If The Shoe Fits

by Fennell, Judi

  “Bella, I’m sorry.” The thin guy held shrugged as he followed Guiseppe. “I have to go after him. I shouldn’t have said—” He shook his head miserably.

  Once the bells settled down the silence was deafening.

  “Well.” Bella exhaled and pushed herself upright out of the booth. “I guess I’m on kitchen duty.”

  “Need some help?” Reese was as surprised as she was at his offer. He didn’t have time to help out. Not that that was going to stop him.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “Hey, I offered. Might as well take me up on it.” He looked out the front window. The men were nowhere to be seen. “Doesn’t look like they’re going to be back any time soon.”

  Bella looked at him, nibbling her lip. She was sexy as hell when she did that.

  “No, really, that’s okay. I can handle it.”

  “But why should you?” He stood up and swept his hand toward the kitchen. “If we’re going to be working together, there’s no time like the present to start, so lead on, MacDuff.”

  Allowing her to lead the way had a lot to recommend it; the view was spectacular.

  The kitchen however… wasn’t.

  “Oh lord.” Bella grabbed the toppled stainless steel mixing bowls on the prep table and righted them. The green goo beneath them had congealed into a lump. Just like it was doing in his gut. He’d never eat spinach again.

  He grabbed a trash can and slid the mess into it. “Guess it was a limited-time special.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “No problem. What’s on the lunch menu? Please tell me it has nothing to do with spinach.”

  “No, thank goodness. Gus was planning on lasagna.”

  “Sadly, not one of my fortes.”

  “But it is one of mine.” She picked up a carton of eggs. “How are you at mixing?”

  He flexed his biceps and waggled his eyebrows. “I think I can manage.”

  She rolled her eyes, then smacked his left arm with a wooden spatula. “Great. First, start with the eggs. Think you can crack them without any shells?”

  “You know, I do have some skills in the kitchen.” And ones in other rooms he wouldn’t mind showing her.

  She pointed at the industrial-sized mixer. “Then here you go, Rachel Ray.”

  Rachel? She wasn’t thinking along the same lines he was. Which was a good thing. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

  While he was trying to figure out how to turn the machine on, Bella wrestled a large container from the refrigerator. When it landed on the table hard enough to slosh some of its contents over the rim, Reese gave up on the mixer and grabbed the next container from her. “I didn’t get these muscles from cracking eggs, you know. Let me do the heavy lifting.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I know, but, again, why should you have to?” He set that container down. “What else?”

  She pointed to a measuring cup on top of the cabinet. “I could use that.”

  He followed her orders as she pointed out other items they needed, then volunteered to grate the mozzarella. After five minutes, he was sorry he’d mentioned his muscles. Grating cheese was definitely not on his Bucket List and there was still the Parmesan to deal with.

  “Are you planning for Armageddon?” he asked as he picked up one of five remaining mozzarella balls left to be mixed in with the vat of ricotta cheese.

  “Our lasagna sells. I’m just glad Gus cooked the ground beef and made the pasta before he stormed out.” She set several trays of the pasta beside each industrial-sized baking dish. “Now we get to put it all together.”

  They layered the cheese mixture with the pasta and ground beef in each dish, then slathered each with homemade sauce and more mozzarella and parmesan, their assembly line flowing smoothly as they worked together.

  He could think of a few other ways they could work together smoothly…

  By the time the last dish went into the ovens, Reese felt as if he was being cooked. Working so closely with her, their hands and arms accidentally touching as he slowed down or she sped up the process, the close confines of the space between the table and the cabinets ensuring they’d brush up against each other, the way she managed to open the wall ovens and fit beneath his arms… Reese wasn’t sure that hiring her had been the best idea. Not when business was the last thing on his mind. No, he was all for saying “screw the lasagna,” and just lick the ricotta off several interesting body parts.

  Reason enough to move away from her. He did, leaning against the sink and swiping his arm across his forehead. “I can’t believe you were going to do all of that yourself. And there’s still the clean up to do.”

  She shrugged and cleaned the spilled ricotta off the prep table. “There’s no one else to do it and I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “Good thing because the auction is going to require a lot of it.” Reese picked up a jar of odd looking yellow-ish beans he’d removed from the fridge when he’d gotten that last tub of ricotta. “Lupini beans? Never heard of them.”

  She took the jar. “Oh, they’re good. And great for target practice, too.”

  “Target practice?”

  Bella got a funny look on her face. “Uh, never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  A blushing Bella was even more gorgeous. And call him an idiot, but he was enjoying it. “Oh no. What did you mean by that?”

  She rolled her eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes that he could spend way too much time looking into if he weren’t careful.

  “Fine. Here.” She popped one of the beans into her mouth and motioned to the giant pot drying on the counter behind him. “Watch.”

  She did an odd twist-thing with her mouth—which made him focus on her lips, something he needed no help doing—then puckered up, and launched the bean.

  She missed the pot.

  She didn’t, however, miss him. He took the shot on the chin, then the bean bounced down his shirt.

  “Oh no.” Bella covered her lips with her hands. That was the real tragedy. “I’m so sorry.”

  He wasn’t. It was just a shirt and just the thing he needed to get his mind off her lips.

  He grabbed an open can of black olives. “Sorry? Not yet you’re not.” He turned his back to her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pay to have your clothes cleaned.”

  He stuck olives on the ends of his fingers like he’d done when he was a kid. “Oh, you’re definitely going to pay.” He turned around and lost the battle with his smile as he flicked five “bombs” at her.

  They hit her squarely in the chest.

  For the space of a heartbeat she looked shocked, then a sly smile slid across those lips. “That was just so wrong.” She grabbed an oblong loaf of Italian bread and a hunk of pepperoni that she tossed like a baseball, catching it and tossing it again. “I only got you with one.”

  “You have to think offensively.” He scooped the last spoonful of ricotta cheese from one of the tubs and aimed it at her.

  “You wouldn’t.” Her loaf of bread waivered.

  “You willing to risk it?” He pulled the spoon back a little more.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked from the ricotta to his eyes. Reese tried to look stern, but the lip-nibbling was distracting him.

  He gave up both battles when she grabbed the turkey baster full of spaghetti sauce and aimed it at him. “Offensive enough?”

  “You win.” He set the ricotta spoon on the steel table between them and laughed as he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Back up.” Bella waved the sauce launcher in circles.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t really know you well enough to know if I can or not.”

  True, but Reese prided himself on his word being golden. She needed to know that he was a stand-up guy.

  So he walked around the table, took the baster from her, and set it down so it wouldn’t accidentally go off. “One thing you need to know about me, Bel
la: you can always trust me.”

  But then she nibbled her lip and he suddenly didn’t want to be trustworthy. No, he wanted to lay her down on that table and start some real cookin’ in the kitchen, his business and the auction, be dammed.

  And, somehow, she was suddenly closer.

  It could have something to do with his hands gripping her arms, but one taste; that’s all he wanted. One quick, chaste taste of her lips and he’d leave her alone and go about his business and everything would be fine. Then he’d never again have to wonder what it would be like.

  It was a pathetic argument that turned into a complete lie the moment their lips touched, and he had to fight with himself to stop from sweeping her up in his arms and doing everything he wanted to with her on that table. She tasted so damn good and her lips... ah, God. Her lips were the softest, plumpest, most delectable set of lips he’d ever tasted, and her body fit against him as if she’d been made just for him, and his blood turned to fire as every ounce of it headed south—

  What the hell was he doing?

  Reese wrenched his lips from hers, his grip tightening on her arms—to keep her or himself upright he wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter because he shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have even thought about doing this and now what the hell was he supposed to do? He’d come here to hire her for God’s sake, not maul her. How was he supposed to work with her now? Hell, his business was going down the tubes right in front of him and those beautiful blue eyes.

  “I am so sorry.” For so many things, not the least of which was that he needed her for the auction. Damn Luke for scaring off Marisa. “That was inappropriate of me. Here I was saying you could trust me and I go and do something like that.” He had to let go of her; touching that soft silky skin was making him think crazy thoughts, like how he could make a relationship between them work.

  He couldn’t. Been there, done that, screwed everything up.

  “I promise it won’t happen again, Bella. Please say you’ll still consider doing the auction.”

  “I, uh…” She exhaled and ran a hand through her hair. It helped that he wasn’t the only one rattled by their kiss. “Yes. I will. Definitely. I want the job.”

  “Good. Great.” He finally pulled his hands away and shoved them into his pockets. “So, ah… what was that about?”

  When her gaze flew to his lips, Reese realized what he’d just said. “I mean, that.” He nodded toward the dining room. “Out there. Earlier. I take it he does that often?”

  “More than I’d like.” Bella braced her palms on the counter behind her then leaned against it.

  Away from him. A smart move he ought to imitate.

  He didn’t. “So why not fire him?”

  “Fire Gus? I can’t do that. He’s like family to me.”

  “But when it affects your business, that’s a problem. What would you do if I weren’t here to help?”

  Her pointed look reminded just how much he’d helped. “I can handle it. I’ve done it before.”

  “But, again, you shouldn’t have to.”

  She crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed, any trace of what they’d just shared gone. “You run your business your way and I’ll run mine my way.”

  She looked just as sexy standing up for herself as she did when she nibbled her lip.

  Not appropriate, Charmant.

  Right.

  “Except that your business, Bella, is now going to be my business. I can’t have him quitting at the last minute and throwing the entire auction into an uproar.” He was one to talk about throwing things into an uproar.

  “Don’t worry. He won’t. He’s a professional.”

  Was that a dig? He hadn’t been professional and he ought to just leave this entire thing alone and be thankful she wasn’t shoving him and his offer out the door. “If you’re sure…”

  “I am.” She grabbed the baster and ran it under a stream of water from the faucet. “Don’t worry, Reese. You won’t regret hiring me.”

  He already did. But not for the reason she thought.

  Chapter Six

  As Reese left the restaurant, he sent a quick Thank you heavenward that he hadn’t screwed up and that Bella was still on board.

  Then he turned the corner and saw his car. Someone wanted to get screwed.

  There was a woman draped over his Ferrari.

  Trouble. With capital double Ds.

  “Can I help you?”

  The woman, her body melting onto the sleek contours, blood-red manicured hands caressing the hood as if it were a mink coat, gave him the once-over. Twice. A sex-kitten smile followed as she pushed herself off the car, her impressive—and cosmetically enhanced, he was sure—chest leading. She licked the slight pout of her lips, their color matching her nails, and tossed a curl over her shoulder as she sashayed toward him.

  “I think you certainly can definitely help me,” she purred, stopping just shy of a chest-on collision.

  As if he hadn’t seen this before. Women were always throwing themselves at pro players.

  Brassy hair color, heavy makeup, size two clothing on a size eight body… Was she working this corner or had a friend of his mistakenly thought it was his birthday?

  She looked up, batting fake eyelashes. Why did women think guys liked fake anything on a woman?

  “I was told that a handsome stud drove that car.” Again with the once-over. “My information was correct.” She traced a long claw down the front of his shirt. “I’m Staci Fontaine and I just had to meet the man who could, um… tame that engine.”

  Someone needed to tame her and he wasn’t volunteering for the job.

  Reese stepped back, almost choking from the perfume she must have bathed in. “I’d be happy to oblige, but I have an appointment.” He got into the car, but wasn’t quick enough to prevent her from slithering her way between his seat and the door.

  She leaned against the door and rubbed her leg along his thigh. “Do you eat at this restaurant often?”

  Christ. As a pick-up line, it was lame at best. As a legitimate question, no way was he going to give her the chance to stalk him. He might have to stay away from Bella, but he wasn’t desperate for female company. “I had a meeting with the caterer.”

  “Bella?”

  Great. Dolly Parton-gone-downtown knew Bella. He nodded, and tugged on the door.

  The chick could not take a hint.

  Then, to make matters worse, he heard a nasally, off-key, “Oh, Prince Charming!” from across the street.

  Creepy Stalker Chick from the other day was back. Reese groaned. This kept getting worse.

  But it quickly got better when the tacky bombshell jumped to her feet and turned toward Creepy Stalker Chick, giving Reese the sliver of space he needed to slam the door. Then he turned on the ignition and threw the stick shift into first in one movement. A quick salute and he pulled into traffic before the women knew what he was up to.

  It was just as well they’d showed up; he didn’t need to spend any more time mooning over something—someone—he couldn’t have.

  ***

  Jonathan Griff nearly fell off his chair. Whether that was in glee over their kiss, horror because Staci was acting like a strumpet, or pride because he’d finally mastered subliminal messaging, Jonathan didn’t know. He was just thankful that Reese had acted on his suggestion to head to the restaurant this morning instead of calling Bella to ask her. He hadn’t foreseen just how well it would work out, but he was quite pleased with the results.

  Well, until Staci had shown up. He needed to have a talk with that girl’s Guardian. Something must be done so she’d act like a rational human being instead of a cat on the prowl.

  Jonathan snorted. He believed in miracles—had seen quite a few—but he wasn’t sure Staci toning it down was possible even for a Guardian. The Boss knew, Madeleine’s Guardian hadn’t had any better luck with her either.

  But Madeleine and Staci were other Guardians’ problems and Jonathan had enough issues with his two
—most of which could only be helped by that wonderful kiss and their soon-to-happen convergence of agendas.

  He sat back in his chair and took a sip of lemonade. Cool and sweet, the perfect thing for a perfect springtime.

  And oh, was it going to be perfect.

  ***

  “Now look what you did, Drew!” Staci yelled. “You scared him off!”

  “I did not.” Drew stomped her foot.

  Typical. Staci would have thought that, at some point, her sister would have grown up. It was so embarrassing being related to someone who was still stuck in high school mode.

  “You did that all by yourself, Stace.”

  “How do you know him?”

  Drew wobbled her head like the airheaded bobble-head she was. Smug little witch. “I met him yesterday.”

  Staci didn’t like that one bit. “So...” She twisted a lock of her two-hundred-dollar-freshly-colored hair. “What’s his name?”

  That knocked the air of superiority out of Drew. Good. Her sister should never try to out-think her. It was never going to happen.

  “Well, I didn’t actually meet him.” Drew shrugged. “He was helping Bella get up. You know what a klutz she can be.”

  Staci nodded as if this was an accepted fact, but she’d never known her stepsister to be anything but disgustingly graceful. And competent. And cheerful. On everybody’s BFF list. As goody-goody as the real Cinderella, and completely annoying to be related to. Talk about a perfectly cliché-d nickname.

  “Anyhow,” Drew continued, “I caught sight of that car. I mean, who wouldn’t? Then Mr. Gorgeous there was having a chat with good ol’ Cindabella. Naturally, I had to save the poor man from a cooking lesson.”

  “He did say he’d met with the caterer.” Staci tapped her lips. Tacky she might be, even cheap in the eyes of a few, but dumb she wasn’t. The jury was still out on Drew.

  “Let’s go find out why,” said Drew. “That’s twice in two days he’s seen her. What’s she got that we don’t?”