the vineyard of Palazzo di Comparino, which unfortunately had closed. But tourists still came, waiting for the day the vineyard would reopen.

Rafe’s boots clicked on the cobblestone. The chill of the February night seeped into his bones. He put up the collar of his coat, trying to ward off the cold. It didn’t help. When he reached Pia’s Tavern, he stopped.

Inside it would be warm from a fire in the stone fireplace in the back. He could almost taste the beer from the tap. He turned and pushed open the door.

Because it was a weekday, the place was nearly empty. The television above the shelves of whiskey, gin and rum entertained the two locals sitting at the short shiny wood bar. The old squat bartender leaned against a cooler beside the four beer taps. Flames danced in the stone fireplace and warmed the small, hometown bar. As his eyes adjusted to the low lights, Rafe saw a pretty blonde girl sitting alone at a table in the back.

Dani.

He didn’t know whether to shake his head or turn around and walk out. Still, when her blue eyes met his, he saw sadness that sent the heat of guilt lancing though him.

Before he could really think it through, he walked over to her table and sat across from her.

“Great. Just what every girl wants. To sit and have a drink with the boss who yells at her all day.”

He frowned. “Is that why you grew so quiet today? Because I yelled at you? I didn’t yell. I just didn’t take your suggestion. And that is my right. I am your boss.”

She sucked in a breath and reached for her beer. “Yes, I know.”

“You’ve always known that. You ignore it, but you’ve always known. So this time, why are you so upset?”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she reached for her coat and purse as if she intended to go. He caught her arm and stopped her.

Her gaze dropped to his hand, then met his.

Confused, he held her blue, blue eyes, as his fingers slid against her soft pink skin. The idea of having an affair with her popped into his head again. They were both incredibly passionate people and they’d probably set his bedroom on fire, if they could stop arguing long enough to kiss.

“Please. If I did something wrong, tell me—”

An unexpected memory shot through him. He hadn’t cared what a woman thought since Kamila. The reminder of how he’d nearly given up his dream for her froze the rest of what he wanted to say on his tongue and forced him back to business mode.

“If you are gruff with customers I need to know why.”

“I’m not gruff with customers.” Her voice came out wispy and smoky.

“So it’s just me, then?”

“Every time I try to be nice to you, you argue with me.”

He laughed. “When did you try to be nice to me?”

“That suggestion about lunch wasn’t a bad one. And I came to you politely—”

“And I listened until you wouldn’t quit arguing. Then I had to stop you.”

“Yes. But after that you told Emory I wasn’t needed.” She sniffed a laugh. “I heard you telling him you didn’t even want me around.”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “I tell Emory things like that all the time. I vent. It’s how I get rid of stress.”

“Maybe you should stop that.”

He laughed, glad his feisty Dani was returning. “And maybe you should stop listening at the door?”

She shook her head and shrugged out of his hold. “I wasn’t listening. You were talking loud enough that I could easily hear you through the door.”

She rose to leave again. This time he had no intention of stopping her, but a wave of guilt sluiced through him. Her face was still sad. Her blue eyes dull. All because of his attempt to blow off steam.

She only got three steps before he said, “Wait! You are right. I shouldn’t have said you weren’t wanted. I rant to Emory all the time. But usually no one hears me. So it doesn’t matter.”

She stopped but didn’t return to her seat. Standing in the glow of the fireplace, she said, “If that’s an apology, it’s not a very good one.”

No. He supposed it wasn’t. But nobody ever took his rants so seriously. “Why did it upset you so much to hear you weren’t wanted?”

She said nothing.

He rose and walked over to her. When she wouldn’t look at him, he lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “There is a story there.”

“Of course there’s a story there.”

He waited for her to explain, but she said nothing. The vision of her walking sadly around the restaurant filled his brain. He’d insulted hundreds of employees before, trying to get them to work harder, smarter, but from the look in her eyes he could see this was personal.

“Can you tell me?”

She shrugged away again. “So you can laugh at me?”

“I will not laugh!” He sighed, softened his voice. “Actually, I’m hoping that if you tell me it will keep me from hitting that nerve again.”

“Really?”

“I’m not an idiot. I don’t insult people to be cruel. When I vent to Emory it means nothing. When I yell at my employees I’m trying to get the best out of them. With you, everything’s a bit different.” He tossed his hands. He wouldn’t tell her that part of the problem was his attraction. Especially since he went back and forth about pursuing it. Maybe if he’d just decide to take romance off the table, become her friend, things between them would get better? “It might be because you’re American not European. Whatever the case, I’d like to at least know that I won’t insult you again.”

The bartender walked over. He gruffly threw a beer coaster on the table, even though Dani and Rafe stood by the fireplace. “What’ll it be?”

Rafe tugged Dani’s hand. “Come. We’ll get a nice Merlot. And talk.”

She slid her hand out of his, but she did return to her seat. He named the wine he wanted from the bartender, and with a raise of his bushy brows, the bartender scrambled off to get it. When he returned with the bottle and two glasses, Rafe shooed him away, saying he’d pour.

Dani frowned. “No time for breathing?”

He chuckled. “Ah. So she thinks she knows wine?”

Her head lowered. “I don’t.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. The sad demeanor was back. The broken woman. “And all this rolls together with why I insulted you when I said you weren’t wanted?”

She sighed. “Sort of. I don’t know how to explain this so you’ll understand, but the people I’m looking for aren’t my relatives.”

He smiled. “They’re people who owe you money?”

She laughed. The first genuine laugh in hours and the tight ball of tension in Rafe’s gut unwound.

“They are the family of the woman who was my foster mother.”

“Foster mother?”

“I was taken from my mother when I was three. I don’t remember her. In America, when a child has no home, he or she is placed with a family who has agreed to raise her.” She sucked in a breath and took the wineglass he offered her. “Foster parents aren’t required to keep you forever. So if something happens, they can give you back.”

She tried to calmly give the explanation but the slight wobble of her voice when she said “give you back” caused the knot of tension to reform in Rafe’s stomach. He imagined a little blue-eyed, blonde girl bouncing from home to home, hugging a scraggly brown teddy bear, and his throwaway comment about her not being wanted made his heart hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

She sipped her wine. “And right about now, I’m feeling pretty stupid. You’re a grouch. A perfectionist who yells at everyone. I should have realized you were venting.” She met his gaze. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“You do realize you just called me a grouch.”

She took another sip of her wine. “And a perfectionist.” She caught his gaze again. “See? You don’t get offended.”

He laughed.

She smiled.

Longing filled Rafe. For years he’d satisfied himself with one-night stands, but she made him yearn for the connection he’d had only once before. With her he wasn’t Chef Rafe. She didn’t treat him like a boss. She didn’t talk to him like a boss...

Maybe because she had these feelings, too?

He sucked in a breath, met her gaze. “Tell me more.”

“About my life?”

“About anything.”

* * *

She set down her wineglass as little pinpricks of awareness sprung up on her arms.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed for his apology until he’d made it. But now that he was asking to hear about her life, everything inside her stilled. How much to tell? How much to hold back? Why did he want to know? And why did she ache to tell him?

He offered his hand again and she glanced into his face. The lines and planes of his chin and cheeks made him classically handsome. His sexy unbound hair brought out urges in her she hadn’t ever felt. She’d love to run her fingers through it while kissing him. Love to know what it would feel like to have his hair tumble to his face while they made love.

She stopped her thoughts. She had an almost fiancé at home, and Rafe wasn’t the most sympathetic man in the world. He was bold and gruff, and he accepted no less than total honesty.

But maybe that’s what appealed to her? She didn’t want sympathy. She just wanted to talk to someone. To really be heard. To be understood.

“I had a good childhood,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, again nudging his hand toward her.

She didn’t take his hand, so he used it to inch her wine closer. She picked it up again.

“Even as a boy, I was fascinated by cooking.”

She laughed, wondering why the hell she was tempting fate by sitting here with him when she should leave. She might not be engaged but she was close enough. And though she’d love to kiss Rafe, to run her fingers through that wild hair, Paul was stability. And she needed stability.

“My parents were initially put off, but because I also played soccer and roughhoused with my younger brother, they weren’t worried.”

She laughed again. He’d stopped trying to take her hand. And he really did seem to want to talk. “You make your childhood sound wonderful.”

He winced. “Not intentionally.”

“You don’t have to worry about offending me. I don’t get jealous of others’ good lives. Once Rosa took me in, I had a good life.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“She was brave.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Let’s just say I had a wild streak.”

Looking at his hair, which curled haphazardly and made his gray eyes appear shiny and mysterious, Dani didn’t doubt he had lots of women who’d helped his wild streak along.

Still, she ignored the potential to tease, to flirt, and said, “Rosa really was brave. I wasn’t so much of a handful because I got into trouble, but because I was lost.”

“You seem a little lost now, too.”

Drat. She hadn’t told him any of this for sympathy. She was just trying to keep the conversation innocent. “Seriously. You’re not going to feel sorry for me, are you?”

“Not even a little bit. If you’re lost now, it’s your own doing. Something you need to fix yourself.”

“That’s exactly what I believe!”

He toasted. “To us. Two just slightly off-kilter people who make our own way.”

She clinked her glass to his before taking another sip of wine. They finished their drinks in silence, which began to feel uncomfortable. If she were free, she probably would be flirting right now. But she wasn’t.

Grabbing her jacket and purse, she rose from her seat. “I guess I should get going.”

He rose, too. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Her heart kicked against her ribs. The vision of a good-night kiss formed in her brain. The knowledge that she’d be a cheat almost choked her. “There’s no reason.”

“I know. I know. It’s a very peaceful little town. No reason to worry.” He smiled. “Still, I’ve never let a woman walk to her car alone after dark.”

Because that made sense, she said, “Okay.” Side by side they ambled up the sidewalk to the old, battered green car Louisa had lent her.

When they reached it, she turned to him with a smile. “Thank you for listening to me. I actually feel better.”

“Thank you for talking to me. Though I don’t mind a little turmoil in the restaurant, I don’t want real trouble.”

She smiled up at him, caught the gaze of his pretty gray eyes, and felt a connection that warmed her. She didn’t often tell anyone the story of her life, but he had really listened. Genuinely cared.

“So you’re saying yelling is your way of creating the kind of chaos you want?”

“You make me sound like a control freak.”

“You are.”

He laughed. “I know.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes long enough for Dani’s heart to begin to thrum. Knowing they were now crossing a line, she tried to pull away, but couldn’t. Just when she was about to give one last shot at breaking their contact, he bent his head and kissed her.

Heat swooshed through her on a wave of surprise. Her hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength of him, and met at the back of his neck, where rich, thick hair tickled her knuckles. When he coaxed open her mouth, the taste of wine greeted her, along with a thrill so strong it spiraled through her like a tornado. The urge to press herself against him trembled through her. She’d never felt anything so powerful, so wanton. She stepped closer, enjoying sensations so intense they stole her breath.

His hands trailed from her shoulders, down her back to her bottom and that’s when everything became real. What was she doing kissing someone when she had a marriage proposal waiting for her in New York?

CHAPTER FIVE

NOTHING IN RAFE’S life had prepared him for the feeling of his lips against Dani’s. He told himself it was absurd for an experienced man to think one kiss different from another, but even as that thought floated to him, her lips moved, shifted, and need burst through him. She wasn’t a weak woman, his Dani. She was strong, vital, and she kissed like a woman starving for the touch of a man. The kind of touch he longed to give her. And the affair was back on the table.

Suddenly, Dani jumped back, away from him. “You can’t kiss me.”

The wildness in her eyes mirrored the roar of need careening through him. The dew of her mouth was sprinkled on his lips. His heart pounded out an unexpected tattoo, and desire spilled through his blood.

He smiled, crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the old car. “I think I just did.”

“The point is you shouldn’t kiss me.”

“Because we work together?” He glanced to the right. “Bah! You Americans and your puritanical rules.”

“Oh, you hate rules? What about commitments? I’m engaged!”

That stopped the need tumbling through him. That stopped the sweet swell of desire. That made him angry that she’d led him on, and feel stupid that he hadn’t even suspected that a woman as pretty and cheerful as his Dani would have someone special waiting at home.

“I see.”

She took three steps back, moving herself away from her own transportation. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.” She groaned and took another step back. “I didn’t think I was leading you on. We were talking like friends.”

He shoved off the car. “We were.”

“So why’d you kiss me?”

He shrugged, as if totally unaffected, though a witch’s brew of emotions careered through him like a runaway roller coaster. “It felt right.” Everything about her felt right, which only annoyed him more.

She took another step away from him. “Well, it was wrong.”

“If you don’t stop your retreat, you’re going to end up back in the tavern.”

She sucked in a breath.

He opened her car door. “Get in. Go home. We’re fine. I don’t want you skittering around like some frightened mouse tomorrow. Let’s just pretend that little kiss never happened.”

He waited, holding open the door for her until he realized she wouldn’t go anywhere near her car while he stood beside it. Anger punched up again. Still, keeping control, he moved away.

She sighed with relief and slid into her car.

He calmly started the walk to his condo, but when he got inside the private elevator he punched the closed door, not sure if he was angry with himself for kissing her or angry, really angry, that she was engaged. Taken.

He told himself not to care. Were they to have an affair, it would have been short because she was leaving, returning to America.

And even if she wasn’t, even if they’d been perfect for each other, he didn’t do relationships. He knew their cost. He knew he couldn’t pay it.

When the elevator doors opened again, he stepped out and tossed his keys on a convenient table in the foyer of his totally remodeled condo on the top floor of one of Monte Calanetti’s most beautiful pale stone buildings. The quiet closed in on him, but he ignored it. Sometimes the price a man paid for success was his soul. He put everything he had into his meals, his restaurant, his success. He’d almost let one woman steal his dream—he wouldn’t be so foolish as to even entertain the thought a second time.

* * *

The next day he worked his magic in the kitchen, confident his attraction to Dani had died with the words I’m engaged. He didn’t stand around on pins and needles awaiting her arrival. He didn’t think about her walking into the kitchen. He refused to wonder whether she’d be happy or angry. Or ponder the way he’d like to treat her to a full-course meal, watch the light in her eyes while she enjoyed the food he’d prepare especially for her...

Damn it.

What was he doing thinking about a woman who was engaged?

He walked through the dining room, checking on the tables, opening the shutters on the big windows to reveal the striking view, not at all concerned that she was late, except for how it would impact his restaurant. So when the sound of her bubbly laugher entered the dining room, and his heart stopped, he almost cursed.

Probably not seeing him in the back of the dining room, she teased with Allegra and Gio, a clear sign that the kiss hadn’t affected her as much as it had affected him. He remembered the way she’d spoken to him the night before. One minute she was sad, confiding, the next she would say something like, “You should stop that.” Putting him in his place. Telling him what to do. And he wondered, really, who had confided in whom the night before?

Walking to the kitchen, he ran his hand along the back of his neck. Had he really told her about his family? Not that it was any great secret, but his practice was to remain aloof. Yet, somehow, wanting to comfort her had bridged that divide and he’d talked about things he normally kept out of relationships with women.

As he approached a prep table, Emory waved a sheet of paper at him. “I’ve created the schedule for Daniella. I’m giving her two days off. Monday and Tuesday. Two days together, so she can sightsee.”

His heart stuttered a bit, but he forced his brain to focus on work. “And just who will seat people on Monday and Tuesday?”

“Allegra has been asking for more hours. I think she’ll be fine in the position as a stand-in until, as Daniella suggested, we hire two people to seat customers.”

He ignored the comment about Daniella. “Allegra is willing to give up her tips?”

“She’s happy with the hourly wage I suggested.”

“Great. Fine. Wonderful. Maybe you should deal with staff from now on.”

Emory laughed. “This was a one-time thing. A favor to Daniella. I’m a chef, too. I might play second to you, but I’m not a business manager. In fact, you’re the one who’s going to take this to Dani.”

Ignoring the thump of his heart at having to talk to her, Rafe snatched the schedule sheet out of Emory’s hands and walked out of the kitchen, into the dining room.

His gaze searched out Dani and when he found her, their eyes met. They’d shared a conversation. They’d shared a kiss. But she belonged to someone else. Any connection he felt to her stopped now.

He broke the eye contact and headed for Allegra. “Emory tells me you’re interested in earning some extra money and you’re willing to be Dani’s fill-in.”

Her eyes brightened. “Sì.”

“Excellent. You will come in Monday and Tuesday for Dani, then.” He felt Dani’s gaze burning into him, felt his face redden with color like a schoolboy in the same room with his crush. Ridiculous.

He sucked in a breath, pasted a professional smile on his face and walked over to Dani. He handed the sheet of paper to her. “You wanted a schedule. Here is your schedule.”

Her blue eyes rose slowly to meet his. She said, “Thanks.”

The blood in his veins slowed to a crawl. The noise in the dining room disappeared. Every nuance of their kiss flooded his memory. Along with profound disappointment that their first kiss would be their last.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. Why was he thinking these things about a woman who was taken? All he’d wanted was an affair! Now that he knew they couldn’t have one, he should just move on.

“You wanted time off. I am granting you time off.”

He turned and walked away, satisfied that he sounded like his normal self. Because he was his normal self. No kiss...no woman would change him.

Lunch service began. Within minutes, he was caught up in the business of supervising meal prep. As course after course was served, an unexpected thought came to Rafe. An acknowledgment of something Dani had said. He didn’t eat a multicourse lunch. He liked soup and salad. Was Dani right?

* * *

Dani worked her shift, struggling to ward off the tightness in her chest every time Rafe came out of the kitchen. Memories of his kiss flooded her. But the moment of pure pleasure had been darkened by the realization that she had a proposal at home...yet she’d kissed another man. And it had been a great kiss. The kind of kiss a woman loses herself in. The kind of kiss that could have swept her off her feet if she wasn’t already committed.

She went home in between lunch and dinner and joined Louisa on a walk through the house as she mentally charted everything that needed to be repaired. The overwhelmed villa owner wasn’t quite ready to do an actual list. It was as if Louisa needed to get her bearings or begin acclimating to the reality of the property she owned before she could do anything more than clean.

At five, Dani put on the black trousers and white blouse again and returned to the restaurant. The time went more smoothly than the lunch session, mostly because Rafe was too busy to come into the dining room, except when a customer specifically asked to speak with him. When she walked into the kitchen to get him, she kept their exchanges businesslike, and he complied, not straying into more personal chitchat. So when he asked for time with her at the end of the night again, she shivered.

She didn’t think he intended to fire her. He’d just given her a schedule. He also wouldn’t kiss her again. He seemed to respect the fact that there was another man in the picture, even if she had sort of stretched the truth about being engaged. But that was for both of their benefits. She had a proposal waiting. Her life was confusing enough already. There was no point muddying the waters with a fling. No point in leading Rafe on.

She had no idea why he wanted to talk to her, but she decided to be calm about it.

When he walked out of the kitchen, he indicated that she should sit at the bar, while he grabbed a bottle of wine.

After a sip, she smiled. “I like this one.”

“So you are a fan of Chianti.”

She looked at the wine in the glass, watched how the light wove through it. “I don’t know if I’m a fan. But it’s good.” She took a quiet breath and glanced over at him. “You wanted to talk with me?”

“Today, I saw what you meant about lunch being too much food for some diners.”

She turned on her seat, his reply easing her mind enough that she could be comfortable with him. “Really?”

“Yes. We should have a lunch menu. We should offer the customary meals diners expect in Italy, but we should also accommodate those who want smaller lunches.”

“So I made a suggestion that you’re going to use?”

He caught her gaze. “You’re not a stupid woman, Dani. You know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so bold in your comments about the restaurant.”

She grinned. “I am educated.”

He shook his head. “And you have instincts.” He picked up his wineglass. “I’d like you to work with me on the few selections we’ll add.”

Her heart sped up. “Really?”

“Yes. It was your suggestion. I believe you should have some say in the menu.”

That made her laugh.

“And what is funny about that?” His voice dripped with incredulity, as if he had no idea how to follow her sometimes. His hazy gray eyes narrowed in annoyance.

She sipped her wine, delaying her answer to torment him. He was always so in control that he was cute when he was baffled. And it was fun to see him try to wrangle himself around it.

Finally she said, “You’re not the big, bad wolf you want everybody to believe.”

His eyes narrowed a little more as he ran his thumb along his chin. His face was perfect. Sharp angles, clean lines, accented by silvery eyes and dark, dark hair that gave him a dramatic, almost mysterious look.

“I don’t mind suggestions to make the business better. Ask Emory. He’s had a lot more say than you would think.”

She smiled, not sure why he so desperately wanted to cling to his bossy image. “I still say you’re not so bad.”

* * *

Rafe’s blood heated. The urge to flirt with Dani, and then seduce her, roiled like the sea before a storm. He genuinely believed she was too innocent to realize he could take her comments about his work demeanor as flirting, and shift the conversation into something personal. But he also knew they couldn’t work together if she continued to be so free with him.

“Be careful what you say, little Dani, and how you take our conversations. Because I am bad. I am not the gentleman you might be accustomed to. Though I respect your engagement, if you don’t, I’ll take that as permission to do whatever I want. You can’t have a fiancé at home and free rein to flirt here.”

Her eyes widened. But he didn’t give her a chance to comment. He grabbed the pad and pencil he’d brought to the bar and said, “So what should we add to this lunch menu you want?”

She licked her lips, took a slow breath as if shifting her thoughts to the task at hand and said, “Antipasto and minestrone soup. That’s obvious. But you could add a garden salad, club sandwich, turkey sandwich and hamburgers.” She slowly met his gaze. “That way you’re serving a need without going overboard.”

With the exception of the hamburger, which made him wince, he agreed. “I can put my own spin on all of these, use the ingredients we already have on hand, redo the menu tonight and we’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

She gaped at him. “Tomorrow? Wow.”

He rose. “This is my business, Dani. If a suggestion is good, there is no point waiting forever. I get things done. Go home. I will see you tomorrow.”

She walked to the door, and he headed for the kitchen where he could watch her leave from the window above the sink, making sure nothing happened to her. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, disappointment rose up in him. At the very least, it would have been nice to finish a glass of wine with her.

But he couldn’t.

* * *

Dani ran to her car, her blood simmering, her nerve endings taut. They might have had a normal conversation about his menu. She might have even left him believing she was okay with everything he’d said and they were back to normal. But she couldn’t forget his declaration that he was bad. It should have scared her silly. Instead, it tempted her. She’d never been attracted to a man who was clearly all wrong for her, a man with whom she couldn’t have a future. Everything she did was geared toward security. Everything about him spelled danger.

So why was he so tempting?

Walking into the kitchen of Louisa’s run-down villa, she found her friend sitting at the table with a cup of tea.

Louisa smiled as she entered. “Can I get you a cup?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

Louisa rose. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

She dropped to one of the chairs at the round table. “Rafe and I had a little chat after everyone was gone.”

“Did he fire you?”

“I think I might have welcomed that.”

Louisa laughed. “You need a cup of tea.” She walked to the cupboard, retrieved the tin she’d bought in the village, along with enough groceries for the two of them, and ran water into the kettle. “So what did he say?”

“He told me to be careful where I took our conversations.”

“Are you insulting him again?”

“He danced around it a bit, but he thinks I’m flirting with him.”

Eyes wide, Louisa turned from the stove. “Are you?”

Dani pressed her lips together before she met Louisa’s gaze. “Not intentionally. You know I have a fiancé.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have to change the way you act around Rafe, then. Treat him the way he wants to be treated, like a boss you respect. Mingle with the waitstaff. Enjoy your job. But stay away from him.”

* * *

The next day, Rafe stacked twenty-five black leather folders containing the new menus on the podium for Dani to distribute when she seated customers.

An hour later, she entered the kitchen, carrying them. Her smile as radiant as the noonday sun, she said, “These look great.”

Rafe nodded, moving away from her, reminding himself that she was engaged to another man. “As I told you last night, this is a business. Good ideas are always welcome.”

Emory peeked around Rafe. “And, please, if you have any more ideas, don’t hesitate to offer them.”

Rafe said, “Bah,” and walked away. But he saw his old, bald friend wink at Dani as if they were two conspirators. At first, he was comforted that Emory had also succumbed to Dani’s charms, but he knew that was incorrect. Emory liked Dani as a person. While Rafe wanted to sleep with her. But as long as he reminded himself his desires were wrong, he could control them.

Customer response to the lunch menu was astounding. Dani took no credit for the new offerings and referred comments and compliments to him. Still, she was in the spotlight everywhere he went. Customers loved her. The waitstaff deferred to her. Her smile lit the dining room. Her laughter floated on the air. And he was glad when she said goodbye at the end of the day, if only so he could get some peace.

Monday morning, he arrived at the restaurant and breathed in the scent of the business he called home. Today would be a good day because Dani was off. For two glorious days he would not have to watch his words, watch where his eyes went or control hormones he didn’t understand. Plus, her having two days off was a great way to transition his thoughts away from her as a person and to her as an employee.

And who knew? Maybe Allegra would work so well as a hostess that he could actually cut Dani’s hours even more. Not in self-preservation over his unwanted attraction, but because this was a business. He was the boss. And the atmosphere of the restaurant would go back to normal.

As Emory supervised the kitchen, Rafe interviewed two older gentlemen for Dani’s job. Neither was suitable, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that this was only his first attempt at finding her replacement. He had other interviews scheduled for that afternoon and the next day. He would replace her.

Allegra arrived on time to open for lunch. Because they were enjoying an unexpected warm spell, he opened the windows and let the breeze spill in. The scents of rich Tuscan foods drifted from the kitchen. And just as Rafe expected, suddenly, all became right with the world.

Until an hour later when he heard a clang and a clatter from the dining room. He set down his knife and stormed out. Gio had dropped a tray of food when Allegra had knocked into her.

“What is this?” he asked, his hands raised in confusion. “You navigate around each other every day. Now, today, you didn’t see her?”

Allegra stooped to help Gio pick up the broken dishes. “I’m sorry. It’s just nerves. I was turned away, talking to the customer and didn’t watch where I was going.”

“Bah! Nerves. Get your head on straight!”

Allegra nodded quickly and Rafe returned to the kitchen. He summoned the two busboys to the dining room to clean up the mess and everything went back to normal.

Except customers didn’t take to Allegra. She was sweet, but she wasn’t fun. She wasn’t chatty. A lifelong resident, she didn’t see Italy through the eyes of someone who loved it with the passion and intensity of a newcomer as Dani did.

One customer even asked for her. Rafe smiled and said she had a day off. The customer asked for the next shift she’d be working so he could return and tell her of his trip to Venice.

“She’ll be back on Wednesday,” Rafe said. He tried to pretend he didn’t feel the little rise in his heart at the thought of her return, but he’d felt it. After only a few hours, he missed her.

CHAPTER SIX

AND SHE MISSED HIM.

The scribbled notes of things she remembered her foster mother telling her about her Italian relatives hadn’t helped her to find them. But Dani discovered stepping stones to people who knew people who knew people who would ultimately get her to the ones she wanted.

Several times she found herself wondering how Rafe would handle the situation. Would he ask for help? What would he say? And she realized she missed him. She didn’t mind his barking. He’d shown her a kinder side. She remembered the conversation in which he’d told her about his family. She loved that he’d taken her suggestion about a lunch menu. But most of all, she replayed that kiss over and over and over in her head, worried because she couldn’t even remember her first kiss with Paul.

Steady, stable Paul hadn’t ever kissed her like Rafe had. Ever. But he had qualities Rafe didn’t have. Stability being number one. He was an accountant at a bank, for God’s sake. A man did not get any more stable than that. She’d already had a life of confusion and adventure of a sort, when she was plucked from one foster home and dropped in another. She didn’t want confusion or danger or adventure. She wanted stability.

That night when she called Paul, he immediately asked when she was returning. Her heart lifted a bit hearing that. “I hate talking on the phone.”

It was the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her. Until he added, “I’d rather just wait until you get home to talk.”

“Oh.”

“Now, don’t get pouty. You know you have a tendency to talk too much.”

She was chatty.

“Anyway, I’m at work. I’ve got to go.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Call me from your apartment when you get home.”

She frowned. Home? Did he not want to talk to her for an entire month? “Aren’t you going to pick me up at the airport?”

“Maybe, but you’ll probably be getting in at rush hour or something. Taking a taxi would be easier, wouldn’t it? We’ll see how the time works out.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Good. Gotta run.”

Even as she disconnected the call, she thought of Rafe. She couldn’t see him telling his almost fiancée to call when she arrived at her apartment after nearly seven months without seeing each other. He’d race to the airport, grab her in baggage claim and kiss her senseless.

Her breath vanished when she pictured the scene, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She really could not think like that. She absolutely couldn’t start comparing Paul and Rafe. Especially not when it came to passion. Poor sensible Paul would always suffer by comparison.

Plus, her feelings for Rafe were connected to the rush of pleasure she got from finding a place in his restaurant, being more than useful, offering ideas a renowned chef had implemented. For a former foster child, having somebody give her a sense of worth and value was like gold.

And that’s all it was. Attraction to his good looks and appreciation that he recognized and told her she was doing a good job.

She did not want him.

Really.

She needed somebody like Paul.

Though she knew that was true, it didn’t sit right. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he didn’t want to pick her up at the airport, how he’d barely had two minutes to talk to her and how he’d told her not to call again.

She tried to read, tried to chat with Louisa about the house, but in the end, she knew she needed to get herself out of the house or she’d make herself crazy.

She told Louisa she was going for a drive and headed into town.

* * *

Antsy, unable to focus, and afraid he was going to royally screw something up and disappoint a customer, Rafe turned Mancini’s over to Emory.

“It’s not like you to leave so early.”

“It’s already eight o’clock.” Rafe shrugged into his black wool coat. “Maybe too many back-to-back days have made me tired.”

Emory smiled. “Ah, so maybe like Dani, you need a day off?”

Buttoning his coat, he ignored the dig and walked to the back door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But as he was driving through town, he saw the ugly green car Dani drove sitting at the tavern again. The last time she’d been there had been the day he’d inadvertently insulted her. She didn’t seem like the type to frequent taverns, so what if she was upset again?

His heart gave a kick and he whipped his SUV into a parking place, raced across the quiet street and entered the tavern to find her at the same table she’d been at before.

He walked over. She glanced up.

Hungrier for the sight of her than was wise, he held her gaze as he slid onto the chair across from her. “So this is how you spend your precious time off.”

She shook her head. “Don’t start.”

He hadn’t meant to be argumentative. In fact that was part of their problem. There was no middle with them. They either argued or lusted after each other. Given that he was her boss and she was engaged, both were wrong.

The bartender ambled over. He set a coaster in front of Rafe with a sigh. “You want another bottle of that fancy wine?”

Rafe shook his head and named one of the beers on tap before he pointed to Dani’s glass. “And another of whatever she’s having.”

As the bartender walked away, she said, “You don’t have to buy me a beer.”

“I’m being friendly because I think we need to find some kind of balance.” He was tired of arguing, but he also couldn’t go on thinking about her all the time. The best way to handle both would be to classify their relationship as a friendship. Tonight, he could get some questions answered, get to know her and see that she was just like everybody else. Not somebody special. Then they could both go back to normal.

“Balance?”

He shrugged. Leaning back, he anchored his arm across the empty chair beside him. “We’re either confiding like people who want to become lovers, or we fight.”

She turned her beer glass nervously. “That’s true.”

“So, we drink a beer together. We talk about inconsequential things, and Wednesday when you return to Mancini’s, no one snipes.”

She laughed.

He smiled. “What did you do today?”

“I went to the town where my foster mother’s relatives lived.”

His beer arrived. Waiting for her to elaborate, he took a sip. Then another. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “So did you find them?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

Her smooth skin virtually glowed. Her blue eyes met his. Interest and longing swam through him. He ignored both in favor of what now seemed to be a good mission. Becoming friends. Finding a middle ground where they weren’t fighting or lusting, but a place where they could coexist.

“What did you do today?”

“Today I created a lasagna that should have made customers die from pleasure.”

She laughed. “Exaggerate much?”

He pointed a finger at her. “It’s not an exaggeration. It’s confidence.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t like confidence?”

She studied his face. “Maybe it’s more that I don’t trust it.”

“What’s to trust? I love to cook, to make people happy, to surprise them with something wonderful. But I didn’t just open a door to my kitchen and say, come eat this. I went to school. I did apprenticeships. My confidence is in my teachers’ ability to take me to the next level as much as it is in my ability to learn, and then do.”

Her head tilted. “So it’s not all about you.”

He laughed, shook his head. “Where do you get these ideas?”

“You’re kind of arrogant.”

He batted his hand. “Arrogant? Confident? Who cares as long as the end result is good?”

“I guess...”

“I know.” He took another sip of beer, watching as she slid her first drink—which he assumed was warm—aside and reached for the second glass he’d bought for her. “Not much of a drinker?”

“No.”

“So what are you?”

She laughed. “Is this how you become friends with someone?”

“Conversation is how everyone becomes friends.”

“I thought it was shared experience.”

“We don’t have time for shared experience. If we want to become friends by Wednesday we need to take shortcuts.”

She inclined her head as if agreeing.

He waited. When she said nothing, he reframed his question. “So you are happy teaching?”

“I’m a good teacher.”

“But you are not happy?”

“I’m just not sure people are supposed to be happy.”

He blinked. That was the very last thing he’d expected to hear from his bubbly hostess. “Seriously?”

She met his gaze. “Yeah. I think we’re meant to be content. I think we’re meant to find a spot and fill it. But happy? That’s reserved for big events or holidays.”

For thirty seconds, he wished she were staying in Italy. He wished he had time enough to show her the sights, teach her the basics of cooking, make her laugh, show her what happiness was. But that wasn’t the mission. The mission was to get to know her just enough that they would stop arguing.

“This from my happy, upbeat hostess?”

She met his gaze again. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about work.”

“We’re talking about you, not work.”

She picked up her beer glass. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about me.”

Which only filled him with a thousand questions. When she was at Mancini’s she was usually joyful. After a day off, she was as sad as the day he’d hurt her feelings? It made no sense...unless he believed that she loved working in his restaurant enough that it filled her with joy.

That made his pulse jump, made his mind race with thoughts he wasn’t supposed to have. So he rose.

“Okay. Talking is done. We’ll try shared experience.” He pointed behind her. “We’ll play darts.”

Clearly glad they’d no longer be talking, she laughed. “Good.”

“So you play darts at home in New York?”

She rose and followed him to the board hung on a back wall. They passed the quiet pool table, and he pulled some darts from the corkboard beside the dartboard.

“No, I don’t play darts.”

“Great. So we play for money?”

She laughed again. “No! We’ll play for fun.”

He sighed as if put out. “Too bad.”

But as they played, she began to talk about her search for her foster mother’s family. Her voice relaxed. Her smile returned. And Rafe was suddenly glad he’d found her. Not for his mission to make her his friend. But because she was alone. And in spite of her contention that people weren’t supposed to be happy, her normal state was happy. He’d seen that every day at the restaurant. But something had made her sad tonight.

Reminded of the way he had made her sad by saying she wasn’t needed, he redoubled his efforts to make her smile.

* * *

It was easy for Dani to dismiss the significance of Rafe finding her in the bar. They lived in a small town. He didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of choices for places to stop after work. So she wouldn’t let her crazy brain tell her it was sweet that he’d found her. She’d call it what it was. Lack of options.

Playing darts with her, Rafe was kind and polite, but not sexy. At least not deliberately sexy. There were some things a really handsome man couldn’t control. So she didn’t think he was coming on to her when he swaggered over to pull the darts from the board after he threw them. She didn’t think he was trying to entice her when he laughed at her poor attempts at hitting the board. And she absolutely made nothing of it when he stood behind her, took her arm and showed her the motion she needed to make to get the dart going in the right direction.

Even though she could smell him, feel the heat of his body as he brushed up against her back, and feel the vibrations of his warm whisper as he pulled her arm back and demonstrated how to aim, she knew he meant nothing by any of it. He just wanted to be friends.

When their third beer was gone and the hour had gotten late, she smiled at him. “Thank you. That was fun.”

His silver eyes became serious. “You were happy?”

She shook her head at his dog-with-a-bone attitude. “Sort of. Yes. It was a happy experience.”

He sniffed and walked back to their table to retrieve his coat. “Everyone is made to be happy.”

She didn’t believe that. Though she liked her life and genuinely liked people, she didn’t believe her days were supposed to be one long party. But she knew it was best not to argue. She joined him at their table and slipped into her coat.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

She shook her head. “No.” Their gazes caught. “I’m fine.”

He dipped his head in a quick nod, agreeing, and she walked out into the cold night. Back into the world where her stable fiancé wouldn’t even pick her up at the airport.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHEN DANI ENTERED the restaurant on Wednesday ten minutes before the start of her shift, Rafe stood by the bar, near the kitchen. As if he’d sensed her arrival, he turned. Their gazes caught. Dani’s heart about pounded its way out of her chest. She reminded herself that though they’d spent an enjoyable evening together playing darts at the tavern, for him it had been about becoming friends. He hadn’t made any passes at her—though he’d had plenty of chances—and he’d made a very good argument for why being friends was a wise move for them.

Still, when he walked toward her, her heart leaped. But he passed the podium to unlock the front door. As he turned to return to the kitchen, he said, “Good morning.”

She cleared her throat, hoping to rid it of the fluttery feeling floating through her at being in the same room with him. Especially since they were supposed to be friends now. Nothing more. “Good morning.”

“How did your search go for your foster mother’s relatives yesterday?”

She shook her head. “Still haven’t found them, but I got lots of information from people who had been their neighbors. Most believe they moved to Rome.”

“Rome?” He shook his head. “No kidding.”

“Their former neighbors said something about one of their kids getting a job there and the whole family wanting to stay together.”

“Nice. Family should stay together.”

“I agree.”

She turned to the podium. He walked to the kitchen. But she couldn’t help thinking that while Paul hadn’t said a word about her quest for Rosa’s family, Rafe had immediately asked. Like someone who cared about her versus someone who didn’t.

She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself not to think like that. They were friends. Only friends.

But all day, she was acutely aware of him. Anytime she retrieved him to escort him to a table, she felt him all around her. Her skin tingled. Everything inside her turned soft and feminine.

At the end of the night, the waitstaff and kitchen help disappeared like rats on a sinking ship. Rafe ambled to the bar, pulled a bottle of wine from the rack behind it.

The Chianti. The wine he’d ordered for them at the tavern.

Her heart trembled. She’d told him she liked that wine.

Was he asking her to stay now? To share another bottle of the wine she’d said she liked?

Longing filled her and she paused by the podium. When he didn’t even look in her direction, she shuffled a bit, hoping the movement would cause him to see her and invite her to stay.

He kept his gaze on a piece of paper sitting on the bar in front of him. Still, she noticed a second glass by the bottle. He had poured wine in one glass but the other was empty—yet available.

She bit her lip. Was that glass an accident? An oversight? Or was that glass her invitation?

She didn’t know. And things were going so well between them professionally that she didn’t want to make a mistake that took them back to an uncomfortable place.

Still, they’d decided to be friends. Wouldn’t a friend want another friend to share a glass of wine at the end of the night?

She drew in a slow breath. She had one final way to get him to notice her and potentially invite her to sit with him. If he didn’t take this hint, then she would leave.

Slowly, cautiously, she called, “Good night.”

He looked over. He hesitated a second, but only a second, before he said, “Good night.”

Disappointment stopped her breathing. Nonetheless, she smiled and headed for the door. She walked to Louisa’s beat-up old car, got in, slid the key in the ignition...

And lowered her head to the steering wheel.

She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to tell him about the countryside she’d seen as she looked for Rosa’s relatives. She longed to tell him about the meals she’d eaten. She yearned to ask him how the restaurant had been the two days she was gone. She needed to get not just the cursory answers he’d given her but the real in-depth stuff. Like a friend.

But she also couldn’t lie to herself. She wanted that crazy feeling he inspired in her. Lust or love, hormones or genuine attraction, she had missed that feeling. She’d missed him. No matter how much she told herself she just wanted to be his friend, it was a lie.

A light tapping on her window had her head snapping up.

Rafe.

She quickly lowered the window to see what he wanted.

“Are you okay?”

Her heart swelled, then shrank and swelled again. Everything he did confused her. Everything she felt around him confused her even more.

“Are you ill?”

She shook her head.

Damn it. She squeezed her eyes shut and decided to just go with the truth. “I saw you with the wine and thought I should have joined you.” She caught the gaze of his smoky-gray eyes. “You said we were going to be friends. And I was hoping you sitting at the bar with a bottle of wine was an invitation.”

He stepped back. She’d never particularly thought of a chef’s uniform as being sexy, but he’d taken off the jacket, revealing a white T-shirt that outlined muscles and a flat stomach. Undoubtedly hot from working in the kitchen, he didn’t seem bothered by the cold night air.

“I always have a glass of wine at the end of the night.”

So, her instincts had been wrong. If she’d just started her car and driven off, she wouldn’t be embarrassed right now. “Okay. Good.”

He glanced down into the car at her. “But I wouldn’t have minded company.”

Embarrassment began to slide away, only to be replaced by the damnable confusion. “Oh.”

“I simply don’t steal women who belong to other men.”

“It wouldn’t be stealing if we were talking about work, becoming friends like you said we should.”

“That night was a one-time thing. A way to get to know each other so we could stop aggravating each other.”

“So we’re really not friends?”

He laughed and glanced away at the beautiful starlit sky. “We’re now friendly enough to work together. Men only try to become ‘real’ friends so that they can ultimately become lovers.”

The way he said lovers sent a wave of yearning skittering along her nerve endings. It suddenly became difficult to breathe.

He caught her gaze again. “I’ve warned you before to be careful with me, Dani. I’m not a man who often walks away from what he wants.”

“Wow. You are one honest guy.”

He laughed. “Usually I wouldn’t care. I’d muscle my way into your life and take what I wanted. But you’re different. You’re innocent.”

“I sort of liked being different until you added the part about me being innocent.”

“You are.”

“Well, yeah. Sort of.” She tossed her hands in exasperation, the confusion and longing getting the better of her. “But you make it sound like a disease.”

“It’s not. It’s actually a quality men look for in a woman they want to keep.”

Her heart fluttered again. “Oh?”

“Don’t get excited about that. I’m not the kind of guy who commits. I like short-term relationships because I don’t like complications. I’m attracted to you, yes, but I also know myself. My commitment to the restaurant comes before any woman.” He forced her gaze to his again. “This thing I feel for you is wrong. So as much as I wanted you to take the hint tonight and share a bottle of wine with me, I also hoped you wouldn’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We could always talk about the restaurant.”

“About how you were missed? How a customer actually asked for you?”

She laughed. “See? That’s all great stuff. Neutral stuff.”

“I suppose you also wouldn’t be opposed to hearing that Emory thinks that after the success of your lunch menu, we should encourage you to make suggestions.”

Pride flooded her. “Well, I’ll do my best to think of new things.”

He glanced at the stars again. Their conversation had run its course. He stood in the cold. She sat in a car that could be warm if she’d started the darn thing. But the air between them was anything but cool, and she suddenly realized they were kidding themselves if they believed they could be just friends.

He looked down and smiled slightly. “Good night, Dani.”

He didn’t wait for her to say good-night. He walked away.

She sat there for a few seconds, tingling, sort of breathless, but knowing he was right. They couldn’t be friends and they couldn’t have a fling. She was innocent and he would hurt her. And though technically she’d stretched the truth about being engaged, it was saving her heartbreak.

After starting her car, she pulled out, watching in the rearview mirror as he revved the engine of his big SUV and followed her to Monte Calanetti.

* * *

Though Dani dressed in her usual black trousers and white blouse the next morning, she took extra care when she ironed them, making them crisper, their creases sharper, so she looked more professional when she arrived at the restaurant.

Rafe spoke sparingly. It wasn’t long before she realized that unless she had a new idea to discuss, they wouldn’t interact beyond his thank-you when she introduced him to a customer who wanted to compliment the chef.

She understood. Running into each other at the tavern the first time and talking out their disagreement, then playing darts the second, had made them friendly enough that they no longer sniped. But having minimal contact with her was how he would ignore their attraction. They weren’t right for each other and, older, wiser, he was sparing them both. But that didn’t really stop her attraction to him.

To keep herself from thinking about Rafe on Friday, she studied the customer seating, the china and silverware, the interactions of the waitresses with the customers, but didn’t come up with an improvement good enough to suggest to him.

A thrill ran through her at the knowledge that he took her ideas so seriously. Here she was, an educated but simple girl from Brooklyn, being taken seriously by a lauded European chef.

The sense of destiny filled her again, along with Rafe’s comment about happiness. This time her thoughts made her gasp. What if this feeling of rightness wasn’t about Rafe or Italy? What if this sense of being where she belonged was actually telling her the truth about her career choice? She loved teaching, but it didn’t make her feel she belonged the way being a part of this restaurant did. And maybe this sense of destiny was simply trying to point her in the direction of a new career when she returned to the United States?

The thought relieved her. Life was so much simpler when the sense of destiny was something normal, like an instinct for the restaurant business, rather than longing for her boss—a guy she shouldn’t even be flirting with when she had a marriage proposal waiting for her at home.

Emory came to the podium and interrupted her thoughts. “These are the employee phone numbers. Gio called off sick for tonight’s shift. I’d like you to call in a replacement.”

She glanced up at him. “Who should I call?”

He smiled. “Your choice. Being out here all the time, you know who works better with whom.”

After calling Zola, she walked back to the kitchen to return the list.

Emory shook his head. “This is your responsibility now. A new job for you, while you’re here, to make my life a little easier.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Without looking at her, Rafe said, “We’d also like you to begin assigning tasks to the busboys. After you say goodbye to a guest, we’d like you to come in and get the busboys. That will free up the waitresses a bit.”

The feeling of destiny swelled in her again. The new tasks felt like a promotion, and there wasn’t a person in the world who didn’t like being promoted.

When Rafe refused to look at her, she winked at Emory. “Okay.”

Walking back to the dining room, she fought the feeling that her destiny, her gift, was for this particular restaurant. Especially since, when returning to New York, she’d start at the bottom of any dining establishment she chose to work, and that would be a problem since she’d only make minimum wage. At Mancini’s, she only needed to earn extra cash. In New York, would a job as a hostess support her?

The next day, Lazare, one of the busboys, called her “Miss Daniella.” The shift from Dani to Miss Daniella caught on in the kitchen and the show of respect had Daniella’s shoulders straightening with confidence. When she brought Rafe out for a compliment from a customer, even he said, “Thank you, Miss Daniella,” and her heart about popped out of her chest with pride.

That brought her back to the suspicion that her sense of destiny wasn’t for the restaurant business, but for this restaurant and these people. If she actually got a job at a restaurant in New York, she couldn’t expect the staff there to treat her this well.

Realizing all her good fortune would stop when she left Mancini’s, her feeling of the “destiny” of belonging in the restaurant business fizzled. She would go home to a tiny apartment, a man whose marriage proposal had scared her and a teaching position that suddenly felt boring.

“Miss Daniella,” Gio said as she approached the podium later that night. “The gentleman at table two would like to speak to the chef.”

She said it calmly, but there was an undercurrent in her voice, as if subtly telling Daniella that this was a problem situation, not a compliment.

She smiled and said, “Thank you, Gio. I’ll handle it.”

She walked over to the table.

The short, stout man didn’t wait for Dani to speak. He immediately said, “My manicotti was dry and tasteless.”

Daniella inclined her head in acknowledgment of his comment. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened. I’ll tell the kitchen staff.”

“I want to talk to the chef.”

His loud, obnoxious voice carried to the tables around him. Daniella peeked behind her at the kitchen door, then glanced at the man again. The restaurant had finally freed itself of people curious about Rafe’s temper. The seats had filled with customers eager to taste his food. She would not let his reputation be ruined by a beady-eyed little man who probably wanted a free dinner.

“We’re extremely busy tonight,” she told the gentleman as she looped her fingers around his biceps and gently urged him to stand. “So rather than a chat with the chef, what if I comp your dinner?”

His eyes widened, then returned to normal, as if he couldn’t believe he was getting what he wanted so easily. “You’ll pay my tab?”

She smiled. “The whole meal.” A quick glance at the table told her that would probably be the entire day’s wage, but it would be worth it to avoid a scene.

“I’d like dessert.”

“We’ll get it for you to go.” She nodded to Gio, who quickly put two slices of cake into a take-out container and within seconds the man and his companion were gone.

* * *

Rafe watched from the sliver of a crack he created when he pushed open the kitchen door a notch. He couldn’t hear what Dani said, but he could see her calm demeanor, her smiles, the gentle but effective way she removed the customer from Rafe’s dining room without the other patrons being any the wiser.

He laughed and Emory walked over.

“What’s funny?”

“Dani just kicked somebody out.”

Emory’s eyes widened. “We had a scene?”

“That’s the beauty of it. Even though he started off yelling, she got him out without causing even a ripple of trouble. I’ll bet the people at the adjoining tables weren’t even aware of what was happening beyond his initial grousing.”

“She is worth her weight in gold.”

Rafe pondered that. “Gio made the choice to get her rather than come to me.”

Emory said, “She trusts Dani.”

He walked away, leaving Rafe with that simple but loaded thought.

At the end of the night, the waitstaff quickly finished their cleanup and began leaving before the kitchen staff. Rafe glanced at the bar, thought about a glass of wine and decided against it. Instead, he walked to the podium as Dani collected her purse.

He waited for the waitresses on duty to leave before he faced Dani.

“You did very well tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“I saw you get rid of the irate customer.”

She winced. “I had to offer to pay for his meal.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

Her gaze met his, tripping the weird feeling in his chest again.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He sucked in a breath, reminding himself he didn’t want the emotions she inspired in him. He wanted a good hostess. He didn’t want a fling with another man’s woman.

“I trust your judgment. If not charging for his food avoided a scene, I’m happy to absorb the cost.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced away, then looked back at her. “Your duties just keep growing.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I overstepped?”

He shook his head. “You take work that Emory and I would have to do. Things we truly do not have time for.”

“Which is good?”

“Yes. Very good.” He gazed into her pretty blue eyes and fought the desire to kiss her that crept up before he could stop it. His restaurant was becoming exactly what he’d envisioned because of her. Because she knew how to direct diners’ attention and mood. It was as if they were partners in his venture and though the businessman in him desperately fought his feelings for her, the passionate part of him wanted to lift her off the ground, swing her around and kiss her ardently.

But that was wrong for so many reasons that he got angry with himself for even considering it.

“I was thinking tonight that a differentiation between you and the waitresses would be good. It would be a show of authority.”

“You want me to wear a hat?”

He laughed. Was it any wonder he was so drawn to her? No one could so easily catch him off guard. Make him laugh. Make him wish for a life that included a little more fun.

“I want you to wear something other than the dark trousers and white blouses the waitresses wear. Your choice,” he said when her face turned down with a puzzled frown. “A dress. A suit. Anything that makes you look like you’re in charge.”

Her gaze rose to meet his. “In charge?”

“Of the dining room.” He laughed lightly. “You still have a few weeks before I give you my job.”

She laughed, too.

But when her laughter died, they were left gazing into each other’s eyes. The mood shifted from happy and businesslike to something he couldn’t define or describe. The click of connection he always felt with her filled him. It was hot and sweet, but pointless, leaving an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

He said, “Good night, Dani,” and walked away, into the kitchen and directly to the window over the sink. A minute later, he watched her amble across the parking lot to her car, start it and drive off, making sure she had no trouble.

Then he locked the restaurant and headed to his SUV.

He might forever remember the joy in her blue eyes when he told her that he wanted her to look like the person of authority in the dining room.

But as he climbed into his vehicle, his smile faded. Here he was making her happy, giving her promotions, authority, and just when he should have been able to kiss her to celebrate, he’d had to pull back...because she was taken.

Was he crazy to keep her on, to continually promote her, to need her for his business when it was clear that there was no chance of a relationship between them?

Was he being a sucker?

Was she using him?

Bah! What the hell was he doing? Thinking about things that didn’t matter? The woman was leaving in a few weeks. And that was the real reason he should worry about depending on her. Soon she would be gone. So why were he and Emory leaning on her?

Glad he had more maître d’ interviews scheduled for the following Monday, he started his car and roared out of the parking lot. He would use what he had learned about Dani’s duties for his new maître d’. But he wouldn’t give her any more authority.

And he absolutely would stop all thoughts about wanting to swing her around, kiss her and enjoy their success. It was not “their” success. It was his.

It was also her choice to have no part in it.

* * *

Sunday morning, Dani arrived at the restaurant in a slim cream-colored dress. She had curled her hair and pinned it in a bundle on top of her head. When Rafe saw her his jaw fell.

She looked regal, sophisticated. Perfect as the face of his business.

Emory whistled. “My goodness.”

Rafe’s breath stuttered into his lungs. He reminded himself of his thoughts from the night before. She was leaving. She wanted no part in his long-term success. He and Emory were depending on her too much for someone who had no plans to stay.

But most of all, leaving was her choice.

She didn’t want him or his business in her life. She was here only for some money so she could find the relatives of her foster mother.

The waitresses tittered over how great she looked. Emory walked to the podium, took her hands and kissed both of her cheeks. The busboys blushed every time she was near.

She handled it with a cool grace that spoke of dignity and sophistication. Exactly what he wanted as the face of Mancini’s. As if she’d read his mind.

Laughing with Allegra, she said, “I feel like I’m playing dress up. These are Louisa’s clothes. I don’t own anything so pretty.”

Allegra sighed with appreciation. “Well, they’re perfect for you and your new position.”

She laughed again. “Rafe and Emory only promoted me because I have time on my hands in between customers. While you guys are hustling, I’m sort of looking around, figuring things out.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, the extra authority doesn’t come with more money.”

As Allegra laughed, Rafe realized that was true. Unless Dani was a power junkie, she wasn’t getting anything out of her new position except more work.

So why did she look so joyful in a position she’d be leaving in a few weeks?

Sunday lunch was busier than normal. Customers came in, ate, chatted with Dani and left happy.

Which relieved Rafe and also caused him to internally scold himself for distrusting her. He didn’t know why she’d taken such an interest in his restaurant, but he should be glad she had.

She didn’t leave for the space between the last lunch customer and the first dinner customer because the phone never stopped ringing.

Again, Rafe relaxed a bit. She had good instincts. Now that his restaurant was catching on, there were more dinner reservations. She stayed to take them. She was a good, smart employee. Any mistrust he had toward her had to be residual bad feelings over not being able to pursue her when he so desperately wanted to. His fault. Not hers.

In fact, part of him believed he should apologize. Or maybe not apologize. Since she couldn’t see inside his brain and know the crazy thoughts he’d been thinking, a compliment would work better.

He walked out of the kitchen to the podium and smiled when he saw she was on the phone. Their reservations for that night would probably be their best ever.

“So we’re talking about a hundred people.”

Rafe’s eyebrows rose. A hundred people? He certainly hoped that wasn’t a single reservation for that night. Yes, there was a private room in which he could probably seat a hundred, but because that room was rarely used, those tables and chairs needed to be wiped down. Extra linens would have to be ordered from their vendor. Not to mention enough food. He needed advance warning to serve a hundred people over their normal customer rate.

He calmed himself. She didn’t know that the room hadn’t been used in months and would need a good dusting. Or about the linens. Or the extra food. Once he told her, they could discuss the limits on reservations.

When she finally replaced the receiver on the phone, her blue eyes glowed.

Need rose inside him. Once again he fought the unwanted urge to share the joy of success with her. No matter how he sliced it, she was a big part of building his clientele. And rather than worry about her leaving, a smart businessman would be working to entice her to stay. To make his business her career, and Italy her new home.

Romantic notions quickly replaced his business concerns. If she made Italy her home, she might just leave her fiancé in America, and he could—

Realizing he wasn’t just getting ahead of himself, he was going in the wrong direction, he forced himself to be professional. “It sounds like you got us a huge reservation.”

“Better.”

He frowned. “Better? How does something get better than a hundred guests for dinner?”

She grinned. “By catering a wedding! They don’t even need our dishes and utensils. The venue is providing that. All they want is food. And for you that’s easy.”

Rafe blinked. “What?”

“Okay, it’s like this. A customer came in yesterday. The dinner they chose was what his wife wanted to be served for their daughter’s wedding at the end of the month. When they ate your meal, they knew they wanted you to cook food for their daughter’s wedding. The bride’s dad called, I took down the info,” she said, handing him a little slip. “And now we have a new arm of your business.”

Anything romantic he felt for Dani shrank back against the rising tide of red-hot anger.

“I am not a caterer.”

He controlled his voice, didn’t yell, didn’t pounce. But he saw recognition come to Dani’s eyes. She might have only worked with him almost two weeks, but she knew him.

Her fingers fluttered to her throat. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I have a business plan. I have Michelin stars to protect. I will not send my food out into the world for God knows who to do God knows what with it.”

She swallowed. “You could go to the wedding—”

“And leave the restaurant?”

She sucked in a breath.

“Call them back and tell them you checked with me and we can’t deliver.”

“But... I...” She swallowed again. “They needed a commitment. Today. I gave our word.”

He gaped at her. “You promised something without asking me?” It was the cardinal sin. The unforgivable sin. Promising something that hadn’t been approved because she’d never consulted the boss. Every employee knew that. She hadn’t merely overstepped. She’d gone that one step too far.

Her voice was a mere whisper when she said, “Yes.”

Anger mixed with incredulity at her presumptuousness, and he didn’t hesitate. With his dream in danger, he didn’t even have to think about it. “You’re fired.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“LEAVE NOW.”

Dani’s breaths came in quick, shallow puffs. No one wanted to be fired. But right at that moment she wasn’t concerned about her loss. Her real upset came from failing Rafe. She’d thought he’d be happy with the added exposure. Instead, she’d totally misinterpreted the situation. Contrary to her success in the dining room, she wasn’t a chef. She didn’t know a chef’s concerns. She had no real restaurant experience.

Still, she had instincts—

Didn’t she?

“I’ll fix this.”

He turned away. “This isn’t about fixing the problem. This is about you truly overstepping this time. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve had personal conversations or because to this point all of your ideas have been good. But no one, absolutely no one, makes such an important decision without my input. You are fired.”

He walked into the kitchen without looking back. Dani could have followed him, maybe even should have followed him, but the way he walked away hurt so much she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Not because she’d angered him over a mistake, but because he was so cool. So distant. So deliberate and so sure that he wanted her gone. As if their evenings at the tavern hadn’t happened, as if all those stolen moments—that kiss—had meant nothing, he was tossing her out of his life.

Tears stung her eyes. The pain that gripped her hurt like a physical ache.

But common sense weaved its way into her thoughts. Why was she taking this personally? She didn’t love him. She barely knew him. She had a fiancé—almost. A guy who might not be romantic, but who was certainly stable. She’d be going home in a little over two weeks. There could be nothing between her and Rafe. He was passion wrapped in electricity. Moody. Talented. Sweet but intense. Too sexy for his own good—or hers. And they weren’t supposed to be attracted to each other, but they were.

Staying at Mancini’s had been like tempting fate. Teasing both of them with something they couldn’t have. Making them tense, and him moody. Hot one minute and cold the next.

So maybe it really was time to go?

She slammed the stack of menus into their shelf of the podium, grabbed her purse and raced out.

When she arrived at the villa, Louisa was on a ladder, staring at the watermarks as if she could divine how they got there.

“What are you doing home?”

Dani yanked the pins holding up her short curls and let them fall to her chin, as she kicked off Louisa’s high, high heels.

“I was fired.”

Louisa climbed off the ladder. “What?” She shook her head. “He told you to dress like the authority in the dining room and you were gorgeous. How could he not like how you looked?”

“Oh, I think he liked how I looked.” Dani sucked in a breath, fully aware now that that was the problem. They were playing with fire. They liked each other. But neither of them wanted to. And she was done with it.

“Come to Rome with me.”

“You’re not going to try to get your job back?”

“It just all fell into place in my head. Rafe and I are attracted, but my boyfriend asked me to marry him. Though I didn’t accept, I can’t really be flirting with another guy. So Rafe—”

Louisa drew in a quick breath. “You know, I wasn’t going to mention this because it’s not my business, but now that you brought it up... Don’t you think it’s kind of telling that you hopped on a plane to Italy rather than accept your boyfriend’s proposal?”

“I already had this trip scheduled.”

“Do you love this guy?”

Dani hesitated, thinking of her last conversation with Paul and how he’d ordered her not to call him anymore. The real kicker wasn’t his demand. It was that it hadn’t affected her. She didn’t miss their short, irrelevant conversations. In six months, she hadn’t really missed him.

Oh, God. That was the thing her easy, intense attraction to Rafe was really pointing out. Her relationship to Paul might provide a measure of security, but she didn’t love him.

She fell to a kitchen chair.

“Oh, sweetie. If you didn’t jump up and down for joy when this guy proposed, and you find yourself attracted to another man, you do not want to accept that proposal.”

Dani slumped even further in her seat. “I know.”

“You should go back to Mancini’s and tell Rafe that.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No. No! He’s way too much for me. Too intense. Too everything. He has me working twelve-hour days when I’m supposed to be on holiday finding my foster mother’s relatives, enjoying some time with them before I go home.”

“You’re leaving me?”

Dani raised her eyes to meet Louisa’s. “You’ve always known I was only here for a month. I have just over two weeks left. I need to start looking for the Felice family now.” She smiled hopefully because she suddenly, fervently didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want the thoughts about Rafe that would undoubtedly haunt her now that she knew she couldn’t accept Paul’s proposal. “Come with me.”

“To Rome?”

“You need a break from studying everything that’s wrong with the villa. I have to pay for a room anyway. We can share it. Then we can come back and I’ll still have time to help you catalog everything that needs to be fixed.”

Louisa’s face saddened. “And then you’ll catch a plane and be gone for good.”

Dani rose. “Not for good.” She caught Louisa’s hands. “We’re friends. You’ll stay with me when you have to come back to the States. I’ll visit you here in Italy.”

Louisa laughed. “I really could use a break from staring at so many things that need repairing and trying to figure out how I’m going to get it all done.”

“So it’s set. Let’s pack now and go.”

Within an hour, they were at the bus station. With Mancini’s and Rafe off the list of conversation topics, they chitchatted about the scenery that passed by as their bus made its way to Rome. Watching Louisa take it all in, as if trying to memorize the country in which she now owned property, a weird sense enveloped Dani. It was clear that everything was new, unique to Louisa. But it all seemed familiar to Dani, as if she knew the trees and grass and chilly February hills, and when she returned to the US she would miss them.

Which was preposterous. She was a New York girl. She needed the opportunities a big city provided. She’d never lived in the country. So why did every tree, every landmark, every winding road seem to fill a need inside her?

The feeling followed her to Rome. To the alleyways between the quaint buildings. To the sidewalk cafés and bistros. To the Colosseum, museums and fountains she took Louisa to see.

And suddenly the feeling named itself. Home. What she felt on every country road, at every landmark, gazing at every blue, blue sky and grassy hill was the sense that she was home.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She told herself she wasn’t home. She was merely familiar with Italy now because she’d lived in Rome for months. Though that made her feel better for a few minutes, eventually she realized that being familiar with Rome didn’t explain why she’d felt she belonged at Mancini’s.

She shoved that thought away. She did not belong at Mancini’s.

The next day, Dani and Louisa found Rosa’s family and were invited to supper. The five-course meal began, reminding her of Rafe, of his big, elaborate dinners, the waitresses who were becoming her friends, the customers who loved her.The weepy sense that she had lost her home filled her. Rightly or wrongly, she’d become attached to Mancini’s, but Rafe had fired her.

She had lost the place where she felt strong and smart and capable. The place where she was making friends who felt like family. The place where she—no matter how unwise—was falling for a guy who made her breath stutter and her knees weak.

Because the guy she felt so much for had fired her.

Her brave facade fell away and she excused herself. In the bathroom, she slid down the wall and let herself cry. She’d never been so confused in her life.

* * *

“Rafe, there’s a customer who’d like to talk to you.”

Rafe set down his knife and walked to Mila, who stood in front of the door that led to the dining room. “Great, let’s go.”

Pleased to be getting a compliment, he reached around Mila and pushed open the door for her. Since Dani had gone, compliments had been fewer and farther between. He needed the boost.

Mila paused by a table with two twentysomething American girls. Wearing thick sweaters and tight jeans, they couldn’t hide their tiny figures. Or their ages. Too old for college and too young to have amassed their own fortunes, they appeared to be the daughters of wealthy men, in Europe, spending their daddies’ money. Undoubtedly, they’d heard of him. Bored and perhaps interested in playing with a celebrity chef, they might be looking for some fun. If he handled this right, one of them could be sharing Chianti with him that night.

Ignoring the tweak of a reminder of sharing that wine with Dani, her favorite, he smiled broadly. “What can I do for you ladies?”

“Your ravioli sucked.”

That certainly was not what he’d expected.

He bowed slightly, having learned a thing or two from his former hostess. He ignored the sadness that shot through him at even the thought of her, and said, “Allow me to cover your bill.”

“Cover our bill?” The tiny blonde lifted a ravioli with her fork and let it plop to her plate. “You should pay us for enduring even a bite of this drivel.”

The dough of that ravioli had serenaded his palms as he worked it. The sweet sauce had kissed his tongue. The problem wasn’t his food but the palates of the diners.

Still, remembering Dani, he held his temper as he gently reached down and took the biceps of the blonde. “My apologies.” He subtly guided her toward the door. The woman was totally cooperative until they got to the podium, and then she squirmed as if he was hurting her, and made a hideous face. Her friend snapped a picture with her phone.

“Get it on Instagram!” the blonde said as they raced out the door. “Rafe Mancini sinks to new lows!”

Furious, Rafe ran after them, but they jumped into their car and peeled out of his parking lot before he could catch them.

After a few well-aimed curses, he counted to forty. Great. Just when he thought rumors of his temper had died, two spoiled little girls were about to resurrect them.

He returned to the quiet dining room. Taking another page from Dani’s book, he said, “I’m sorry for the disturbance. Everyone, please, enjoy your meals.”

A few diners glanced down. One woman winced. A couple or two pretended to be deep in conversation, as if trying to avoid his misery.

With a weak smile, he walked into the kitchen, over to his workstation and picked up a knife.

Emory scrambled over and whispered, “You’re going to have to find her.”

Facing the wall, so no one could see, Rafe squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t have to ask who her was. The shifts Daniella had been gone had been awful. This was their first encounter with someone trying to lure out his temper, but there had been other problems. Squabbles among the waitresses. Seating mishaps. Lost reservations.

“Things are going wrong, falling through the cracks,” Emory continued.

“This is my restaurant. I will find and fix mistakes.”

“No. If there’s anything Dani taught us, it’s that you’re a chef. You are a businessman, yes. But you are not the guy who should be in the dining room. You are the guy who should be trotted out for compliments. You are the special chef made more special by the fact that you must be enticed out to the dining room.”

He laughed, recognizing he liked the sound of that because he did like to feel special. Or maybe he liked feeling that his food was special.

“Did you ever stop to think that you don’t have a temper with the customers or the staff when Dani’s around?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. With the exception of being on edge because of his attraction to her, his temperament had improved considerably. “Yes.”

Emory chuckled as if surprised by his easy acquiescence. “Because she does the tasks that you aren’t made to do, which frees you up to do the things you like to do. So, let’s just bring her back.”

Missing Dani was about so, so much more than Emory knew. Not just a loss of menial tasks but a comfort level. It was as if she brought sunshine into the room. Into his life. But she was engaged.

“Why should I go after her?” Rafe finally faced Emory. “She is returning to America in two weeks.”

“Maybe we can persuade her to stay?”

He sniffed a laugh. Leaning down so that only Emory would hear, he said, “She has a fiancé in New York.”

Emory’s features twisted into a scowl. “And she’s in Italy? For months? Without him? Doesn’t sound like much of a fiancé to me.”

That brought Rafe up short. There was no way in hell he’d let the woman he loved stay alone in Italy for months. Especially not if the woman he loved was Daniella.

He didn’t tell Emory that. His reasoning was mixed up in feelings that he wasn’t supposed to have. He’d gone the route of a relationship once. He’d given up apprenticeships to please Kamila. Which meant he’d given up his dream for her. And still they hadn’t made it.

But he’d learned a lesson. Relationships only put the future of his restaurants at stake, so he satisfied himself with one-night stands.

Dani would not be a one-night stand.

But Mancini’s really wasn’t fine without her.

And Mancini’s was his dream. He needed Daniella at his restaurant way too much to break his own rule about relationships. And that was the real bottom line. Getting involved with her would risk his dream as much as Kamila had. He needed her as an employee and he needed to put everything else out of his mind.

Emory caught Rafe’s arm. “Maybe there is an opportunity here. If she’s truly unhappy, especially with her fiancé, you might be able to convince her Mancini’s should be her new career.”

That was exactly what Rafe intended to do.

“But you can’t have that discussion over the phone. You need to go to Palazzo di Comparino tomorrow. Talk to her personally. Make your case. Offer her money.”

“Okay. I’ll be out tomorrow morning, maybe all day if I need the time. You handle things while I’m gone.”

Emory grinned. “That’s my boy.”

* * *

At the crack of dawn the next morning, Louisa woke Dani and said she was ready to take the bus back to Monte Calanetti. She was happy to have met Dani’s foster mom’s relatives, but she was nervous, antsy about Palazzo di Comparino. It was time to go back.

After grabbing coffee at a nearby bistro, Dani walked her friend to the bus station, then spent the day with her foster mother’s family. By late afternoon, she left, also restless. Like Louisa, she’d loved meeting the Felice family, but they weren’t her family. Her family was the little group of restaurant workers at Mancini’s.

Saddened, she began the walk back to her hotel. A block before she reached it, she passed the bistro again. Though the day was crisp, it was sunny. Warm in the rays that poured down on a little table near the sidewalk, she sat.

She ordered coffee, telling herself it wasn’t odd that she felt a connection to the staff at Mancini’s. They were nice people. Personable. Passionate. Of course, she felt as if they were family. She’d mothered the waitresses, babied the customers and fallen for Emory like a favorite uncle.

But she’d never see any of them again. She’d been fired from Mancini’s. Rafe hated her. She wouldn’t go home happy, satisfied to have met Rosa’s relatives, because the connection she’d made had been to a totally different set of people. She would board her plane depressed. Saddened. Returning to a man who didn’t even want to pick her up at the airport. A man whose marriage proposal she was going to have to refuse.

A street vendor caught her arm and handed her a red rose.

Surprised, she looked at him, then the rose, then back at him again. “Grazie...I think.”

He grinned. “It’s not from me. It’s from that gentleman over there.” He pointed behind him.

Dani’s eyes widened when she saw Rafe leaning against a lamppost. Wearing jeans, a tight T-shirt and the waist-length black wool coat that he’d worn to the tavern, he looked sexy. But also alone. Very alone. The way she felt in the pit of her stomach when she thought about going back to New York.

Her gaze fell to the rose. Red. For passion. But with someone like Rafe who was a bundle of passion about his restaurant, about his food, about his customers, the color choice could mean anything.

Carrying the rose, she got up from her seat and walked over to him. “How did you find me?”

“Would you believe I guessed where you were?”

“That would have to be a very lucky guess.”

He sighed. “I talked to your roommate, Louisa, this afternoon. She told me where you were staying, and I drove to Rome. Walking to your hotel, I saw you here, having coffee.”

He glanced away. “Look, can we talk?” He shoved his hands tightly into the side pockets of his coat and returned his gaze to hers. “We’ve missed you.”

“We?”

She almost cursed herself for the question. But she needed to hear him say it so she’d know she wasn’t crazy, getting feelings for a guy who found it so easy to fire her.

“I’ve missed you.” He sighed. “Two trust-fund babies faked me out the other night. They insulted my food and when they couldn’t get a rise out of me, they made it look like I was tossing one out on her ear to get a picture for Instagram.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Instagram?”

“It’s the bane of my existence.”

“But you hadn’t lost your temper?”

He shook his head and glanced away. “No. I hadn’t.” He looked back at her. “I remembered some things you’d done.” He smiled. “I learned.”

Her heart picked up at the knowledge that he’d learned from her, and the thrill that he was here, that he’d missed her. “You’re not a bad guy.”

His face twisted around a smile he clearly tried to hide. “According to Emory, I’m just an overworked guy. And interviewing for a new maître d’ isn’t helping. Especially when no one I talk to fits. It’s why I need you. You’re the first person to take over the dining room well enough that I don’t worry.”

She counted to ten, breathlessly waiting for him to expand on that. When he didn’t, she said, “And that’s all it is?”

“I know you want there to be something romantic between us. But there are things that separate us. Not just your fiancé, but my temperament. Really? Could you see yourself happy with me? Or when you look at me, do you see a man who takes what he wants and walks away? Because that’s the man I really am. I put my restaurant first. I have no time for a relationship.”

Her heart wept at what he said. But her sensible self, the lonely foster child who didn’t trust the wash of feelings that raced through her every time she got within two feet of him, understood. He was a gorgeous man, born for the limelight, looking to make a name for himself. She was a foster kid, looking for a home. Peace. Quiet. Security. They might be physically attracted, but, emotionally, they were totally wrong for each other. No matter how drawn she was to him, she knew the truth as well as he did.

“You can’t commit?”

He shook his head. “My commitment is to Mancini’s. To my career. My reputation. I want to be one of Europe’s famed chefs. Mancini’s is my stepping stone. I do not have time for what other men want. A woman on their arm. Fancy parties. Marriage. To me those are irrelevant. All I want is success. So I would hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Which makes anything between us just business?”

“Just business.”

Her job at Mancini’s had awakened feelings in Dani she’d never experienced. Self-worth. A sense of place. An unshakable belief that she belonged there. And the click of connection that made her feel she had a home. Something deep inside her needed Mancini’s. But she wouldn’t go back only to be fired again.

“And you need me?”

He rolled his eyes. “You Americans. Why must you be showered with accolades?”

Oh, he did love to be gruff.

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and pointed to her table at the bistro. “I don’t need accolades. I need acknowledgment of my place at Mancini’s...and my coffee. I’m freezing.”

He pulled his arm away from her hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. She knew he meant it only as a gesture between friends, but she felt his warmth seep through to her. Longing tugged at her heart. A fierce yearning that clung and wouldn’t let go.

“You should wear a heavier coat.”

His voice was soft, intimate, sending the feeling of rightness through her again.

“It was warm when I came here.”

“And now it is cold. So from here on I will make sure you wear a bigger coat.” He paused. His head tilted. “Maybe you need me, too?”

She did. But not in the way he thought. She wanted him to love her. Really love her. But to be the man of her dreams, he would have to be different. To be warm and loving. To want her—

And he might. Today. But he’d warned her that anything he felt for her was temporary. He couldn’t commit. He didn’t want to commit. And unless she wanted to get her heart broken, she had to really hear what he was saying. If she was going to get the opportunity to go back to the first place in her life that felt like home, Mancini’s, and the first people who genuinely felt like family, his staff, then a romance between them had to be out of the question.

“I need Mancini’s. I like it there. I like the people.”

“Ah. So we agree.”

“I guess. All I know for sure is that I don’t want to go back to New York yet.”

He laughed. They reached her table and he pulled out her chair for her. “That doesn’t speak well of your fiancé.”

Hauling in a breath, she sat, but she said nothing. Her stretching of the truth to Rafe about Paul being her fiancé sat in her stomach like a brick. Still, even though she knew she was going to reject his marriage proposal, it protected her and Rafe. Rafe wouldn’t go after another man’s woman. Not even for a fling. And he was right. If they had a fling, she would be crushed when he moved on.

One of his eyebrows rose, as he waited for her reply.

She decided they needed her stretched truth. But she couldn’t out-and-out lie. “All right. Paul is not the perfect guy.”

“I’m not trying to ruin your relationship. I simply believe you should think all of this through. You have a place here in Italy. Mancini’s needs you. I would like for you to stay in Italy and work for me permanently, and if you decide to, then maybe your fiancé should be coming here.”

She laughed. Really? Paul move to Italy because of her? He wouldn’t even drive to the airport for her.

Still, she didn’t want Paul in the discussion of her returning to Mancini’s. She’d already decided to refuse his proposal. If she stayed in Italy, it had to be for her reasons.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I have a few weeks before I have to make any decisions.”

“Two weeks and two days.”

“Yes.”

He caught her hands. Kissed the knuckles. “So stay. Stay with me, Daniella. Be the face of Mancini’s.”

Her heart kicked against her ribs. The way he said “Stay with me, Daniella” froze her lungs, heated her blood. She glanced at the red rose sitting on the table, reminded herself it didn’t mean anything but a way to break the ice when he found her. He wasn’t asking her to stay for any reason other than her abilities in his restaurant. And she shouldn’t want to stay for any reason other than the job. If she could prove herself in the next two weeks, she wouldn’t be boarding a plane depressed. She wouldn’t be boarding a plane at all. She’d be helping to run a thriving business. Her entire life would change.

She pulled her hands away. “I can’t accept Louisa’s hospitality forever. I need to be able to support myself. Hostessing doesn’t pay much.”

He growled.

She laughed. He was so strong and so handsome and so perfect that when he let his guard down and was himself, his real self, with her, everything inside her filled with crazy joy. And maybe if she just focused on making him her friend, a friend she could keep forever, working for him could be fun.

“I can’t pay a hostess an exorbitant salary.”

“So give me a title to justify the money.”

He sighed. “A title?”

“Sure, something like general manager should warrant a raise big enough that I can afford my own place.”

His eyes widened. “General manager?”

“Come on, Rafe. Let’s get to the bottom line here. If things work out when we return to Mancini’s, I’m going to be taking on a huge chunk of your work. I’m also going to be relocating to another country. You’ll need to make it worth my while.”

He shook his head. “Dear God, you are bossy.”

“But I’m right.”

He sighed. “Fine. But if you’re getting that title, you will earn it.”

She inclined her head. “Seems fair.”

“You’ll learn to order supplies, check deliveries, do the job of managing things Emory and I don’t have time for.”

“Makes perfect sense.”

He sighed. His eyes narrowed. “Anything else?”

She laughed. “One more thing.” Her laughter became a silly giggle when he scowled at her. “A ride back to Louisa’s.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I will drive you back to Louisa’s. If you wish, I will even help you find an apartment.”

Leaving the rose, she stood and pushed away from the table. “You keep getting ahead of things. We have two weeks for me to figure out if staying at Mancini’s is right for me.” She turned to head back to the hotel to check out, but spun to face him again. “Were I you, I’d be on my best behavior.”

* * *

The next morning, she called Paul. If staying in Italy was the rest of her life, the real rest of her life, she had to make things right.

“Do you know what time it is?”

She could hear the sleep in his voice and winced. “Yes. Sorry. But I wanted to catch you before work.”

“That’s fine.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she gathered her courage. It seemed so wrong to break up with someone over the phone and, yet, they’d barely spoken to each other in six months. This was the right thing to do.

“Look, Paul, I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but I can’t accept your marriage proposal.”

“What?”

She could almost picture him sitting up in bed, her bad news bringing him fully awake.

“I’m actually thinking of not coming back to New York at all, but staying in Italy.”

“What? What about your job?”

“I have a new job.”

“Where?”

“At a restaurant.”

“So you’re leaving teaching to be a waitress?”

“A hostess.”

“Oh, there’s a real step up.”

“Actually, I’m general manager,” she said, glad she’d talked Rafe into the title. She couldn’t blame Paul for being confused or angry, and knew he deserved an honest explanation.

“And I love Italy. I feel like I belong here.” She sucked in a breath. “We’ve barely talked in six months. I’m going to make a wild guess that you haven’t even missed me. I think we were only together because it was convenient.”

Another man’s silence might have been interpreted as misery. Knowing Paul the way she did, she recognized it as more or less a confirmation that she was right.

“I’m sorry not to accept your proposal, but I’m very happy.”

After a second, he said, “Okay, then. I’m glad.”

The breath blew back into her lungs. “Really?”

“Yeah. I did think we’d make a good married couple, but I knew when you didn’t say yes immediately that you might have second thoughts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is just the way life works sometimes.”

And that was her pragmatic Paul. His lack of emotion might have made her feel secure at one time, but now she knew she needed more.

They talked another minute and Dani disconnected the call, feeling as if a weight had been taken from her shoulders, only to have it quickly replaced by another one. She’d had to be fair to Paul, but now the only defense she’d have against Rafe’s charms would be her own discipline and common sense.

She hoped that was enough.

CHAPTER NINE

HER RETURN TO the restaurant was as joyous as a celebration. Emory grinned. The waitresses fawned over her. The busboys grew red faced. The chefs breathed a sigh of relief.

Annoyance worked its way through Rafe. Not that he didn’t want his staff to adore her. He did. That was why she was back. The problem was he couldn’t stop reliving their meeting in Rome. He’d said everything that he’d wanted to say. That he’d missed her. That he wanted her back. But he’d kept it all in the context of business. He’d missed her help. He wanted her to become the face of Mancini’s. He didn’t want anything romantic with her because he didn’t want to hurt her. He’d been all business. And it had worked.

But with her return playing out around him, his heart rumbled at the injustice. He hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t want her back for himself, that he didn’t want something romantic between them. His fierce protection of Mancini’s wouldn’t let him get involved with an employee he needed. But here at the restaurant, with her looking so pretty, helping make his dream a reality, he just wanted to kiss her.

He reminded himself that she had a fiancé—

A fiancé she admitted was not the perfect guy.

Bah! That fiancé was supposed to be the key weapon in his arsenal of ways to keep himself away from her. Her admission that he wasn’t perfect, even the fact that she was considering staying in Italy, called her whole engagement into question. And caused all his feelings for her to surface and swell.

She swept into the kitchen. Wearing a blue dress that highlighted her blue eyes and accented a figure so lush she was absolutely edible, she glided over to Emory. He took her hands and kissed the back of both.

“You look better than anything on the menu.”

Rafe sucked in a breath, controlling the unwanted ripple of longing.

Dani unexpectedly stepped toward Emory, put her arms around him and hugged him. Emory closed his eyes as if to savor it, a smile lifted his lips.

Rafe’s yearning intensified, but with it came a tidal wave of jealousy. He lowered his knife on an unsuspecting stalk of celery, chopping it with unnecessary force.

Dani faced him. “Why don’t you give me the key and I’ll open the front door for the lunch crowd?”

He rolled his gaze toward her slowly. Even as the businessman inside him cheered her return, the jealous man who was filled with need wondered if he wasn’t trying to drive himself insane.

“Emory, give her your key.”

The sous-chef instantly fished his key ring out of his pocket and dislodged the key for Mancini’s. “Gladly.”

“Don’t be so joyful.” He glanced at Dani again, at the soft yellow hair framing her face, her happy blue eyes. “Have a key made for yourself this afternoon and return Emory’s to him.”

She smiled. “Will do, boss.”

She walked out of the kitchen, her high heels clicking on the tile floor, her bottom swaying with every step, all eyes of the kitchen staff watching her go.

Jealousy spewed through him. “Back to work!” he yelped, and everybody scrambled.

Emory sauntered over. “Something is wrong?”

He chopped the celery. “Everything is fine.”

The sous-chef glanced at the door Dani had just walked through. “She’s very happy to be back.”

Rafe refused to answer that.

Emory turned to him again. “So did you talk her into staying? Is her fiancé joining her here? What’s going on?”

Rafe chopped the celery. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if she’s staying?”

“She said her final two weeks here would be something like a trial run for her.”

“Then we must be incredibly good to her.”

“I gave her a raise, a title. If she doesn’t like those, then we should be glad if she goes home to her fiancé.” He all but spat the word fiancé, getting angrier by the moment, as he gave Dani everything she wanted but was denied everything he wanted.

Emory said, “I still say something is up with this fiancé of hers. If she didn’t tell him she’s considering staying in Italy, then there’s trouble in paradise. If she did, and he isn’t on the next flight to Florence, then I question his sanity.”

Rafe laughed.

“Seriously, Rafe, has she talked to you about him? I just don’t get an engaged vibe from her.”

“Are you saying she’s lying?”

Emory inclined his head. “I don’t think she’s lying as much as I think her fiancé might be a real dud, and her engagement as flat as a crepe.”

Rafe said only, “Humph,” but once again her statement that her fiancé wasn’t the perfect guy rolled through his head.

“I only mention this because I think it works in our favor.”

“How so?”

“If she’s not really in love, if her fiancé doesn’t really love her, we have the power of Italy on our side.”

“To?”

“To coax her to stay. To seduce her away from a guy who doesn’t deserve her.”

Rafe chopped the celery. His dreams were filled with scenarios where he seduced Daniella. Except he had a feeling that kind of seducing wasn’t what Emory meant.

“Somehow or another we have to be so good to her that she realizes what she has in New York isn’t what she wants.”

Sulking, Rafe scraped the celery into a bowl. Why did he have to be the one doing all the wooing? He was a catch. He wanted her eyelashes to flutter when he walked by and her eyes to warm with interest. He had some pride, too.

Emory shook his head. “Okay. Be stubborn. But you’ll be sorry if some pasty office dweller from New York descends on us and scoops her back to America.”

Rafe all but growled in frustration at the picture that formed in his head. Especially since she had said her fiancé wasn’t perfect. Shouldn’t a woman in love swoon for the man she’s promised to marry?

Yes. Yes. She should.

Yet, here she was, considering staying. Not bringing her fiancé into the equation.

And he suddenly saw what Emory was saying.

She wasn’t happy with her fiancé. She was searching for something. She’d gone to Rome looking for her foster mother’s relatives—family! What Dani had been looking for in Rome was family! That was why she was getting so close to the staff at Mancini’s.

Still, something was missing.

He tapped his index fingers against his lips, thinking, and when the answer came to him he smiled and turned to Emory. “I will need time off tomorrow.”

Emory’s face fell. “You’re taking another day?”

“Just lunch. And Daniella will be out for lunch, too.”

Emory caught his gaze. “Really?”

“Yes. Don’t go thinking this is about funny business. I’m taking her apartment hunting. Dani is a woman looking for a family. She thinks she’s found it with us. But Mancini’s isn’t a home. It’s a place of business. Once I help her get a house, somewhere to put down roots, it will all fall into place for her.”

Rafe’s first free minute, he called the real estate agent who’d sold him his penthouse. She told him she had some suitable listings in Monte Calanetti and he set up three appointments for Daniella.

When the lunch crowd cleared, he walked into the empty, quiet dining room.

Dani smiled as he approached. “You’re not going to yell at me for not going home and costing you two hours’ wages are you?”

“You are management now. I expect you here every hour the restaurant is open.”

“Except my days off.”

He groaned. “Except your days off. If you feel comfortable not being here two days every week, I am fine with it. But if something goes wrong, you will answer for it.”

She laughed. “Whatever. I’ve been coaching Allegra. She’ll be much better from here on out. No more catastrophes while I’m gone.”

“Great. I’ve lined up three appointments for us tomorrow.”

She turned from the podium. “With vendors?”

“With my friend who is a real estate agent.”

“I told you we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”

“Our market is tight. You must be on top of things to get a good place.”

“I haven’t—”

He interrupted her. “You haven’t decided you’re staying. I get that. But if you choose to stay, I don’t want you panicking. Getting ahead of a problem is how a smart businessperson staves off disaster.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good. Tomorrow morning, Emory will take over lunch prep while you and I apartment hunt. We can be back for dinner.”

* * *

Sun poured in through the huge window of the kitchen of the first unit Maria Salvetti showed Rafe and Dani the next morning. Unfortunately, cold air flowed in through the cracks between the window and the wall.

Dani eased her eyes away from the unwanted ventilation and watched as Rafe walked across a worn hardwood floor, his motorcycle boots clicking along, his jeans outlining an absolutely perfect behind and his black leather jacket, collar flipped up, giving him the look of a dangerous rebel.

For the second time that morning, she told herself she was grateful he’d been honest with her about his inability to commit. She didn’t know a woman who wouldn’t fall victim to his steel-gray eyes and his muscled body. She had to be strong. And her decision to stay at Mancini’s had to be made for all the right reasons.

She faced Maria. “I’d have to fix this myself?”

“Sì. It is for sale. It is not a rental.”

She turned to Rafe. “I wouldn’t have time to work twelve-hour days and be my own general contractor.”

“You could hire someone.”

She winced as she ran her hand along the crack between the wall and window. “Oh, yeah? Just how big is my raise going to be?”

“Big enough.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t like it.”

She also didn’t like the second condo. She did have warm, fuzzy feelings for the old farmhouse a few miles away from the village, but that needed more work than the first condo she’d seen.

Maria’s smile dipped a notch every time Dani rejected a prospective home. She’d tried to explain that she wasn’t even sure she was staying in Italy, but Maria kept plugging along.

After Dani rejected the final option, Maria shook Rafe’s hand, then Dani’s and said, “I’ll check our listings again and get back to you.”

She slid into her car and Dani sighed, glad to be rid of her. Not that Maria wasn’t nice, but with her decision about staying in Italy up in the air, looking for somewhere to live seemed premature. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize quite yet.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket and dialed a number. “Carlo, this is Rafe. Could you have a key for the empty condo at the front desk? Grazie.” He slipped his phone into his jacket again.

She frowned at him. “You have a place to show me?”

He headed for his SUV, motioning for her to follow him. “Actually, I thought Maria would have taken you to his apartment first. It’s a newly renovated condo in my building.”

She stopped walking. “Your building?” She might be smart enough to realize she and Rafe were a bad bet, but all along she’d acknowledged that their spending too much time together was tempting fate. Now he wanted them to live in the same building?

“After Emory, you are my most valued employee. A huge part of Mancini’s success. We need to be available for each other. Plus, there would be two floors between us. It’s not like we’d even run into each other.”

She still hesitated. “Your building’s that big?”

“No. I value my privacy that much.” He sighed. “Seriously. Just come with me to see the place and you will understand.”

Dani glanced around as she entered the renovated old building, Rafe behind her. Black-and-white block tiles were accented by red sofas and chairs in a lounge area of the lobby. The desk for the doorman sat discreetly in a corner.

Leaning over her shoulder, Rafe said, “My home is the penthouse.”

His warm breath tickled her ear and desire poured through her. She almost turned and yelled at him for flirting with her. Instead, she squelched the feeling. He probably wasn’t flirting with her. This was just who he was. Gorgeous. Sinfully sexy. And naturally flirtatious. If she really intended to stay in Italy and work for him, she had to get accustomed to him. As she’d realized after she’d spoken to Paul, she would need discipline and common sense to keep her sanity.

He pointed at the side-by-side elevators. “I don’t use those, and you can’t use them to get to my apartment.”

His breath tiptoed to her neck and trickled down her spine. Still, she kept her expression neutral when she turned and put them face-to-face, so close she could see the little flecks of silver in his eyes.

Just as her reactions couldn’t matter, how he looked—his sexy face, his smoky eyes—also had to be irrelevant. If she didn’t put all this into perspective now, this temptation could rule her life. Or ruin her life.

She gave him her most professional smile. “And I’d be a few floors away?”

“Not just a few floors, but also a locked elevator.”

Dangling the apartment key, he motioned for her to enter the elevator when it arrived. They rode up in silence. He unlocked the door to the available unit and she gasped.

“Oh, my God.” She spun to face him. “I can afford this?”

He laughed. “Yes.”

From the look of the lobby, she’d expected the apartment to be ultramodern. The kind of place she would have killed to have in New York. Black-and-white. Sharp, but sterile. Something cool and sophisticated for her and distant Paul.

But warm beiges and yellows covered these walls. The kitchen area was cozy, with a granite-topped breakfast bar where she could put three stools.

She saw it filled with people. Louisa. Coworkers from Mancini’s. And neighbors she’d meet who could become like a family.

She caught that thought before it could take root. Something about Italy always caused her to see things through rose-colored glasses, and if she didn’t stop, she was going to end up making this choice before she knew for certain that she could work with Rafe as a friend or a business associate, and forget about trying for anything more.

She turned to Rafe again. “Don’t make me want something I can’t have.”

“I already told you that you can afford it.”

“I know.”

“So why do you think you can’t have it?”

It was exactly what she’d dreamed of as a child, but she couldn’t let herself fall in love with it. Or let Rafe see just how drawn she was to this place. If he knew her weakness, he’d easily lure her into staying before she was sure it was the right thing to do.

She pointed at the kitchen, which managed to look cozy even with sleek stainless-steel appliances, dark cabinets and shiny surfaces. “It’s awfully modern.”

“So you want to go back to the farmhouse with the holes in the wall?”

“No.” She turned away again, though she lovingly ran her hand along the granite countertop, imagining herself rolling out dough to make cut-out cookies. She’d paint them with sugary frosting and serve them to friends at Christmas. “I want a homey kitchen that smells like heaven.”

“You have that at Mancini’s.”

“I want a big fat sofa with a matching chair that feels like it swallows you up when you sit in it.”

“You can buy whatever furniture you want.”

“I want to turn my thermostat down to fifty-eight at night so I can snuggle under thick covers.”

He stared at her as if she were crazy. “And you can do that here.”

“Maybe.”

“Undoubtedly.” He sighed. “You have an idealized vision of home.”

“Most foster kids do.”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall near the kitchen. His smoky eyes filled with curiosity. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “You’ve never really told me about your life. You mentioned getting shuffled from foster home to foster home, but you never explained how you got into foster care in the first place.”

She shrugged. Every time she thought about being six years old, or eight years old, or ten years old—shifted every few months to the house of a stranger, trying unsuccessfully to mingle with the other kids—a flash of rejection froze her heart. She was an adult before she’d realized no one had rejected her, per se. Each child was only protecting himself. They’d all been hurt. They were all afraid. Not connecting was how they coped.

Nonetheless, the memories of crying herself to sleep and longing for something better still guided her. It was why she believed she could keep her distance from Rafe. Common sense and a longing for stability directed her decisions. Along with a brutal truth. The world was a difficult place. She knew that because she’d lived it.

“There’s not much to tell. My mom was a drug addict.”

He winced.

“There’s no sense sugarcoating it.”

“Of course there is. Everyone sugarcoats his or her past. It’s how we deal.”

She turned to him again, surprised by the observation. She’d always believed living in truth kept her sane. He seemed to believe exactly the opposite.

“Yeah. What did you sugarcoat?”

“I tell you that I’m not a good bet as a romantic partner.”

She sniffed a laugh.

“What I should have said is that I’m a real bastard.”

She laughed again. “Seriously, Rafe. I got the message the first time. You want nothing romantic between us.”

“Mancini’s needs you and I am not on speaking terms with any woman I’ve ever dated. So I keep you for Mancini’s.”

She looked around at the apartment, unable to stop the warm feeling that flooded her when he said he would keep her. Still, he didn’t mean it the way her heart took it. So, remembering to use her common sense, she focused her attention on the apartment, envisioning it decorated to her taste. The picture that formed had her wrestling with the urge to tell him to get his landlord on the line so she could make an offer—then she realized something amazing.

“You knew I’d love this.”

He had the good graces to look sheepish. “I assumed you would.”

“No assuming about it, you knew.”

“All right, I knew you would love it.”

She walked over to him, as the strangest thought formed in her head. Maybe it wouldn’t take a genius to realize the way to entice a former foster child would be with a home. But no one had ever wanted her around enough to figure that out.

“How did you know?”

He shrugged. His strong shoulders lifted the black leather of his jacket and ruffled the curls of his long, dark hair. “It didn’t take much to realize that you’d probably lost your sense of home when your foster mother died.”

She caught his gaze. “So?”

“So, I think you came to Italy hoping to find it with her relatives.”

“They’re nice people.”

“Yes, but you didn’t feel a connection to Rosa’s nice relatives. Yet, you keep coming back to Mancini’s, because you did connect with us.”

Her heart stuttered. Even her almost fiancé hadn’t understood why she so desperately wanted to find Rosa’s family. But Rafe, a guy who had known her a little over two weeks, a guy she’d had a slim few personal conversations with, had seen it.

He’d also hit the nail on the head about Mancini’s. She felt they were her family. The only thing she didn’t have here in Italy was an actual, physical home.

And he’d found her one.

He cared about her enough to want to please her, to satisfy needs she kept close to her heart.

Afraid of the direction of her thoughts, she turned away and walked into the master bedroom. Seeing the huge space, her eyebrows rose. “Wow. Nice.”

Rafe was right behind her. “Are you changing the subject on me?”

She pivoted and faced him. He seemed genuinely clueless about what he was doing. Not just giving her everything she wanted, but caring about her. He was getting to know her—the real her—in a way no one else in her life ever had. And the urge to fall into his arms, confess her fears, her hopes, her longings, was so strong, she had to walk away from him. If she fell into his arms now, she’d never come out. Especially if he comforted her. God help her if he whispered anything romantic.

“I think we need to change the subject.”

“Why?”

She walked over to him again. For fifty cents, she’d answer him. She’d put her arms around his neck and tell him he was falling for her. The things he did—searching her out in Rome, making her general manager, helping her find a home—those weren’t things a boss did. No matter how much he believed he needed her as an employee, he also had feelings for her.

But he didn’t see it.

And she didn’t trust it. He’d said he was a bastard? What if he really was? What if he liked her now, but didn’t tomorrow?

“Because I’m afraid. Every time I put down roots, it fails.” She said the words slowly, clearly, so there’d be no misunderstanding. Rafe was a smart guy. If she stayed in Italy, shared the joy of making Mancini’s successful, no matter how strong she was, how much discipline she had, how much common sense she used, there was a chance she’d fall in love with him.

And then what?

Would she hang around his restaurant desperate for crumbs of affection from a guy who slept with her, then moved on?

That would be an epic fail. The very thought made her ill.

Because she couldn’t tell him that, she stuck with the safe areas. The things they could discuss.

“For as good as I am at Mancini’s, I can see us having a blowout fight and you firing me again. And for as much as I like the waitstaff, I can see them getting new jobs and moving on. This decision comes with risks for me. I know enough not to pretend things will be perfect. But I have to have at least a little security.”

“You and your security. Maybe to hell with security and focus on a little bit of happiness.”

Oh, she would love to focus on being happy. Touring Italy with him, stolen kisses, nights of passion. But he’d told her that wasn’t in the cards and she believed him. Somehow she had to stop herself from getting those kinds of thoughts every time he said something that fell out of business mode and tipped over into the personal. That would be the only way she could stay at Mancini’s.

When she didn’t answer, he sighed. “I don’t think it’s an accident you found Mancini’s.”

“Of course not. Nico sent me.”

“I am not talking about Nico. I’m talking about destiny.”

She laughed lightly and walked away from him. It was almost funny the way he used the words and phrases of a lover to lure her to a job. It was no wonder her thoughts always went in the wrong direction. He took her there. Thank God she had ahold of herself enough to see his words for what they were. A very passionate man trying to get his own way. To fight for her sanity, she would always have to stand up to him.

“Foster kids don’t get destinies. We get the knowledge that we need to educate ourselves so we can have security. If you really want me to stay, let me come to the decision for the right reasons. Because if I stay, you are not getting rid of me. I will make Mancini’s my home.” She caught his gaze. “Are you prepared for that?”

CHAPTER TEN

WAS HE PREPARED for that?

What the hell kind of question was that for her to ask?

He caught her arm when she turned to walk away. “Of course, I’m prepared for that! Good God, woman, I drove to Rome to bring you back.”

She shook her head with an enigmatic laugh. “Okay. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. Women. Who could figure them out? “I am warned.” He motioned to the door. “Come. I’ll drive you back to Louisa’s.”

But by the time they reached Louisa’s villa and he drove back to his condo to change for work, her strange statement had rattled around in his head and made him crazy. Was he prepared for her staying? Idiocy. He’d all but made her a partner in his business. He wanted her to stay.

He changed his clothes and headed to Mancini’s. Walking into the kitchen, he tried to shove her words out of his head but they wouldn’t go—until he found the staff in unexpectedly good spirits. Then his focus fell to their silly grins.

“What’s going on?”

Emory turned from the prep table. “Have you seen today’s issue of Tuscany Review?”

In all the confusion over Daniella, he’d forgotten that today was the day the tourist magazine came out. He snatched it from Emory’s hands.

“Page twenty-nine.”

He flicked through the pages, getting to the one he wanted, and there was a picture of Dani. So many tourists had snapped pictures that someone from the magazine could have come in and taken this one without anyone in the restaurant paying any mind.

He read the headline. “Mancini’s gets a fresh start.”

“Read the whole article. It’s fantastic.”

As he began to skim the words, Emory said, “There’s mention of the new hostess being pretty and personable.”

Rafe inclined his head. “She is both.”

“And mention of your food without mention of your temper.”

His gaze jerked up to Emory. “No kidding.”

“No kidding. It’s as if your temper didn’t exist.”

He pressed the magazine to his chest. “Thank God I went to Rome and brought her back.”

Daniella pushed open the door. Dressed in a sheath the color of ripe apricots, she smiled as she walked toward Rafe and Emory. “I heard something about a magazine.”

Rafe silently handed it to her.

She glanced down and laughed. “Well, look at me.”

“Yes. Look at you.” He wanted to pull her close and hug her, but he crossed his arms on his chest. The very fact that he wanted to hug her was proof he needed to keep his distance. Even forgetting about the fiancé she had back home, she needed security enough that he wouldn’t tempt her away from finding it. Her staying had to be about Mancini’s and her desire for a place, a home. He had to make sure she got what she wanted out of this deal—without breaking her heart. Because if he broke her heart, she’d leave. And everything they’d accomplished up to now would have been for nothing.

“You realize that even if every chef and busboy cycles out, and every waitress quits after university, Emory and I will always be here.”

Emory grinned at Daniella. Rafe nudged him. “Stop behaving like one of the Three Stooges. This is serious for her.”

She looked up from the magazine with a smile for Rafe. “Yes. I know you will always be here.” Her smile grew. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s part of the problem?”

With that she walked out of the kitchen and Rafe shook his head.

“She talks in riddles.” But deep down he knew what was happening. He’d told her they’d never become lovers. She had feelings for him. Hell, he had feelings for her, but he intended to fight them. He’d told her anything between them was wrong, so she had to be sure she could work with him knowing there’d never be anything between them.

And maybe that’s what she meant about being prepared.

Lately, it seemed he was fighting his feelings as much as she was fighting hers.

* * *

Two nights later, as the dinner service began to slow down, Rafe stepped out into the dining room to see his friend Nico walking into Mancini’s. Nico’s eyes lit when he saw Dani standing at the podium.

“Look at you!” He took her hand and gave her a little twirl to let her show off another pretty blue dress that hugged her figure.

Jealousy rippled through Rafe, but he squelched it. He put her needs ahead of his because that served Mancini’s needs. It was a litany he repeated at least four times a day. After her comment about him being part of the reason her decision was so difficult, he’d known he had to get himself in line or lose her.

As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard Nico say, “Rafe tells me you’re working out marvelously.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I can’t imagine anyone not loving working here.”

Rafe sucked in a happy breath. She loved working at Mancini’s. He knew that, of course, but it was good to hear her say it. It felt normal to hear her say it. As if she knew she belonged here. Clearly, keeping his distance the past two days had worked. Mancini’s was warm and happy. The way he’d always envisioned it.

“We don’t have reservations,” Nico said when Dani glanced at the computer screen.

She smiled. “No worries. The night’s winding down. We have plenty of space.”

Seeing him approach, Nico said, “And here’s the chef now.”

“Nico!” Rafe grabbed him and gave him a bear hug. “What brings you here?”

“I saw your ravioli on Instagram and decided I had to try it.”

“Bah! Damned trust-fund babies. I should—” He stopped suddenly. Half-hidden behind Nico was Marianna Amatucci, Nico’s sister, who’d been traveling for the past year. Short with wild curly hair and honey skin, she was the picture of a natural Italian beauty.

“Marianna!” He nudged Nico out of the way and hugged her, too, lifting her up to swing her around. Rafe hadn’t even seen her to say hello in months. Having her here put another piece of normalcy back in his life.

She giggled when he plopped her to the floor again.

“Daniella,” he said, one hand around Marianna’s waist, the other clasped on Nico’s shoulder. “These are my friends. Nico and his baby sister, Marianna. They get the best table in the house.”

She smiled her understanding, grabbed two menus and led Nico and Marianna into the dining room. “This way.”

Rafe stopped her. “Not there. I want them by my kitchen.” He took the menus from her hands. “I want to spoil them.”

Nico chuckled and caught Dani’s gaze. “What he really means is use us for guinea pigs.”

She laughed, her gaze meeting Nico’s and her cheeks turning pink.

An unexpected thought exploded in Rafe’s brain. He’d told Dani he wanted nothing romantic between them. Her fiancé was a dud. Nico was a good-looking man. And Dani was a beautiful, personable woman. If she stayed, at some point, Dani and Nico could become lovers.

His gut tightened.

Still, shouldn’t he be glad if Nico was interested in Daniella and that interest caused her to stay?

Of course he should. What he wanted from Daniella was a face for his business. If Nico could help get her to stay, then Rafe should help him woo her.

“You are lucky the night is nearly over,” Rafe said as he pulled out Marianna’s chair. He handed the menus to them both.

Smiling warmly at Nico, Dani said, “Can I take your drink orders?”

Nico put his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist as he contemplated Daniella, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

Thinking of Dani and Nico together was one thing. Seeing his friend’s eyes on her was quite another. The horrible black syrup of jealously poured through Rafe’s veins like hot wax.

Unable to endure it, he waved Daniella away. “Go. I will take his drink order. You’re needed at the door. The night isn’t quite over yet.”

She gave Nico one last smile and headed to her post.

Happier with her away from Nico, Rafe listened to his friend’s wine choice.

Marianna said, “Just water for me.”

Rafe gaped at her. “You need wine.”

She shook her head. “I need water.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be an Italian and refuse wine with dinner.”

Nico waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal. She’s been weird ever since she came home. Just bring her the water.”

Rafe called Allegra over so she could get Nico’s wine from the bar and Marianna’s water. All the while, Dani walked customers from the podium, past Nico, who would watch her amble by.

Rafe sucked in a breath, not understanding the feelings rumbling through him. He wanted Daniella to stay. Nico might give her a reason to do just that. He could not romance her himself. Yet he couldn’t bear to have his friend even look at her?

“Give me ten minutes and I will make you the happiest man alive.”

Nico laughed, his eyes on Daniella. “I sincerely doubt you can do that with food.”

Jealousy sputtered through Rafe again. “Get your mind out of the gutter and off my hostess!”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you staking a claim?”

Rafe’s chest froze and he couldn’t speak. But Marianna shook her head. “Men. Does it always have to be about sex with you?”

Nico laughed.

Rafe spun away, rushing into the kitchen, angry with Nico but angrier with himself. He should celebrate Nico potentially being a reason for Daniella to stay. Instead, he was filled with blistering-hot rage. Toward his friend. It was insane.

To make up for his unwanted anger, he put together the best meals he’d ever created. Unfortunately, it didn’t take ten minutes. It took forty.

Allegra took out antipasto and soups while he worked. When he returned to the dining room, there were no more people at the door. All customers had been seated. Tables that emptied weren’t being refilled. Anticipating going home, the busboys cheerfully cleared away dishes.

And Dani sat with Nico and Marianna.

Forcing himself to be friendly—happy—Rafe set the plates of food in front of Nico and his sister.

Marianna said, “Oh, that smells heavenly.”

Nico nodded. “Impressive, Rafe.”

Dani inhaled deeply. “Mmm...”

Nico grinned, scooped up some pasta and offered it to Dani. “Would you like a bite?”

“Oh, I’d love a bite!”

Nico smiled.

Unwanted jealousy and an odd proprietary instinct rushed through Rafe. Before Daniella could take the bite Nico offered, Rafe grabbed the back of her chair and yanked her away from the table.

“I want her to eat that meal later tonight.”

Nico laughed. “Really? What is this? A special occasion?”

Rafe knew Nico meant that as a joke, but he suddenly felt like an idiot as if Nico had caught his jealousy. He straightened to his full six-foot height. “Not a special occasion, part of the process. She’s eaten bits of food to get our flavor, but tonight I had planned on treating her to an entire dinner.”

Dani turned around on her chair to catch his gaze. “Really?”

Oh, Lord.

Something soft and earthy trembled through him, replacing his jealousy and feelings of being caught, as if they had never existed. Trapped in the gaze of her blue eyes, he quietly said, “Yes.”

She rose, putting them face-to-face. “A private dinner?”

He shrugged, but everything male inside him shimmered. After days of only working together, being on his best behavior, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted time alone with her. He didn’t want Nico to woo her. He wanted to woo her.

“Yes. A private dinner.”

She smiled.

His breath froze. She was happy to be alone with him? He’d warned her...yet she still wanted to be alone with him? And what of her fiancé?

He pivoted and returned to the kitchen, not sure what he was doing. But as he worked, he slowed his pace. He rejected ravioli, spaghetti Bolognese. Both were too simple. Too common—

If he was going to feed her an entire meal, it would be his best. Pride the likes of which he’d never felt before rose in him. Only the best for his Dani.

He stopped, his finger poised above a pot, ready to sprinkle a pinch of salt.

His Dani?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Dear God. This wasn’t just an attraction. He was head over heels crazy for her.

* * *

Dani alternated between standing nervously by the podium and sitting with Nico and Marianna.

The dining room had all but emptied, yet she couldn’t seem to settle. Her fluttery stomach had her wondering if she’d even be able to eat what Rafe prepared for her.

A private dinner.

She had no idea what it meant, but when he emerged from the kitchen and walked to Nico’s table, her breath stalled. He’d removed his smock and stood before the Amatuccis in dark trousers and a white T-shirt that outlined his taut stomach. Tight cotton sleeves rimmed impressive biceps and Dani saw a tattoo she’d never noticed before.

“I trust you enjoyed your dinners.”

Nico blotted his mouth with a napkin, then said, “Rafe, you truly are gifted.”

Rafe bowed graciously.

“And, Marianna.” When Rafe turned to see her half-eaten meal, he frowned. “Why you not eat?”

She smiled slightly. “You give everyone enough to feed an army. Half was plenty.”

“You’ll take the rest home?”

She nodded and Rafe motioned for Allegra to get her plate and put her food in a take-out container.

Rafe chatted with Nico, calmly, much more calmly than Dani felt, but the second Allegra returned with the take-out container, Marianna jumped from her seat.

“I need to get home. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight, but I’m exhausted.”

Nico rose, too. “It is late. Dinner was something of an afterthought. I promised Marianna I’d get her back at a decent hour. But I knew you’d want to see her after her year away, Rafe.”

Rafe kissed her hand. “Absolutely. I’m just sorry she’s too tired for us to catch up.”

Dani frowned. Nico’s little sister didn’t look tired. She looked pale. Biting her lower lip, Dani realized she’d only known one other person who’d looked that way—

Rafe waved her over. “Say good-night to Nico and his sister.”

Keeping her observations to herself, Dani smiled. “Good night, Marianna.”

Marianna returned her smile. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you since Nico loves Rafe’s food.”

Nico laughed, took both her hands and kissed them. “Good night, Daniella. Tell your roomie I said hello.”

Daniella’s face reddened. Louisa had been the topic of most of Nico’s questions when she’d sat with him and his sister, but there was no way in hell she’d tell Louisa Nico had mentioned her. Still, she smiled. Every time she talked to Nico, she liked him more. Which only made Louisa’s dislike all the more curious.

“Good night, Nico.”

After helping Marianna with her coat, Rafe walked his friends to their car. Dani busied herself helping the waitresses finish dining room cleanup. She didn’t see Rafe return, but when a half hour went by, she assumed he’d come in through the back door to the kitchen.

Of course, he could be talking to beautiful Marianna. She might be with her brother, but that brother was a friend of Rafe’s. And Nico had said he wanted to bring Marianna to Mancini’s because he knew Rafe would want to see her. They probably had all kinds of stories to reminisce about. Marianna might be too young to have been his first kiss, his first love, but she was an adult now. A beautiful woman.

Realizing how possible it was that Rafe might be interested in Marianna, Dani swayed, but she quickly calmed herself. If she decided to stay, watching him with other women would be part of her life. She had to get used to this. She had to get accustomed to seeing him flirt, seeing beautiful women like Marianna look at him with interest.

She tossed a chair to the table with a little more force than was necessary.

Gio frowned. “Are you okay?”

She smiled. “Yes. Perfect.”

“If you’re not okay, Allegra and I can finish.”

“I’m fine.” She forced her smile to grow bigger. “Just eager to be done for the night.”

As they finished the dining room, Rafe walked out of the kitchen to the bar. He got a bottle of wine and two glasses. As their private dinner became a reality, Dani’s stomach tightened.

She squeezed her eyes shut, scolding herself. The dinner might be private for no other reason than the restaurant would be closed. Rafe probably didn’t want to be alone with her as much as he wanted her to eat a meal, as hostess, so she could get the real experience of dining at Mancini’s.

The waitresses left. The kitchen light went out, indicating Emory and his staff had gone.

Only she and Rafe remained.

He faced her, pointed at a chair. “Sit.”

Okay. That was about as far from romantic as a man could get. This “private” dinner wasn’t about the two of them having time together. It was about a chef who wanted his hostess to know his food.

She walked over, noticing again how his tight T-shirt accented a strong chest and his neat-as-a-pin trousers gave him a professional look. But as she got closer, Louisa’s high, high heels clicking on the tile floor, she saw his gaze skim the apricot dress. His eyes warmed with interest. His lips lifted into a slow smile.

And her stomach fell to the floor. This was why she’d never quite been able to talk herself out of her attraction to him. He was every bit as attracted to her. He might try to hide it. He might fight it tooth and nail. But he liked her as more than an employee.

She reached the chair. He pulled it out, offering the seat to her.

As she sat, her back met his hands still on the chair. Rivers of tingles flowed from the spot where they touched. Her breath shuddered in and stuttered out. Nerves filled her.

He stepped away. “We’re skipping soup and salad, since it’s late.” All business, he sat on the chair next to hers. He lifted the metal cover first from her plate, then his own. “I present beef brasato with pappardelle and mint.”

When the scent hit her, her mouth watered. All thoughts of attraction fled as her stomach rumbled greedily. She closed her eyes and savored the aroma.

“You like?”

Unable to help herself, she caught his gaze. “I’m amazed.”

“Wait till you taste.”

He smiled encouragingly. She picked up her fork, filled it with pasta and slid it into her mouth. Knowing he’d made this just for her, the ritual seemed very decadent, very sensual. Their eyes met as flavor exploded on her tongue.

“Oh, God.”

He grinned. “Is good?”

“You know you don’t even have to ask.”

He sat back with a laugh. “I was top of my class. I trained both in Europe and the United States so I could ascertain the key to satisfying both palates.” He smiled slowly. “I am a master.”

She sliced off a bit of the beef. It was so good she had to hold back a groan. “No argument here.”

“Wait till you taste my tiramisu.”

“No salad but you made dessert?”

He leaned in, studied her. “Are you watching your weight?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then prepare to be taken to a world of decadence.”

She laughed, expecting him to pick up his fork and eat his own meal. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his warm eyes on her.

“You like it when people go bananas over your food.”

“Of course.”

But that wasn’t why he was studying her. There was a huge difference between pride in one’s work and curiosity about an attraction and she knew that curiosity when she saw it.

She put down her fork, caught in his gaze, the moment. “What are we really doing here, Rafe?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“You aren’t staring at me like someone who wants to make sure I like his food.”

“You are beautiful.”

Her heart shivered. Her eyes clung to his. She wanted him to have said that because he liked her, because he was ready to do something about it. But a romance between them would be a disaster. She’d be hurt. She’d have to leave Monte Calanetti. She could not take anything he said romantically.

Forking another bite of food, she casually said, “Beauty doesn’t pay the rent.”

His voice a mere whisper, he said, “Why do you tease me?”

Her face fell. “I don’t tease you!”

“Of course, you do. Every day you dress more beautifully, but you don’t talk to me.”

“I’m smart enough to stay away when a guy warns me off.”

“Yet you tell me I must be prepared for you to stay.”

“Because you...” Like me. She almost said it. But his admitting he liked her would be nothing but trouble. He might like her in the moment, but he wouldn’t like her forever. It was stupid to even have that discussion.

She steered them away from it. “Because if I stay, no more firing me. You’re getting me permanently.”

“You keep saying that as if I should be afraid.” He slid his arm to the back of her chair. His fingers rose to toy with the blunt line of her chin-length hair. “But your staying is not a bad thing.”

The wash of awareness roaring through her disagreed. If she fell in love with him, her staying would be a very bad thing. His touching her did not help matters. With his fingers brushing her hair, tickling her nape, she couldn’t move...could barely breathe.

His hand shifted from her hairline and wrapped around the back of her neck so he could pull her closer. She told herself to resist. To be smart. But something in his eyes wouldn’t let her. As she drew nearer, he leaned in. Their gazes held until his lips met hers, then her eyelids dropped. Her breathing stopped.

Warm and sweet, his lips brushed her, and she knew why she hadn’t resisted. She so rarely got what she wanted in life that when tempted she couldn’t say no. It might be wrong to want him, but she did.

His hand slid from her neck to her back, twisting her to sit sideways on her chair. Her arms lifted slowly, her hands hesitantly went to his shoulders. Then he deepened the kiss and her mind went blank.

It wasn’t so much the physical sensations that robbed her of thought but the fact that he kissed her. He finally, finally kissed her the way he had the night he’d walked her to her car.

When he thought she was free.

When he wanted there to be something between them.

The kiss went on and on. Her senses combined to create a flood of need so strong that something unexpected suddenly became clear. She was already in love with Rafe. She didn’t have to worry that someday she might fall in love. Innocent and needy as she was, she had genuinely fallen in love—

And he was nowhere near in love with her.

He was strong and stubborn, set in his ways. He said he didn’t do relationships. He said he didn’t have time. He’d told her he hurt women. And if he hurt her, she’d never be able to work for him.

Did she want to risk this job for a fling?

To risk her new friends?

Did she want to be hurt?

Hadn’t she been hurt, rejected enough in her life already?

She jerked away from him.

He pulled away slowly and ran his hand across his forehead. “Oh, my God. I am so sorry.”

“Sorry?” She was steeped in desire sprinkled with a healthy dose of fear, so his apology didn’t quite penetrate.

“I told you before. I do not steal other men’s women.”

“Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Paul was such a done deal for her that she’d taken him out of the equation. But Rafe didn’t know that. For a second she debated keeping up the charade, if only to protect herself. But they had hit the point where that wasn’t fair. She couldn’t let Rafe go on thinking he was romancing another man’s woman. Especially not when she had been such a willing participant.

She sucked in a breath, caught his gaze and quietly said, “I’m not engaged.”

Rafe sat up in his chair. “What?”

She felt her cheeks redden. “I’m not engaged.”

His face twisted with incredulity. “You lied?”

“No.” She bounced from her seat and paced away. “Not really. My boyfriend had asked me to marry him. I told him I needed time to think about it. I was leaving for Italy anyway—”

He interrupted her as if confused. “So your boyfriend asked you to marry him and you ran away?”

She swallowed. “No. I inherited the money for a plane ticket to come here to find Rosa’s relatives and I immediately tacked extra time onto my teaching tour. All that had been done before Paul proposed.”

“So his proposal was a stopgap measure.”

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Not able to keep you from going to Italy, he tied you to himself enough that you would feel guilty if you got involved with another man while you were away.” He caught her gaze. “But it didn’t work, did it?”

She closed her eyes. “No.”

“It shouldn’t have worked. It was a ploy. And you shouldn’t feel guilty about anything that happened while you were here since you’re really not engaged.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I called him after we returned from Rome and officially rejected his proposal.”

“You told him no?”

She nodded. “And told him I might be staying in Italy.” She sucked in a breath. “He wished me luck.”

Rafe sat back in his chair. “And so you are free.” He combed his fingers through his hair. Laughed slightly.

The laugh kind of scared her. She’d taken away the one barrier she knew would protect her. All she had now to keep her from acting on her love for him was her willpower. Which she’d just proven wasn’t very strong.

“I should go.”

His gaze slowly met hers. “You haven’t finished eating.”

His soulful eyes held hers and her stomach jumped. Everything about him called to her on some level. He listened when she talked, appreciated her work at his restaurant...was blisteringly attracted to her.

What the hell would have happened if she hadn’t broken that kiss? What would happen if she stayed, finished her meal, let them have more private time? With Paul gone as protection, would he seduce her? And if she resisted...what would she say? Another lie? I don’t like you? I’m not interested? I don’t want to be hurt?

The last wasn’t a lie. And it would work. But she didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to hear him tell her one more time that he couldn’t commit. She didn’t want this night to end on a rejection.

“I want to go home.”

His eyes on her, he rose slowly. “Let’s go, then. I will clean up in the morning.”

Finally breaking eye contact, she walked to the front of Mancini’s to get her coat. Her legs shook. Her breaths hurt. Not because she knew she was probably escaping making love, but because he really was going to hurt her one day.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE NEXT MORNING, Rafe was in the dining room when Dani used her key to unlock the front door and enter Mancini’s. Around him, the waitresses and busboys busily set up tables. The wonderful aromas of his cooking filled the air. But when she walked in, Dani brought the real life to the restaurant. Dressed in a red sweater with a black skirt and knee-high boots, she was just the right combination of sexy and sweet.

And she’d rejected him the night before.

Even though she’d broken up with her man in America.

Without saying good morning, without as much as meeting her gaze, he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen to the prep tables where he inspected the handiwork of two chefs.

He waved his hand over the rolled-out dough for a batch of ravioli. “This is good.”

He tasted some sauce, inclined his head, indicating it was acceptable and headed for his workstation.

Emory scrambled over behind him. “Is Daniella here?”

“Yes.” But even before Rafe could finish the thought, she pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and entered. She strolled to his prep table, cool and nonchalant as if nothing had happened between them.

But lots had happened between them. He’d kissed her. And she’d told him she didn’t have a fiancé. Then she’d run. Rejecting him.

“Good morning.”

He forced his gaze to hers. His eyes held hers for a beat before he said, “Good morning.”

Emory caught her hands. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

She laughed. “It was excellent.” She met Rafe’s gaze again. “Our chef is extraordinary.”

His heart punched against his ribs. How could a man not take that as a compliment? She hadn’t just eaten his food the night before. She’d returned his kiss with as much passion and fervor as he’d put into it.

Emory glowed. “This we know. And we count on you to make sure every customer knows.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve always been able to talk up the food from the bites you’ve given me. But eating an entire serving has seared the taste of perfection in my brain.”

Emory grinned. “Great!”

“I think our real problem will be that I’ll start stealing more bites and end up fat as a barrel.”

Emory laughed but Rafe looked away, remembering his question from the night before. Are you watching your weight? One memory took him back to the scene, the mood, the moment. How nervous she’d seemed. How she’d jumped when his hand had brushed her back. How her jitters had disappeared while they were kissing and didn’t return until they’d stopped.

Because she had to tell him about her fiancé.

She wasn’t engaged.

She had responded to him.

Emory laughed. “Occupational hazard.”

Her gaze ambled to Rafe’s again. All they’d had the night before was a taste of what could be between them. Yes, he knew he’d warned her off. But she’d still kissed him. He’d given her plenty of time to move away, but she’d stayed. Knowing his terms—that he didn’t want a relationship—she’d accepted his kiss.

With their gazes locked, she couldn’t deny it. He could see the heat in her blue eyes.

“From here on out, when we create a new dish or perfect an old one,” Emory continued, oblivious to the nonverbal conversation she and Rafe were having, “you will sample.”

“I want her to have more than a sample.”

The words sprang from him without any thought. But he wouldn’t take them back. He no longer wanted an affair with her. He now longed for it, yearned for it in the depths of his being. And they were adults. They weren’t kids. Love affairs were part of life. She might get hurt, or because they were both lovers and coworkers, she might actually understand him. His life. His time constraints. His passion for his dream—

She might be the perfect lover.

The truth of that rippled through him. It might not be smart to gamble with losing her, but he didn’t think he’d lose her. In fact, he suddenly, passionately believed a long-term affair was the answer to their attraction.

“And I know more than a sample would be bad for me.” She shifted her gaze to Emory before smiling and walking out of the kitchen.

Rafe shook his head and went back to his cooking. He had no idea if she was talking about his food or the subtle suggestion of an affair he’d made, but if she thought that little statement of hers was a deterrent, she was sadly mistaken.

Never in his life had he walked away from something he really wanted and this would not be an exception. Especially since he finally saw how perfect their situation could be.

* * *

Dani walked out of the kitchen and pressed her hand to her jumpy stomach. Those silver-gray eyes could get more across in one steamy look than most men could in foreplay.

To bolster her confidence, which had flagged again, she reminded herself of her final thoughts as she’d fallen asleep the night before. Rafe was a mercurial man. Hot one minute. Cold the next. And for all she knew, he could seduce her one day and dump her the next. She needed security. Mancini’s could be that security. She would not risk that for an affair. No matter how sexy his eyes were when he said it. How deep his voice.

She walked to the podium. Two couples awaited. She escorted them to a table. As the day wore on, customer after customer chatted with her about their tours or, if they were locals, their homes and families. The waitstaff laughed and joked with each other. The flow of people coming in and going out, eating, serving, clearing tables surrounded her, reminded her that this was why she wanted to stay in Italy, at Mancini’s. Not for a man, a romance, but for a life. The kind of interesting, fun, exciting life she’d never thought she’d get.

She wanted this much more than she wanted a fling that ended in a broken heart and took away the job she loved.

At the end of the night, Emory came out with the white pay envelopes. He passed them around and smiled when he gave one to Dani. “This will be better than last time.”

“So my raise is in here?”

“Yes.” He nodded once and strode away.

Dani tucked the envelope into her skirt pocket and helped the waitresses with cleanup. When they were done, she grabbed her coat, not wanting to tempt fate by being the only remaining employee when Rafe came out of the kitchen.

She walked to her car, aware that Rafe’s estimation of her worth sat by her hip, half afraid to open it. He had to value her enough to pay her well or she couldn’t stay. She would not leave the security of her teaching job and an apartment she could afford, just to be scraping by in a foreign country, no matter how much she loved the area, its people and especially her job.

After driving the car into a space in Louisa’s huge garage, Dani entered the house through the kitchen.

Louisa sat at the table, enjoying her usual cup of tea before bedtime. “How did it go? Was he nice? Was he romantic? Or did he ignore you?”

Dani slipped off her coat. “He hinted that we should have an affair.”

“That’s not good.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not letting him change the rules he made in Rome. He said that for us to work together there could be nothing between us.” She sucked in a breath. “So he can’t suddenly decide it’s okay for us to have an affair.”

Louisa studied her. “I think you’re smart to keep it that way, but are you sure it’s what you want?”

“Yes. Today customers reminded me of why I love this job. Between lunch and dinner, I worked with Emory to organize the schedule for ordering supplies and streamline it. He showed me a lot of the behind-the-scenes jobs it takes to make Mancini’s work. Every new thing I see about running a restaurant seems second nature to me.”

“And?”

“And, as I’ve thought all along, I have instincts for the business. This could be more than a job for me. It could be a real career. If Rafe wants to risk that by making a pass at me, I think I have the reasoning set in my head to tell him no.”

Louisa’s questioning expression turned into a look of joy. “So you’re staying?”

“Actually—” she waved the envelope “—it all depends on what’s in here. If my salary doesn’t pay me enough for my own house or condo, plus food and spending money, I can’t stay.”

Louisa crossed her fingers for luck. “Here’s hoping.”

Dani shook her head. “You know, you’re so good to me I want to stay just for our friendship.”

Louise groaned. “Open the darned thing already!”

She sliced a knife across the top of the envelope. When she saw the amount of her deposit, she sat on the chair across from Louisa. “Oh, my God.”

Louisa winced. “That bad?”

“It’s about twice what I expected.” She took a breath. “What’s he doing?”

Louisa laughed. “Trying to keep you?”

“The amount is so high that it’s actually insulting.” She rose from her seat, grabbed her coat and headed for the door. “Half this check would have been sufficient to keep me. This amount? It’s—offensive.” Almost as if he was paying her to sleep with him. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words to Louisa. But how coincidental was it that he’d dropped hints that he wanted to have an affair, then paid her more money than she was worth?

The insult of it vibrated through her. The nerve of that man!

“Where are you going?”

“To toss this back in his face.”

Yanking open the kitchen door, she bounded out into the cold, cold garage. She jumped into the old car and headed back to Monte Calanetti, parking on a side street near the building where Rafe had shown her the almost-perfect condo.

But as she strode into the lobby, she remembered she needed a key to get into the elevator that would take her to the penthouse. Hoping to ask the doorman for help, she groaned when she saw the desk was empty.

Maybe she should take this as a sign that coming over here was a bad idea?

She sucked in a breath. No. Their situation was too personal to talk about at Mancini’s. And she wanted to yell. She wanted to vent all her pent-up frustrations and maybe even throw a dish or two. She had to talk to him now. Alone.

She walked over to the desk and eyed the phone. Luckily, one of the marked buttons said Penthouse. She lifted the receiver and hit the button.

After only one ring, Rafe answered. “Hello?”

She sucked in a breath. “It’s me. Daniella. I’m in your lobby and don’t know how to get up to your penthouse.”

“Pass the bank of elevators we used to get to the condo I showed you and turn right. I’ll send my elevator down for you.”

“Don’t I need a key?”

“I’ll set it to return. You just get in.”

She did as he said, walking past the first set of elevators and turning to find the one for the penthouse. She stepped through the open doors and they swished closed behind her.

Riding up in the elevator with its modern gray geometric-print wallpaper and black slate floors, she was suddenly overwhelmed by something she hadn’t considered, but should have guessed.

Rafe was a wealthy man.

Watching the doors open to an absolutely breathtaking home, she tried to wrap her brain around this new facet of Rafe Mancini. He wasn’t just sexy, talented and mercurial. He was rich.

And she was about to yell at him? She, who’d always been poor? Always three paychecks away from homelessness? She’d never, ever considered that maybe the reason he didn’t think anything permanent would happen between them might be because they were so different. They lived in two different countries. They had two different belief systems. And now she was seeing they came from two totally different worlds.

Rafe walked around a corner, holding two glasses of wine.

“Chianti.” He handed one to her and motioned to the black leather sofa in front of a stacked stone fireplace in the sitting area.

Unable to help herself, she glanced around, trepidation filling her. Big windows in the back showcased the winking lights of the village. The black chairs around a long black dining room table had white upholstered backs and cushions. Plush geometric-patterned rugs sat on almost-black hardwood floors. The paintings on the pale gray walls looked ancient—valuable.

It was the home of a wealthy, wealthy man.

“Daniella?”

And maybe that’s why he thought he could influence her with money? Because she came from nothing.

That made her even angrier.

She straightened her shoulders, caught his gaze. “Are you trying to buy me off?”

“Buy you off?”

“Get me to stop saying no to a relationship by bribing me with a big, fat salary?”

He laughed and fell to the black sofa. “Surely this is a first. An employee who complains about too much money.” He shook his head with another laugh. “You said you wanted to be compensated for relocating. You said you wanted to be general manager. That is what a general manager makes.”

“Oh.” White-hot waves of heat suffused her. Up until this very second, everything that happened with reference to her job at Mancini’s had been fun or challenging. He pushed. She pushed back. He wanted her for his restaurant. She made demands. But holding the check, hearing his explanation, everything took on a reality that had somehow eluded her. She was general manager of a restaurant. This was her salary.

He patted the sofa. “Come. Sit.”

She took a few steps toward the sofa, but the lights of the village caught her attention and the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland swept through her.

“I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d make this much money.”

“Well, teachers are notoriously underpaid in America, and though you’d studied a few things that might have steered you to a more lucrative profession, you chose to be a teacher.”

Her head snapped up and she turned to face him. “How do you know?”

He batted a hand. “Do I look like an idiot? Not only did I do due diligence in investigating your work history, but also I took a look at your college transcripts. Do you really think I would have given you such an important job if you didn’t have at least one university course in accounting?”

“No.” Her gaze on him, she sat on the far edge of the sofa.

His voice became soft, indulgent. “Perhaps in the jumble of everything that’s been happening I did not make myself clear. I’ve told you that I intend to be one of the most renowned chefs in Europe. I can’t do that from one restaurant outside an obscure Tuscan village. My next restaurant will be in Rome. The next in Paris. The next in London. I will build slowly, but I will build.”

“You’d leave Mancini’s?” Oddly, the thought actually made her feel better.

“I will leave Mancini’s in Tuscany when I move to Rome to build Mancini’s Rome.” He frowned. “I thought I told you this.” His frown deepened. “I know for sure I told you that Mancini’s was only a stepping stone.”

“You might have mentioned it.” But she’d forgotten. She forgot everything but her attraction to him when he was around. She’d accused him of using promotions to cover his feelings for her. But she’d used her feelings for him to block what was really going on with her job, and now, here she was, in a job so wonderful she thought she might faint from the joy of it.

“With you in place I can move to the next phase of my business plan. But there’s a better reason for me to move on. You and I both worry that if we do something about our attraction, you will be hurt when it ends and Mancini’s will lose you.” He smiled. “So I fix.”

“You fix?”

“I leave. Once I start my second restaurant, you will not have to deal with me on a day-to-day basis.” His smile grew. “And we will understand each other because we’ll both work in the same demanding profession. You will understand if I cancel plans at the last minute.”

This time the heat that rained down on her had nothing to do with embarrassment. He’d really thought this through. Like a man willing to shift a few things because he liked her.

“Oh.”

“There are catches.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “Catches?”

“Yes. I will be using you for help creating the other restaurants. To scout sites. To hire staff. To teach them how to create our atmosphere. That is your real talent.” He held her gaze. “That is also why your salary is so high. You are a big part of Mancini’s success. You created that atmosphere. I want it not just in one restaurant, but all of them, and you will help me get it.”

The foster child taught not to expect much out of life, the little girl who learned manners only by mimicking what she saw in school, the Italian tourist who borrowed Louisa’s clothes and felt as though she was playing dress up every day she got ready for work, that girl quivered with happiness at the compliment.

The woman who’d been warned by him that he would hurt her struggled with fear.

“You didn’t just create a great job for me. You cleared the way for us to have an affair.”

Rafe sighed. “Why are you so surprised? You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You make me feel better about myself. My life. Yes, I want you. So I figured out a way I could have you.”

She sucked in a breath. It was heady stuff to see the lengths he was willing to go to be with her. And she also saw the one thing he wasn’t saying.

“You like me.”

“What did you think? That I’d agonize this much over someone I just wanted to sleep with?”

She smiled. “You agonized?”

He batted a hand in dismissal. “You’re a confusing woman, Daniella.”

“And you’ve gone to some pretty great lengths to make sure we can...see each other.”

His face turned down into his handsome pout. “And you should appreciate it.”

She did. She just didn’t know how to handle it.

“Is it so hard to believe I genuinely like you?”

“No.” She just never expected he would say it. But he said it easily. And the day would probably come when those feelings would expand. He truly liked her and she was so in love with him that her head spun. This was not going to be an affair. He was talking about a relationship.

Happiness overwhelmed her and she couldn’t resist. She set her wineglass on the coffee table and scooted beside him.

* * *

A warm, syrupy feeling slid through Rafe. But on its heels was the glorious ping of arousal. Before he realized what she was about to do, she kissed him. Quick and sweet, her lips met his. When she went to pull back, he slid his hand across her lower back and hauled her to him. He deepened their kiss, using his tongue to tempt her. Nibbling her lips. Opening his mouth over hers until she responded with the kind of passion he’d always known lived in her heart.

He pulled away. “You play with fire.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Temptation roared through him and all his good intentions to take it slowly with her melted like snow in April. He could have her now. In this minute. He could take what he greedily wanted.

She drew a breath. “How is it playing with fire if we really, really like each other?”

She was killing him. Sitting so warm and sweet beside him, tempting him with what he wanted before she was ready.

Still, though it pained him, he knew the right thing to do.

“So we will do this right. When you are ready, when you trust me, we will take the next step.”

Her gaze held his. “When I trust you?”

“Sì. When I feel you trust me enough to understand why we can be lovers, you will come to my bed.”

Her face scrunched as she seemed to think all that through. “Wait...this is just about becoming lovers?”

“Yes.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t worry that much about someone you wanted to sleep with.” She caught his gaze. “You said you agonized.”

“Because we will not be a one-night stand. We will be lovers. Besides, I told you. I don’t do relationships.”

“You also said that you’d never have a romance with an employee.” She met his gaze. “But you changed that rule.”

“I made accommodations. I made everything work.”

“Not for me! I don’t just want a fling! I want something that’s going to last.”

His eyebrows rose. “Something that will last?” He frowned. “Forever?”

“Forever!”

“I tried forever. It did not work for me.”

“You tried?”

“Sì.”

“And?”

“And it ended badly.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain that he’d been shattered, that he’d almost given up his dream for a woman who had left him, that he’d been a ball of pain and confusion until he pulled himself together and realized his dreams depended on him not trusting another woman with his heart or so much of his life.

“Cara, marriage is for other people. It’s full of all kinds of things incompatible with the man I have to be to be a success.”

“You never want to get married?”

“No!” He tossed his hands. “What I have been saying all along? Do you not listen?”

She stood up. The pain on her face cut through him like a knife. Though he suddenly wondered why. He’d always known she wanted security. He’d always known he couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t believe he’d actually tried to get her to accept less than what she needed.

He rose, too. “Okay, let’s forget this conversation happened. It’s been a long day. I’m tired. I also clearly misinterpreted things. Come to Mancini’s tomorrow as general manager.”

She took two steps back. “You’re going to keep me, even though I won’t sleep with you?”

“Yes.” But the sadness that filled him confused him. He’d had other women tell him no and he’d walked away unconcerned. Her no felt like the last page of a favorite book, the end of something he didn’t want to see end. And yet he knew she couldn’t live with his terms and he couldn’t live with hers.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AGREEING THAT HE was right about at least one thing—she was too tired, too spent, to continue this discussion—Dani walked to the elevator. He followed her, hit the button that would close the door and turned away.

She sucked in a breath and tried to still her hammering heart. But it was no use. They really couldn’t find a middle ground. It was sweet that he’d tried, but it was just another painful reminder that she had fallen in love with the wrong man.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d be okay—

No, she wouldn’t. She’d fallen in love with him. Unless he really stayed out of Mancini’s, she’d always be in love with him. Then she’d spend her life wishing he could fall for her, too. Or maybe one day she’d succumb. She’d want him so much she’d forget everything else, and she’d start the affair he wanted. With the strength of her feelings, that would seal the deal for her. She’d love him forever. Then she’d never have a home. Never have a family. Always be alone.

She thought of the plane ticket tucked away somewhere in her bedroom in Louisa’s house. Now that she knew he wanted nothing but an affair, which was unacceptable, she could go home.

But she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to run Mancini’s. He’d handed her the opportunity with her general managership—

And he was leaving. Maybe not permanently, but for the next several years he wouldn’t be around every day. Most of the time, he’d be in other cities, opening new restaurants.

Wouldn’t she be a fool to leave now? Especially since she had a few days before she had to use that ticket. Maybe the wise thing to do would be to use this time to figure out if she could handle working with him as the boss she only saw a few times a month?

The next day when she walked in the door and felt the usual surge of rightness, she knew the job was worth fighting for. In her wildest dreams she’d never envisioned herself successful. Competent, making a living, getting a decent apartment? Yes. But never as one of the people at the top. Hiring employees. Creating atmosphere. Would she really let some feelings, one man, steal this from her?

No! No! She’d been searching for something her entire life. She believed she’d found it at Mancini’s. It would take more than unrequited love to scare her away from that.

When Emory sat down with her in between lunch and dinner and showed her the human resources software, more of the things she’d learned in her university classes tumbled back.

“So I’ll be doing all the admin?”

Emory nodded. “With Rafe gone, setting up Mancini’s Rome, I’ll be doing all the cooking. I won’t have time to help.”

“That’s fine.” She studied the software on the screen, simple stuff, really. Basically, it would do the accounting for her. And the rest? It was all common sense. Ordering. Managing the dining room. Hiring staff.

He squeezed her hand. “You and me...we make a good team.”

Her smile grew and her heart lightened. She loved Emory.

Even tempered with the staff and well acquainted with Rafe’s recipes, he was the perfect chef. As long as Rafe wasn’t around, she would be living her dream.

She returned his hand squeeze. “Yeah. We do.”

When she and Emory were nearly finished going over the software programs, Rafe walked into the office. As always when he was around, she tingled. But knowing this was one of the things she was going to have to deal with, because he wasn’t going away permanently, she simply ignored it.

“Have you taught her payroll?”

Emory rose from his seat. “Yes. In fact, she explained a thing or two to me.”

Rafe frowned. “How so?”

“She understands the software. I’m a chef. I do not.”

Dani also rose from her chair. “I’ve worked with software before to record grades. Essentially, most spreadsheet programs run on the same type of system, the same theories. My boyfriend—” She stopped when the word boyfriend caught in her throat. Emory’s gaze slid over to her. But Rafe’s eyes narrowed.

She took a slow, calming breath. “My ex-boyfriend Paul is a computer genius. I picked up a few things from him.”

Rafe turned away. “Well, let us be glad for him, then.”

He said the words calmly, but Dani heard the tension in his voice. There were feelings there. Not just lust. So it wouldn’t be only her own feelings she’d be fighting. She’d also have to be able to handle his. And that might be a little trickier.

“I’ve been in touch with a Realtor in Rome. I go to see buildings tomorrow.”

A look passed between him and Emory.

Emory tucked the software manual into the bottom bin of an in basket. “Good. It’s time to get your second restaurant up and running.” He slid from behind the desk. “But right now I have to supervise dinner.”

He scampered out of the room and Rafe’s gaze roamed over to hers again. “I’d like for you to come to Rome with me.”

Heat suffused her and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Me?”

“I want you to help me scout locations.”

“Really?”

“I told you. You are the one who created the atmosphere of this Mancini’s. If I want to re-create it, I think you need to be in on choosing the site.”

Because that made sense and because she did have to learn to deal with him as a boss, owner of the restaurant for which she worked, she tucked away any inappropriate longings and smiled. “Okay.”

She could be all business because that’s what really worked for them.

* * *

The next day, after walking through an old, run-down building with their Realtor, Rafe and Dani stepped out into the bright end-of-February day.

“I could do with a coffee right now.”

He glanced at her. In her sapphire-blue coat and white mittens, she looked cuddly, huggable. And very, very, very off-limits. Her smiles had been cool. Her conversations stilted. But she’d warmed up a bit when they actually began looking at buildings.

“Haven’t you already had two cups of coffee?”

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, like a friend or a cousin, someone allowed innocent, meaningless touches.

“Don’t most Italians drink something like five cups a day?”

When he said, “Bah,” she laughed.

All morning, their conversation at his apartment two nights ago had played over and over and over in his head. She wanted a commitment and he didn’t. So he’d figured out a way they could be lovers and work together and she’d rejected it. He’d had to accept that.

But being with her this morning, without actually being allowed to touch her or even contemplate kissing her was making him think all kinds of insane things. Like how empty his life was. How much he would miss her when he stopped working at the original Mancini’s and headquartered himself in Rome.

So though he knew her hand at his elbow meant nothing, he savored the simple gesture. It was a safe, nonthreatening way to touch her and have her touch him. Even if he did know it would lead to nothing.

“Besides, I love coffee. It makes me warm inside.”

“True. And it is cold.” He slid his arm around her shoulders. Her thick coat might keep her toasty, but it was another excuse to touch her.

They continued down the quiet street, but as they approached a shop specializing in infant clothing, the wheels of a baby stroller came flying out the door and straight for Daniella’s leg. He caught her before she could as much as wobble and shifted her out of the way.

The apologetic mom said, “Scusi!”

Dani laughed. In flawless Italian she said, “No harm done.” Then she bent and chucked the chin of the baby inside the stroller. “Isn’t she adorable!”

The proud mom beamed. Rafe stole a quiet look at the kid and his lips involuntarily rose as a chuckle rumbled up from the deepest part of him. “She likes somebody’s cooking.”

The mom explained that the baby had her father’s love of all things sweet, but Rafe’s gaze stayed on the baby. She’d caught his eye and cooed at him, her voice a soft sound, almost a purr, and her eyes as shiny as a harvest moon.

A funny feeling invaded his chest.

Dani gave the baby a big, noisy kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to the mom and took his arm so they could resume their walk down the street.

They ducked into a coffeehouse and she inhaled deeply. “Mmm...this reminds me of being back in the States.”

He shook his head. “You Americans. You copy the idea of a coffeehouse from us, then come over here and act like we must meet your standards.”

With a laugh, she ordered two cups of coffee, remembering his choice of brews from earlier that morning. She also ordered two scones.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

She shrugged out of her coat before sitting on the chair he pulled out for her at a table near a window. “I just need something to take the edge off my growling stomach. The second scone is for you.”

“I don’t eat pastries from a vendor who sells in bulk.”

She pushed the second scone in front of him anyway. “Such a snob.”

He laughed. “All right. Fine. I will taste.” He bit into the thing and to his surprise it was very good. Even better with a sip or two of coffee. So tasty he ate the whole darned thing.

“Not quite the pastry snob anymore, are you?”

He sat back. He truly did not intend to pursue her. He respected her dreams, the way he respected his own. But that didn’t stop his feelings for her. With his belly full of coffee and scone, and Daniella happy beside him, these quiet minutes suddenly felt like spun gold.

She glanced around. “I’ll bet you’ve brought a woman or two here.”

That broke the spell. “What?” He laughed as he shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re familiar with this coffeehouse. This street. You were even alert enough to pull me out of the way of the oncoming stroller at that baby shop.” She shrugged. “You might not have come here precisely, but you’ve brought women to Rome.”

“Every Italian man brings women to Rome.” He toyed with his now-empty mug. He’d lived with Kamila just down the street. He’d dreamed of babies like the little girl in the stroller.

“I told you about Paul. I think you need to tell me about one of your women to even the score.”

“You make me sound like I dated an army.”

She tossed him an assessing look. “You might have.”

Not about to lie, he drew a long breath and said, “There were many.”

She grimaced. “Just pick one.”

“Okay. How about Lisette?”

She put her elbow on the table, her eyes keen with interest. “Sounds French.”

“She was.”

“Ah.”

“I met her when she was traveling through Italy...” But even as he spoke, he remembered that she was more driven than he was. He had taken second place to her career. At the time he hadn’t minded, but remembering the situation correctly, he didn’t feel bad about that breakup.

“So what happened?”

He waved a hand. “Nothing. She was just very married to her career.”

“Like you?”

He laughed. “Two peas in a pod. But essentially we didn’t have time for each other.”

“You miss her?”

“No.” He glanced up. “Honestly, I don’t miss any of the women who came into and walked out of my life.”

But he had missed Kamila and he would miss Dani if she left. He’d miss her insights at the restaurant and the way she made Mancini’s come alive. But most of all he’d miss her smile. Miss the way she made him feel.

The unspoken truth sat between them. Their gazes caught, then clung. That was the problem with Dani. He felt for her the same things he had felt with Kamila. Except stronger. The emotions that raced through him had nothing to do with affairs, and everything to do with the kind of commitment he swore he’d never make again. That was why he’d worked so hard to figure out a way they could be together. It was why he also worked so hard to steer them away from a commitment. This woman, this Dani, was everything Kamila had been...and more.

And it only highlighted why he needed to be free.

He cleared his throat. “There was a woman.”

Dani perked up.

“Kamila.” He toyed with his mug again, realizing he was telling her about Kamila as much to remind himself as to explain to Dani. “She was sunshine when she was happy and a holy terror when she was not.”

Dani laughed. “Sounds exciting.”

He caught her gaze again. “It was perfect.”

Her eyes softened with understanding. “Oh.”

“You wonder how I know I’m not made for a relationship? Kamila taught me. First, she drew me away from my dream. To please her, I turned down apprenticeships. I took a permanent job as a sous-chef. I gave up the idea of being renowned and settled for being happy.” Though it hurt, he held her gaze. “We talked about marriage. We talked about kids. And one day I came home from work and discovered her things were gone. She was gone. I’d given up everything for her and the life I thought I wanted, and she left without so much as an explanation of why.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He sucked in a breath, pulled away from her, as his surety returned to him. “That loss taught me to be careful. But more than that it taught me never to do anything that jeopardizes who I am.”

“So this Kamila really did a number on you.”

“Were you not listening? There was no number. Yes, she broke my heart. But it taught me lessons. I’m fine.”

“You’re wounded.” She caught his gaze. “Maybe even more wounded than I am.”

He said, “That’s absurd,” but he felt the pangs of loss, the months of loneliness as if it were yesterday.

“At least I admit I need someone. You let one broken romance evolve into a belief that a few buildings and success are the answers to never being hurt. Do you think that when you’re sixty you’re going to look around and think ‘I wish I’d started more Mancini’s’? Or do you think you’re going to envy your friends’ relationships, wish for grandkids?”

“I told you I don’t want those things.” But even as he said the words, he knew they were a lie. Not a big pulsing lie, but a quiet whisper of doubt. Especially with the big eyes of the baby girl in the stroller pressed into his memory. With a world of work to do to get his chain of restaurants started, what she said should seem absurd. Instead, he saw himself old, his world done, his success unparalleled and his house empty.

He blinked away that foolish thought. He had family. He had friends. His life would never be empty. That was Dani’s fear, not his.

“Let’s go. Mario gave me the address of the next building where we’re to meet him.”

Quiet, they walked to his car, slid in and headed to the other side of the city. More residential than the site of the first property, this potential Mancini’s had the look of a home, as did his old farmhouse outside Monte Calanetti.

He opened the door and she entered the aging building before him. Mario came over and shook his hand, but Dani walked to the far end of the huge, open first floor. She found the latch on the shutters that covered a big back window. When she flipped it, the shutters opened. Sunlight poured in.

Rafe actually felt the air change, the atmosphere shift. Though the building was empty and hollow, with her walking in, the sunlight pouring in through a back window, everything clicked.

This was his building. And she really was the person who brought life to his dining rooms. He’d had success of a sort without her, but she breathed the life into his vision, made it more, made it the vision he saw when he closed his eyes and dreamed.

Dani ambled to the center of the room. Pointing near the door, she said, “We’d put the bar over here.”

He frowned. “Why not here?” He motioned to a far corner, out of the way.

“Not only can we give customers the chance to wait at the bar for their tables, but also we might get a little extra drink business.” She smiled at him as she walked over. “Things will be just a tad different in a restaurant that’s actually in a residential area of a city.” Her smile grew. “But I think it could be fun to play around with it.”

He crossed his arms on his chest to keep from touching her. He could almost feel the excitement radiating from her. While he envisioned a dining room, happy customers eating his food, he could tell she saw more. Much more. She saw things he couldn’t bring into existence because all he cared about was the food.

“What would you play around with?”

Her gaze circled the room. “I’m not sure. We’d want to keep the atmosphere we’ve build up in Mancini’s, but here we’d also have to become part of the community. You can get some really great customer relations by being involved with your neighbors.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “I’ll need to think about this.”

Rafe’s business instincts kicked in. He didn’t know what she planned to do, but he did know whatever she decided, it would probably be good. Really good. Because she had the other half of the gift he’d been given.

He also knew she was happy. Happier than he’d ever seen her. Her blue eyes lit with joy. Her shoulders were back. Her steps purposeful. Confidence radiated from her.

“You want Mancini’s to be successful as much as I want it to be successful.”

She laughed. “I doubt that. But I do want it to be the best it can be.” She glanced around, then faced him again. “In all the confusion between us, I don’t think I’ve ever said thank-you.”

“You wish to thank me?”

“For the job. For the fun of it.” She shrugged. “I need this. I don’t show it often but deep down inside me, there’s a little girl who always wondered where she’d end up. She needed the chance to be successful. To prove her worth.”

He smiled. “She’ll certainly get that with Mancini’s.”

“And we’re going to have a good time whipping this into shape.”

He smiled. “That’s the plan.”

Her face glowed. “Good.”

He said, “Good,” but his voice quieted, his heart stilled, as he suddenly realized something he should have all along. Kamila had broken his heart. But Dani had wheedled her way into his soul. His dream.

If he and Dani got close and things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t just spend a month drinking himself silly. He’d lose everything.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE NEXT DAY in the parking lot of Mancini’s, Dani switched off the ignition of Louisa’s little car, knowing that she was two days away from D-day. Decision day. The day she had to use her return ticket to New York City.

Being with Rafe in Rome had shown her he respected her opinion. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? Telling her about Kamila had been his way of putting the final nail in the coffin of her relationship dreams. It hurt, but she understood. In fact, in a way she was even glad. Now that she knew why he was so determined, she could filter her feelings for him away from her longing for a relationship with him and into his dream. He needed her opinion. He wanted to focus on food, on pleasing customer palates. She saw the ninety thousand other things that had to be taken care of. Granted, he’d chosen a great spot for the initial Mancini’s. He’d fixed the building to perfection. But a restaurant in the city came with different challenges.

Having lived in New York and eaten at several different kinds of restaurants, she saw things from a customer’s point of view. And she knew exactly how she’d set up Mancini’s Rome restaurant.

She knew.

The confidence of it made her forget all about returning to New York, and stand tall. She entered the kitchen on her way to the office, carrying a satchel filled with pictures she’d printed off the internet the night before using Louisa’s laptop.

This was her destiny.

Then she saw Rafe entering through the back door and her heart tumbled. He wore the black leather jacket. He hadn’t pulled his hair into the tie yet and it curled around his collar. His eyes were cool, serious. When their gazes met, she swore she could feel the weight of his sadness.

She didn’t understand what the hell he had to be sad about. He was getting everything he wanted. Except her heart. He didn’t know that he already had her love, but their good trip the day before proved they could work together, even be friends, and he should appreciate that.

Everything would be perfect, as long as he didn’t kiss her. Or tempt her. And yesterday he’d all but proven he needed her too much to risk losing her.

“I have pictures of things I’d like your opinion on.”

Emory looked from one to the other. “Pictures?”

Rafe slowly ambled into the kitchen. “Dani has ideas for the restaurant in Rome.”

Emory gaped at him. “Who cares? You have a hundred-person wedding tomorrow afternoon.”

Dani’s mouth fell open. Rafe’s eyes widened. “We didn’t cancel that?”

“We couldn’t,” Emory replied before Dani said anything, obviously taking the heat for it. “So I called the bride’s mother yesterday and got the specifics. Tomorrow morning, we’ll all come here early to get the food prepared. In the afternoon Dani and I will go to the wedding. I will watch your food, Chef Mancini. Your reputation will not suffer.”

Rafe slowly walked over to Dani. “You know we cannot do this again!”

“Come on, Chef Rafe.” She smiled slightly, hoping to dispel the tension, again confused over why he was so moody. “Put Mr. Mean Chef away. I got the message the day you fired me over this.” With that she strode into the office, dumped her satchel on the desk and swung out again. She thought of the plane ticket in her pocket and reminded herself that in two days she wouldn’t have that option. When he yelled, she’d have to handle it.

“I’ll be in the dining room, checking with Allegra on how things went yesterday.”

* * *

Rafe sagged with defeat as she stormed out. He shouldn’t have yelled at her again about the catering, but everything in his life was spinning out of control. He saw babies in his sleep and woke up hugging his pillow, dreaming he was hugging Daniella. The logical part of him insisted they were a team, that a real relationship would enhance everything they did. They would own Mancini’s together, build it together, build a life together.

The other part, the part that remembered Kamila, could only see disaster when the relationship ended. When Kamila left, he could return to his dream. If Dani left, she took half of his dream with her.

He faced Emory. “I appreciate how you have handled this. And I apologize for exploding.” He sucked in a breath. “As penance, I will go to the wedding tomorrow.”

Emory laughed. “If you’re expecting me to argue, you’re wrong. I don’t want to be a caterer, either.”

“As I said, this is penance.”

“Then you really should be apologizing to Dani. It was her you screamed at.”

He glanced at the door as he shrugged out of his jacket. She was too upset with him now. And she was busy. He would find a minute at the end of the night to apologize for his temper. If he was opting out of a romance because he needed her, he couldn’t lose her over his temper.

But she didn’t hang around after work that night. And the next morning, he couldn’t apologize because they weren’t alone. First, he’d cooked with a full staff. Then he’d had to bring Laz and Gino, two of the busboys, to the wedding to assist with setup and teardown. They drove to the vineyard in almost complete silence, every mile stretching Rafe’s nerves.

Seeing the sign for 88 Vineyards, he turned down the winding lane. The top of a white tent shimmered in the winter sun. Thirty yards away, white folding chairs created two wide rows of seating for guests. He could see the bride and groom standing in front of the clergyman, holding hands, probably saying their vows.

He pulled the SUV beside the tent. “It looks like we’ll need to move quickly to get everything set up for them to eat.”

Dani opened her door of the SUV. “Not if there are pictures. I’ve known brides who’ve taken hours of pictures.”

“Bah. Nonsense.”

Ignoring him, she climbed out of the SUV.

Rafe opened his door and recessional music swelled around him. Still Dani said nothing. Her cold shoulder stung more than he wanted to admit.

A quick glance at the wedding ceremony netted him the sight of the bride and groom coming down the aisle. The sun cast them in a golden glow, but their smiles were even more radiant. He watched as the groom brought the bride’s hand to his lips. Saw the worship in his eyes, the happiness, and immediately Rafe thought of Daniella. About the times he’d kissed her hand. Walked her to her car. Waited with bated breath for her arrival every morning.

He reached into his SUV to retrieve a tray of his signature ravioli. Handing it to Laz, he sneaked a peek at Daniella as she made her way to the parents of the bride, who’d walked out behind the happy couple. They smiled at her, the bride’s mom talking a million words a second as she pointed inside the tent. Daniella set her hand on the mom’s forearm and suddenly the nervous woman calmed.

He watched in heart-stealing silence. A lifetime of rejection had taught her to be kind. And one failed romance had made him mean. Bitter.

As he pulled out the second ravioli tray, Dani walked over.

“Apparently the ceremony was lovely.”

“Peachy.”

“Come on. I know you’re mad at me for arranging this. But at the time, I didn’t know any better and in a few hours all of this will be over.”

He sucked in a breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry with myself—” Because I finally understand I’m not worried about you leaving me, or even losing my dreams. I’m disappointed in myself “—for yelling at you yesterday.”

“Oh.” She smiled slowly. “Thanks.”

The warm feeling he always got when she smiled invaded every inch of him. “You’re welcome.”

Not waiting for him to say anything else, she headed inside the white tent where the dinner and reception would be held. He followed her only to discover she was busy setting up the table for the food. He and Laz worked their magic on the warmers he’d brought to keep everything the perfect temperature. Daniella and Gino brought in the remaining food.

And nothing happened.

People milled around the tables in the tent, chatting, celebrating the marriage. Wine flowed from fancy bottles. The mother of the bride socialized. The parents of the groom walked from table to table. A breeze billowed around the tent as everyone talked and laughed.

He stepped outside, nervous now. He’d never considered himself wrong, except that he’d believed giving up apprenticeships for Kamila had made him weak. But setback after setback had made Dani strong. It was humbling to realize his master-chef act wasn’t a sign of strength, but selfishness. Even more humbling to realize he didn’t know what to do with the realization.

Wishing he still smoked, he ambled around the grounds, gazing at the blue sky, and then he turned to walk down a cobblestone path, only to find himself three feet away from the love-struck bride and groom.

He almost groaned, until he noticed the groom lift the bride’s chin and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

His eyebrows rose. They hadn’t even been married twenty minutes and there was trouble in paradise already?

She quietly said, “Everything is not going to be okay. My parents are getting a divorce.”

Rafe thought of the woman in pink, standing with the guy in the tux as they’d chatted with Dani at the end of the ceremony, and he almost couldn’t believe it.

The groom shook his head. “And they’re both on their best behavior. Everything’s fine.”

“For now. What will I do when we get home from our honeymoon? I’ll have to choose between the two of them for Christmas and Easter.” She gasped. “I’ll have to get all my stuff out of their house before they sell it.” She sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have no home.”

Rafe’s chest tightened. He heard every emotion Dani must feel in the bride’s voice. No home. No place to call her own.

A thousand emotions buffeted him, but for the first time since he’d met Dani he suddenly felt what she felt. The emptiness of belonging to no one. The longing for a place to call her own. And he realized the insult he’d leveled when he’d told her he wanted to sleep with her, but not keep her.

“I’ll be your home.” The groom pulled his bride away from the tree. “It’s us now. We’ll make your home.”

We’ll make your home.

Rafe stepped back, away from the tree that hid him, the words vibrating through him. But the words themselves were nothing without the certainty behind them. The strength of conviction in the groom’s voice. The promise that wouldn’t be broken.

We’ll make your home.

“Let’s go inside. We have a wedding to celebrate.”

She smiled. “Yes. We do.”

Rafe discreetly followed them into the tent. He watched them walk to the main table as if nothing was wrong, as the dining room staff scrambled to fill serving bowls with his food and get it onto tables.

The toast of the best man was short. Rafe’s eyes strayed to Daniella. He desperately wanted to give her a home. A real one. A home like he’d grown up in with kids and a dog and noisy suppers.

This was what life had stolen from her and from him. When Kamila left, she hadn’t taken his dream. She’d bruised him so badly, he’d lost his faith in real love. He’d lost his dream of a house and kids. And when it all suddenly popped up in the form of a woman so beautiful that she stole his breath, he hadn’t seen it.

Dear God. He loved her. He loved her enough to give up everything he wanted, even Mancini’s, to make her dreams come true. But he wouldn’t have to give up anything. His dream was her dream. And her dream was now his dream.

Their meal eaten, the bride and groom rose from the table. The seating area was quickly dismantled by vineyard staff, who left a circle of chairs around the tent and a clear floor on which to dance.

The band introduced the bride and groom and he took her hand and kissed it before he led her in their dance.

Emotion choked Rafe. He’d spent the past years believing the best way to live his dream was to hold himself back, forget love, when the truth was he simply needed to meet the right woman to realize his dream would be hollow, empty without her.

“Hey.” Daniella walked up beside him. “Dinner is over. We can dismantle our warmers, take our trays and go home.”

He faced her. Emotions churned inside him. Feelings for Dani that took root and held on. He’d found his one. He’d fired her, yelled at her, asked her to become his lover. And she’d held her ground. Stood up to him. Refused him. Forced him to work by her terms. And she had won him.

But he had absolutely no idea how to tell her that.

She picked up an empty tray and headed for his SUV. Grabbing up another empty tray, he scurried after her.

“I’ve been thinking about our choice.”

She slid the tray into the SUV. “Our choice?”

“You know. Our choice not to—”

Before he could finish, the busboys came out of the tent with more trays. Frustration stiffened his back. With a quick glance at him, Dani walked back to the noisy reception for more pans. The busboys got the warmers.

Simmering with the need to talk, Rafe silently packed it all inside the back of his SUV.

Nerves filled him as he drove his empty pans, warmers and employees to Mancini’s. When they arrived, the restaurant bustled with diners. Emory raced around the kitchen like a madman. Daniella pitched in to help Allegra. Rafe put on his smock, washed his hands and helped Emory.

Time flew, as it always did when he was busy, but Rafe kept watching Daniella. Something was on her mind. She smiled. She worked. She teased with staff. But he heard something in her voice. A catch? No it was more of an easing back. The click of connection he always heard when she spoke with staff was missing. It was as if she were distancing herself—

Oh, dear God.

In all the hustle and bustle that had taken place in the past four weeks, she’d never made the commitment to stay.

And she had a plane ticket for the following morning.

The night wound down. Emory headed for the office to do some paperwork. Rafe casually ambled into the dining room. As the last of the waitstaff left, he pulled a bottle of Chianti from the rack and walked around the bar to a stool.

He watched Dani pause at the podium, as if torn between reaching for her coat and joining him. His heart chugged. Everything inside him froze.

Finally, she turned to him. Her lips lifted into a warm smile and she sashayed over.

Interpreting her coming to him as a good sign, he didn’t give himself time to think twice. He caught her hands, lifted both to his lips and said, “Pick me.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“I know you’re thinking about leaving. I see it on your face. Hear it in your voice. I know you think you have nothing here but a job, but that’s not true. I need you for so much more. So pick me. Do not work for me. Pick me. Keep me. Take me.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re asking me to quit?”

“No.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. He’d known this woman only twenty-four days. Yet what he felt was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before.

“Daniella, I think I want you to marry me.”

* * *

Dani’s heart bounced to a stop as she yanked her hands out of his.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me.”

She couldn’t stop the thrill that raced through her, but even through her shock she’d heard his words clearly. “You said think. You said you think you want to marry me.”

He laughed a bit as he pulled his hand through his hair. “It’s so fast for me. My God, I never even thought I’d want to get married. Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” He caught her hand again, caught her gaze. “Marry me.”

His voice had become stronger. His conviction obvious.

“Oh.” She wanted to say yes so bad it hurt to wrestle the word back down her throat. But she had to. “For a month you’ve said you don’t do relationships. Now suddenly you want to marry me?”

He laughed. “All these years, I thought I was weak because I gave Kamila what she wanted and she left me anyway. So I made myself strong. People saw me as selfish. I thought I was determined.”

“I understand that.”

“Now I see I was selfish. I did not want to lose my dream again.”

“I understand that, too.”

He shook his head fiercely. “You’re missing what I’m telling you. I might have been broken by her loss, but Kamila was the wrong woman for me. I was never my real self with her. I was one compromise after another. With you, I am me. I see my temper and I rein it back. I see myself with kids. I see a house. I long to make you happy.”

Oh, dear God, did the man have no heart? “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I never say things I don’t mean. I love you, Daniella.” He reached for her again. “Do not get on that plane tomorrow.”

She stepped back, so far that he couldn’t touch her, and pressed her fingers to her lips. Her heart so very desperately wanted to believe every word he said. Her brain had been around, though, for every time that same heart was broken. This man had called Paul’s proposal a stopgap measure...yet, here he was doing the same thing.

“No.”

His face fell. “No?”

“What did you tell me about Paul asking to marry me the day before I left New York?”

He frowned.

“You said it was a stopgap measure. A way to keep me.”

He walked toward her. “Daniella...”

She halted him with a wave of her hand. “Don’t. I feel foolish enough already. You’re afraid I’m going to go home so you make a proposal that mocks everything I believe in.”

She yearned to close her eyes at the horrible sense of how little he thought of her, but she held them open, held back her tears and made the hardest decision of her life.

“I’m going back to New York.” Her heart splintered in two as she realized this really was the end. They’d never bump into each other at a coffee shop, never sit beside each other in the subway, never accidentally go to the same dry cleaner. He lived thousands of miles away from her and there’d be no chance for them to have the time they needed to really fall in love. He’d robbed them of that with his insulting proposal.

“Mancini’s will be fine without me.” She tried a smile. “You will be fine without me.” She took another few steps back. “I’ve gotta go.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DANI RACED OUT of Mancini’s, quickly started Louisa’s little car and headed home. Her flight didn’t leave until ten in the morning. But she had to pack. She had to say goodbye to Louisa. She had to give back the tons of clothes her new friend had let her borrow for her job at Mancini’s.

She swiped at a tear as she turned down the lane to Palazzo di Comparino. Her brain told her she was smart to be going home. Her splintered heart reminded her she didn’t have a home. No one to return to in the United States. No one to stay for in Italy.

The kitchen light was on and as was their practice, Louisa had waited up for Dani. As soon as she stepped in the kitchen door, Louisa handed her a cup of tea. Dani glanced up at her, knowing the sheen of tears sparkled on her eyelashes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m going home.”

Louisa blinked. “I thought this was settled.”

“Nothing’s ever settled with Rafe.” She sucked in a breath. “The smart thing for me is to leave.”

“What about the restaurant, your job, your destiny?”

She fell to a seat. “He asked me to marry him.”

Louisa’s eyes widened. “How is that bad? My God, Dani, even I can see you love the guy.”

“I said no.”

“Oh, sweetie! Sweetie! You love the guy. How the hell could you say no?”

“I’ve been here four weeks, Louisa. Rafe is a confirmed bachelor and he asked me to marry him. The day before I’m supposed to go home. You do the math.”

“What math? You have a return ticket to the United States. He doesn’t want you to go.”

Dani slowly raised her eyes to meet Louisa’s. “Exactly. The proposal was a stopgap measure. He told me all about it when we talked about Paul asking me to marry him. He said Paul didn’t want to risk losing me, so the day before I left for Italy, he’d asked me to marry him.”

“And you think that’s what Rafe did?”

Her chin lifted. “You don’t?”

* * *

Rafe was seated at the bar on his third shot of whiskey when Emory ambled out into the dining room.

“What are you doing here?”

He presented the shot glass. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Emory frowned. “Getting drunk?”

Rafe saluted his correct answer.

“After a successful catering event that could have gone south, you’re drinking?”

“I asked Daniella to marry me. And do you know what she told me?”

Looking totally confused, Emory slid onto the stool beside Rafe. “Obviously, she said no.”

“She said no.”

Emory laughed. Rafe scowled at him. “Why do you think this is funny?”

“The look on your face is funny.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Rafe, you’ve known the girl a month.”

“So she doesn’t trust me?”

Emory laughed. “Look at you. Look at how you’ve treated her. Would you trust you?”

“Yeah, well, she’s leaving for New York tomorrow. I didn’t want her to go.”

Emory frowned. “Ah. So you asked her to marry you to keep her from going?”

“No. I asked her to marry me because I love her.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “But I’d also told her that her boyfriend had asked her to marry him the day before she left for Italy as a stopgap measure. Wanting to tie her to him, without giving her a real commitment, he’d asked. But he hadn’t really meant it. He just didn’t want her to go.”

Emory swatted him with a dish towel. “Why do you tell her these things?”

“At the time it made sense.”

“Yeah, well, now she thinks you only asked her to marry you to keep her from going back to New York.”

“No kidding.”

Emory swatted him again. “Get the hell over to Palazzo di Comparino and fix this!”

“How?”

Emory’s eyes narrowed. “You know what she wants...what she needs. Not just truth, proof. If you love her, and you’d better if you asked her to marry you, you have to give her proof.”

He jumped off the stool, grabbed Emory’s shoulders and noisily kissed the top of his head. “Yes. Yes! Proof! You are a hundred percent correct.”

“You just make sure she doesn’t get on that plane.”

* * *

Dani’s tears dried as she and Louisa packed her things. Neither one of them expected to sleep, so they spent the night talking. They talked of keeping in touch. Video chatting and texting made that much easier than it used to be. And Louisa had promised to come to New York. They would be thousands of miles apart but they would be close.

Around five in the morning, Dani shoved off her kitchen chair and sadly made her way to the shower. She dressed in her own old raggedy jeans and a worn sweater, the glamour of her life in Tuscany, and Louisa’s clothes behind her now.

When she came downstairs, Louisa had also dressed. She’d promised to take her to the airport and she’d gotten ready.

But there was an odd gleam in her eye when she said, “Shall we go?”

Dani sighed, knowing she’d miss this house but also realizing she’d found a friend who could be like a sister. The trip wasn’t an entire waste after all.

She smiled at Louisa. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They got into the ugly green car and rather than let Dani drive, Louisa got behind the wheel.

“I thought you refused to drive until you understood Italy’s rules of the road better.”

Stepping on the gas, Louisa shrugged. “I’ve gotta learn some time.”

She drove them out of the vineyard and out of the village. Then the slow drive to Florence began. But even before they went a mile, Louisa turned down an old road.

“What are you doing?”

“I promised someone a favor.”

Dani frowned. “Do we have time?”

“Plenty of time. You’re fine.”

“I know I’m fine. It’s my flight I’m worried about.”

“I promise you. I will pull into the driveway and be pulling out two minutes later.”

Dani opened her mouth to answer but she snapped it closed when she realized they were at the old farmhouse Maria the real estate agent had shown her and Rafe. She faced Louisa. “Do you know the person who bought this?”

“Yes.” She popped open her door. “Come in with me.”

Dani pushed on her door. “I thought you said this would only take a minute.”

“I said two minutes. What I actually said was I promise I will be pulling out of this driveway two minutes after I pull in.”

Dani walked up the familiar path to the familiar door and sighed when it groaned as Louisa opened it. “Whoever bought this is in for about three years of renovations.”

Louisa laughed before she called out, “Hello. We’re here.”

Rafe stepped out from behind a crumbling wall. Dani skittered back. “Louisa! This is your friend?”

“I didn’t say he was my friend. I said I knew him.” Louisa gave Dani’s back a little shove. “He has some important things to say to you.”

“I bought this house for you,” Rafe said, not giving Dani a chance to reply to Louisa.

“I don’t want a house.”

He sighed. “Too bad. Because you now have a house.” He motioned her forward. “I see a big kitchen here. Something that smells like heaven.”

She stopped.

He motioned toward the huge room in the front. “And big, fat chairs that you can sink into in here.”

“Very funny.”

“I am not being funny. You,” he said, pointing at her, “want a home. I want you. Therefore, I give you a home.”

“What? Since a marriage proposal didn’t keep me, you offer me a house?”

“I didn’t say I was giving you a house. I said I was giving you a home.” He walked toward the kitchen. “And you’re going to marry me.”

She scrambled after him. “Exactly how do you expect to make that happen?”

She rounded the turn and walked right into him. He caught her arms and hauled her to him, kissing her. She made a token protest, but, honestly, this was the man she couldn’t resist.

He broke the kiss slowly, as if he didn’t ever want to have to stop kissing her. “That’s how I expect to make that happen.”

“You’re going to kiss me until I agree?”

“It’s an idea with merit. But it won’t be all kissing. We have a restaurant. You have a job. And there’s a bedroom back here.” He headed toward it.

Once again, she found herself running after him. Cold air leeched in from the window and she stopped dead in her tracks. “The window leaks.”

“Then you’re going to have to hire a general contractor.”

“Me?”

He straightened to his full six-foot-three height. “I am a master. I cook.”

“Oh, and I clean and make babies?”

He laughed. “We will hire someone to clean. Though I like the part about you making babies.”

Her heart about pounded its way out of her chest. “You want kids?”

He walked toward her slowly. “We want kids. We want all that stuff you said about fat chairs and good-smelling kitchens and turning the thermostat down so that we can snuggle.”

Her heart melted. “You don’t look like a snuggler.”

“I’ll talk you into doing more than snuggling.”

She laughed. Pieces of the ice around her heart began to melt. Her eyes clung to his. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t have told Louisa to bring you here if I weren’t. I don’t do stupid things. I do impulsive things.” He grinned. “You might have to get used to that.”

She smiled. He motioned for her to come closer and when she did, he wrapped his arms around her.

“I could not bear to see you go.”

“You said Paul only asked me to marry him as a stopgap measure.”

“Yes, but Paul is an idiot. I am not.”

She laughed again and it felt so good that she paused to revel in it. To memorize the feeling of his arms around her. To glance around at their house.

“Oh, my God, this is a mess.”

“We’ll be fine.”

She laid her head on his chest and breathed in his scent. She counted to ten, waited for him to say something that would drive her away, then realized what she was really waiting for.

She glanced up at him. “I’m so afraid you’re going to hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m going to spend our entire lives proving to you that you have no need to worry.”

She laughed and sank against him again. “I love you.”

“After only four weeks?”

She peeked up again. “Yes.”

“So this time you’ll believe me when I say it.”

She swallowed. Years of fear faded away. “Yes.”

“Good.” He shifted back, just slightly, so he could pull a small jewelry box from the pocket of his jeans. He opened it and revealed a two-carat diamond. “I love you. So you will marry me?”

She gaped at the ring, then brought her gaze to his hopeful face. When he smiled, she hugged him fiercely. “Yes!”

He slipped the ring onto her finger. “Now, weren’t we on our way back to the bedroom?”

“For what? There’s no bed back there.”

He said, “Oh, you of no imagination. I have a hundred ways around that.”

“A hundred, isn’t that a bit ambitious?”

“Get used to it. I am a master, remember?”

“Yeah, you are,” she said, and then she laughed. She was getting married, going to make babies...going to make a home—in Italy.

With the man of her dreams.

Because finally, finally she was allowed to have dreams.

* * * * *

Return of the Italian Tycoon

The Vineyards of Calanetti

Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun…

Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino. Empty for months, rumors of a new owner are spreading like wildfire … and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!

It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?

Find out in this fabulously heartwarming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ series!

A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier

Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye

Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas

Soldier, Hero … Husband? by Cara Colter

His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson

The Best Man & the Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter

His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters

Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace

Award-winning author JENNIFER FAYE pens fun, heartwarming romances. Jennifer has won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, is a Top Pick author and has been nominated for numerous awards. Now living her dream, she resides with her patient husband, one amazing daughter (the other remarkable daughter is off chasing her own dreams) and two spoiled cats. She’d love to hear from you via her website, www.jenniferfaye.com.

To Michelle Styles, an amazing friend, who taught me so much, including that the important part of writing was what I decided to do after the dreaded “R”. Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

“CAN I SMELL YOU?”

Kayla Hill’s fingers struck the wrong keys on her computer. Surely she hadn’t heard her boss correctly—her very serious, very handsome boss. “Excuse me. What did you say?”

Angelo Amatucci’s tanned face creased with lines as though he were deep in thought. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Uh...yes, I am.”

“Good. That will be helpful. May I have a smell?”

Helpful? With what? She gave up on answering an email and turned her full attention to her boss, who moved to stand next to her. What in the world had prompted him to ask such a question? Was her perfume bothering him? She sure hoped not. She wore it all the time. If he didn’t like it or was allergic to it, she thought he’d have mentioned it before now.

Kayla craned her neck, allowing her gaze to travel up over his fit body, all six-foot-plus of muscle, until she met his inquisitive eyes. “I’m sorry but I...I don’t understand.”

“I just finished speaking with Victoria Van Holsen, owner of Moonshadows Cosmetics. She has decided that her latest fragrance campaign, even though she painstakingly approved it each step of the way, just won’t do.”

“She doesn’t want it?” Kayla failed to keep the astonishment out of her voice.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She insists we present her with a totally new proposal.”

“But this is a Christmas campaign. Everything should be finalized, considering it’s already March.” Then, realizing that she was speaking to a man with far more experience, she pressed her lips together, silencing her rambling thoughts.

“Now that information about her competitor’s upcoming holiday campaign has been leaked, she wants something more noteworthy—something that will go viral.”

“I thought the campaign was unique. I really like it.” Kayla truly meant it. She wasn’t trying to butter up her boss—that was just an unexpected bonus.

“The fact of the matter is, Victoria Van Holsen is a household name and one of our most important clients. Our duty is to keep her happy.”

It was the company’s motto—the client’s needs come first. No matter what. And if Kayla was ever going to rise up the chain from her temporary detour as the personal assistant to the CEO of Amatucci & Associates Advertising to her dream job as an ad executive on Madison Avenue, she could never forget that the clients were always right. It didn’t matter how unreasonable or outrageous their requests might be at times, keeping them happy was of the utmost importance.

“How can I help?”

“Stand up.”

His face was devoid of emotion, giving no hint of his thoughts.

She did as he asked. Her heart fluttered as he circled her. When he stopped behind her and leaned in close, an army of goose bumps rose on her skin. Her eyes drifted closed as a gentle sigh slipped across her lips. Angelo Amatucci truly did want an up close and personal whiff of her perfume.

He didn’t so much as touch a single hair on her, but she could sense him near her neck. Her pulse raced. If this most unusual request had come from anyone else, she’d swear they were hitting on her. But as Mr. Amatucci stepped to the front of her, his indifferent expression hadn’t changed. Her frantic heart rate dipped back to normal.

There had never been any attempt on his part to flirt with her. Though his actions at times could be quite unpredictable, they were always ingenuous. She deduced that his sudden curiosity about her perfume had something to do with the Van Holsen account. But what could he be thinking? Because there was no way she was wearing a Moonshadows fragrance. One ounce of the stuff would set her back an entire paycheck.

“It seems to have faded away.” A frown tugged at his lips.

“Perhaps this will be better.” She pulled up the sleeve of her blue suit jacket and the pink blouse beneath it before holding out her wrist to him. “Try this.”

His hand was warm and his fingers gentle as he lifted her hand to his face. Her heart resumed its frantic tap dancing in her chest. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. She wished it wouldn’t do that. He was, after all, her boss—the man who held her career aspirations in the palm of his very powerful hand. A man who was much too serious for her.

Still, she couldn’t dismiss that his short dark wavy hair with a few silver strands at the temples framed a very handsome, chiseled face. His dark brown eyes closed as he inhaled the fragrance, and she noticed his dark lashes as they swept down, hiding his mesmerizing eyes. It was a wonder some woman hadn’t snatched him up—not that Kayla had any thoughts in that direction.

She had narrowly escaped the bondage of marriage to a really nice guy, who even came with her Mom’s and Dad’s stamp of approval. Though the breakup had been hard, it had been the right decision for both of them. Steven had wanted a traditional wife who was content to cook, clean and raise a large family. Not that there was anything wrong with that vision. It just wasn’t what she envisioned for her future. She wanted to get out of Nowhereville, USA, and find her future in New York City.

When Mr. Amatucci released her arm, she could still feel warmth where his fingers had once been. Her pulse continued to race. She didn’t know why she was having this reaction. She wasn’t about to jeopardize her rising career for some ridiculous crush on her boss, especially when it was perfectly obvious that he didn’t feel a thing for her.

His gaze met hers. “Is that the only perfume you wear?”

She nodded. “It’s my favorite.”

“Could I convince you to wear another fragrance?”

He was using her as a test market? Interesting. She could tell him what he wanted to hear, but how would that help him develop a new marketing strategy? She decided to take her chances and give him honest answers.

“Why would I change when I’ve been using this same perfume for years?”

He rubbed his neck as she’d seen him do numerous times in the past when he was contemplating new ideas for big accounts. And the Van Holsen account was a very big account. The fact that the client had the money to toss aside a fully formulated ad campaign and start over from scratch was proof of their deep pockets.

Mr. Amatucci’s gaze was still on her, but she couldn’t tell if he was lost in thought. “How long have you worn that fragrance?”

“Since I was a teenager.” She remembered picking out the flower-shaped bottle from a department store counter. It was right before her first ever school dance. She’d worn it for every special occasion since, including her first date with Steven. And then there was her high school graduation followed by her college commencement. She’d worn it for all the big moments in her life. Even the day she’d packed her bags and moved to New York City in search of her dreams.

“Talk to me.” Mr. Amatucci’s voice cut through her memories. “What were you thinking about just now?”

She glanced hesitantly at him. In all of the weeks she’d worked as his PA, they’d never ventured into a conversation that was the slightest bit personal. Their talks had always centered around business. Now, he’d probably think she was silly or sentimental or both.

“I was thinking about all the times in my life when I wore this perfume.”

“And?”

“And I wore it for every major event. My first date. My first kiss. My—” A sharp look from him silenced her.

“So your attachment to the fragrance goes beyond the scent itself. It is a sentimental attachment, right?”

She shrugged. “I guess so.”

She’d never thought of it that way. In fact, she’d never given her perfume this much thought. If the bottle got low, she put it on her shopping list, but that’s as far as her thoughts ever went.

“So if our client doesn’t want to go with a sparkly, feel-fabulous-when-you-wear-this campaign, we can try a more glamorous sentimental approach. Thanks to you, we now have a new strategy.”

She loved watching creativity in action. And she loved being a part of the creative process. “Glad I could help.”

He started to walk away, then he paused and turned back. “You were just promoted to a copywriter position before you took this temporary assignment as my PA, right?”

She nodded. What better way to get noticed than to work directly for one of the biggest names in the advertising industry.

“Good. You aren’t done with this project. I want you to dig into those memories and write out some ideas—”

“But don’t you have a creative team for this account?” She wanted to kick herself for blurting out her thoughts.

Mr. Amatucci sent her a narrowed look. His cool, professional tone remained unchanged. “Are you saying you aren’t interested in working on the project?”

Before she could find the words to express her enthusiasm, his phone rang and he turned away. She struggled to contain her excitement. This was her big opening and she fully intended to make the most of it.

This was going to work out perfectly.

A smile tugged at Kayla lips. She’d finally made it. Though people thought she’d made a big mistake by taking a step backward to assume a temporary position as Mr. Amatucci’s PA, it was actually working out just as she’d envisioned.

She’d gone after what she wanted and she’d gotten it. Well, not exactly, but she was well on her way to making her dreams a reality. With a little more patience and a lot of hard work, she’d become an account executive on New York’s famous Madison Avenue in the exclusive advertising agency of Amatucci & Associates.

Her fingers glided over the keyboard of her computer as she completed the email to the creative department about another of their Christmas campaigns. Sure it was only March, but in the marketing world, they were working months into the future. And with a late-season snowstorm swirling about outside, it seemed sort of fitting to be working on a holiday project.

She glanced off to the side of her computer monitor, noticing her boss holding the phone to his ear as he faced a wall of windows overlooking downtown Manhattan. Being on the twenty-third floor, they normally had a great view of the city, but not today. What she wouldn’t give to be someplace sunny—far, far away from the snow. After months of frigid temperatures and icy sidewalks, she was most definitely ready for springtime.

“Have you started that list?” Mr. Amatucci’s piercing brown gaze met hers.

Um—she’d been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t even realized he’d wrapped up his phone call. Her gaze moved from his tanned face to her monitor. “Not yet. I need to finish one more email. It shouldn’t take me long. I think your ideas for the account are spot-on. Just wait until the client lays her eyes on the mock-ups.”

Then, realizing she was rambling, she pressed her lips firmly together. There was just something about being around him that filled her with nervous energy. And his long stretches of silence had her rushing to fill in the silent gaps.

Mr. Amatucci looked as though he was about to say something, but his phone rang again. All eyes moved to his desk. The ringtone was different. It must be his private line. In all the time she’d been working for him, it had never rung.

It rang again and yet all he did was stare at the phone.

“Do you want me to get it?” Kayla offered, not sure what the problem was or why Mr. Amatucci was hesitant. “I really don’t mind.”

“I’ve got it.” He reached over and snatched up the receiver. “Nico, what’s the matter?”

Well, that was certainly a strange greeting. Who picked up the phone expecting something to be wrong? Then, realizing that she was staring—not to mention eavesdropping—she turned her attention back to the notes she’d been rewording into an email. She glanced up to see Mr. Amatucci had turned his back to her. He once again faced the windows and spoke softly. Though the words were no longer distinguishable, the steely edge of his voice was still obvious.

She looked at the paper on her desk, her gaze darting over it to find where she’d left off. She didn’t want to sit here with her hands idle. No, that definitely wouldn’t look good for her.

She was sending along some of Mr. Amatucci’s thoughts about the mock-up of an ad campaign for a new client—a very demanding client. The account was huge. It would go global—like most of the other accounts her boss personally handled. Each of his clients expected Mr. Amatucci’s world to revolve around them and their accounts. He took their calls, no matter the time—day or night. Through it all, he maintained his cool. To say Angelo was a workaholic was being modest.

As a result, he ran the most sought-after advertising agency in the country—if not the world. Stepping off the elevator, clients and staff were immediately greeted by local artists’ work and fresh flowers. The receptionist was bright and cheerful without being annoying. Appointments were kept timely. The quality of the work was exemplary. All of it culminated in Amatucci & Associates being so popular that they had to turn away business.

“Cosa! Nico, no!” Mr. Amatucci’s hand waved about as he talked.

Her boss’s agitated voice rose with each word uttered. Kayla’s fingers paused as her attention zeroed in on the man who never raised his voice—until now. He was practically yelling. But she could only make out bits and pieces. His words were a mix of English and Italian with a thick accent.

“Nico, are you sure?”

Had someone died? And who was Nico? She hadn’t heard Mr. Amatucci mention anyone with that name, but then again, this call was on his private line. It was highly doubtful that it had anything to do with business. And she knew exactly nothing about his personal life—sometimes she wondered if he even had one.

“Marianna can’t be pregnant!” The shouts spiraled off into Italian.

Pregnant? Was he the father? The questions came hard and fast. There was a little voice in the back of her mind that told her she should excuse herself and give him some privacy, but she was riveted to her chair. No one would ever believe that this smooth, icy-cool man was capable of such heated volatility. She blinked, making sure she hadn’t fallen asleep and was having some bizarre dream. But when her eyes opened, her boss was standing across the room with his hand slicing through the air as he spoke Italian.

The paramount question was: Who was Marianna?

* * *

Angelo Amatucci tightened his grip on the phone until his fingers hurt. This had to be some sort of nightmare and soon he’d wake up. Could it be he’d been working a bit too much lately? Perhaps he should listen to the hints from his business associates to take a break from the frantic pace. That would explain why just moments ago when he’d been examining Ms. Hill’s perfume—a scent he found quite inviting—that he’d been tempted to smooth his thumb along the silky skin of her wrist—

“Angelo, are you listening to me?” Tones of blatant concern laced Nico’s voice, demanding Angelo’s full attention. “What are we going to do?”

Nico was his younger brother by four years, and though their opinions differed on almost everything, the one area where they presented a unified front was their little sister, Marianna—who wasn’t so little anymore.

“There has to be another answer to this. You must have misunderstood. Marianna can’t be pregnant. She’s not even in a serious relationship.”

“I know what I heard.”

“Tell me again.”

“I wanted her to taste the wine from the vineyard. I think it’s the best we’ve ever produced. Just wait until you try some—”

“Nico, tell me about Marianna.”

“Yes, well, she has looked awfully pale and out of sorts since she returned home after her year of traveling. I thought she’d done too much partying—”

“Accidenti! She wasn’t supposed to waste the year partying.” Unable to stand still a moment longer, Angelo started to pace again. When his gaze met the wide-eyed stare of Ms. Hill, she glanced down at her desk. He made a point of turning his back to her and lowering his voice. “She was sent to Australia to work on the vineyards there and get more experience in order to help you. If I’d have known she planned for it to be a year of partying, I’d have sent for her. I could have put her to work at the office.”

Nico sighed. “Not everyone is like you, big brother. We aren’t all driven to spend every last moment of our lives working.”

“And you didn’t do anything about her being sick?”

“What was I supposed to do? I asked if she needed anything. She said no, that it was some sort of flu bug. What else was I supposed to do?”

Angelo’s hand waved around as he flew off in a string of Italian rants. Taking a calming breath, he stopped in front of the windows and stared blindly at the snow. “And it took her confessing she was pregnant for you to figure it out?”

“Like you would have figured it out sooner? What do either of us know about pregnant women...unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Angelo had no intention of getting married and having a family. Not now. Not ever.

“She didn’t have any choice but to come clean when I offered her some wine. She knew she couldn’t drink it. Hard to believe that you and I will be uncles this time next year.”

“Don’t tell me you’re happy about this development?”

“I’m not. But what do you want me to do?”

“Find out the father’s name for starters.”

“I tried. She’s being closemouthed. All she said was that she couldn’t drink the wine because she’s eight weeks pregnant. Then she started to cry and took off for her room.”

“Didn’t you follow? How could you have just let her get away without saying more?”

“How could I? I sure don’t see you here trying to deal with an emotional pregnant woman.”

How had things spun so totally out of control? Angelo’s entire body tensed. And more importantly, how did he fix them? How did he help his sister from so far away?

Angelo raked his fingers through his hair. “She has to tell you more. How are we supposed to help if we don’t even know which man is the father. She isn’t exactly the sort to stay in a relationship for long.”

“Trust me. I’ve tried repeatedly to get his name from her. Maybe she’ll tell you.”

That wasn’t a conversation Angelo wanted to have over the phone. It had to be in person. But he was in the middle of overseeing a number of important projects. Now was not the time for him to leave New York. But what choice did he have? This was his baby sister—the little girl he remembered so clearly running around with a smile on her face and her hair in braids.

But a lot of time had passed since he’d left Italy. Would she open up to him? The fact his leaving hadn’t been his idea didn’t seem to carry much weight with his siblings, who were left behind to deal with their dysfunctional parents. Though he dearly missed his siblings, he didn’t miss the constant barrage of high-strung emotions of his parent’s arguments and then their inevitable reunions—a constant circle of epic turmoil.

Maybe the trouble Marianna had got herself into was some sort of rebellion. With their parents now living in Milan, there was only Nico at home to cope with their sister. And to Nico’s credit, he never complained about the enormous responsibility leveled solely on his shoulders.

Now that their parents had moved on, Angelo didn’t have any legitimate excuse to stay away. But every time the subject of his visiting Monte Calanetti surfaced, he pleaded he had too much work to do. It was the truth—mostly. Perhaps he should have tried harder to make more time for his siblings.

Stricken with guilt, anger and a bunch of emotions that Angelo couldn’t even name, he couldn’t think straight. As the oldest brother, he was supposed to look out for his brother and sister. Instead, he’d focused all of his time and energy on creating a thriving, wildly successful company.

In the process, he’d failed their wayward and headstrong sister.

And now her future would forever be altered.

He owed it to Marianna to do what he could to fix things. But how could he do that when he was so far away?

CHAPTER TWO

THIS ISN’T GOOD. Not good at all.

Kayla pressed Save on the computer. She needed to give Mr. Amatucci some space. She reached for her wallet to go buy a—a—a cocoa. Yes, that would suit the weather outside perfectly.

She got to her feet when her boss slammed down the phone. He raked his fingers through his short hair and glanced at her. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

The weariness in his voice tugged at her sympathies. “Um...well, I thought that I’d go get some um...cocoa—”

“The Van Holsen account. We were talking about how we need to put a rush on it.”

“Um...sure.” She sat back down.

Kayla wasn’t sure how to act. She’d never before witnessed her boss seriously lose it. And who exactly was Marianna? Was it possible Mr. Amatucci really did have a life outside this office—one nobody knew about? The thought had her fighting back a frown. Why should it bother her to think that her boss might have fathered a baby with this woman? It wasn’t as if they were anything more than employee and employer.

Mr. Amatucci stepped up to her desk. “I’ll need to go over this with you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow?”

She knew that he asked for the impossible at times and this happened to be one of those times. He’d caught her totally off guard. It’d take time to think out innovative ideas for the new campaign platform. And she had an important meeting that night, but there was no way she was telling her boss about that.

Mr. Amatucci arched a brow at her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Uh...no. No problem.” She would not let this opportunity pass her by. “I’ll just finish up what I was working on, and I’ll get started.”

He paused as though considering her answer. “On second thought, it’d be best to go over your ideas first thing in the morning.”

“The morning?”

His gaze narrowed in on her, and she wished that her thoughts would quit slipping across her tongue and out her mouth. It certainly wasn’t helping this situation. She was here to impress him with her capabilities, not to annoy him when he was obviously already in a bad mood.

“Ms. Hill, you seem to be repeating what I say. Is there some sort of problem I should be aware of?”

She hated that he always called her Ms. Hill. Couldn’t he be like everyone else in the office and call her Kayla? But then again, she was talking about Angelo Amatucci—he was unlike anyone she’d ever known.

He was the first man to set her stomach aquiver without so much as touching her. She’d been so aware of his mouth being just a breath away from her neck as he’d sniffed her perfume. The memory was still fresh in her mind. Was it so wrong that she hadn’t wanted that moment to end?

Of course it was. She swallowed hard. He was her boss, not just some guy she’d met at a friend’s place. There could never be anything serious between them—not that he’d ever even noticed her as a desirable woman.

“Ms. Hill?”

“No, there won’t be a...uh...problem.” Who was she kidding? This was going to be a big problem, but she’d work it out—somehow—some way.

Her gaze moved to the windows and the darkening sky. With it only nearing the lunch hour, it shouldn’t be so dark, which could only mean that they were going to get pounded with more snow. The thought of getting stuck at the office turned her nervous stomach nauseous.

Snow. Snow. Go away.

He gazed at her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you—”

“I understand. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze continued to hold hers. The dark depths of his eyes held a mystery—the story of the real man behind the designer suits and the Rolex watches. She had to admit that she was quite curious about him—more than any employee had a right to about her very handsome, very single boss. And that odd phone call only made her all the more curious. Maybe he wasn’t as single as she’d presumed. The jagged thought lodged in her throat.

Mr. Amatucci’s steady gaze met hers. “You’re sure you’re up for this project?”

She pressed her lips together, no longer trusting her mouth, and nodded. She’d have to reschedule tonight’s meeting for the fund-raiser.

“Good. If you need help, feel free to ask one of the other PAs to take over some of your other work. The Van Holsen account is now your priority.”

He gathered his tablet computer and headed for the door. “I’ve got a meeting. I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room, looking like the calm, cool, collected Angelo Amatucci that everyone respected and admired for his creative foresight. But how he was able to shut down his emotions so quickly was totally beyond her.

What was she going to do about her meeting tonight? It didn’t help that she’d been the one to set it up. Somehow she’d been put in charge of the Inner City League after-school program fund-raiser. The program was in a serious financial bind. ICL was a great organization that kept at-risk kids off the streets after school while their parents were still at work.

Kayla had been volunteering for the past year. Helping others was how her parents had raised her. They had always been generous with their spare time and money—not that they had much of either. Kayla may have hightailed it out of Paradise, Pennsylvania, as soon as she could, but there was still a lot of Paradise in her. And she’d swear that she got more back from the kids and the other volunteers than she ever gave to any of them. For a girl who was used to living in a small town of friends, it was a comfort to have such a friendly group to keep her from feeling isolated in such a large city of strangers.

There was no way she could reschedule tonight’s meeting. They were running out of time until the charity concert and there was still so much to plan. Somehow she had to make this all work out. She couldn’t let down the kids nor could she let down her boss. The thought of Angelo Amatucci counting on her felt good.

Not only was he easy on the eyes, but she really enjoyed working with him, even if he was a bit stiff and withdrawn most of the time. But now that she’d witnessed him emotionally charged, she couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to get up close and personal with him.

* * *

Angelo shook his head.

Marianna pregnant! Impossible.

Okay, so it wasn’t impossible, but why had she been acting so irresponsible? It wasn’t as if she was married or even considering it. She changed romantic interests faster than he changed ties—never getting too serious—until now. Nico didn’t even know the father’s name. What was up with that?

“What do you think, Mr. Amatucci?”

He glanced up at his youngest and most promising account executive. This was a meeting to discuss the campaign for a new sports car that was going to be revealed later that year. The car was quite nice and was sure to create a buzz of attention.

But for the life of him, Angelo couldn’t keep his mind wrapped around business—no matter how important the account. His head was in Italy at the village of Monte Calanetti—where he should be dealing with his sister’s life-changing event.

Angelo glanced down at the presentation on his digital tablet and then back at the account executive. “I think you still have work to do. This presentation is flat. It isn’t innovative enough. There’s nothing here to sway a twentysomething consumer to take out a sizable loan on top of their college debt in order to have this car. I want the ‘must have’ factor. The part that says if I have this car all of my friends will be envious. This isn’t just a car—this is a status symbol. Do you understand?”

Mike glanced down and then back at Angelo. “But this is what the client asked for.”

“And it’s your job to push the envelope and give the client something more to consider—to want.” Maybe he’d been too quick in his determination that Mike was going to be an asset to Amatucci & Associates—unlike Kayla, who was constantly proving she was an independent thinker. “Try again.”

Mike’s mouth started to open but out of the corner of Angelo’s eye he could see the copywriter give a quick shake of his head. Mike glanced back at Angelo. He nodded his agreement.

“Good. I expect to see something new in forty-eight hours.”

Again the man’s mouth opened but nothing came out. His lips pressed together, and he nodded. Now if only Angelo could handle his little sister in the same no-nonsense manner. He liked when things were easy and uncomplicated.

But now, with time to cool down, he realized that his only course of action was to return home—to return to Italy. His gut knotted as he thought of the expectations that he’d failed to fulfill. Back in Monte Calanetti he wasn’t viewed as someone successful—someone influential. Back home he was Giovanni’s son—the son who’d fled his family and their way of life, unlike his younger brother who took great pride in their heritage.

With the meeting concluded, Angelo made his way back to his office. With the decision made to leave first thing in the morning, he had to figure out how to handle his current workload. His clients would never accept having their accounts turned over to anyone else. They paid top dollar for one-on-one attention, and they would accept nothing less.

In order for him to stay on top of everything while traveling abroad, he needed someone who was good in a crisis, levelheaded and an independent worker. Kayla’s beautiful face immediately sprang to mind. Could she be the answer?

He hesitated. She did have a habit of being a bit too chatty at times. But this was an emergency. Allowances would have to be made.

More importantly, he was impressed with her work ethic and her attention to details. She was hungry and eager—two elements that would serve her well. And best of all, she had an easy way with people—something that might come in handy on this trip.

He stopped next to her desk. “Ms. Hill.” She glanced up. Her green eyes widened. How had he missed their striking shade of jade until now? He cleared his throat, focusing back on the business at hand. “How’s the Van Holsen account coming?”

Color pinked her cheeks. “Mr. Amatucci, I...I haven’t gotten to it yet. The phone has been ringing and I’ve been sending out information for some other accounts.”

She looked worried as though she’d done something wrong. For the first time, Angelo wondered if everyone who worked for him was intimidated by him. He didn’t like the thought of Ms. Hill being uncomfortable around him. He knew he wasn’t an easy man to get to know, but he didn’t like the thought of striking fear in the hearts of his employees.

“Relax. That’s fine. Besides you’ll have plenty of time to brainstorm on the flight.”

“Excuse me. The flight?”

Since when did he speak without thinking it through first? It had to be this mess with Marianna. It had him off-kilter. “Something urgent has come up. I need to travel to Italy. And I need a competent person to accompany me.”

“Me?” Excitement lit up her whole face. Before today, he’d never noticed that behind those black-rimmed reading glasses were not only mesmerizing green eyes but also a beautiful face—not that he was interested in her, or anyone. Ms. Hill clasped her hands together. “I’ve never been to Italy. I’d love it.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” But suddenly he wasn’t sure spending so much time alone with her was such a good idea, especially now that he’d noticed the unique color of her mesmerizing eyes and her intoxicating scent. He swallowed hard. But it was too late to back out now. “You need to understand this trip will be business only, not a holiday.”

“Understood.”

“If you go, you’ll need to be committed to your work 24/7. We can’t afford to miss any deadlines. Is that acceptable?”

She hesitated and, for a moment, he worried that she would back out.

But then Ms. Hill’s head bobbed. “I can do it.”

“Make sure you are ready to go first thing in the morning.”

“As in tomorrow morning?”

He nodded. “And expect to be gone for at least a week—maybe two.” Her mouth gaped and her eyes widened. It was obvious that he’d caught her off guard. But she wasn’t the only one to be surprised today—by so many things.

When he’d approved her transfer to be his temporary PA, he’d made it perfectly clear that he demanded 100 percent focus and commitment from his employees. It was that extra push and attention to detail that put Amatucci & Associates head and shoulders above the competition.

If you wanted to be the best, you had to give it your all. And that is what he expected from all of his employees, even if it meant dropping family, hobbies and extracurricular activities in order to focus on the job. What he was asking of Kayla was no different than he’d ask of anyone.

When she didn’t jump to accept his offer, he had no patience to wait for an answer. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

From the little he knew about his assistant, she didn’t have a family. At least not in the city. And he hadn’t seen or heard any hints of a man in her life. Maybe she was more like him than he’d originally thought.

Or was there something else bothering her? Was it the incident with the perfume? Perhaps that hadn’t been one of his better moves. He was used to following his instincts when it came to his creative process, but there was something about his assistant that had him leaning a little closer to her slender neck and, for the briefest second, he’d forgotten the reason. His mind had spiraled in a totally inappropriate direction. That wouldn’t happen again. He’d see to it.

After all, she wasn’t his type. Her nondescript business suits, the way she pulled back her hair and the way she hid her luminous green eyes behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses gave off a very prim, old-fashioned persona. So why was he letting one unexplainable moment bother him?

“I could make arrangements to go, but I have so much work to do on the Van Holsen account—”

“If that’s your only objection, then don’t worry. The account can wait one day. In fact, take the rest of the day off. I expect to see you at the airport at 6:00 a.m.. Unless you’d like me to pick you up on the way.”

“Uh, no.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’ll find my own way there.”

He felt a bit obligated. He was, after all, asking her to drop everything on a moment’s notice to help him out. He needed to make a concerted effort to be a little friendlier. “Are you sure? It’s really no problem to swing by your place.”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“True. But since you’re going out of your way to help me, I wouldn’t mind going out of my way for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She smiled, easing the stress lines from around her mouth.

Angelo found his attention straying to her kissable lips coated with a shimmery light pink gloss. Okay, so not every aspect of her was prim and proper. A fantasy of her pulling off her glasses and letting down her hair played in his mind. Realizing the direction of his wayward thoughts, he halted them.

With effort, his gaze rose over the light splattering of freckles on her pert nose to her intense green eyes. How had he failed to notice her beauty up until today? Had he been that absorbed in his work that he’d failed to see what was standing right in front of him?

He cleared his throat. “I’ll pick you up at say five-thirty?”

“Mr. Amatucci—”

“If we’re going to travel together, we should at least be on a first name basis. Please, call me Angelo.” Now where in the world had that come from? He made a point of keeping his distance from his employees. But then again, he was taking her home with him, where she would meet his family, and that broke all of his professional rules. He reconciled himself with the fact that Kayla’s time working for him was limited—soon his regular PA would be back. So maybe he could afford to bend the rules a bit.

“And please call me Kayla.” She smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes, making them sparkle like fine jewels.

“We’re going to my home in Italy. It’s a small village in the Tuscany countryside—Monte Calanetti.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it, but then again, I’ve never had the opportunity to travel abroad. Is it big? The village that is?”

He shook his head. “The last time I saw it— granted it has been quite a while—but it was as if time had passed it by. It is rather small and quaint. It is entirely a different world from New York City. Now, are you still interested in going?”

She hesitated and he worried that he’d have to come up with an alternate plan. As of right now, he didn’t have one. He needed someone who was familiar with his accounts and wouldn’t need a bunch of hand-holding. Kayla was his only viable option. He wasn’t one to beg, but at this particular moment he was giving it serious consideration.

Her dimpled chin tilted up. “Yes, I am. It sounds like it’ll be a great adventure.”

“I don’t know about that. The reason I’m going there isn’t exactly pleasant, but then again, that isn’t for you to worry about. You need to go home and pack.”

“Okay. But what should I plan on wearing for the trip? Business attire?”

“Definitely something more casual. There won’t be any business meetings, so use your best judgment.” He had no doubt her casual attire was as dull and drab as her suits. Not that it mattered to him what she wore so long as she was ready to work.

Kayla gathered her things, and then paused. “Before I leave, should I make plane reservations?”

He shook his head. “No need. We’ll take my private jet.”

Her pink lips formed an O but nothing came out. And for a moment, he let himself wonder what it’d be like to kiss those full, tempting lips. Not that he would, but he could imagine that one kiss just wouldn’t be enough. Something told him that lurking beneath that proper and congenial surface was a passionate woman—

Again, he drew his thoughts up short. The last thing he needed was to notice her feminine qualities. He wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure. No way.

CHAPTER THREE

FLUFFY CLOUDS FLOATED past the jet’s windows.

They’d soon be touching down in Italy.

A giddy excitement bubbled up in Kayla’s chest as she glanced across the aisle at Mr. Amatucci—er—Angelo. She still had a problem remembering to call him by his given name after referring to him as Mr. Amatucci for so long. Being on a first-name basis left her feeling unsettled—not exactly sure how to act around him. If anything, Angelo was even more quiet and reserved than before. Had he sensed her attraction to him?

Impossible. She hadn’t said or done anything to betray herself. She smoothed a hand over her gray skirt. She was worrying for nothing.

Just act normal.

She glanced at her boss. “Do you know how long until we arrive?”

Angelo turned in his leather seat to look at her. “What did you say?”

“I was wondering how long we have until we land in Italy.”

“Not much longer.” His dark gaze dipped to the pen and paper in her lap. “Are you working?”

“I am.” Her body tensed as she read over her scribbled notes for the Van Holsen account. She didn’t have anything innovative enough to measure up to the Amatucci standard. “I thought this would be a good time to flesh out some ideas.”

“And you like doing it longhand?”

“I think better that way.” She’d never really taken the time to consider her creative process, but yes, now that she thought about it, she did always start with pen and paper. She didn’t move to the computer until she had a fully functioning idea.

“Is that for the Van Holsen account?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing what you suggested and going with a nostalgic appeal.”

“Good. Can I see what you’ve come up with so far?”

She glanced down at all of her scribbles and half thoughts. And then her eyes caught sight of his name scrolled out in cursive. Her heart clenched. What in the world?

She must have done it while she’d been deep in thought. Immediately, her pen started crossing it out. The last thing she needed was for her boss to think she had a crush on him. That would be the end of her career.

“I...I don’t exactly have anything solid yet.” She was going to have to be careful in the future of what she wrote down just in case Mr. Curious decided to peer over her shoulder.

“I could help you. Let me see what you have.” He held out his hand.

She really didn’t want to hand over her notepad, but what choice did she have if she wanted to stay in his good graces? She glanced down at the scratched-out spot and squinted. She could still see his name—all fourteen letters. But that was because she knew it was there. She ran the pen over it a few more times.

With great hesitation, she handed over the legal pad. Angelo’s acute gaze skimmed over the page. Her palms grew moist. He took his time reading, but he paused as he reached the bottom. That was where she’d vigorously scratched out his name, almost wearing a hole in the page.

“I’m guessing that you’ve ruled out this idea?” He gestured to the blob of ink.

“Most definitely. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should tell me what it was, and then we can see if there’s any value in pursuing it?” He sent her an expectant look.

“Honestly, it’s not worth the effort. I was totally off the mark with it.” A man like Angelo, who could have a gorgeous model or movie star on each arm, would never be interested in someone as plain and boring as herself.

He let the subject go and turned back to her notes while she sat there realizing just how “off the mark” her imagination had wandered. No way was she going down that romantic path again, even if it was paved with rose petals. All it’d do was lead her into making a commitment—having a family—everything she’d left behind in Paradise. She wanted to be different—she wanted to be professionally successful. She needed to show everyone back in her hometown that she’d made her dreams come true.

And then Angelo’s gaze lifted to meet hers. She should glance away but the intensity of his gaze held her captive. Her heart raced. He didn’t say anything, which was just as well, because she doubted she could have strung two words together. Had he figured out what she’d scribbled on the page? Please, not that. But then again, he didn’t look upset. Instead, he looked like—like what? The breath hitched in her throat. Was he interested in her?

He glanced away and shook his head. “Sorry about that. Something you wrote down gave me an idea for the campaign, but then it slipped away.”

Silly girl. What made her think he’d ever look at her that way? And why would she want him to? It’d be the beginning of the end of her rising career—her dream.

Get a grip, Kayla.

“No problem.” She held out her hand, willing it not to shake. “If you let me have the pad back, I’ll work on getting my thoughts more organized. Maybe we can discuss them as soon as we get situated in Italy.” She wasn’t quite sure where their accommodations would be since Angelo had personally handled the travel arrangements, but she was certain they would be nice.

“Sounds good. Just because we’re out of town doesn’t mean we should fall behind on our work. I don’t plan to be here long—just long enough to take care of some personal business. If we’re lucky, perhaps I can wrap it up in a day or two.”

What had happened to a week—maybe two? Disappointment assailed her. But it would be for the best. After all, it’d get her home sooner to make sure the ICL fund-raiser was moving along without too many snags. But she still couldn’t shake the disappointment.

* * *

He’d missed this.

Angelo maneuvered the low-slung sports car over the windy roads of the Tuscany hillside toward his home in Monte Calanetti. He was grateful to be behind the wheel. It helped to center his thoughts. On the plane, he’d noticed his assistant in the most unexpected way. With her peaches-and-cream complexion, he’d been tempted to reach out and caress her smooth skin. But it was her green, almost-jade eyes that sparkled and hinted at so much more depth to the woman than he already knew—or would expect to know. The last thing he needed to do was get distracted by his assistant.

Actually, now that he’d noticed her—really noticed her—it was getting harder and harder to keep his mind on business around her. Perhaps bringing her on this trip wasn’t his best decision, after all, but it was a necessity. He needed her help. He assured himself that, in the end, it would all work out as long as he stayed focused on the business at hand.

Thankfully, Kayla was just temporary help until his assistant returned from maternity leave. Then life would get back to normal. As far as he was concerned, that wouldn’t be soon enough.

“This is wonderful.”

The sound of Kayla’s excited voice drew him out of his thoughts. He took his eyes off the roadway for just a moment to investigate what she found so fascinating, but he only saw vegetation. “Sorry. I missed it.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s this. The long grass and the trees lining the roadway. It’s beautiful.”

What? The woman had never been outside of the city? He supposed that was possible. He honestly didn’t know much about her other than her excellent work ethic. That, in and of itself, would normally be enough for him, but since they were traveling together, what would it hurt to know a little more?

“Is this your first time outside New York City?”

“I’m not a native New Yorker.”

They had something else in common. Still, after all of those years living in New York, it was home to him now. He thrived on the constant energy that flowed through the city. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. “Where does your family live?”

He could feel her curious gaze on him, but he didn’t turn to her. “They live in a small town in Pennsylvania.”

“So you really didn’t move all that far from home.”

“That’s not what my parents think.”

He glanced at her and saw she’d pressed her lips together in a firm line. Something told him that she hadn’t meant to share that bit of information. But why? What else was she holding back?

“Your parents aren’t crazy about the big-city life?”

There was a moment of hesitation as though she were trying to figure out how to answer him. “It’s not New York so much as the fact that I’m not in Paradise anymore. They had my whole life planned out for me, but I rejected it.”

“You must have had one of those chopper mothers I’ve heard about.”

Kayla laughed. The sound was melodious and endearing. In that moment, he realized that he’d never heard her laugh before. He really liked it and hoped she’d do it more often, but for the life of him, he had no idea what he’d said to cause such a reaction.

“Do you mean a helicopter mom?”

He shrugged. “I guess. I knew it was something like that.”

“My mom wasn’t too bad. I know friends that had mothers who were much more controlling. But my mom is pretty good.”

Wait. Something wasn’t adding up. He pulled to a stop at an intersection. If he went straight ahead, it’d lead them up the hill to the village. But if he veered to the right, it’d take them to Nico’s boutique vineyard—their childhood home.

Checking the rearview mirror and finding no traffic behind them, he paused and turned to her. “So if your mother is so great, why did you flee to the big city?”

Kayla shifted in her seat as though she were uncomfortable—or was it that he was digging too deep into personal territory? He knew what that was like—wanting to keep a firm lid on the past. But he couldn’t help himself. There was just something about Kayla that intrigued him—and it went much deeper than her beauty. He was genuinely interested in her as a person.

Her voice was soft when she spoke, and he strained to hear. “I didn’t live up to my parents’ expectations.”

That was so hard to believe. He was a very particular employer, and Kayla lived up to and in some areas exceeded his expectations. “Do they know what a wonderful job you’ve done at Amatucci & Associates?”

Her gaze widened. “You really think so?”

Angelo didn’t realize he’d kept his approval of her work under wraps. Then again, he wasn’t the sort of man to go on about someone’s performance. Yet, in this moment, something told him that Kayla really needed to hear his evaluation of her performance.

“I think you’ve done an excellent job—”

“You do?” She smiled brightly and practically bounced in her seat before clasping her hands together.

“I do—”

A horn beeped behind them.

The interruption was a welcome one. This conversation was getting a little too emotional for his comfort. He thought for a moment that in her glee she might throw her arms around him. He didn’t do hugs—no way—and certainly not with an employee. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let the lines between them blur.

Angelo eased the car forward, focusing once again on the road and his destination. He urged himself to ignore the funny feeling Kayla’s obvious excitement had given him. He trained his thoughts on the scene he’d be walking into at the vineyard. His fingers tightened on the black leather steering wheel.

On second thought, maybe he should have dropped Kayla off at the hotel before venturing out here. But he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight—not since Nico had dropped the bombshell that their little sister was about to have a baby. Angelo was about to become an uncle. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d worked so hard to distance himself from his family—from his emotionally charged parents and their chaotic marriage. But now that they’d moved, what excuse did he have to stay away from his birthplace—the home of his brother and sister?

“Is this the way to the village?” Kayla sat up a little straighter.

“No, this is the way to my brother’s vineyard.”

“Oh, how exciting. I’ve never visited a vineyard. I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s beautiful like those magazine photos. Will we be staying there?”

“No.” Angelo’s tone was brusquer than he’d intended, but her endless chatter combined with his pending reunion had him on edge.

He chanced a glance her way and found her eyes had widened in surprise. He couldn’t blame her, but how did he explain his family dynamics to her? Then again, why did he feel a need to explain his family at all?

“It’ll be best if we stay at a hotel in the village. I’m not sure if the internet at the vineyard has been updated.” There, that sounded like a valid reason for them to have some space between him and his siblings.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. I know the Van Holsen account needs to be updated as soon as possible. I already contacted the art department and let them know that a whole new strategy will be coming their way.”

“Good. I want everything to move ahead without delay.”

Whether he liked it or not, he’d been right to bring Kayla along on this trip. She was efficient and quite good at her job. Now, if only he could be just as professional and keep his mind from meandering into dangerous territory. However, the more time he spent around her, the more he found himself being anything but professional.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE CAR TURNED to the right and lurched forward. Kayla grabbed for the door handle. She had no idea that the vineyard would be so far out in the country, but then again, this was her first trip to Italy. In fact, other than one business trip to Canada, this was her first expedition out of the country.

“Welcome to Calanetti Vineyard.”

Kayla glanced around, taking in the neat lines of grapevines. “Does all of this belong to your brother?”

“No. His vineyard is just a small portion of this land, but he produces some of the highest quality wine in the country.”

“And you grew up here?”

“I did.” Angelo pulled the car to a stop in front of a two-story villa. The home featured earth tones that blended in well with the land. “My brother will be expecting us. I phoned him from the airport.”

As if on cue, the front door of the villa swung open and a man stepped out. Kayla did a double take—it was like looking at a slightly younger version of Angelo. The man approached the car wearing an easy smile. His eyes were dark brown like his brother’s, but there was an easiness in them. They were quite unlike Angelo’s dark and mysterious eyes.

When Nico opened the car door for her and held out his hand, she accepted his offer. Then she noticed the biggest difference of all. Instead of her stomach quivering with nervous energy in response to Nico’s touch, she had no reaction at all. What did that mean? How could two men who looked so much alike have her reacting in such opposite ways?

It had to be that Angelo was her boss. That must be it. There was simply no other reasonable explanation for the electric charge that Angelo gave her every time she felt his gaze on her or when their fingers brushed as they passed papers back and forth.

“Benvenuta.” Nico’s voice carried a thick, warm Italian accent. When she sent him a puzzled look, he smiled. “Scusi. Welcome.”

She smiled back, immediately liking Angelo’s brother. “I’m so glad to be here.”

“My brother doesn’t bring many visitors home. In fact, you are the first. You must be special—”

“Nico, this is my assistant.” Angelo frowned at his sibling.

Nico’s dark brows rose and then a knowing smile pulled at his lips. “I hope my brother doesn’t work you too hard while you’re in Italy. There’s so much to see. I’d love to give you a tour of the vineyard—”

“She doesn’t have time for that stuff. She’s here to work.” Any hint of the easiness Angelo had displayed in the car was gone—hidden behind an impenetrable wall. “Now where is Marianna?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? Didn’t you tell her that I was on my way?”

“I did.” Nico folded his arms over his broad chest and lifted his chin. “I think that’s the reason she left so early this morning without even bothering to grab a bite to eat. I haven’t seen her since, but then again, I haven’t looked for her, either.”

“You let her walk away—?”

“What did you want me to do? Lock her in her room?”

“Maybe if you’d have done that a while ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Nico’s arms lowered and his shoulders straightened. “You’re blaming me for this?”

Angelo’s body visibly tensed. “Yes...no. If only I’d have known something was wrong, I could have...”

“Could have what?”

Kayla’s gaze darted between the two men who glared at each other. It was time to do something and fast. “This certainly is a beautiful place you have here.” She acted as though she were totally oblivious to the torrent of undercurrents. “Angelo told me you produce some of the finest wine in Italy.”

At last, the brothers quit glaring at each other. Nico turned to her. “My brother got that much right. I’d be happy if you’d sample some while you’re here.”

“I’d be honored.”

This palpable tension certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting for a family reunion, but then again, after overhearing the heated conversation when Nico had phoned the office, she shouldn’t be too surprised. She turned her attention to her always-in-control boss, who looked as though he was about to lose his cool edge and have a meltdown. Intriguing. There was definitely a lot more to him than what she’d witnessed so far.

“I should have come back before now.” There was a weary, pained toned to Angelo’s voice. “I let the past keep me away.”

Nico turned back to his sibling. “What happened to you was a long time ago. It wasn’t right, but a lot has changed since then. You no longer have an excuse to stay away.”

“But I still have a company to run. I don’t have time to drop everything and travel halfway around the globe to check up on things. As far as I knew, everything was all right.”

“Maybe if you didn’t work all the time and bothered to call occasionally, you’d know how things were going around here.”

Questions crowded into Kayla’s mind—questions that were absolutely none of her business. But that didn’t stop her from wondering what had happened to drive Angelo away from his family. He obviously loved them or he wouldn’t have let his cool composure slide. And what caused him to keep his emotions under lock and key in the first place?

Angelo raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should have called more.”

“Yes, you should have.”

The thud of a door slamming shut punctuated Nico’s words. Kayla hesitantly glanced off in the distance as a young woman marched toward them. Her brown hair was wild and curly as it fluttered in the breeze. Her lips pressed into a firm line and her eyes narrowed in on the two men. This must be Marianna.

“Enough!” The woman came to a stop between Angelo and Nico. “You two are being ridiculous. Anytime you both want to quit with the overprotective-brother routine, we can talk.”

Though she was at least a foot shorter than her brothers, Marianna certainly didn’t hesitate to step between them. Something told Kayla that little sister wasn’t a shrinking violet with these two as her brothers. She’d definitely have to be strong-willed. Silently Kayla cheered her on.

Angelo’s broad chest puffed up before he sighed. When he spoke, his voice was much gentler. “Marianna, if only I’d known—”

“Stop.” The young woman pressed her hands to her hips and pulled back her slender shoulders. “Neither of you are to blame for my choices.”

Angelo’s brows drew together in a formidable line. “But—”

“I’m not done.” Her shoulders remained ramrod straight. “I’m a grown woman, if you hadn’t noticed. But then again, you’ve been off in the States and missed the fact that I’ve grown up. Maybe if you’d spent more time here, you’d have realized this.”

Kayla’s heart went out to Angelo. He’d obviously made mistakes where his family was concerned, and they weren’t shy about calling him out on it. In his eyes, she could see pain and regret. Beneath his hard, protective shell lurked a vulnerable man.

Angelo’s stance eased and his head lowered. “I know I should have been here for you—”

“No. This isn’t what I want.” Marianna shook her head, sending her hair flying. “I don’t need you feeling guilty. I need you to understand that I can make my own decisions.”

“See, I told you,” Nico piped in. “Trying to deal with her isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

Angelo turned to his brother. “Maybe if you’d have told me sooner—”

Nico’s dark brows drew together in a formidable line. “Told you—I tried calling you but I always got your voice mail. And you didn’t call back.”

“I...I was getting around to it.”

Nico shook his head in disbelief. “I’m glad to know where I fit on your list of priorities.”

“You don’t understand.” Angelo rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t know what it’s like to have a lot of people relying on you to produce cutting-edge promotions and other people looking to you for a paycheck. It’s not as easy as it sounds to run a successful company.”

Nico expelled a disgusted sigh. “And you think turning this place into a renowned boutique vineyard has been easy? Yet I still found time to call you.”

“Your message never said it was important.”

“Stop!” Marianna pushed Angelo back. “You aren’t helping anything by coming here and fighting with Nico.”

Angelo took a deep breath and blew it out. “I know I wasn’t here when you needed me, but I’m here now. Let me help.”

Kayla watched all of this in utter amazement. She never would have guessed her boss was capable of such a wide range of emotions. So then why did he strive at the office for such an unflappable persona? What was she missing?

Kayla was about to introduce herself to Marianna, when the young woman stared up at Angelo and said, “And I wish you weren’t here now. Not like this. Not with all of the fighting.” When Angelo’s brows rose and his mouth opened but nothing came out, Marianna added, “I don’t want to play referee.” Her hand moved protectively to her still-flat stomach. “It isn’t good for the baby.”

Angelo and Nico looked at each other as though neither had considered how their fighting would stress their sister—their pregnant sister.

Marianna moved to look at both of her brothers. “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Angelo crossed his arms but refrained from saying anything.

“I hope you’ll both give me some space.”

Angelo’s brows rose. “But first, we want to know the name of the father.”

“That’s none of your business.”

Nico stepped forward. “It is our business if he thinks he’s going to get our sister pregnant and then just walk away.”

Marianna’s face filled with color.

Angelo pressed his hands to his sides. “We deserve the right to speak to this guy. He needs to know that we expect him to step up and do his part—”

“And I expect you both to mind your own business.” Marianna started for the house.

Enough was enough. The time had come to make a hasty exit. It was obvious that Marianna was in over her head and that her brothers were only making the situation worse.

When Angelo turned to follow his sister, Kayla moved swiftly in front of him. “I’m not feeling so good.” It wasn’t totally a lie—her stomach was in knots watching the Amatucci siblings squabble. “Could you take me to the hotel?”

Angelo’s worried gaze moved from her to his sister to her. “Sure.” He turned to Nico. “We need to talk more.”

“I figured as much.”

“I’ll be back after we get settled.”

Nico shrugged. “I’ll be here. I can’t speak for Marianna.”

“I don’t think she needs anyone to speak for her. She certainly does have a mind of her own. Even if it gets her in trouble.”

“She always was strong-willed. I think she’s a lot like Mama.”

“Agreed.”

At last the two had something they agreed on—their little sister’s character. And now that things were on a good note, it was definitely time to say goodbye.

Kayla cleared her throat, hoping to gain Angelo’s attention. When he didn’t turn her way, she proceeded to say, “Angelo, are you ready to go?”

She’d have rather had a tour of the vineyard and stretched her legs, but not under these strained circumstances. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the situation with their sister that had them at odds or if they had a history of not getting along.

Angelo glanced her way. “It was a long trip. I suppose you would like to lie down for a bit.”

“That would be nice.” She turned to Nico, who was still eyeing his brother with obvious agitation. “It was so nice to meet you. I hope that we’ll see each other again.”

“I suppose that’ll depend on my brother and whether he trusts you with me—”

“Nico. Enough.” Angelo’s voice held an obvious note of warning. “We’ll be staying at the Hotel Villa Bellezza. If Marianna cools down, phone me.”

Angelo quietly followed her to the car and opened the door for her. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“Don’t be.” She searched for words of comfort. “Families are messy. It’s what happens when people love each other. And I saw a lot of love back there.”

“You did?”

“Most definitely.” She stepped past him and got in the car.

She’d never met anyone who could get under her boss’s skin like Nico. The man appeared to have needling his big brother down to a fine art. There was so much more to the polished, successful businessman standing next to her than she’d ever imagined. And she was anxious to know more.

CHAPTER FIVE

KAYLA GRIPPED THE armrest tightly.

The line of cypress trees was no more than a blur as Angelo accelerated away from the vineyard. He didn’t say a word as they zigzagged through the valley before starting their ascent up a hillside. The vegetation was so green and lush that she couldn’t imagine there was a village, much less a five-star hotel, within miles of here.

“I need to apologize.” Angelo’s voice broke the awkward silence. “I didn’t mean to have you witness our family drama.”

“It’s okay. I know how families can be.” She couldn’t help but want to know more about him and his family. “Your parents, do they live around here?”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “They left the vineyard to us kids and moved to Milan. It was best for everyone.”

Kayla wasn’t sure what to say to that. Obviously there wasn’t a close relationship between him and his parents. Did she even want to know why? It’d just move them further from boss and employee and into a new relationship—one that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Angelo downshifted for a curve. “I know that you come from a close-knit family, so it’d be hard for you to understand a family that functions better apart than together.”

Kayla was surprised that he kept talking about his private life when she hadn’t even asked him anything. It was as if these thoughts were pent up inside him, and he needed to get them out if he was to have any peace.

She searched frantically for words of comfort. “Every family is different. Not better. Not worse. Just different.”

“But this is my fault.” His palm smacked the steering wheel. “I shouldn’t have left for New York to go to college. I should have found a way to stay here. Marianna was so young when I left, and my parents—well, they were so consumed with each other that they didn’t have time to worry about anyone else.”

“I’m sure they did their best.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know my parents. They are the most passionate people I know. And not in a good way. One minute they love each other and the next they are getting divorced. That’s the end. They never want to see each other again. To say our childhoods were unstable is putting it mildly.”

Kayla struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open. Her parents were the most mild-mannered couple. Their voices were rarely raised to each other, and they still gazed lovingly at each other like a couple of starstruck teenagers. Kayla knew they wanted her to experience the same sort of love and happiness. That’s why she didn’t hold it against them for trying to guide her life. It’s just that she was different. There was so much more to life than love, marriage and babies. And she wanted to experience all of it.

Angelo cleared his throat, but his voice still rumbled with emotion. “I just couldn’t take any more of their fighting and making up. It was so unnerving to never know if my parents were passionately in love or on the verge of calling their divorce attorneys. And there was no way I could take Nico with me—not that he’d have gone. He has this unbreakable tie to the vineyard—to the village. He never would have done what I did. And maybe he’s right. Maybe if I’d stayed then Marianna wouldn’t be alone and having a baby.”

“It’s not your fault.” Kayla resisted the urge to reach out to him. “Your sister is a grown woman. She has to be allowed to make her own choices. Right or wrong. You couldn’t have prevented this.”

“But maybe if I’d been here, she’d have felt like she still had a family that loves her. Then she wouldn’t have taken off on this trip of hers only to let some smooth-talking guy take advantage of her.” Angelo’s body noticeably stiffened.

“I’m fairly certain that no one could take advantage of your sister. She seems quite strong, like her brothers. She just needs some time to sort things out.”

He sighed. “I’m sure she’s plenty confused. And I suppose Nico and I did nothing to help by arguing. It’s just that every time my brother and I get together, we disagree. We are very different. That’s why I reserved us a suite at the hotel. I knew staying at the vineyard would just lead to more drama, and that’s the last thing any of us need.”

“But you two didn’t argue at the end.”

“That’s because we both agree that Marianna needs both of us—whether she likes it or not.”

“Good. Maybe you can build on that.”

“Perhaps.”

She decided that enough had been said for now on that subject. Angelo needed time to calm down. “Is the hotel far from here?”

“No. It’s just at the rise of the hill.” His voice had returned to its normal reserved, unemotional tone.

“Really. I never would have guessed. I can’t wait to see the village.” But if Angelo was serious about this being a productive trip, she wasn’t sure that she’d get to see much of Italy. The thought dampened her mood. “Do you think I’ll have some time to look around the village?”

He glanced at her before turning back to the road. “There really isn’t much to see.”

She’d beg to differ with him. Everything about Italy was special for this American girl. This was the biggest adventure of her life. How could he think this place was anything but special?

“I...I’ve never been here before. I was just hoping to sneak in some sightseeing.”

“As long as you get your work done, I don’t care what you do with your free time.”

Oh, good!

As the car climbed the hill, Angelo pulled to the side for an older truck that was barreling toward them. Once back on the road, the car’s tire dropped into a rut and bounced Kayla. The seat belt restrained her, but her bare thigh brushed against his hand as it gripped the gearshift. Heat raced up her leg, under her skirt and set her whole body tingling.

“Sorry about that.” He quickly moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

Had he noticed their touch? Had it affected him, too? Was that why he’d moved his hand? Or was she just being ridiculous? Definitely being ridiculous. She knew when men were interested in her, and Angelo certainly wasn’t. A frown pulled at her lips.

So why then did it bother her? Sure, he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. But, he was her boss—the key to her career. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t—let some ridiculous crush get in her way after everything she’d sacrificed to get here.

Time to think about something else.

“I didn’t have time to do any research before we left New York. What should I see while I’m here?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, there’s nothing special about Monte Calanetti. It’s just small and old.”

“I’m used to small towns. I grew up in one. And there’s always something special about them.”

He glanced her way and his dark brow rose. “What was special about your town?”

“A number of things.” She wasn’t sure that she wanted to delve into this subject with him. She’d finally got past her homesickness. The way she’d done that was by not thinking of her hometown and what made it special.

“Such as?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Before he could question her more, she spotted what she thought was the edge of Monte Calanetti. “Are we here?”

“We are.”

She stared out the windshield, not exactly sure what to expect. There was a tall wall. As they eased past it she found rustic buildings of earth tones similar in color to Nico’s villa. People stopped and glanced their way as though trying to figure out if they should know them.

As more and more people turned to stare, Kayla couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer. “Why are they staring?”

He shrugged. “It must be the car.”

“The car?”

“Yeah, you know because it’s a sports car. They probably don’t see many around here.”

“Oh.” She glanced over at him. Was he sitting up a little straighter? And was his chin tilted just a little higher? Interesting. “The village looks quite intriguing. And small enough to explore on foot.”

Angelo didn’t say anything. He just kept driving. And sadly he didn’t offer her a guided tour. She forced herself not to frown. Then again, why should he bend over backward for her? She was, after all, merely an employee. They weren’t even friends. Though little by little, she was getting to know Angelo better and better. In fact, she’d learned more about him in the past forty-eight hours than she had in the past two months while working as his assistant.

The car slowed as they eased through a wrought iron gate and up the short paved drive to a two-story building. The outside was plain but there was an elegance in its simplicity. Beneath a black awning, a bronze plaque off to the side of the front door read: Hotel Villa Bellezza. The place looked old but well kept. It reminded her of maybe a duke’s grand house. She couldn’t wait to check out the inside.

A young man in a black uniform rushed outside and opened her door for her. He smiled at her before his gaze moved to Angelo. The smile dimmed. She had the feeling that the young man had jumped to the wrong conclusion—that she and Angelo were a couple, here for a romantic tryst. Nothing could be further from the truth. But for the first time, she imagined what it might be like if Angelo were to look at her as a woman—a woman he desired. The thought rolled around in her mind at a dizzying pace.

Angelo moved to her side and spoke softly in her ear. “Are you okay?”

His voice drew her from her thoughts. She swallowed and hoped she succeeded in composing herself. “Yes.”

“Are you sure? You’re a little pale.”

She patted his arm, not a good move as her fingertips tingled where they made contact. “I’m fine. Honest.”

Or she would be, once she quit fantasizing about her boss. He obviously wasn’t attracted to her. He saw her as nothing more than his temporary assistant, and that’s the way it’d have to remain if she hoped to convince him of her talents.

While Angelo took care of registering them, she took in her surroundings. The modest exterior had not prepared her for the beauty of the interior. The floor was gleaming marble while the walls and ceiling were masterpieces of art with ornate parquet. Kayla had to force her mouth to remain closed instead of gaping open. She’d never stayed anywhere so fancy.

She couldn’t even imagine how much this visit would cost Angelo. And the fact that he could afford to stay in a place such as this without even batting an eye impressed her. They sure didn’t have anything like this back in Paradise. Wait until she told her mother and father about this.

CHAPTER SIX

THERE WAS NO time for fun and games.

Angelo didn’t get to the top of his profession by taking time off. Now that they were settled into their suite and Kayla had rested for a bit, they needed to get back to work. As he waited for her to join him, he couldn’t help but wonder what she made of his clash with his brother. He shouldn’t have taken her to the vineyard. What had he been thinking?

Yet on the car ride here, she hadn’t seemed to judge him. Instead, she’d acted as though she cared. It was as if she understood him. Her reaction surprised him. He wasn’t used to letting people into his personal life. But from the moment he’d asked her to join him on this trip, the lines between personal and professional had become irrevocably blurred.

Kayla entered the common room between their bedrooms. Her auburn hair was loose and cascaded down past her shoulders. Her glasses were off and she was no longer wearing the drab gray business suit. Instead, she was wearing pink capris and a white cotton sleeveless top, which showed off her creamy shoulders and slender arms.

The breath hitched in his throat. Who was this gorgeous woman? And what had happened to his nondescript assistant?

“I hope you don’t mind that I changed?”

Wow! All he could do was stare. It was as if she were some sort of butterfly who’d just emerged from a cocoon.

Kayla settled on the couch with her laptop. She gave him a strange look as though wondering why he had yet to say a word. The problem was he didn’t know what to say. Ever since they’d left New York, the ground had been shifting under his feet. Now it was as though a fissure had opened up and he was teetering on the edge, scrambling not to get swallowed up.

She didn’t appear to be too disturbed by his standoffishness, which was good. Before he took a seat anywhere near her, he had to get a hold on his rambling thoughts. Kayla wasn’t just any woman. He couldn’t indulge in a romantic romp with her, and then go about his life.

He was her boss and, more important, he couldn’t afford to lose her because she was good—really good at her job. He’d already had ideas of promoting her, but he wasn’t sure that she was ready to be advanced quite yet. He wanted to see how she handled the Van Holsen account, since he’d given her a lot of room to show him her stuff.

The tight muscles in his chest eased and he was able to breathe easier. Concentrating on work always relaxed him and put him back in his groove. Work was logical for the most part and it lacked emotions, again for the most part, depending on the client. But since he was the boss, he was able to hand off the more excitable clients to other account executives.

That was it. Focus on business and not on how appealing he found her. “How’s the Van Holsen account coming?”

She glanced over the top of her laptop. “Thanks to your help, I think I’ve come up with some innovative ideas. Would you care to take a look?”

His gaze moved to the cushion next to her on the couch and his body tensed. He was being ridiculous. She wasn’t the first beautiful woman that he’d been around. What in the world had got into him today? It had to be his return home. It had him feeling out of sorts.

Time to start acting like Angelo Amatucci, the man in charge. “Sure. I’ll have a look.”

He strode over to the couch and took a seat. Kayla handed over the laptop and their fingers brushed. Hers were soft, smooth and warm. A jolt of awareness zinged up his arm and the air hitched in his lungs. Stay focused. He didn’t dare turn to look at her. Instead, he focused his gaze on the computer monitor.

He read over her ideas for the new fragrance campaign and was truly impressed. Not only had she taken his ideas and expanded upon them, but she’d also inserted some of her own. He loved her initiative. Kayla was exactly the kind of innovative person that he wanted at Amatucci & Associates. Talented people like Kayla were the assets that would keep his company one of the most sought-after advertising agencies in the world.

“This is really good.” He turned to her. When her green gaze met his, the rest of his thoughts scattered.

“You really like it?”

He nodded. His line of vision momentarily dipped to her pink frosted lips before meeting her gaze again. He struggled for a nonchalant expression. “I think you’ve captured a touching nostalgic note with a forward-thinking view. This should capture both the new and old consumer.”

Her tempting lips lifted into a broad smile that lit up her eyes. “Now we just have to hope the client will approve.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Send this along to the art department and have them start working on some mock-ups.”

Her smile dimmed a bit. “You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am. Don’t look so surprised. You don’t think you got the position as my assistant just because you’re beautiful, do you?”

Now why in the world had he gone and said that? But it was the truth. She was stunning. In fact, he was considering changing the dress code at the office. He really enjoyed this different look on her. Then again, if she looked this way in the office, he’d never get any work done.

Color bloomed on her creamy cheeks. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He stared back into her eyes longer than was necessary. In that moment, his ability to speak intelligently was debatable. He merely nodded.

“No man has ever called me that.”

At last finding his voice, Angelo said, “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Steven was more matter-of-fact and sparing on compliments. It wasn’t that he was a bad man. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He was really good to me. He just wasn’t good with flowery words.”

“This Steven, he’s from Paradise, too?”

She nodded. “High-school sweethearts.”

“The man must need glasses badly to have missed your beauty. Both inside and out. Is he still your boyfriend?” Part of Angelo wanted her to say yes to put a swift end to this surreal moment, but a much stronger part wanted her to be free.

“We...we broke up before I moved to New York.”

The field was wide-open. Exhilaration flooded through Angelo. His hand reached out, stroking the smooth, silky skin of her cheek. The backs of his fingers skimmed down over her jaw, and then his thumb ran over the plumpness of her bottom lip. Her sudden inhale drew air over his fingers.

In her eyes, he noted the flames of desire had been ignited. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. And in that moment, he didn’t want to think—he just wanted to act. He wanted to forget everything and enjoy this moment with the girl with wavy red hair.

His heart pounded as he leaned forward. He needed her and her understanding ways more than he imagined possible. Their lips met. He was a man who knew what he wanted and he wanted Kayla. Yet he fought back the urge to let loose with his mounting need. Instead, his touch was tentative and gentle. He didn’t want to do anything to scare her away—not now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Kayla’s lips were rose-petal soft. And when she opened them up to him, a moan grew deep in his throat. She tasted sweet like chocolate. He’d never been a fan of candy until this moment. Now he couldn’t get enough of her sugary sweetness.

His arms wrapped round her curvy form, pulling her close. The gentle scent of perfume wrapped around them—the teasing scent that he hadn’t been able to forget since that day in the office. It was as though she’d cast some sort of magical spell over him.

In the next instant, his phone vibrated in his pocket, zapping him back to his senses. He pulled back and Kayla’s confused gaze met his. He couldn’t blame her. He was just as confused by what had happened.

He held up a finger to silence her inevitable questions—questions for which he had no answers. Because there was no way he was falling for her. Getting involved with her—with anyone—meant dealing with a bunch of messy emotions. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was end up like his parents. Just the memory of their turbulent life had Angelo immediately working to rebuild the wall between him and Kayla. He just couldn’t—wouldn’t—subject anyone to such miserable instability.

Angelo glanced down at the screen to see his brother’s name pop up. Hopefully his sister had confessed all. Angelo couldn’t wait to confront the man who’d walked away from his responsibilities.

Angelo lifted the phone to his ear. “Nico, do you have a name yet?”

There was a distinct sigh. “Is this how you answer your phone these days? Too important for a friendly greeting before diving into the heart of the matter?”

Angelo’s back teeth ground together. He quickly counted to ten, okay maybe only to five, before addressing his sibling. “Hello, Nico. What did Marianna say?”

“Nothing.”

He was losing his patience. “But why did you call?”

“You and Kayla need to return to the villa. Now. I’ll explain everything when you both get here.” The line went dead.

Angelo slipped the phone back into his pocket. He turned to Kayla, whose face was still filled with color. “We have to go.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. That was Nico and he summoned us back to the villa. It must be Marianna. I just pray there aren’t complications with the baby.” Before they left he needed to clear the air about their kiss that never should have happened. “Listen, about the kiss, I crossed a line. I...I don’t know what I was thinking.”

A myriad of expressions crossed over her face. “It’s forgotten.”

He didn’t believe her. “Can we talk about it later?”

“I’d rather not. There’s nothing to say. Besides, you have more important things to deal with.” She jumped to her feet and moved away from him. “You should get going. I’ll be fine here.”

“Nico requested you, too.” Angelo held back the startling fact that he’d feel better facing this crisis with her next to him.

Kayla pressed a hand to her chest. “But why me?”

“I don’t know. But we have to go.”

“Okay. Just let me grab my shoes and purse.” She rushed back to her room.

Angelo got to his feet and paced back and forth. Of course he was worried about his sister, but there was something else fueling his inability to sit still—Kayla’s off-the-cuff dismissal of his kiss.

The women he was used to spending time with never brushed off his advances, though each of them knew his rules in advance—nothing serious. So why did that rule not apply here? Probably because Kayla was off-limits. She was his assistant. He couldn’t forget that going forward—no matter how much his personal life spun out of control while in Italy.

From this point forward, Kayla was off-limits.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HER THOUGHTS RACED so fast that it unsettled her stomach.

Kayla stared out of the passenger window as she clasped her hands tightly together. Angelo expertly guided the rented sports car along the narrow, tree-lined road. How in the world had she lost control of the situation?

She inwardly groaned. As fantastic as that kiss had been, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Angelo at last had noticed her work and complimented her professionally. And what did she turn around and do, stare at him like some lovesick teenager—encouraging him to kiss her.

Sure, she was wildly attracted to him. What woman with a pulse wasn’t? He was gorgeous with that short, dark hair, olive skin and dark, sensual eyes. But he was her boss—the man in charge of her professional future—her dreams.

She couldn’t afford any more blunders. She had to remain aloof but professional. Surely it wasn’t too late to correct things between them. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything about sending her back to New York on the next plane, but then again they’d rushed out of the hotel so quickly that he didn’t have time to think of it. His thoughts were on his sister.

Kayla sure hoped there wasn’t anything wrong with Marianna. This was the first time Kayla had ever witnessed Angelo visibly worried. He obviously cared a great deal for his family though he never let on at the office—when he was working he was 100 percent professional—

So then what happened back there at the hotel?

Angelo pulled the car to a skidding halt in front of the villa. Before she could summon an answer to that nagging question, Angelo had her car door opened. She would figure it out later. Right now, she would offer her support in whatever capacity to Angelo’s family.

Nico rushed into the drive. “About time you got here.”

“We came right away.” Angelo frowned at his brother. “What’s the matter with Marianna?”

“Marianna?” Nico’s brows drew together in a questioning look. “This has nothing to do with our sister.”

“Then why in the world did you have us rush over here?” Angelo’s voice took on a sharp edge.

Kayla breathed a sigh of relief. She had no idea what Nico wanted, but she was fully relieved that mother and baby were okay. However, she did have to wonder why Nico wanted her here? Was he hoping that she’d play referee?

Nico’s eyes opened wide and his face became animated. “You are never going to believe this—”

“I might if you’d get to the point.”

Nico smiled in spite of his brother’s obvious agitation. “What would you say if I told you that I was just approached by representatives of Halencia? Monte Calanetti has just made the short list of locations for the royal wedding of Prince Antonio and Christina Rose.”

Angelo rolled his eyes. “Nico, this is no time for joking around—”

“I’m not. I’m perfectly serious.”

Kayla’s mouth gaped open. A royal wedding. Wow! She really was in Europe because nothing like this ever happened back in the States. Wait until she told her family. They would never believe it.

Her gaze moved to Angelo. He still wasn’t smiling. In fact, he didn’t look the least bit excited about this news. She had absolutely no ties to this village and she was over-the-moon happy for them. So why was he so reserved?

Angelo pressed his hands to his trim waist. “You called us back here to tell us this?”

“Brother, you’re not understanding. The royal family of Halencia wants us to make a pitch as to why Monte Calanetti should be the location for the soon-to-be king and his intended bride’s wedding.”

“And?”

Nico shook his head. “What aren’t you understanding? This is where you come in. You and Kayla. This is what you two do for a living—pitch ideas, convince people to go with the products you represent. That’s what we need.”

Nico wanted Angelo and her to help? Really? For a royal wedding?

The breath caught in her throat as she held back a squeal of excitement. If she’d ever wanted a chance to stand out and gain a promotion, this was a prime opportunity. Plus, it’d mean continuing to work with Angelo. But once they got back to New York, away from this romantic countryside, things would go back to normal. Wouldn’t they?

Surely they would. This project was huge. It was amazing. An honest-to-goodness royal wedding. She didn’t even know where they’d begin, but she couldn’t contain her excitement. She’d show Angelo how good an ad executive she could be. Just wait and see.

* * *

Pitch a wedding to royalty?

Angelo had never done such a thing. Weddings weren’t his thing. He knew nothing about love and romance. He was highly unqualified for this project. But he wasn’t about to admit any of this to Nico. No way. So how was he supposed to get out of this?

Nico smiled as he led them straight through the modestly decorated villa that still looked much the same as it did when he’d been a child. Once everyone was situated on the veranda with cold drinks, Nico turned to him. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“You know, coming up with a pitch for the village?”

Angelo wanted to tell his brother that he was too busy and that he couldn’t possibly fit it into his schedule. He highly doubted his brother would hear him. Nico had selective hearing when he wanted something bad enough—like Angelo being a silent investor in the vineyard.

Angelo turned to Kayla to see what she thought about the idea, hoping she’d make some excuse to get them out of this situation. But her green eyes sparkled with excitement. How wrong could he have been to look to her for support? Was there a woman alive who didn’t get excited about weddings? Or was it the part about pitching it to a real-life prince that had caught her full attention?

Angelo’s gut tightened when he thought of Kayla being starstruck over the royal prince. He shrugged off the uneasy sensation. It was none of his concern. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was attracted to him. She couldn’t dismiss their kiss fast enough.

His jaw tensed as he recalled how easily she’d brushed off their moment. He could have sworn she’d been as into him as he was into her. It just showed how little he understood women.

He drew up his thoughts, refusing to dwell on the subject. In the meantime, Kayla had engaged his brother in light conversation about the vineyard and how it’d been their childhood home. Angelo looked around the place and was truly impressed by what his brother had done to bring this place back to life. It looked so different than when they were kids, when the place was dying off.

Angelo had actually thought that his brother was crazy for wanting to devote his time and money into reviving the vineyard, but with Nico’s determination, he’d made a go of the place. In fact, this boutique vineyard might not produce a large quantity of wine, but what it did produce was of the finest quality. Angelo kept his private wine collection stocked with it. Calanetti wines impressed a great number of influential guests that he’d entertained.

The chime of Kayla’s laughter drew his thoughts back to the moment. Nico was entertaining her with a tale from when they were kids. As the oldest, Angelo had always been put in charge of his siblings while his parents went out. But this one time, Angelo hadn’t been paying attention and they’d sneaked off. What Nico failed to add, and what he probably didn’t know, was that had been one of Angelo’s scariest moments—not knowing what had happened to his brother and sister.

“Are you telling them about the royal wedding?” Marianna joined them. Her face was a bit on the pale side and there were shadows beneath her eyes.

Nico leaned back in his chair. “I just told Angelo about it. He’s thinking it over.”

Marianna turned to Angelo. “You have to think it over? But why? This will be the biggest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You really want me to do the pitch?”

She nodded. “Please. It would be so wonderful for everyone. Couldn’t you just this once help your family?”

Guilt landed squarely on his shoulders with the force of a full wine barrel. He owed his brother and sister this. It’d put Monte Calanetti on the map. And the benefits the village would reap from the royal wedding taking place here were countless.

But he was already fully obligated. And he couldn’t do it all on his own. He’d need help. A good copywriter. His gaze strayed to Kayla. He’d already witnessed just how talented she was with words and images. He could easily imagine her taking on some more of his workload, allowing him time to work on the wedding proposal.

They’d have to work closely together—closer than ever. There was no way he’d let her loose with the company’s most important clients. But would they be able to manage it after the kiss?

“So what do you say, Angelo?” Nico looked at him. “The village is all abuzz with the news, and you know that pitching a wedding isn’t my area of specialty.”

“Please Angelo, will you do it?” Marianna looked at him, openly pleading with him with her eyes.

He’d never been good at telling her no. And now that she was standing there carrying some stranger’s baby—some man that his sister wouldn’t even introduce to their family—his resistance to her plea was nonexistent. If playing host to a royal wedding made her happy, how could he deny it to her? The decision for once was quite simple.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You will?” The words echoed around the patio.

“Why does everyone sound so shocked? It’ll be good publicity for the firm.” But that wasn’t his reason for agreeing—it was to see the smiles on the two women in his life...and his brother.

Marianna launched herself into his arms. Warmth swelled in his chest. He may not have been here to protect her and watch over her as he should have been, but at least he could give her something to look forward to while she sorted out the rest of her life.

Marianna pulled back and sent him a watery smile. “Thanks.”

He turned to Kayla. She looked like an excited kid on Christmas Eve. “How about you? Are you up for taking on some more responsibility?”

Kayla didn’t waste a moment before uttering, “Definitely. Just tell me what needs done.”

“Good.” He turned to his brother. “It looks like you’ve hired yourself a team. I’ll get started on the pitch as soon as we get back to New York.”

“New York?” Nico’s brows gathered together.

“Yes, that’s where we work. I’ll send through what I come up with, but it’s going to take me a little time. I have a rush project that I—we—have to wrap up—”

“This can’t wait. You have to get started on it right away.”

Angelo didn’t like the worried tone of his brother’s voice. “Why? What haven’t you told us?”

Nico got to his feet. “Does anyone need anything else to drink?”

Angelo knew a stalling tactic when he saw one. “Nico, spit it out. What is the catch?”

After Nico finished refilling Kayla’s iced tea, he turned to his brother. “The catch is the pitch has to be completed in no more than three weeks’ time.”

“Three weeks.” Angelo leaned back in his chair. “You sure don’t give a person much time.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

Nico nodded. “The presentation has to be given to the royal family at the palace in Halencia.”

Nico sank down into his chair while Angelo charged to his feet. “This changes everything. I wasn’t planning to stay in Italy for three weeks. Nico, don’t you understand? I have a business to run.”

“You’re the boss. Can’t you put someone else in charge while you’re here?”

Angelo never sloughed off his work on other people. He stayed on top of things. Some people called him a control freak. He considered it the only way to keep the company on track. “That’s not the point. There are certain things only I can do.”

“The point is that when we need you, you’re never here.” Nico got to his feet and faced him. “Why should I have thought this would be any different?”

His brother’s words were pointed and needled at his guilt. “That’s not fair. I’ve lent you money for the vineyard—”

“This isn’t about you writing out a check. I’m talking about you personally investing yourself—your time—in something that’s important to your family.”

Angelo turned to Marianna, looking for support, but she moved to Nico’s side. When he sought out Kayla, she was busy studying her iced tea glass with such intensity that it was as if she’d never seen glassware before. He was alone in this. He knew what he should do, but it was so hard to just hand over the reins of the company he’d built from the ground up.

Three weeks was a long time to be away. And yet it wasn’t much time to create a compelling campaign for a wedding—a royal wedding. It had just started to sink in what a big deal this really was for his brother and sister, and the village, plus it would be amazing for his company—that is if they won the pitch.

Angelo raked his fingers through his hair. Letting go of the reins at Amatucci & Associates went against every business instinct. Yet, he couldn’t turn his back on his siblings again. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Marianna turned to Kayla. “Will you stay, too?”

“Yes, Kayla,” Nico chimed in. “Will you help my brother? I get the feeling that he won’t be able to do it without you.”

Kayla’s eyes flashed with surprise. “I don’t know that I need to stay in Italy to do it.”

“It’d be most convenient,” Marianna pointed out. “I’m sure Angelo will need your input. After all, we’re talking about a wedding. And my brothers, well, they aren’t exactly romantic.”

“Hey!” Nico and Angelo protested in unison.

Both women burst out in laughter. Angelo supposed the dig was worth it as his sister’s face broke into a smile. And when he turned to Kayla, the happiness reflected in her eyes warmed a spot in his chest. She was a very beautiful woman. Why, oh, why did it have to be now when they were practically attached at the hip that he truly realized his attraction to her?

When she caught him staring, the breath hitched in his throat. He should glance away, but he couldn’t. He was in awe of her. Was it being away from the office that had him more relaxed about the proper conduct between employer and employee? Nonsense. He knew what he was doing. He could keep this together.

He gazed directly at the woman who took up more and more of his thoughts. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. Will you remain in Italy and lend a hand?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THIS WAS A very bad idea.

But it was so tempting. How could she let such a rare opportunity pass her by?

Kayla worried her bottom lip. Though she wouldn’t be working directly on the royal wedding, she’d be close at hand. Perhaps she could add an idea here and there. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to actually work on the project itself. Yet, she understood with the magnitude of a royal wedding that only the best of the best would work on the project, and that meant Angelo.

But she was needed back in New York. The ICL fund-raiser was quickly approaching, and seeing as it was her idea—it was her responsibility to make sure it went off without a hitch. However, she had put Pam, an associate at the after-school program, in charge while she was gone. And how much could possibly go wrong in three weeks?

“Please say you’ll stay.” Marianna looked so hopeful. “I could use someone on my side against my brothers, who think they know everything.”

That sold her. Marianna could definitely use some help keeping her brothers in line while she figured out her next move. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Everyone smiled except Angelo.

Aside from the fund-raiser, there was nothing waiting for her back in New York, not even a goldfish. When she wasn’t at the office, she was at the after-school program helping kids with their homework followed by a game of dodgeball or basketball or volleyball. She wasn’t very good at any of the games, but she gave it her best effort.

For the moment, she was giving herself permission to enjoy Italy before she set to work. And this was the perfect place to start. She’d love to see more of the vineyard, and it’d give Angelo some private time with his siblings.

“Would you mind if I had a look around the vineyard?” Kayla’s gaze met Nico’s.

“My apologies. I should have offered to give you a tour earlier. I’ve had other thoughts on my mind—” his gaze strayed to his sister and then back to her “—with uh...the royal wedding.”

“That’s okay. I totally understand.” Kayla got to her feet. “I’ve never been to a vineyard before. I’ll just show myself around.”

“Nonsense. Angelo can give you the grand tour while I make some phone calls and spread the good news. And make sure he shows you the chapel.” Nico turned a smile to Angelo. “You can handle that, can’t you, brother?”

Angelo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Kayla took that as progress between the brothers. Not wanting to give Angelo time to change his mind, she set off for the vines, hoping Angelo would follow.

He did, and he proved to be quite an insightful guide. He explained to her the difference between a larger vineyard and this boutique vineyard. While Nico produced fewer barrels of wine—less than five thousand cases a year—it was carefully processed to the highest quality with the least amount of oxidation.

As much as the history and current production of wine interested her, it was the bell tower in the distance that drew her attention. She headed for the weathered building that sat on the other side of the wall that lined the edge of the vineyard. “Is this the chapel your brother mentioned?”

“Yes. Nico and I explored it as kids. We considered it our castle. I was the king and Nico was the daring knight fighting off dragons.” Angelo smiled at the long-forgotten memory.

“You and your brother must have had a lot of fun.”

“Now that I think about it, we did have some good times.”

She smiled. “This looks like a great place for an adventure. Can we go inside the chapel?”

“It’s nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Sure I would.” Her steps grew quicker as she headed for the opening in the wall that led to the little chapel. Maybe this was her chance to let Angelo know that she’d be more than willing to help with the wedding pitch—in fact, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Now, how did she broach the subject with Angelo?

She stopped next to the four steps that led to two tall, narrow wooden doors. It looked as though time had passed it by. Okay so it needed a little TLC, but it had a charm about it that transcended time. “Your brother is so lucky to have this piece of history on his land. Imagine all of the weddings and christenings that must have taken place here.”

“Technically it’s not on Nico’s land.” Angelo pointed over his shoulder to the wall. That divides the vineyard. The other side is Nico’s.”

“So who owns this land, then?”

“This is Palazzo di Comparino. Its owner, Signor Carlos Bartolini, recently passed away. From what I understand, there’s a young woman staying there now.”

“You know this chapel gives me an idea—it’d be perfect for the royal wedding.”

“I don’t know.” Angelo rubbed his chin. “It needs work.”

She pulled open one of the doors and peered inside at the rows of pews. The place was filled with dust and cobwebs. “It’s nothing that can’t be done rather easily.” This was her chance to put herself out there. “You know I could help you with the pitch.”

Angelo didn’t immediately respond. The breath hitched in her throat as she waited—hoping that he’d latch on to her offer. The experience from working on such a prestigious project had immeasurable potential, from a promotion at Amatucci & Associates to making her résumé stand out—head and shoulders above the rest.

“I don’t think so. You’ll have enough to do with the other accounts that need looking after.” The disappointment must have filtered across her face because his stance eased and his voice softened. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want you getting overwhelmed.”

It teetered on the tip of her tongue to ask him if this had anything to do with the kiss, but she hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to tarnish that moment. The memory of how his eyes had devoured her before his lips had claimed hers still made her heart race.

If it wasn’t the kiss, why was he turning away her offer of help? Was it just as he said, not wanting to give her too much work? Or did he feel she wasn’t up to the task of working on something so important?

With the wind temporarily knocked out of her sails, she turned back to the villa. She wasn’t giving up. She would show Angelo that she was invaluable.

* * *

What was the problem?

Two days later, Angelo paced around the hotel suite. He needed a fresh approach to the wedding. It had to be something amazing—something unique to Monte Calanetti that would appeal to a prince and his intended bride. But what?

He was stuck. This had never happened to him before. He inwardly groaned as his mind drew a total blank. This was ridiculous. He clenched his hands into tight balls. He had absolutely nothing. And that was so not like him.

He liked to think outside the box. He liked to push boundaries and experiment, but all he could think of was why would anyone would want to get married in Monte Calanetti? What special qualities did they see in the village for it to make the royals’ short list?

He poured himself a cup of the now-lukewarm coffee. The silence of the suite was getting to him. Kayla had cleared out early that morning, claiming she wanted some fresh air while she worked on the mock-ups for the Van Holsen account and answered emails. She’d been great about taking on additional responsibilities, allowing him time to brainstorm. Not that it was helping him much.

In fact, she’d done such an exceptional job that maybe he should see what she could do with this wedding stuff. After all, she was a girl, and didn’t they all dream about their weddings?

Suddenly the image of Kayla in a white dress formed in his mind. His body tensed. As quickly as the image came to him, he vanquished it. She’d be a beautiful bride, but for someone else. He wasn’t getting married—ever.

Determined to stay on point and to get her input on the wedding, he headed downstairs to the pool area. He opened the door and stepped outside, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. Once his vision adjusted, he glanced around, quickly locating his assistant. She was at a shaded poolside table. She lifted her head and smiled, but it wasn’t aimed at him.

She wasn’t alone. A young man stood next to her table. Angelo’s gut knotted. He told himself that it was because she was supposed to be working, not flirting. His only interest was in her getting her work done in a timely fashion. But as the chime of her laughter carried through the gentle breeze, Angelo’s mouth pulled into a frown.

He strode toward the table. Kayla didn’t even notice him approach as she was captivated by the young man.

Angelo cleared his throat. “Hello, Kayla.”

Both heads turned his way. Kayla’s eyes opened wide with surprise. The young man drew himself up to his full height as though he was about to defend his right to be flirting with Kayla. The guy had no idea that Angelo had no intention of challenging his right to gain Kayla’s attention. After all, it would be for the best if she was interested in someone—as long as it wasn’t him. But that would all have to wait, because right now she was on the clock. And he needed her help.

Angelo used his practiced professional voice, the one that let people know that he meant business. “How’s the Van Holsen account coming?”

“Uh, good. Dino was just asking about the royal wedding.”

“He was?” Angelo stepped between Kayla and the young man. “What do you want to know?”

The young man glanced down, not meeting Angelo’s direct gaze. “I...I was just curious if the rumor was true that they might pick Monte Calanetti for the wedding.”

“It is. Is there anything else?”

Dino shrugged his shoulders. “I guess not.”

“Good. Kayla has work to do now. If you’ll excuse us.”

“Uh, sure.” Dino leaned to the side to look at Kayla. “I’ll see you around.”

“Bye.”

Angelo took a seat next to Kayla. “It seems you’ve found yourself an admirer.”

“Who? Dino?” She shook her head. “He was just interested in what I knew about the royal wedding, which wasn’t anything more than he’s heard through the grapevine. How’s the pitch for the wedding coming?”

“Good.” Liar.

He wasn’t about to admit that he, Angelo Amatucci, couldn’t come up with a dynamic pitch that would turn the prince’s and his bride’s heads. No way. What would Kayla think of him? No. Scratch that. He didn’t want to know what she’d think. She’d probably laugh at him.

“I’m glad to hear it’s going well. I know that I’m not the only one who’s anxious for the pitch. Imagine a royal wedding. The whole world will be watching it and you’ll have played a big part in it.”

“Not a big part.”

“You’re too modest. You’re like the village hero now.”

Just what he needed was more pressure. He swallowed down his uneasiness. “You’re assuming that the prince will choose this village, and that’s a big leap.”

“But why wouldn’t they pick Monte Calanetti? From the little I’ve seen, I think it’s a lovely village.”

“That’s just because you didn’t grow up here.”

Her green eyes widened. “You really didn’t like living here?”

He shook his head, but he wasn’t going to get into the details of his childhood or his strained relationship with his parents. Kayla had already been privy to more about his private life than anyone else ever. But something told him that his family secrets were safe with her.

Not in the mood to talk anymore about this village or dwell on the fact that he’d wasted two days without coming up with anything striking or fascinating, he decided to turn the conversation around. “How is the work going?”

CHAPTER NINE

COULD SHE PRETEND she hadn’t heard Angelo?

Kayla had spent a large chunk of time at this poolside table. With most of the guests either off sightseeing or attending other engagements, it was a peaceful place for her to jot out more ideas for the Van Holsen account. But after going back and forth between the art department and the very demanding client, they were still missing the mark.

It didn’t help that her ideas for the Van Holsen account had stalled. For the past half hour or so, she’d been jotting out ideas for the fund-raiser back in New York. The event was their last hope to keep the after-school program going for so many at-risk kids and it was weighing heavy on her mind. There were still so many details to iron out.

And as exciting as it was to be working with Angelo Amatucci on what could be the project to catapult her career, she couldn’t forget the children. They were relying on her to make their lives a little better by raising money to keep their facility open.

“Kayla, did you hear me?”

The sound of Angelo’s voice startled her back to the here and now. “Sorry. I just had a thought.”

“About the account?”

She nodded. “It’s coming along.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you have so far and we can work on it together?”

She glanced down at her closed notebook. “That’s okay. I know you have more important things to concentrate on. I’ve got this.”

Angelo’s dark brows drew together. “Listen, I know that things haven’t exactly been right between us since, well, you know...the kiss. If that’s still bothering you—?”

“It’s not.” Yes, it was. But not the way he was thinking. The kiss had been better than she’d ever imagined. And she knew that it could never happen again. She had too much on the line to risk it all by fooling around with her boss.

The truth of the matter was the pad of paper also contained her thoughts for the benefit concert. Angelo had a strict policy about not taking on charity accounts—he believed there were too many good causes and not enough time to help them all. Kayla couldn’t understand his stance, but then again she’d never been in charge of a large company. Maybe there was more to it than what she knew.

The one thing she did know was that she couldn’t let Angelo find out that she was organizing a fund-raiser while on this trip. She didn’t want him to have a reason not to consider her for a promotion or worse yet to have her replaced as his assistant. She wasn’t sure how he would handle the situation. In all of her time at Amatucci & Associates, she’d never witnessed anyone going against company policy. Angelo was a man no one wanted to cross.

“I’m just jotting out some ideas. Nothing specific yet.” She caught herself worrying her bottom lip, hoping he wouldn’t take exception to her not coming up with something more concrete. After all, they were on a timetable and the clock was ticking. “I spent the morning on the phone with the art department and Mrs. Van Holsen—”

His brows drew together into a formidable line. “Why didn’t you get me?”

“I...I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m supposed to be here to lighten your load.”

He shook his head. “I can’t spend all of my time on one campaign. That isn’t fair to the other clients. I have to stay on top of everything. Next time you speak with a client, I expect to be in on the call. Understood?”

“Yes.”

He let the subject go as he continued on with some other business items. “By the way, while I was on the phone with the office I mentioned that we’d been unavoidably detained in Italy, but I didn’t go into specifics. I don’t want any rumors starting up that we put off longtime clients in favor of this royal wedding pitch. I won’t risk my company’s reputation for something that is never going to happen.”

Kayla’s mouth gaped before she caught it and forced her lips together. “Is that really what you think?”

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

“But why?”

“Well, I can’t see what a royal couple would find so endearing about Monte Calanetti. I think everyone, including my brother and sister, are getting worked up over something that will never happen.”

“I don’t understand. If that’s truly what you think then why go to all of the bother to delay your return to New York and work on a campaign that you’re certain will fail?”

He shrugged. “It’s an obligation that I owe them.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I owe it to Nico and Marianna—you know, for skipping out on them. For letting them fend for themselves with parents who were more wrapped up in their marital drama than worrying about their children.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I didn’t tell you any of that so you’d feel sorry for me. In fact, I don’t know why I mentioned it at all.”

“I’m glad you did. I’d like to think that we’ve become more than coworkers.” When she met his drawn brows, she realized that she’d said more than she should have. “I...I don’t mean about the kiss. I just thought we might be friends, too.”

A wave of relief washed over his face easing the stress lines. “I would like that.”

“You would?”

Slowly he nodded, and then a smile tugged at his lips. “Yes, I would.”

She couldn’t help but smile back. She noticed how the worry lines bracketing his eyes and mouth smoothed. She’d never seen him look so worried before. Why would that be? He was amazing at creating winning pitches. He was amazing in a lot of ways.

Realizing that she was staring, she turned away, but by then, her heart was beating faster than normal. Images of the kiss they’d shared clouded her mind. She’d tried to put it out of her head, but the memory kept her awake late into the night. What had it meant? Had it meant anything? Because there was no way that a wealthy, successful businessman who could have his choice of women would fall for his assistant.

Kayla reached for a tall, cool glass of iced tea. “Would you like something to drink? I could go and get you something.”

“Thanks. But I’m all right.” He looked at her as though studying her. “Can I ask what direction you think the wedding pitch should take?”

“Really?” She sat up straighter. “You want my input?”

He nodded. “I thought you might have some ideas that I hadn’t thought of.”

“I do...have ideas, that is.” She struggled to gather her thoughts.

“I’m listening.”

She’d done a lot of thinking about this—probably too much, considering she hadn’t even been invited to help with the royal pitch until now. “I’m thinking that regardless of whether they go big or small, they’re going to want elements that play into an elegant yet traditional event.”

“That’s true. If they wanted a contemporary feel, they certainly wouldn’t come to Monte Calanetti.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“What’s bothering you?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why this village made the short list for the royal wedding. I mean, there’s nothing special here. I’ve gone round and round with this, but I still have no answer. It’s not like it has amazing history like Rome or the heartbeat of the nation like Milan or the stunning architecture of Venice. This is a little, old village.”

“And it’s tripping you up when you’re trying to come up with a unique pitch.”

Angelo hesitated as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to confide in her. Then he sighed. “Yes, it’s giving me a bit of a problem. No matter which way I go at it, I just can’t find that special quality that will put Monte Calanetti head and shoulders above the other locations.”

Kayla smiled and shook her head. “You just don’t see it because you take this place for granted. It’s your home, but to outsiders, it’s something special.”

His gaze met hers. “You think it’s special?”

She decided a neutral stance was best. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Then how can you tell me that I’m blind to what’s in front of me when you haven’t even made up your mind?” His voice held a disgruntled tone.

She smiled, liking the fact that she could get past his polished persona and make him feel real genuine emotions. “I mean that I need to see the village.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand, stopping him. “And driving straight through it to get to the hotel does not count. It was more of a blur than anything.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that tomorrow you and I will start exploring Monte Calanetti. You can tell me all about it. You know, the little things that a tourist wouldn’t know—the parts that make the village special.”

“Don’t be too disappointed when it doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

“I think you’ll actually end up surprising yourself.”

His gaze narrowed in on her. “You really want to walk all through the village?”

She nodded. “If you want to come up with a winning pitch to make all of the citizens, not to mention your brother and sister very happy, you’re going to have to see it differently.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible. But if you insist on it, I will give you the grand tour.”

“I would like that.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised to swing by my brother’s villa. He wants to show me the latest improvements at the winery.” He got to his feet. “Of course, if you’d like to accompany me, you’re welcome.”

Kayla glanced down at her rather sparse list of notes. “I think my time would be better spent here doing some research.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I am. But thank you for the invite.”

The truth was, she and Angelo were getting along a lot better than they had in the office. She’d been working for him for weeks now and they’d only ever addressed each other with mister and miss, but now they were on a first-name basis. And then there was that kiss...er...no she wasn’t going to think about it. No matter how good it was or how much she wished that he’d kiss her again—

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Did she want him to kiss her again? She turned to watch his retreating form. His broad shoulders were evident in the linen suit jacket. His long, powerful legs moved at a swift pace, covering the patio area quickly.

Yes, she did want to be kissed again. Only this time she wanted him to kiss her because he wanted her and not because he was exhausted and stressed after a run-in with his siblings. But that couldn’t happen. She needed this job.

A quick fling with her boss in the warm sunshine of Tuscany wasn’t worth throwing away her dreams—the rest of her life. No matter how tempting Angelo might be, she just couldn’t ruin this opportunity.

And she couldn’t return to Paradise as a failure.

CHAPTER TEN

WHY EXACTLY HAD he agreed to this?

The last thing Angelo wanted to do was take a stroll through Monte Calanetti. It was like taking a walk back through history—a history that he preferred not to dwell on. Still, he had to admit that having Kayla along would make the journey back in time a little more tolerable, but he still didn’t see how it was going to help him create a winning pitch.

He paced back and forth in the hotel lobby, waiting for Kayla to finish getting ready for their outing. He’d also wanted to check with the front desk to make sure that extending their stay wouldn’t be an issue.

“Mr. Amatucci, you’re in luck.” The concierge strode up to him. “We’ve just had a cancellation. And with a bit of juggling we’ve been able to keep you and your assistant in your suite of rooms.” The young man, who was polished from the top of his short cut hair down to his spiffed-up dress shoes, looked quite pleased with himself. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually there is.” Angelo wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he decided that Kayla deserved a night out for being such a good sport. “I’ve heard that Mancini’s is quite a popular restaurant.”

“Yes, it is. We’re so lucky to have had Raffaele Mancini return to the village. Mancini’s is so popular that they only take reservations.”

That’s what Angelo suspected. “Would you mind making a reservation for myself and my assistant for tomorrow evening?”

The concierge’s face creased with worry lines.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, sir. They’re usually booked well in advance.”

Angelo wasn’t used to being put off. Even in New York he didn’t have a problem getting into the most popular restaurants. How in the world was it that he was being turned down in little old Monte Calanetti? Impossible.

“Do you know who I am?”

The young man’s eyes opened wide, and then he nodded.

Angelo got the distinct impression that the young man didn’t have a clue who he was or what power he wielded outside of the Tuscany countryside. He felt as though he’d stepped back in time, becoming a nobody who faded into the crowd. With his pride pricked, he gave the young man a pointed look. But he knew that he was letting his past get the best of him. He swallowed down the unwarranted agitation. Of course the young man didn’t know him. The concierge wasn’t much more than a kid.

Angelo decided upon a new approach. “Forgive me. My tone was uncalled-for just now. When you call for the reservations, tell them that the owner of Amatucci & Associates is requesting a table as we are considering including them in the pitch for the royal wedding.”

Maybe he had put it on a little thick just now, but he wanted—no, he needed to prove to everyone including himself that he had far surpassed everyone’s expectations of him—especially his father’s. Angelo’s gut churned at the memory of his father turning to him in anger and saying, You’ll never amount to anything.

“Yes, sir.” The concierge attempted a nervous smile. “I’ll do that right away. I had no idea, sir—”

“It’s okay.” Angelo tipped the young man handsomely to make up for his brusqueness. “I just need you to know that this dinner is very important.” But suddenly Angelo was no longer talking about business or proving himself to the villagers or even the royal wedding. His mind was on Kayla. He liked making her happy, and he was hoping this dinner would earn him another smile or two.

“I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Angelo moved over to the small sitting area in the lobby to wait for Kayla. Just about to reach for the newspaper to find out what was going on around the world, Angelo caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Curious to see if it was Kayla, he turned.

His gaze settled on her slender form. He stood transfixed as he took in her beauty. Kayla’s auburn wavy hair hung loose and flowed down over her shoulders. A pair of sunglasses sat atop her head like a hair band. Her face was lightly made up and her reading glasses were nowhere in sight. A sheer tan cardigan covered her arms while beneath was a lacy white tank top. She looked so stunning that all of the villagers would be too busy trying to figure out if she was a movie star to take any notice of him.

“Is everything all right with the suite?” She stopped next to him.

He swallowed hard and glanced away, telling himself to relax. This was still the same Kayla that he’d been working closely with for weeks. He gazed at her again, trying to see her as the levelheaded assistant that he’d come to rely on. Spending the day with her, leisurely strolling about was going to be a struggle. He just had to keep in mind that they had a mission to accomplish—a royal wedding to brainstorm.

“Angelo?” She sent him a concerned look.

“Um...sorry. Yes, the suite is ours for the duration.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s good. You had me worried for a moment there.”

“Nothing at all to worry about. Are you ready for your grand tour?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Without thinking, he extended his arm to her. Surprise lit up her eyes but in a blink it was gone. She slipped her arm in his. He didn’t know why he’d made the gesture. It just felt right. So much for the promise he’d made himself to remain professional around her. They hadn’t even left the hotel and he was already treating her like...like... Oh, whatever.

Angelo led her out of the hotel into the sunshiny afternoon. He had to admit that it was nice to get away from the stress of the wedding pitch. The whole project had ground to a complete halt. He sure hoped this outing would refill his creative well. If nothing else, maybe it would help him relax so he could start brainstorming again.

He glanced over to find Kayla taking in their surroundings. “I thought we would walk since the village isn’t far from here.”

“Sounds fine by me. I’ve been cooped up in the hotel long enough. Back in New York, I’m used to doing a lot of walking.”

“Really. Where do you walk?” He didn’t know why but he was truly interested.

“I walk to the subway and then to the office. Sometimes, if the weather is right, I will duck out at lunch and stretch my legs.”

“So you truly like to walk.”

She nodded. “It sure beats eating like a bird. If you hadn’t noticed, I do enjoy food.” She rubbed her flat abs. “Especially pasta.”

“Would you like to try some of the best Italian food in the region?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. From what I’ve heard, you should be impressed with the restaurant I’ve chosen.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s right here in Monte Calanetti. We have reservations for tomorrow night.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Good. Consider it a date.”

When her fine brows rose and her eyes glittered with unspoken questions, he realized he’d blundered. But he didn’t take back the words. He liked the thought of having a friendly date with her.

They walked a bit before Kayla spoke. “What’s it called?”

“Mancini’s. It’s an exclusive IGF-starred restaurant on the outskirts of the village. The chef is a friend of my brother’s.”

“This friend of your brother’s, is he from around here?”

“Yes, he grew up here. After Raffaele achieved international success with his cooking, he returned to open his own restaurant. I suspect he was anxious to try running his own place, but I’m surprised he didn’t start his business in one of the cities like Rome or Milan.”

“Perhaps he just wanted to be home again. Have you really never considered moving back here?”

Angelo gave a firm shake of head. “Not even once.”

“Don’t you like it here?”

“It...it has a lot of memories. Not all of them good ones.”

Angelo remembered how he’d been turned away from his home and told not to return. The buried memories came flooding back to him. The loud arguments between his parents. His brother and sister upset. And then there was the last time he came to his mother’s defense. He’d experienced many a row with his father before that life-altering one—the one where his father threw him out of the house, telling him that he was old enough to make it on his own.

When Angelo had turned a pleading stare to his mother, she’d told him that he was a smart, strong young man and that it was time to make his way in life. That was when he’d had no choice but to follow his dreams. With the aid of his inheritance from his grandfather combined with his meager savings, he’d set out for New York.

Though he hated to leave his brother and sister, he didn’t have a choice. His father was a stubborn man who wouldn’t back down from an argument. And Angelo wasn’t about to live any longer with his parents and their dysfunctional relationship. In fact, he hadn’t even come back to Monte Calanetti to visit until his mother and father had moved to Milan. He had no intention of seeing his father again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kayla’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “What? Um...oh, you didn’t.”

She sent him an I-don’t-believe-you look but said nothing more. They continued toward the village in silence. It felt so strange to be back here—when he’d left all of those years ago, he’d sworn that he’d never return. And he hadn’t for a long time.

The truth was he missed his brother and sister. But he rarely made the journey home. It was too hard. There were too many unsettling memories lurking about, and he just didn’t have the same draw to this place that his brother and sister did. He didn’t understand Nico’s need to cling to their heritage, not when there were so many adventures outside of Monte Calanetti to experience.

“This is beautiful.” Kayla stood at the crumbling rock wall that surrounded the village, which was perched high upon a hill. “What an amazing view. What’s with the wall?”

“The village is centuries old and used to be a stronghold against attacks.”

“I couldn’t imagine there being unrest here. I mean, did you ever see anything so peaceful?” There was a distinct note of awe in Kayla’s voice. “There’s something almost magical about it.”

“I used to think that, too.”

“You did?”

He nodded, recalling days of long ago. “I used to come to this spot when I was a kid.” What he failed to mention is that he came here to get away from his parents’ arguing. “I’d pretend that I was the defender of the kingdom. Many sword battles took place where you’re standing.”

“Really? So you were Sir Lancelot?” She eyed him up as though imagining him in a coat of armor.

He was no knight—not even close to it. He’d just been a kid trying to escape the battlefield between his parents, but he didn’t want to get into any of that. A gentle breeze rushed past them and he willed it to sweep away the unsettling memories. He didn’t want the past to ruin this day.

“Look.” She pointed to a flock of little birds as they took flight. They soared up into the sky, circled and swooped low before rising again. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

He was never a bird-watcher, but he had to admire the symmetry of their movements. He couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d been missing. His gaze strayed back to Kayla. How had he missed noticing how amazing she was both inside and out?

“And listen.”

He did as she asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! There’s nothing but the rustle of the leaves. It’s so freeing.”

Now that he could agree on. He’d been searching for quietness like this ever since he’d moved to New York, but he’d never been able to find it—until now. “It clears the mind.”

“Good. We want clear heads when we tour Monte Calanetti.” She turned and pointed off in the distance. “I just love the rows of grapevines. I wonder how they get the lines so straight.”

“I’m betting if you were to ask Nico that he’d tell you anything you want to know about running a vineyard. He’s very proud of his work.”

“You mean all of that is Nico’s land?”

Angelo nodded. “It has been passed down through the family. When my father couldn’t make a go of it, they passed the land down to us kids. I was already working in New York and Marianna was too young, so Nico stepped up. He’s worked really hard to rebuild the vineyard and make a name for the wine.”

“Hardworking must be a trait of the Amatucci men.”

“Some of them anyhow.” His father wasn’t big on work, which was evident by the poor condition of the vineyard when he’d handed it over to his children. “Come on. I thought you wanted to see Monte Calanetti.”

“I do.”

With Kayla’s hand still tucked in the crook of his arm, Angelo took comfort in having her next to him. This was his first stroll through the village since that dreadful day when his father cast him out of their family home. These days when he returned to Italy, he either stayed in the city or at the villa. He just wasn’t up for the curious stares or worse the questions about why he left.

As they strolled through the village, Angelo warned himself not to get too comfortable with Kayla. Soon this vacation illusion would end, and they’d be back in New York, where he’d transform back into Mr. Amatucci and she’d once again be Ms. Hill. Everything would once again be as it should.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

NEVER ONE TO lurk in the shadows, Angelo led Kayla into the center of Monte Calanetti. Their first stop was at the caffè shop. He’d never met a woman who loved coffee as much as Kayla. She savored each sip before swallowing. He loved to watch her facial features when she’d take her first sip—it was somewhere between total delight and ecstasy. He longed to be able to put that look on her face...and not with coffee...but with a long, slow, deep, soul-stirring kiss.

He’d given up the futile effort of fighting his lustful thoughts for Kayla. He couldn’t lie to himself. He found her utterly enchanting. And as long as he stuck with his daydreams of holding her—of kissing her passionately—they’d be fine. It wasn’t as if she could read his mind.

They stepped out of the shop and onto the busy sidewalk. As they started to walk again, he reminded himself not to get too caught up in having Kayla by his side. She was the absolute wrong person for him to have a dalliance with beneath the Tuscany sun. He was her escort—her friend—nothing more. He forced his thoughts to the quaint shops that offered such things as locally grown flowers and to-die-for baked goods. There was a little bit of everything. And he could tell by the rapt stare on Kayla’s face that she was enthralled by all of it.

“Angelo, is that you?”

They both stopped at the sound of a woman’s excited voice. Angelo glanced over his shoulder to see an older woman rushing toward them. She looked vaguely familiar.

“It is you.” The woman couldn’t be much more than five feet tall, if that. She beamed up at him. “I knew you’d come back.”

It took him a moment, but then the woman’s gentle smile and warm eyes clicked a spot in his memory—Mrs. Caruso. He hadn’t seen her since he was a teenager. Back then, she’d had long dark hair that she kept braided over one shoulder. Now, her dark hair had given way to shades of gray, and instead of the braid, her hair was pinned up.

Kayla elbowed him, and at last, he found his voice. “Mrs. Caruso, it’s good to see you.”

“What kind of greeting is that?” She grabbed him by the arms and pulled him toward her. When he’d stooped over far enough, she placed a hand on either side of his head, and then kissed each cheek. “You’ve been gone much too long. You’ve been missed.”

She pulled him back down to her and gave him a tight hug. He hugged her back. Heat warmed his face. He wasn’t used to public displays of affection...no matter how innocent they might be. This would never happen back in the States. But then again, Monte Calanetti was a lifetime away from New York City, and the same rules didn’t seem to apply here.

They chatted for a bit as she asked one question after the other about what he’d been doing with himself. The years rolled away as she put him at ease with her friendly chatter. The best part was that she really listened to him—as she’d done all of those years ago when he was a kid. Mrs. Caruso and her husband ran the local bakery. They’d never had any children of their own. Angelo always suspected that it wasn’t from the lack of wanting or trying. Without little ones of her own, she’d doted on the kids in the village.

“You are going to do the royal wedding pitch, aren’t you?” She smiled and clapped her hands together as though she’d just solved the world’s problems.

“Nico asked me to work on it. My assistant and I just extended our stay here in order to work up a presentation for the royal family.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Caruso beamed. “Now I’m more certain than ever that the village will host the wedding. Everyone will be so grateful to both of you.”

“I don’t know about that—”

“You’re just being modest. You always were.” Mrs. Caruso’s gaze moved to Kayla. “Now where are my manners? Angelo, introduce me to your girlfriend.”

His girlfriend? Hadn’t she heard him say Kayla was his assistant? His gaze moved from her to Kayla, who was smiling. Why wasn’t she correcting the woman? Was she just being polite? Or should he be concerned that she was taking this friendly outing far too seriously?

“Hi, I’m Kayla.” She held out a hand while Angelo struggled to settle his thoughts. “I’m actually Mr. Amatucci’s assistant.”

Mrs. Caruso’s brows rose as her gaze moved back and forth between them. “I could have sworn that you two were— Oh, never mind me. I’m just so glad that you’re both here to help with the wedding.”

They promised to stop by the bakery soon and moved on down the walkway. He still didn’t know why Mrs. Caruso would think they were a couple. Then he glanced down to where Kayla’s hand was resting on his arm. Okay, so maybe from the outside the lines in their relationship appeared a bit blurred, but they knew where they stood. Didn’t they?

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about back there with Mrs. Caruso jumping to conclusions about us.”

“It’s okay. It was a natural mistake.”

A natural mistake? Wait. What exactly did that mean?

He glanced over at Kayla. “But you know that you and I...that we’re, um...that nothing has changed. Right?”

She smiled up at him. “Relax. We’re just two business associates enjoying a stroll through the village. It’s a mission. We have to learn as much about this place as possible so that you can do some brainstorming about the pitch when we return to our suite.”

She said all of the right things, but why did they sound so wrong to his ears? Maybe he was just being hypersensitive. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Exactly.” Now he needed to change the subject to something a little less stressful. “Mrs. Caruso certainly seemed hopeful about the royal wedding.”

“She did. It seems as if the whole village is buzzing with excitement about it.”

“I just hope they don’t end up disappointed.”

She lightly elbowed him. “They won’t be. You’ll see to that.”

At this particular moment, she had a lot more faith in his abilities than he did. “I don’t know if I’m that good. This is just a small village and we’re talking about a royal wedding—the sort of thing they write about in history books.”

“And who better to sell the royal couple on the merits of Monte Calanetti?” She gazed up at him with hope in her eyes. “You just need to loosen up a bit and enjoy yourself.”

“I am relaxed.” As relaxed as he got these days.

She sighed and shook her head. “No, you aren’t. Let down your guard and enjoy the sun on your face.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I want you to really see Monte Calanetti and get excited about it.” Her gaze met his and then dipped to his mouth. “I think if you’re passionate about something it will show.”

The temperature started to rise. He knew what she was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. He zeroed in on her inviting lips. He was definitely feeling passionate. Would it be wrong to kiss her again?

Someone bumped his shoulder as they passed by, reminding him that they were in the middle of the village. Not exactly the place for a passionate moment or even a quick peck. Besides, he couldn’t give her the wrong impression. He didn’t do relationships.

Before he could decide if he should say something, Kayla slipped her arm in his and they started to walk again. They made their way around the piazza, taking in the various shops from a shoe boutique to a candy shop. Monte Calanetti offered so much more than he recalled.

Maybe it wasn’t quite the small backward village he’d conjured up in his memory—the same village where he’d once got into a bit of mischief with harmless pranks. Those were the carefree days that he hadn’t known to appreciate as they flew by.

“What are you smiling about?” Kayla sent him a curious look.

He was smiling? He hadn’t realized his thoughts had crossed his face. “I was just recalling some antics I’d gotten into as a kid.”

“Oh, tell me. I’d love to hear.”

“You would?” He wouldn’t think something like that would interest her. When she nodded, he continued. “There was this one time when I glued a coin to the sidewalk outside the market. You wouldn’t believe how many people tried to pry it free.”

Her eyes twinkled. “So you didn’t always play by the rules.”

He shrugged. “What kind of trouble did you get into?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, confess. There has to be something.”

She paused as though giving it some serious consideration. “Well, there was this one time the neighborhood boys attached some fishing line to a dollar. It was similar to what you did. They’d lay it out in front of my parents’ market, and when someone went to pick up it up, they’d tug on the line.”

“See, I knew you weren’t as innocent as you appeared.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me. It was them. I...I was just watching.”

“Uh-huh.” He enjoyed the way her cheeks filled with color. “It’s good to know you have some spunk in you. That will come in handy in this business.”

* * *

Kayla was in love—with the village, of course.

Brilliant sunshine lit up the heart of Monte Calanetti. The piazza was surrounded by a wide range of small shops to satisfy even the most discerning tastes. But it was the large fountain in the center of the village square that drew Kayla’s attention. She tugged on Angelo’s arm, leading them toward it.

The focal point of the fountain was a nymph draped in a cloak. She held a huge clamshell overhead. The sunshine sparkled and danced over the fine billowing mist from the continuous jets of water. Kayla stopped at the fountain’s edge. She smiled, loving the details of the sculpture that included a ring of fish leaping out of the water.

“I take it you like the fountain.” Angelo’s deep voice came from just behind her. “You know there’s a tradition that if you toss a coin and it lands in the shell, you get your wish.”

Her gaze rose to the clamshell—suddenly it didn’t look quite so big. “You’d have to be awfully lucky to get it all the way up there.”

“Why don’t you give it a try?”

“I...I don’t think so. I was never good at those types of things.”

Angelo held a coin out to her. “Here you go.” His fingers pressed the money into her palm. “I made a wish once and it came true.”

“Really?” She turned to him. “What was it?”

He shook his head. “You aren’t supposed to tell your wish.”

“But that doesn’t apply if your wish has already come true. So, out with it.”

The corner of his very inviting lips lifted. “Okay. I wished that someday I’d get to travel the world.”

“Wow. It really did come true.” She thought really hard, but was torn by what she should wish for. She could wish for the fund-raiser to be a huge success. Or she could wish for her promotion to ad executive. But fountains should be for fanciful dreams.

“Don’t look so worried. Turn around.”

She did as he said. The next thing she knew, his body pressed to her back—his hard planes to her soft curves. His breath tickled her neck. Her heart thumped and her knees grew weak. Thankfully he was there holding her up.

His voice was soft as he spoke. “You make the wish and I’ll help you get the coin in the shell. Ready?”

She nodded. Together with their hands touching, they swung. The coin flipped end over end through the air.

Let Angelo kiss me.

Plunk! The coin landed in the clamshell.

“We did it!”

At that moment, Angelo backed away. “Did you ever doubt it?”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” She turned around, hoping her wish would come true.

“Did you make your wish?”

Disappointment washed over her. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her. She’d let herself get caught up in the moment. That wouldn’t happen again.

“We should keep moving.” She turned to start walking. “We don’t want to miss anything.”

“Wait.” He reached out for her hand. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you wished for?”

“Um...no. I can’t.” When he sent her a puzzled look, she added, “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen.”

Her hand remained in his warm grasp as they continued their stroll. Was it her imagination or was Angelo’s icy professional persona melting beneath the Tuscany sun? She smiled. He was definitely warming up.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SIMPLY CHARMING.

At this particular moment, Kayla had no better word for it. And she wasn’t just talking about the village. She gave Angelo a sideways gaze. Handsome, thoughtful and entertaining. “Quite a combo.”

“What?”

Oops! She hadn’t meant to vocalize her thoughts. “I...I was just thinking Monte Calanetti has quite an amazing combination of old-world charm and modern day functionality.”

They meandered away from the fountain. On the edge of the piazza, they passed by a well that she was certain had seen its days of women gathering to fill their buckets. While waiting for their turn, she imagined they’d shared the happenings of the village—the historic form of gossiping around the water cooler. It was so easy to envision how things used to be. Something told Kayla that this village hadn’t changed a whole lot over the years.

The sunshine warmed the back of her neck, but it was Angelo’s arm beneath her fingertips that warmed her insides. She resisted the urge to smooth her fingers over his tanned skin. She was in serious danger of forgetting that he was her boss—the key to her future promotion.

As the bell towers rang out, Kayla stared at the cobblestone path that wound its way between the brick buildings. A number of the homes had flower boxes with red, yellow and purple blooms. There were also flowerpots by the various shaped doors painted in every imaginable color. In other places, ivy snaked its way along the bricks. This area was quite picturesque and made Kayla forget that she was in the center of the village.

A rustling sound had her glancing upward. She craned her neck, finding fresh laundry fluttering in the breeze. She couldn’t help but smile. It was a lovely, inviting sight. But as much as she liked it, it was the man at her side that she found utterly captivating.

Angelo Amatucci might be icy cool in the office, but she’d found that once he thawed out, he was a warm, thoughtful man. Not that she was falling for his amazing good looks or his dark, mysterious eyes. Her priority was her career—the reason she’d left her home in Paradise. And she wasn’t about to ruin her future by throwing herself at her boss.

She chanced a quick glance his way. But then again—

No. She pulled her thoughts up short. This wasn’t getting her anywhere.

She was supposed to be touring Monte Calanetti to get ideas for the wedding pitch. If they were going to sell the royal couple on this location for the wedding, she needed to know as much about it as possible. And of what she’d seen so far, she loved it. This village and its occupants would give the wedding an old-world feel with lots of heart.

The villagers sent puzzled glances their way as though they should know who Angelo was but couldn’t quite place his face. And then there were a few people that ventured to ask if he was indeed Angelo. When he confirmed their suspicions, he wasn’t greeted with a simple hello or a mere handshake; instead, he was yanked into warm hugs. She could see the frown lines etched on his face, but to his credit he didn’t complain. There were even a few tears of happiness from the older women who remembered him when he was just a young boy.

Angelo took her hand in his as though it were natural for them. Kayla liked feeling connected to him—feeling his long fingers wrapped around hers.

“I’m sorry about that.” Angelo started walking again. “I didn’t expect anyone to remember me.”

“You must have spent a lot of time in the village as a kid.”

“I did. It was my escape from the monotony of working around the vineyard.” His jaw tensed and a muscle twitched.

“I take it that’s why you let your brother have the run of Calanetti Vineyards?”

He nodded. “Nico is as passionate about the winery as I am with advertising. How about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Kayla shook her head. “My parents wanted more children, but that didn’t work out. So with me being an only child, they heaped all of their hopes and dreams onto me.”

“Hmm...sounds a bit daunting for one person.”

“It is. That’s why I had to leave Paradise.”

“Somehow I just can’t imagine life in Paradise could be such a hardship.”

She shrugged. “It’s great. The people are wonderful. It’s the perfect place to raise kids.”

“But you weren’t ready for kids?”

The thought of taking on that sort of responsibility still overwhelmed her. “I have to figure out me first and accomplish some things on my own before I can be there 24/7 for others. And my parents, as much as I love them, didn’t understand this.”

“They wanted you to graduate high school and settle down.”

She nodded. “They had it all planned out. I’d get married, have lots of kids and when the time came my husband and I would take over the family store.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No. It isn’t. But I always had a dream of going to college and making a name for myself. I wanted to move to the city. I wanted to climb the corporate ladder. I wanted to—”

She bit off her last words. Heat rushed up her neck and warmed her face. She couldn’t believe that she’d gotten so comfortable around Angelo that she’d just rambled on about her dreams. For a moment, she’d forgotten that she was talking to her boss.

Not good, Kayla. Not good at all.

She freed her hand from his. It was time she started acting like his employee, not his girlfriend. The time had come to get back to reality.

Angelo stopped walking and turned to her. “What aren’t you saying? What do you want to do?”

“Um...nothing. It’s no big deal. Let’s keep going. I want to see the whole village.” She turned to start walking again.

Angelo reached out, catching her arm in his firm grip. “Not so fast.” She turned back, glancing up at his serious gaze. “Kayla, talk to me.” His hand fell away from her arm. “I’ve told you all sorts of things that I don’t normally share with people. I’d like to know what you were about to say and why you stopped. Surely by now you know that you can trust me.”

Could she trust him? She supposed it depended on the subject. With her safety—most definitely. With her dreams—perhaps. With her heart— Wait, where had that come from?

“Kayla, what is it?”

She wasn’t good at lying so that left her with the truth, but she didn’t know how Angelo would take it. “I came to New York because I wanted...er...I want to be an ad executive.”

His brows scrunched together. “And?”

She shrugged. “And that’s it.”

“That’s what you didn’t want to tell me?”

Her gaze moved to the cobblestone walkway. “It’s just that I got comfortable around you and forgot to watch what I was saying.”

“Oh, I see. Since I’m the boss, you feel like you have to screen what you say to me?”

She nodded.

“How about this? For the duration of this trip, I’m not your boss. We’re just business associates or how about friends? Would you like that?”

Her gaze met his and she found that he was being perfectly serious. “But what about when we return to New York?”

“Obviously things will have to change then, but for right now, I’d like to just be Angelo, not Mr. Amatucci. I’d forgotten what it’s like just to be me again.”

“And I like you calling me Kayla.” Her gaze met his. Within his eyes she found a comforting warmth. “Consider yourself a friend.”

He held out his hand to her. She accepted it. A shiver of excitement raced up her arm. They continued to stare deep into each other’s eyes, even though it was totally unnecessary. She knew she should turn away. She knew that it was the proper thing to do with her boss. But as he’d just pointed out they were friends—for now.

His voice grew deeper. “I couldn’t think of a better friend to have.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. What had just happened?

Angelo turned and tucked her hand back in the crook of his arm. Why did it suddenly feel as though their relationship had just taken a detour? How would they ever find their way back to just being boss and employee now?

* * *

Monte Calanetti is a diamond in the rough.

Had that thought really just crossed his mind?

Before he’d left the hotel a few hours ago, he’d envisioned Monte Calanetti as he had when he was a child—suffocating with its traditional ways and its resistance to growth and to modernization. But somehow, with Kayla by his side, he’d seen the village from a different perspective—he’d seen it through her very beautiful, very observant eyes. With her passion and romantic tendencies, she might just be the key he needed to pull this wedding pitch together. But did he dare ask for her help?

Sure, she had talent. He’d witnessed it firsthand with the Van Holsen account. But did he trust her with a project that was so important to his family? After all, his brother and sister, not to mention the entire village, were counting on him to represent them properly to the royal couple. But how was he supposed to do that when he kept hitting one brick wall after the other?

They walked some more before Kayla turned to him. “Thank you for showing me your hometown. I love it.”

“Really?” He failed to keep the surprise from his voice.

“Of course I do. How could you not? Not only that but it has the most delicious aromas and it’s so peaceful.” Just then two scooters whizzed by them. “Okay, so it isn’t totally peaceful.”

“You’ll get used to them. Scooters are very popular around here.”

A couple more scooters zoomed down the road causing Kayla to step into the grass. She took a moment, taking in her surroundings. “Is this where you went to school?”

Angelo glanced at the back of the building off in the distance. The years started to slip away. “Yes, it is.”

“I bet you were a handful back then.”

As a young kid, he’d been the complete opposite of the way he is now. “I believe the word they used was incorrigible.”

Now why had he gone and admitted that? Letting down his defenses and opening up about his past would only lead to confusion and misunderstandings, because sharing was what people did when they were getting serious. And that wasn’t going to happen. He refused to let it happen. No matter how ripe her lips were for a kiss. Or how her smile sent his pulse racing.

“You probably picked on all of the girls and pulled on their ponytails.”

He shook his head. “Not me. I didn’t have time for girls, not until I was a bit older.”

“And then I bet you broke a lot of hearts.”

He wasn’t sure about that, but there was one girl, Vera Carducci, and he’d had the biggest crush on her. He hadn’t thought of her in years.

“See. I was right.” Kayla smiled triumphantly.

“Actually, I was the one who got dumped.”

“That’s so hard to believe—”

“It’s the truth.” Why did he feel the need to make Kayla believe that his life was far from idyllic? What was it about her that had him letting down his guard? He had to do better. He couldn’t let her get too close. It’d only cause them pain in the end.

Kayla walked over to a tree in the school yard. Her fingers traced over the numerous carvings from initials to hearts. “Was this the kissing tree?”

He nodded, suddenly wishing they were anywhere but here.

“I bet your initials are here...somewhere.” Kayla’s voice drew him back to the present. “Want to point me in the right direction?”

“Actually, they aren’t here.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Really? I thought for sure that you would have been popular with the girls.”

He shrugged, recalling his fair share of girlfriends over the years. But he’d never kissed them here. Not a chance.

“Surely you stole a kiss or two.” Her gaze needled him for answers.

“Not here.”

“Why not?”

Oh, what did it matter if he told her? It wasn’t as if there was any truth to the legend. It was all a bunch of wishful thinking.

“There’s some silly legend attached to the tree that says whoever you kiss here will be your soul mate for life.”

Kayla’s green eyes widened with interest. “Really? And you don’t believe it?”

He shook his head. “It’s just an old wives’ tale. There’s nothing to it.”

“And yet you’ve made a point not to kiss anyone here.” She stepped closer to him. “If you don’t believe in such superstitions, prove it.”

His pulse kicked up a notch. Why was there a gleam in her eyes? Was she challenging him? Did she really expect him to kiss her here?

Instead of the idea scaring him off, it actually appealed to him. His gaze dipped to her lips. Kayla was the only woman he had ever contemplated kissing here—wait, when did that happen? He gave himself a mental jerk, but it didn’t chase away the tempting thought.

What was it about Miss Kayla Hill that had him wishing there were such things as happily-ever-afters instead of roller-coaster relationships? He’d had so much turbulence in his life that he couldn’t stand anymore. But Kayla was different. She had a calming presence.

This wasn’t right. He should make it perfectly clear that he was no Romeo, but the way she kept staring at him, challenging him with her eyes, filled him with a warm sensation. He didn’t want it to end. What would it hurt to let her remain caught up in her romantic imaginings?

Without thinking about the pros and cons of what he was about to do, he dipped his head and caught her lips with his own. Her lips were soft and pliant. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her to him. She willingly followed his lead. Her soft curves pressed to him and a moan swelled deep in his throat. How in the world was he ever going to let her go? He’d never felt anything this intense for anyone—ever.

He wanted to convince himself that it was because she was forbidden fruit—his assistant. But he couldn’t buy that. There was something so special about her that he couldn’t diminish the connection with such a flimsy excuse. He knew as sure as he was standing there in a lip-lock with her that if their situation were different and he wasn’t her boss that he’d still desire her with every fiber of his body.

His mouth moved over hers, slow at first. Yet when she met him move for move, the desire burning in him flared. Her mouth opened to him and she tasted sweet like the sun-ripened berries she’d sampled back in the village. He’d never tasted anything so delectable in his life. He doubted he’d ever experience a moment like this again.

There was something so special about Kayla. It was as though no matter what he did, she could see the real him. But could she see his scars, the ones that kept him from letting people get too close?

Her hands slid up over his shoulders and wrapped around the back of his neck. Her touch sent waves of excitement down his spine. He wanted her. He needed her. But his heart and mind were still guarded.

If he let her get any closer, she’d learn of his shame—of his ultimate pain—and then she’d pity him. Pity was not something that he could tolerate. He was Angelo Amatucci. A self-made man. He needed no one’s sympathy. He needed no one.

Anxious to rebuild that wall between them, he braced his hands on her hips and pushed her back. Her eyes fluttered open and confusion showed in them.

“We should head back to the hotel. I...I have work to do.”

Disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Oh. Okay.”

He retraced their steps. “I have a conference call this afternoon.”

Kayla fell in step beside him. He should say something. Explain somehow. But he didn’t know what to say because that kiss left him utterly confused by the rush of emotions she’d evoked in him. Somehow, some way, she’d sneaked past his well-placed barriers and with each smile, each touch, she was getting to him. That wasn’t part of his plan.

Unable to decide what to do about his undeniable attraction to his assistant, he turned his attention to something much less stressful—the village. For the first time, he saw its charms. Kayla had opened his eyes to everything he’d blocked out, from the amazing artisans, to the detailed architecture, to the warm and friendly people. He had so much to work with now. The pitch would be amazing if he could pull it all together, even though he was still unsure about the wedding aspect.

Still, Monte Calanetti had some of the best food in the world. It was sure to impress even the royal couple. And to be truthful, he was quite anxious to try Raffaele’s restaurant—if the rumors were anything to go by, it was out of this world.

Although his desire to go to dinner had more to do with Kayla than the food. He hungered for more of her melodious laugh and her contagious smiles. Though he shouldn’t, he’d come to really enjoy her company.

As productive as they were, working as a team, he was enjoying getting to know her on a personal level. After all, it wasn’t as if this thing, whatever you wanted to call it, would carry over to New York. He’d make sure of it. But what would it hurt to enjoy the moment?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ANGELO SWIPED HIS key card and opened the suite door for Kayla. When she brushed past him, he noticed the softest scent of wildflowers. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the light fragrance as he followed her into the room, wishing he could hold on to her delicate scent just a little longer.

When she stopped short, he bumped into her. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. She turned in his arms and gazed up at him with those big luminous green eyes. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Wasn’t the afternoon wonderful?”

Was it his imagination or was her voice soft and sultry? And was she looking at him differently? Or was it that he wanted her so much that he was projecting his lusty thoughts upon her?

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Yes, it was a really nice day.”

“Thank you so much for spending the day with me. I promise to pay you back.” She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned forward.

She was going to repeat their kiss. His heart pounded. His brain told him that it shouldn’t happen, but his body had other thoughts. He started to lean forward—

Buzz. Buzz. His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the spell.

He pulled back. After retrieving the phone from his pocket, he checked the screen. “It’s the conference call. I have to take it. Can we talk later?”

He moved to his room to take the call in private. He actually welcomed the interruption. It gave him time to figure out how to handle this change of dynamics with Kayla.

The phone call dragged on much longer than he’d anticipated. When he finally disconnected the call, he found Kayla was still in the suite working on her laptop.

He cleared his throat and she glanced up, but her gaze didn’t quite reach his. “Sorry about the interruption.”

“No problem.” Her voice didn’t hold its normal lilt. She lifted her reading glasses and rested them on her head.

As much as he’d like to pretend that the kiss hadn’t happened, he couldn’t. It was already affecting their working relationship and that was not acceptable. “I need to apologize. That kiss...back at the tree, it shouldn’t have happened. You must understand that it can’t happen again.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I was wrong about this. Maybe it’d be better if you flew back to New York.”

“What?” She jumped to her feet. Her heated gaze was most definitely meeting his now.

“This isn’t going to work between us.” He glanced away, knowing he’d created this problem. “We can’t keep our hands off each other. How are we supposed to concentrate on all of the work we have to get done?”

She stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. “You’re not firing me. I won’t let you—”

“Wait. Who said anything about firing you?” He wrapped his hand around her finger, fighting off the urge to wrap his lips around it. “Certainly not me. You are very talented. Do you honestly think that I’d sack you over a kiss or two—kisses that I initiated?”

“Then what?” She pulled her finger from his hold as though she’d read his errant thought. “You don’t think you can keep your hands to yourself around me?”

“Yes... I mean, no.” He absolutely hated this feeling of being out of control—of his emotions or whatever you called it ruling over his common sense. “You confuse me.”

“How so?” Her gaze narrowed in on him. When he didn’t answer her, she persisted. “Tell me. I want to know.”

He sighed. “It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.”

“What is this really about? It has to be about more than just a kiss.”

His gaze lifted and met hers head-on. How could she understand him so well? No other woman had ever seen the real him—they’d always been more interested in having a good time. But then again, he’d gone out of his way to hook up with women who didn’t have serious, long-term plans where he was concerned.

His strong reaction to Kayla was due to a lot more than just the kiss. She made him feel things—want things—that he had no business feeling or wanting. And the way she’d moved him with that passionate kiss hadn’t done anything to settle him. It had only made him want her all the more. What was up with that? He’d never desired a woman with every single fiber of his being. Until now.

Kayla stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Angelo, I think we’ve grown close enough on this trip that you can talk to me and know that it won’t go any further. Tell me what’s eating you up inside.”

He knew what she was after—the secrets of his past. But was he ready for that? Did he have the courage to peel back those old wounds? Was he ready to deal with her reaction? Could he stand having her think less of him?

The answer was a resounding no.

Angelo inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. He wasn’t prepared to open that door. It wasn’t as if they were involved romantically. They didn’t have a future, just the here and the now.

But there was something else...

He needed her—well...er...her help. He couldn’t do this wedding pitch alone. The admission twisted his gut in a knot. He was not a man accustomed to reaching out to others.

He made a point of being the man handing out assignments, making suggestions and overseeing operations. He was never at a loss for how to accomplish things—especially an advertising pitch. This was supposed to be his area of expertise—his specialty.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he come up with a solid pitch? And what was Kayla going to think of him when he made this request? Would she think less of him?

Wanting to get it over with, he uttered, “I need your assistance.”

“What?” Her brow creased. “Of course I’ll help you. That’s what I’m here for.” She took a seat on the couch. “What do you need?”

His gaze met hers briefly, and then he glanced away. “I...I’m having issues with this pitch. Weddings and romance aren’t my thing.” That much was the truth. He avoided weddings like the plague—he always had a prior business engagement. “I thought maybe you’d have some experience with them.”

“Well, um...I have a bit of experience.” Her cheeks took on a pasty shade of white.

“You don’t look so good. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“You don’t have to wait on me. I can get it.”

She started to get up when he pressed a hand to her shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

He retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and poured it in a glass for her. This was his fault. He’d had her gallivanting all around Monte Calanetti in the sun. She must have worn herself out.

He moved to her side and handed over the water. “Can I get you anything else?”

She shook her head. “Thanks. This is fine.”

He sat down beside her as she sipped at the water. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard in the village. I should have brought you back here sooner—”

“No, that’s not it. The visit was perfect. I wouldn’t have changed anything about it.” She sent him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I don’t believe you. There’s something bothering you.” He stopped and thought about it. “And it started when I mentioned the wedding pitch. Do you feel that I’m expecting too much of you?”

“That’s not it.” She placed a hand on his knee. The warmth of her touch could be felt through his jeans. “I’m just a bit tired.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? It doesn’t have anything to do with your broken engagement?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s been over for a long time. I’ve moved on.”

Moved on? Surely she wasn’t thinking those kisses—that they’d somehow lead to something. He swallowed hard and decided it was best to change topics. “Have you made many friends since you moved to New York?”

“I haven’t had much time. But I made a few at the after-school program.” She pressed her lips together and turned away.

He was missing something, but he had no idea what that might be. “What do you do at this after-school program?”

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. So what can I do to help you with the wedding pitch?”

“Wait. I’d like to hear more about this program. What do you do? And how do you have time?” It seemed as if she was always in the office working long hours without a complaint.

“I do what is necessary. It all depends on the day and how many volunteers show up. Sometimes I help with homework and do a bit of tutoring. Other times I play kickball or a board game.”

“You do all of that on top of the overtime you put in at the office?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” She toyed with the hem of her top. “I don’t have anything waiting for me at home, so why not put my spare time to good use?”

“You shouldn’t dismiss what you do. There are very few people in this world who are willing to go out of their way for others. It’s impressive.”

Her eyes widened. “You really think so?”

“I do. Why do you seem so surprised?”

“It’s just that at the office you’ve banned employees from taking on charitable accounts.”

“It has to be that way.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “There are only so many hours in the workday. I write out enough checks each year to various organizations to make up for it.”

Kayla nodded, but she certainly didn’t seem impressed. Uneasiness churned in his gut. Maybe she would be more understanding if she knew the amount of those checks.

“I’m sure those organizations appreciate the donations.”

Guilt settled over him. What was up with that? It wasn’t as if he didn’t do anything. He just couldn’t afford the time to take on more accounts—especially for free. He was still working on growing Amatucci & Associates into the biggest and the best advertising firm. Speaking of which, he needed to get moving on this pitch. Time was running out before his trip to Halencia.

“I need to ask you something.”

She reached for the glass of water. “Ask away. Then I need to go check my email. I’m waiting on some responses about the Van Holsen account.”

He shook his head, thinking this was a bad idea. “Never mind. You have enough to deal with.”

She arched a thin brow at him. “You can’t back out now. You have me curious.”

He just couldn’t admit to her that he had absolutely no direction for the pitch. Three wasted days of jotting down ideas and then realizing that they were clichéd or just plain stupid—certainly nothing that he would present to the royal family.

“If it doesn’t bother you—you know, because of your broken engagement—I wanted to ask you some wedding questions.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I appreciate you watching out for my feelings but talking about weddings won’t reduce me to tears. I promise. Let’s get started.”

His gaze met hers and his breath caught in his throat. He was going to have to be really careful around her or he just might be tempted to start something that neither of them was ready for. And once he got something started with her, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to end it when reality crashed in around them.

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