Just Roll With It (Perfect Dish Romances Book 4)

by Tawdra Kandle

  Just Roll With It

  Copyright © 2018 by Tawdra Kandle

  Cover and interior design by Champagne Book Design

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  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

  Vincent’s Recipes

  Just Roll With It Play List

  Other Books

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Sometimes, the best-laid plans don’t work out the way you expect.

  When law school student Amanda Simmons shows up at her friends’ engagement party, she’s not expecting to indulge in a wild one-night stand with the bride’s older brother. On the other hand, Vincent DiMartino is smart, sexy—and safe. He doesn’t want more than a quick hook-up, either.

  Or so she thinks.

  Vincent isn’t interested in long-term, and he has no desire for a serious relationship. His job as a pastry chef in his family’s restaurant demands all of his time and attention. His night with Amanda is supposed to be just that—one night. But he doesn’t bargain for how much he enjoys her sense of humor, her intelligence and her sass . . . not to mention her unrepentant sensuality.

  Now that he realizes he wants more than just her body, can Vincent persuade Amanda to take a chance on him? Will she risk her heart on the man who was only supposed to be a fling?

  Sometimes plans go awry. And sometimes, you just have to roll with it.

  To Jersey girls everywhere

  And to my Italian family-by-marriage

  “We’re family. We’re Italian. We yell.

  We say things we don’t mean,

  but that doesn’t change the fact that we love each other.”

  The city sidewalk felt like a wind tunnel as I hustled toward the entrance of my apartment building and yanked open the door, fighting the blast of hot air that tried to thwart me. A man in an understated uniform standing behind the desk smirked at me.

  “Little breezy today, Ms. Simmons?” Rocky cocked his head.

  “Just a tad.” I ran my fingers through my dark hair, giving my head a little shake just so that I could see between the thick strands. For the hundredth time, I congratulated myself for getting my hair cut last week; taking five inches off the length made me feel lighter, somehow. It was also easier on a day like today, when the gusts would’ve tangled my curls into snarls.

  “Are you glad to be finished for the week? Ready for a relaxing weekend?” The doorman and I had an easy, teasing acquaintance. Rocky prided himself on his familiarity with the schedules and rhythms of the people who lived in this building, and so he knew that I’d just finished my first week back at law school. He also knew how happy I was that this was my last year. I was beyond ready to be done with classes, papers and exams . . . even if I wasn’t sure that diving into the world of civil law was going to be that much better.

  “Normally, I’d say hell, yeah, but tonight isn’t going to be my typical ordering in and vegging. I have to go out.”

  Rocky chuckled. “Most people your age love to go out on a Friday night. You sound so glum about the idea.”

  “I am,” I sighed. “I’m tired, and I’m grumpy and—” A trilling sound came from the bag on my shoulder. “And that’s my mom calling for our weekly catch-up. I better answer it. See you later, Rocky.”

  “Stay cool, Ms. Simmons.”

  I waved and pushed the button for the elevator at the same time that I answered the phone. “Hey, Ma. How’s it hanging?”

  The long sigh on the other end of the line made me grin. “Amanda, my mother and her mother are rolling in their respective graves in horror at the way you answer your telephone. And the good instructors at St. Ursula’s Academy aren’t thanking you, either.”

  “Fine.” Stepping onto the elevator, I affected a genteel tone, imitating the cooing voices I’d grown up hearing from all the so-called ladies. “Good afternoon, Mother. I hope you are quite well.”

  She groaned. “That’s even worse. Isn’t there some kind of happy medium with you?”

  “Nope. I’m all or nothing, from one extreme to the other. And you know it, because that’s how you raised me.”

  “And I have no one to blame but myself. Oh, well.” My mother laughed. “How did the first week of classes go?”

  “Fine. Nothing unexpected.” I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside, throwing the deadbolt out of habit. “Dr. Arlington asked me to send you her best.”

  “Lois Arlington? Good Lord, is she still teaching? She was ancient when I was there. I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

  “I’m not positive she is. She never stands up the entire class period—she teaches from her chair. For all I know, she could be an animated corpse. But she remembers you, so there’s that.”

  “It’s something. Are you just getting home now? Sounds like you had a long day.”

  I kicked off my shoes and padded through the living room, past the kitchen and into my bedroom, where I eyed my king-sized bed longingly. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and sleep the weekend away.

  “Yeah, I’m home, and yeah, it was a long day. But it’s not over yet. I have Liam and Ava’s engagement party tonight, remember?”

  “Ah, that’s right. I forgot that the party’s this weekend.” A little bit of regret tinged Mom’s voice. “I have that fundraiser in Newark. I’d much rather be celebrating with all of you. Be sure to give Liam and Ava my love. And Laura, too, of course.”

  “Will do. Think the senator will show up?” I unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled them down my legs, kicking them off.

  “I have no idea what that man might do anymore, except that it’ll probably be the wrong thing, and he’ll end up making an ass of himself. I won’t be sorry to miss that.” Mom sniffed. “I can tell you that the governor is not at all happy with Liam’s father. It’s only a matter of time before the party kicks him out of his seat. You can’t talk family values for decades and then screw around on your wife. At least, you can’t do that if you’re going to remain wholly unrepentant.”

  “Which he is.” I switched the phone over to speaker and set it on the dresser so that I could peel off my shirt. “I feel so sorry for Liam’s mom. She must be mortified.”

  “Well . . .” My mother chuckled. “I wouldn’t feel too bad for Laura. I ran into her a few weeks back, and she was, um, very cozy with her companion. I think he’s g
ot to be at least ten years younger than she is. And he is . . .” Mom paused, as though she was searching for the right word to use. “Uh, quite the looker.”

  “Liam’s mom has a hot new boy toy? Go, Mrs. Bailey.” Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra and leaned forward until it fell down my arms and landed on the floor. “I never knew she had it in her.”

  “I doubt the Senator did, either,” Mom responded drily. “But I will say that Laura seemed to be very happy.”

  “I just bet she is.” I picked up the phone again and turned the speaker off as I brought it to my ear. “Hey, I’d be happy, too, if I were getting laid on the regular by a smokin’ hot dude.”

  “Amanda, really.” I could practically feel my mother’s shudder. “I don’t want to think about my friend getting laid, and I certainly don’t want to hear my daughter talking about her sex life.”

  “Or lack thereof,” I muttered, nudging open the bathroom door with my shoulder.

  “Well, I should probably let you get ready for tonight,” Mom said loudly enough that I knew she was making a point of ignoring my words. “Have a good time. I’ll think about you while I’m dying a slow death of boredom.”

  “You do that. See you Sunday?” I rummaged in the bathroom cabinet until I found my curling iron. “We’re still on for O’Doulies?”

  “Brunch at eleven,” my mother confirmed. “You can tell me all about the engagement party, and your father can show you pictures of the site he’s flying off to next week.”

  “It’s a date. Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you, too, sweetheart.”

  I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, plugged in the curling iron and reached into the shower to turn on the water. Wriggling out of my panties, I tossed them in the vague direction of the laundry basket and stepped into the stall, giving a happy little sigh as the hot water hit my skin.

  It felt weird to be getting ready to leave my apartment again. In the past three months, I’d been living and breathing law, up to my neck in interrogatories and depositions between my part-time job in a law firm and my classes. I’d intentionally stepped away from any kind of social life after Cam and I had called it quits last spring.

  I wasn’t nursing a broken heart by any means. Cam and I had started out as friends with benefits, and when we’d morphed into more, it had been out of convenience rather than passion. Exclusivity wasn’t hard for either of us, because we were both too busy to go looking for other distractions. Our relationship perks had included having an automatic plus-one for any social occasion and the promise of sex-on-request whenever either of us needed it. We’d always gotten along well, and if I were being honest, I’d have to admit that I’d enjoyed our sparring about law and politics even more than I’d loved our sex life.

  When Cam had graduated in May and accepted a position with a firm in Seattle, a couple of our friends had asked if I planned to follow him to the West Coast after I’d finished school. We’d both laughed, because the idea had never crossed our minds. After his graduation celebration—which had been dinner with his parents in a lovely, trendy restaurant—we’d said goodbye. Cam had kissed me on the cheek and promised to keep in touch. So far, we’d texted now and then, but I knew he was moving on—as he should have.

  As for me, I’d jumped into my job with both feet. Aside from seeing my friends Giff and Liam and their respective partners, and the weekly brunch with my parents, I didn’t go out. I ate, I slept, and I worked. Giff had taken to calling me his hermit friend.

  “Hey,” I’d retorted. “You’ll be glad I’m working so hard now after I graduate and become your friend who can represent your ass in a court of law.”

  “Sweetie, the only thing I can be accused of is killing it in party planning. And so far, that’s not a crime.”

  Giff and Liam had known me long enough that I didn’t worry about offending them when we went weeks without talking or months without actually seeing each other. But apparently, I’d tried Giff’s patience enough that he’d texted me one Sunday last month, announcing that he and Jeff, his long-time boyfriend, were coming over to take me out to dinner.

  “Pick a good restaurant, cookie. Jeff and I want to spoil you a little.”

  I’d smiled at his use of the affectionate name. Choosing obscure nicknames was one of Giff’s specialties. As long as I could remember, he’d called our friend Liam Bailey ‘beetle’, a reference to the old comic strip Beetle Bailey. Liam’s fiancée Ava was ‘peaches’, thanks to her gorgeous skin. And I’d always been ‘cookie’ except for a brief period midway through high school, when he’d taken to referring to me as Evita. I’d assumed it was because I’d played that title role in one of our high school productions.

  When I’d asked Giff, he’d smiled at me. “That’s part of it. You killed it as Eva Peron, for sure. But it made me think that you’re a whole lot more like her than what I’d realized. You’re a tough cookie on the outside, but inside, you’re mushy, and even though you try to hide it, you want people to like you.”

  “Bullshit.” I’d rolled my eyes. “I don’t care what people think of me. That’s a lesson I learned early in life.”

  “That’s what you want us to think. But I see more than you know. And I stick by what I say.”

  That night, when the three of us were out to dinner, Giff had told me about Liam and Ava’s engagement, as well as about the shit-show that had taken place earlier in the day when the two families had met to talk wedding details.

  “It was ugly.” He’d shuddered. “The Senator showed up late, guns blazing.”

  “He means that in a figurative sense,” Jeff had put in. “It’s probably important to say that, given Senator Bailey’s position on the Second Amendment.”

  “True. Anyway, he wants them to get married next year in DC, and he wants to make it a huge show. I had to get tough with all of the parents.”

  I could just picture it, and I’d smirked. “Did they behave after that?”

  “For the most part. The wedding itself is going to be small and intimate, and it’s happening around Christmas time. But they’re letting Mrs. B throw an engagement party next month, so make sure you put it on your calendar as soon as you get your invite.”

  And that was why I was now showering and musing over what to wear, when most of me wanted to pull on my jammies and curl up on the sofa with a bag of chips, a bowl of onion dip and Marvel’s The Defenders on TV.

  “It’s fine.” I spoke to myself out loud as I turned off the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around me. “It’s one night. I can show up, smile, do the friend thing, and then come home and veg. I don’t have to stay long.” Even as I said it, I knew I was delusional. Liam and Ava were among my best friends. I’d never risk hurting their feelings by cutting out early, even if the last thing I wanted to do tonight was be sociable.

  Padding out of the bathroom, I opened my closet door and began flipping through the hangers at the far end, where I kept the clothes I didn’t wear very much. This was the only part of the walk-in that was still organized and fairly neat, thanks to the gift my mom had given me for my last birthday.

  Maybe some daughters would’ve been offended if their mother had sent a professional organizer as a gift, but I’d been thrilled. Mavis had shown up and whipped my closet, my drawers and my desk into shape. She’d been fast and efficient, and she hadn’t shamed me about my lack of neatness. Still, even though we’d agreed to make her visits an annual event, I had to admit that I wasn’t looking forward to letting her see that I’d slid back into bad habits.

  I wasn’t a slob. Not really. I just always had more important things on my mind than doing things like hanging up clothes or folding them neatly. I meant to go back and do it, but somehow, there never seemed to be enough time. Consequently, while my apartment wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t exactly well-ordered, either.

  But here in the fancy-dress section of my closet, everything was still hanging by color and length. Granted, the color differentiations weren’t g
reat; most of the dresses were black, because I’d long ago discovered that black was easiest option when it came to evening events. I frowned as I flipped through them; black might be easy, but it was also boring. While I didn’t expect the engagement party tonight to be a wild affair, out of my love for Liam and Ava, I wanted to look my best.

  I was just thinking that I should’ve taken the time to shop for something new and pretty when a flash of red caught my eye. Frowning, I lifted the dress from the rod, trying to remember where it had come from. Was it an impulse purchase when I’d been out shopping with friends? Or had my mother sent it to me? That seemed unlikely, the more I examined the dress; it was short and silky, cut low in front and back, with two thin straps to hold the top up. While my mom was fairly progressive when it came to me and her acceptance of my choices, she never would’ve given me anything this out-and-out sexy.

  Still, here it was, and there wasn’t any harm in at least trying it on. If it didn’t fit or if I didn’t like it, I could always go back to one of the black ones.

  But once I’d wriggled into it, I knew there was no way I could wear anything else. It didn’t look as though it should fit me, but hot damn, it really did. With boobs the size of mine, there were few times I could go without a bra, but this dress had enough support that the girls were showcased nicely, without making me look ridiculous and trashy. The material clung enough to accentuate my hips and ass, and it was short enough that my legs looked amazing.

  Digging through my shoes, I found a pair of silver strappy heels that worked perfectly. As I scrutinized myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help grinning—all I needed was hair and makeup, and tonight, I was going to be a total babe.

  Thirty minutes later, my hair was blown dry, curling slightly around my shoulders, my makeup was flawless, and I’d added some sparkly silver jewelry to compliment the shoes. I transferred my license, my debit card, a twenty-dollar bill, tissues, lipstick and my phone into a small clutch and hustled my fabulous self downstairs to wait for my ride.