by Tami Lund
He waved his phone. “They’re obviously not coming out. Get in. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
She was doubtful, but she hesitated, shifting from foot to foot and gnawing on her lower lip. Her gaze kept sweeping over his person, like she was trying to assess his honesty based purely on his looks.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Such a stupid thing to say. Like she had any reason to believe him. Plus, he couldn’t possibly look very honest. He was Gino Sarvilli’s brother.
By some miracle, she decided to take her chances and leaped into the car. Antonio punched the gas, spraying gravel at the clamoring TV crews. A few seconds later, he turned onto the main road, Friday afternoon after-work traffic quickly engulfing his forgettable ride. After about a ten-minute drive, he pulled into the parking lot of a sports bar he knew well because it was located across the street from his favorite local lake.
“So where to?” he asked.
“Are you really an Uber driver?”
“Are you going to scream and rush out of the car if I say no?”
“No.”
“Okay, then no.”
“What were you doing in the parking lot of my apartment complex?”
“Well, I was about to visit a friend, but then you came out and all those reporters sort of attacked you, so I put on my shining white armor and rescued you instead.”
Her lips quirked as she asked, “Who’s your friend?”
“Al.” It had been easy enough to look up the leasing company and note the on-site maintenance guy’s name and number listed for twenty-four-hour emergencies.
She nodded. “Well, thank you for being my knight.”
“Any time. So, how famous are you, anyway?”
He knew she wasn’t, of course, but she certainly was pretty enough to be an actress or maybe a model. Her hair was ash blonde, a little longer than shoulder length, with a cute flip at the ends. Sunglasses covered her eyes and gloss shone on her lips. Kissable lips. Too bad they weren’t meeting under different circumstances. She looked damn fine in those casual shorts and a shirt with cutouts at the shoulders. He’d definitely hit on her if he met her in a bar.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Like, can we go to any old restaurant for dinner, or do we need to drive for twenty miles first and find some place off the beaten path?”
“Are you inviting me out to dinner?”
“I am.”
She chuckled. He liked her laugh. “Considering I don’t know you, we probably shouldn’t do off the beaten path.”
“Fair enough.”
“And as for famous, I have no idea. I was on the noon news and then that happened.” She waved at the back window.
“Oh yeah? What kind of food do you like?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much anything.”
“Sushi?”
She wrinkled her nose and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Not today. Still recovering from last night. A burger place or steak is probably a better idea.”
“Got it. What happened last night?”
She turned in her seat to face him. “Shouldn’t we exchange names at this point?”
“Right, of course. My name’s Anton—um, Tony Swansen.” He offered his hand to shake. He hated that nickname, but it was far more common and less likely to stand out than Antonio, so he grinned and bore it.
She slid her hand into his. He liked the feel of her skin. Soft, yet she had a firm grip.
“Phoebe Cavanaugh. Nice to meet you. And thanks for rescuing me back there. That is, if this is a rescue mission and you aren’t about to take me out to a deserted farm and chop me into a bunch of pieces and feed me to the pigs.”
He winced. “Damn, that’s some imagination. Far exceeds my own, so no worries. Just straight up dinner and conversation. Also, true confession: I saw you on the news. Well, I caught the article online. ‘Local Jogger Attempts to Stop Kidnapping.’ Pretty altruistic.”
“Anybody would have done the same.”
Not hardly, lady. “So, is the kid home, safe and sound?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. I was actually on my way to go visit her mom to find out when you swept in and saved me from the paparazzi.”
Uh-oh. She and Margot were friends? Antonio needed to tread lightly here. He and Margot hadn’t spoken since she divorced Gino, but she was a smart lady and he didn’t want her to connect the dots and discover he was now doing more for Gino than just laundering his money. “Do you need me to take you back? Hopefully, the vans will have moved on by the time we get there.”
Phoebe shook her head. “No, it’s okay. She wasn’t expecting me. I just wanted to check on her, that’s all. She was pretty shaken up when I left.”
“That sucks.” It really did. It was one thing to basically have her life controlled by Gino. It was quite another to be the mother of his child, whom he was keeping from her just because he was a dick. A damned powerful one. “What happened?”
“Her daughter was waiting for the bus, and this guy pulled up and grabbed her and tossed her into the back of his car and took off. I can’t even imagine what Margot is going through.”
“Or the kid,” he added.
“Yeah.” She didn’t sound as concerned for the child as she was for the mother. Did she know Nina had been kidnapped by her dad, so was probably safe? Did she know who the kid’s dad was? Was she cooperating with the police? Shit, was she wearing a wire? Patting her chest to find out was probably not a good idea at this juncture.
Although he certainly liked the idea of getting her naked later. Wait, no. This was a job for Gino, not a date.
“Why don’t we check this place out? They have burgers and steaks.” Trying for polite not because he was hitting on her but because she seemed like the kind of girl who’d like it, he hurried around the car to open her door.
Once inside the sports bar, he asked the hostess for a booth in the back, and soon, they were seated in a corner with no other patrons around them. That would change as the evening wore on, but for now, it was nice and quiet.
“What would you like?” he asked when the server stopped at their table to take their drink order.
Phoebe hesitated and then said, “Water for now, please.”
He ordered a beer and after the server left said, “Got hammered last night, huh?”
She laughed. Yep, he definitely liked her laugh. He also liked her eyes, and her plump cheekbones, which he could see now that she’d removed her sunglasses. She was pretty in a wholesome way, not sexy so much as cute. Like she’d look good on the annual family Christmas card cute.
Margot was like that, too. Other than the hair, they could be sisters. Weird that he and his brother had once had the same taste in women. Since the divorce, though, Gino stuck strictly to painted up whores. Whatever happened between him and Margot, he clearly wasn’t interested in going down that road again.
“My co-workers,” Phoebe said after the server brought their drinks and took their food orders. “They’re all professional drinkers. Me, on the other hand, I’m more of an occasional beer kind of girl. Last night was some sort of initiation, I suspect. And clearly I failed. To make it worse, since I didn’t go into work today, I’m not even sure I have a job at the moment.”
He kind of wanted to punch her stupid co-workers. “What do you do?”
“Until last fall, I was a wedding planner. Now I work at a landscape company.”
“Those are two very different career choices.”
“Yeah, the wedding planning gig didn’t work out so well.”
“Why not?”
“At the last wedding I planned, the groom hoped for one last fling. With me.”
“And you didn’t share the sentiment?”
“Not only that, but I told the bride.” She winced.
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. She didn’t believe me. Claimed I was the one who hit on him. That I was jealous of her for marrying him. Her mom is a local politician, and got in on the action. Wa
s upset that I’d ruined her daughter’s wedding day. I ended up losing my job and was pretty much blackballed in the event planning industry.”
“Tough break. But hey, now you get to create beautiful landscapes.”
“True.” Her face lit up with a brilliant smile, but then she pursed her lips. “You want to know what’s really crazy about the whole situation?”
“That’s not crazy enough?”
She shook her head. “They ended up getting married anyway. And three months later, the groom was killed in a car accident.”
Antonio whistled. “No shit.”
“Told you it was crazy.”
The server brought their food, and Antonio asked Phoebe what she really wanted to do with her life, if she had the choice.
“Landscaping,” she said without hesitation. “To be honest, assuming I still have a job, getting kicked out of the wedding planning industry was a lucky break. I love flowers. Trees. Plants. Everything. I mean, being employed seasonally is going to be tough financially, but hopefully I can make it work.” She took a bite of her burger. “What about you? What do you do?”
This was the tricky part. Keep it as factual as possible without actually telling her the truth. “Financial planner.”
She laughed. “Don’t ask me about my future planning, because I have none.”
“That’s never a good idea, no matter how young you are.”
“I know. It’s just that I can barely keep up with my monthly bills, let alone try to get ahead.”
You need a sugar daddy. Like me.
Antonio actually glanced around the restaurant, in case he’d accidentally overheard someone else’s thoughts. Because he sure as hell wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with this girl except what his brother told him to do. He’d walked in on Margot far too many times, crying over her lot in life. Once you got caught up with the Sarvilli family, there was no escape. And Antonio had no interest in dragging an unsuspecting outsider into his world.
Especially not some girl he actually liked.
4
Girl Meets Boy
Like a perfect gentleman, after their date, Tony made sure there weren’t any television vans hanging out in the parking lot and then he walked Phoebe to her door. He waited for her to unlock it, then with one hand on the back of her head and the other pressed to the doorframe, he leaned in until his lips pressed against hers. She opened hers on a small gasp and the tip of his tongue teased its way into her mouth. Canting her head, she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her back until her breasts rubbed against his shirt, while her toes curled in her sandals.
Oh man, could he ever kiss!
And then he pulled away, gave her an adorable crooked smile, dropped one last, quick kiss on her lips, and left her standing on her doorstep, staring after him while he wandered back to his car, whistling what sounded like the Friends theme song. She touched her fingers to her mouth.
Okay, how about backing up to the fact that she actually went on a date with the guy in the first place. Who randomly picked up a hot Italian guy in the parking lot of their own apartment building?
This girl, apparently.
All they’d done was have dinner, but the conversation was what made it worthwhile. He was charming and funny and asked a lot of questions and genuinely seemed to want to get to know her. Phoebe knew stuff like this happened in the world; she just never expected it would actually happen to her. That’s not the way her luck rolled. Losing her job thanks to being an altruistic idiot and taking what was possibly her dream job only to let her co-workers talk her into drinking five too many shots at happy hour, even though she was supposed to be at work at seven a.m. the next day, was more along the lines of her type of luck.
Or witnessing a kidnapping moments after puking her guts out because of said shots.
Phoebe glanced at her phone. It wasn’t terribly late, and she was genuinely curious about Margot. How was she faring? Had her ex returned her daughter safe and sound? She’d sworn up and down that Nina’s father wouldn’t harm her, but then Margot had crumbled because she had no idea how long it would take him to determine she’d been punished enough for going out on a date.
Who the hell punished their ex for dating, two years after the divorce was final?
Pulling the door closed and locking it again, Phoebe headed to her car. Five minutes later, she drove slowly up the dirt road leading to Margot’s house. There was a light on in the front room, and she could see the flash of colors indicating the TV was on, so she parked and headed to the front door.
Margot answered the summons wearing a dark blue tank top and gray sweats. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’d washed her face of makeup. She held a glass half-full of red wine in her hand.
“Come in,” she said, waving the glass. This time, Phoebe took off her sandals. There were no cops to ruin the floors tonight.
“Is she home?” Phoebe whispered in case Nina was asleep in the other room. The cottage wasn’t very big, so it was likely the little girl’s bedroom was on the other side of the wall next to her.
Margot shook her head and wandered into the kitchen. Phoebe remained where she was. Maybe she should have ignored her inner busybody and stayed home after Tony dropped her off. But her new friend returned holding two glasses of wine, and she supposed she was staying, at least for a little while.
Margot sat on the couch, curling her bare feet underneath her, while Phoebe perched stiffly on the edge of an overstuffed chair and focused on not spilling dark red liquid on a piece of furniture she had no way of replacing if she ruined it.
“How are you holding up?” Phoebe asked.
There was a slight tremor in Margot’s hand as she lifted her glass to her lips. “I’m hanging in there. Nothing else I can do.”
“Has that detective harassed you any more?”
Margot pursed her lips. “Of course he has. Proctor’s obsession with my ex-husband rivals Gino’s obsession with not letting me have my life back.”
“I don’t get it. Why does he care what you do now that you two aren’t together?”
Margot sipped more wine and then tilted her head, studying Phoebe for a moment. “You really don’t know who he is, do you?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“I shouldn’t tell you. It’s safer for you if you don’t know.”
“Okay.” What the heck did she mean by that?
“Gino Sarvilli. Does that name ring a bell?”
“I used to be a wedding planner. Practically every name rings some sort of bell. But if you’re asking if his name means anything to me, no, it doesn’t.”
“Do you ever use dry cleaning services?”
Phoebe shrugged. “Not so much anymore. At my current job, I get to wear a T-shirt with the company logo on it and a pair of khaki shorts to work every day.”
“Gino owns a dry cleaning chain. Sarvilli Cleaners.”
“Oh.” Phoebe nodded, finally making the connection. “Right. Yes, I do know the name. In fact, I think he was a guest at the last wedding I ever worked.”
“The last wedding you ever worked?”
“I used to be a wedding planner. Lost my job a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry. Especially that you’ve had the displeasure to meet my ex-husband.”
Phoebe lifted one shoulder and sipped her wine, fighting not to wrinkle her nose as the tannins hit her tongue. “I don’t think I actually spoke to him, but I do remember the name. He was seated at the bride’s parents’ table, and he was the only one without a date, so I had to convince the mother of the bride that it was perfectly acceptable to have a table of seven instead of eight.” She rolled her eyes, recalling the silly little nuances that were so important when planning weddings but, in the grand scheme of things, were absolutely forgettable moments in life.
“He sat at the bride’s parents’ table?” Margot repeated.
“Yep. Clearly a close family friend.”
“Or a
ssociate.”
“Huh?”
Margot’s glass was empty, so she stood, left the room, and returned a few moments later with the bottle. She filled her drink, the red wine sloshing up to the rim as she plopped onto the couch. Phoebe suspected it wasn’t her second glass of the night.
Margot took a gulp then stared at the gently rocking liquid. Phoebe tentatively sipped at hers. She’d never been a fan of wine. The distributors she used to work with told her it was because she didn’t understand how to drink it. To develop a taste for fermented grapes, one was supposed to consume it with the appropriate food. Which seemed like a whole lot of work. Easier to stick with beer.
Definitely no more tequila, that was for damn sure.
“He’s a criminal,” Margot said so abruptly Phoebe gave a little start as she was pulled out of the memories from her old life and back into this bizarre new reality.
Damn tequila.
Although Margot’s daughter being kidnapped would have happened whether Phoebe witnessed it or not, and it sure didn’t seem like Margot had anyone else to turn to, so maybe it was divine intervention. In a bottle of seventy-six proof, clear liquor?
“Wait, did you say he’s a criminal? Your ex-husband?”
Margot took another slug of wine and nodded.
“Like, recently released from jail?”
Her barked laugh had a bitter edge. “The cops will never, ever pin anything on him. He surrounds himself with too many incredibly smart—and dangerous—people. His brother, for one. Not that Antonio is remotely dangerous. He’s actually a nice guy.”
“Speaking of, I had dinner with a nice guy tonight,” Phoebe blurted. Probably rude, but she was still riding on the endorphins of a successful and completely random date.
Margot lifted her glass in mock salute. “Glad to hear it. Hopefully his last name isn’t Sarvilli. That’s not a family you want to get mixed up with.”
Phoebe shook her head. “No worries. He’s a Swanson. And I’m sorry, but you’re making your ex sound like—like someone out of a mafia movie.”
Margot tilted her head, arched one brow, and deliberately sipped her wine.
