by Day Leclaire
“Last night?” Elia asked sharply.
His eyes narrowed on Kiko in open displeasure. “Full moon,” he said as though that were all the explanation necessary.
“Would it be okay if I fed her now?” Larkin hastened to interrupt. “I have some kibble for her, but she needs a little bit of raw beef mixed in.”
“No problem.” He crossed to the refrigerator and rummaged through the contents. “Before you joined us, we were talking. Nonna and my mother would like to take you out today so you three can get to know each other.”
With his head buried in the refrigerator, Larkin couldn’t get a good read on either his voice or expression. “I thought I might look for a job,” she temporized.
“Time enough for that on Monday.” He emerged with a small packet of steak and carried it to the cutting board. “In fact, I might have something for you at Dantes.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Perfect,” Elia declared with a friendly smile. “This engagement is all so sudden it’s taken my breath away.”
“That makes two of us,” Larkin answered with utter sincerity.
Elia’s smile wavered. “Then this should give us time to catch our breath, yes?”
Larkin’s gaze swiveled in Rafe’s direction where he stood at the counter slicing up the raw meat. “Not unless Mr. Organize-and-Conquer plans on changing his personality by the time we get back.”
The two Dante women glanced at each other and then at Larkin before breaking into huge grins of amusement. “It would seem you know my Rafaelo surprisingly well, given the short amount of time you have known him,” Nonna commented.
“Perhaps that’s because he doesn’t bother to hide that aspect of his personality,” Larkin replied.
“In case you three haven’t noticed, I’m standing right here,” Rafe said.
He combined Kiko’s kibble with the slices of meat. The dog sat at attention, watching his every move. When he placed the food on the floor, she approached it cautiously, sniffing at the floor and around the bowl before attacking the contents.
“That’s a most unusual dog you have,” Elia said with a slight frown. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was part—”
“Definitely not,” Larkin hastened to say. “She belonged to my grandmother, who raised her from the time she was a youngster.”
Rafe broke in, rescuing her from any further questions. “I gather I’m Kiko’s designated sitter?”
Larkin turned to him in relief. There were times his take-charge personality came in handy. This was one of them. “Do you mind?”
“Will she eat me?”
“I don’t think so.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Color me reassured.”
His dry tone brought a flush to her cheeks. “She’s very sweet natured. Very beta.”
“Well, if that’s settled?” Elia asked.
Not giving Larkin a chance to come up with a reasonable excuse for avoiding their girl-bonding session, Elia urged Nonna to her feet and swept everyone toward the front door. Once there, she gave her son an affectionate kiss, one Larkin noted he returned with equal affection. Then they were out the door and tucked into Elia’s car. The next instant they pulled out of Rafe’s drive and headed toward the city. Larkin couldn’t help tossing a swift glance over her shoulder.
Elia must have caught the look, because she chuckled. “Don’t worry, Larkin. We’ll return you safe and sound before you know it.”
Right. It was that nerve-racking time between now and then that worried her. How in the world had she gotten herself into this mess? Yesterday she’d been free as the proverbial bird. No entanglements. No men. Just one simple goal. Find her father.
And now . . . Larkin shot one final desperate look over her shoulder before settling in her seat. Now she had a fiancé to deal with, his family, no job, and was expected to spend the day bonding. Bonding! With Leigh’s former mother-in-law, of all people. Not to mention this bizarre ache centered in her palm. She rubbed at it, which for some strange reason caused Nonna and Elia to exchange broad smiles.
Larkin sighed. What an odd family. Almost as odd as her own.
Rafe stared, thunderstruck. “What the hell have you done to my fiancée?”
“We’ve been doing what women have done for centuries in order to bond,” Elia said. “Shopping.”
“Makeover.” Nonna enunciated the word carefully, then smiled broadly, though Rafe couldn’t tell if it was due to the word—one he’d never heard his grandmother utter before—or the results of said makeover. “This is something girls do together,” she added with an airy gesture. “You are a man. You would not understand.”
Larkin’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you like it?” she asked in a neutral voice. “Your mother and grandmother went to a lot of time and expense on my behalf.”
He hesitated. Damn. Okay, this was familiar territory. Dangerous, familiar territory. The sort of territory men discovered during their first romantic relationship. Most poor saps of his gender stumbled in unaware of the traps awaiting them until they’d fallen into the first one, impaling themselves on their own foolhardiness. Having several serious relationships plus one disastrous marriage beneath his belt, Rafe figured he’d safely skirted or uncovered all the traps out there.
Until now.
“You look lovely.” And she did. Just . . . different.
Larkin’s mouth compressed. “But?”
Behind her, Nonna and his mother also regarded him through slitted eyes and tight lips. “But?” they echoed.
“But nothing,” he lied. Time to regain control of the situation. First item on the agenda: get rid of Larkin’s backup. He gathered up his mother and grandmother and ushered them toward the door. “It’s late. Nearly dinnertime. You’ve spent the day bonding with Larkin and I appreciate all you’ve done. I know this has been very sudden, and yet you’ve made her feel like one of the family.”
“Of course we made her feel like one of us,” Nonna said. “Soon she will be.”
“Not too soon,” he soothed. “This Inferno business is new to both of us and a bit of a shock. We need time to get to know each other before jumping into marriage.”
Nonna turned on him. “Where will she stay until then?”
“Right here in my guest room.”
She shook her head. “That is not proper and you know it.”
He gave her his most intimidating look. Considering she was his grandmother, it met with little success. “You think I’d break my promise to Primo?”
She lifted a shoulder in a very Italian sort of shrug. “The Inferno is difficult to resist.”
“If it becomes too difficult, I’ll make other arrangements.”
Nonna gave a dainty snort. “We will see what Primo has to say about that.”
No doubt. Giving each woman a kiss, he sent them on their way before going in search of Larkin. He found her in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. Unable to help himself, he stood in the doorway and watched, vaguely blown away by her grace.
Her movements expressed a gentle flow, as though some inner music choreographed each step. What would it be like to dance with her? At a guess, sheer perfection. She was made to dance, and the idea of holding her in his arms while they moved together in perfect symmetry filled him with a longing he’d never experienced with or toward any other woman.
Another image formed, a picture of another sort of dance, one that also involved the two of them, but this time in bed. She had such a natural sense of rhythm, combined with a lithe, taut shape. How would she move when they made love? Would she drift the way she did now, initiating a slow, sultry beat? Or would she be fast and ferocious, pounding out a song that would leave them sweaty and exhausted?
“Coffee?”
The mundane question caught him off guard and it took him a moment to switch gears. “Thanks.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Black.”
She poured two mugs. “Do you really hate it?”
Rafe
hesitated, still off-kilter. It wasn’t until she ruffled her hair in a self-conscious gesture that he realized what she meant. “No, I don’t hate it at all. It suits you.”
And it did. Before, her hair had been long and straight, and the two times he’d seen her, she’d worn it either pulled back from her face in a braid or piled on top of her head with a clip. The stylist had cut it all off and discovered soft curls beneath the heavy weight of her hair, curls that clung to her scalp and framed her elegant features. Few women had the bone structure to get away with the stark style. She was one of them. If anything, it made her look even more like a creature from fantasy and make-believe.
“And the clothes?” she pressed.
“I suspect I’d like you better without them.”
Startled, she looked at him before grinning. “There speaks a man.”
“Well, yeah.”
He sipped his coffee and circled her. He had to admit his mother had done a terrific job orchestrating the change. Between the haircut, the stylishly casual blouse, the three-quarter-length slacks and the scraps of heeled leather that passed for sandals, Larkin had settled on an eclectic style uniquely her own. No doubt some was due to his mother’s influence. She had a knack for seeing the true nature of a person and giving them a gentle nudge in the appropriate direction, rather than simply layering on the current fashion, regardless of whether or not it suited. But the rest was all Larkin.
“How did she convince you to accept the clothes and salon treatment?”
A hint of color streaked across Larkin’s cheekbones and she buried her nose in her coffee mug. “Your mother isn’t an easy woman to refuse,” she muttered.
“Engagement present?”
Larkin sighed. “It started out that way. Of course I said no. After all, we’re not officially engaged.” She set the mug on the counter with a sharp click and eyed him in open confusion. “I’m not quite sure what happened after that. All of a sudden it was a pre-engagement gift or welcome-to-the-family gift or—”
“Or a bulldozing gift.”
Larkin’s mouth quivered into a smile. “Exactly.”
“And before you knew it, you’d had a total makeover.”
“Is she always like that?”
“Pretty much. She’s sort of like a tidal wave. She sweeps in, snatches up everyone in her path and carries them off. There’s no resisting her. You just sort of ride the wave and hope you can slip up and over the swell before you get caught in the curl.”
Larkin groaned. “I got caught in the curl. A couple curls.”
He ruffled her hair. “They look good on you.”
“Thanks.” She picked up her mug and studied him through the steam. “Now I know where you get certain aspects of your personality. You’re just like her, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m far worse.”
She grinned, the tension seeping from her body. “Thanks for the warning.” Kiko slipped into the room just then and came to sit at Larkin’s feet, leaning against her legs. “How was she?”
He regarded the dog with a hint of satisfaction. “Let’s just say, we came to terms.”
Laughter brightened Larkin’s eyes. “Let me guess. You gave her more steak.”
He didn’t bother to deny it. After all, it was the truth. “The Dantes are firm believers in bonding over food. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow night.”
He’d alarmed her. Not surprising, considering how much had happened in so short a time. “Tomorrow night?” she asked. “What’s tomorrow night?”
“Every Sunday night the family has dinner at Primo’s.”
She swallowed. “The whole family?”
“Anyone who’s available.”
“And who’s going to be available tomorrow night?”
“It varies week to week. We’ll find out when we get there, but I’m guessing my parents, at least one of my brothers, my sister Gianna, and a couple of my cousins.” She turned away, busying herself at the sink rinsing her coffee mug, but he could tell he’d upset her. Where before she was poetry in motion, now she moved in jerks and stops. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She set her cup down and turned. Turbulence dimmed her gaze and shadowed her expression. “Look. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. We jumped into this crazy idea without thinking it through. Everything’s been moving so fast since last night we haven’t even had time to discuss the details or come up with a solid game plan. I just don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Nonna and my mother must have grilled you today.”
Larkin lifted a shoulder. “Sort of.”
“You must have told them something about yourself.”
“Bits and pieces,” she conceded.
Based on her expression, he figured she’d told them as little as she could get away with. “Clearly, nothing you said concerned or alarmed them. Stands to reason I won’t be concerned or alarmed, either.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth in a gesture that was becoming familiar to him. “I didn’t tell them a lot,” she said, confirming his suspicion.
“Here’s what I suggest. Why don’t we spend tonight and tomorrow getting to know each other? If we decide it’s not going to work, we’ll call the entire thing off.” Hell. If anything, his offer had somehow made it worse. “What now?”
“Your mother spent a fortune on my hair and clothes. I can’t just leave. I owe her.”
“I’ll reimburse her.”
Larkin’s chin jerked upward. “Then I’ll owe you.”
“You can work it off at Dantes or we can just call it even for the time you’ve invested.”
“I’m not a taker,” she insisted fiercely.
He fought to keep his voice even. “I never said you were.”
He could see the frustration eating at her. “There are things you don’t know about me.” She began to pace. Kiko paced with her. “I got so caught up in your job offer and then your kisses that I haven’t been able to stop long enough to catch my breath. To . . . to explain things.”
He zeroed in on the most interesting part of her comments, unable to suppress his curiosity. “My kisses?”
She whirled to face him. “You know what I mean. I understand that it’s simple sexual chemistry, but I’m not— That is, I’ve never . . .” She thrust her hands through her hair, ruffling the curls into attractive disarray. “I flunked chemistry, okay?”
“Okay.”
“The whole Inferno thing made me lose focus. I got off course.”
Something was seriously upsetting her and his humor faded, edging toward concern. “It’s not a problem, Larkin.”
“It is a problem.”
She practically yelled the words, pausing to control herself only when Kiko whimpered in distress. The dog paused between the two of them, at full alert, her ruff standing up, giving her a feral, dangerous appearance. Larkin made a quick hand gesture and the animal edged closer, rubbing up against her hip.
She forced herself to relax. “I’m sorry,” she said, though Rafe couldn’t tell if the apology was directed at him or the dog.
Okay, time to approach the situation the same way he did a business dilemma and apply some of his infamous Dante logic. “You told me you came to San Francisco to find someone. Is that what’s upset you? You feel like this job is distracting you from finding this person?”
“Yes. No.” She crouched beside Kiko and buried her face in the dog’s thick coat. “My search is only one of the reasons I’m here.”
“That’s not a problem,” he argued. “There’s no reason you can’t continue with your search while working for me. In fact, I might be able to help. I know someone who is excellent at finding people. He’s the one who ran the security check on you last night.”
“It’s,” she hesitated. “Complicated.”
Rafe narrowed his eyes. “And you don’t trust me enough to explain how or why or who.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Fair enough.”
He approached and crouched beside her. Kiko watched him but no longer appeared distressed, and he slipped his fingers through the dog’s thick fur until he’d linked his hand with Larkin’s. He could feel the leap and surge of their connection the instant they touched. Though he continued to reject the possibility that it was The Inferno, he couldn’t deny something bound them together, something deep and powerful and determined.
“Here’s what I suggest,” he said softly. “Let’s do what we told my mother and Nonna we’d do. Let’s take this one day at a time. We’ll also give my suggestion a shot and get to know each other a little better. You tell me about yourself. Or at least, as much as you’re comfortable telling me. And I’ll reciprocate.”
She peeked up at him. “An even swap? Story for story?”
“Sounds fair.”
She considered for a minute before nodding. “Okay. Who goes first?”
“We’ll flip for it. Winner’s choice.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Agreed?”
She considered for an instant, then nodded. “Agreed.”
Satisfied to have them back on course, he released her hand and stood. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we throw together a simple meal, open a bottle of wine and sit outside and enjoy the evening? I think we’ll find it more comfortable to reveal personal details in the dark.”
“Definitely.”
They worked in concert after that. He grilled up most of the portion of the steak he hadn’t fed Kiko while Larkin threw together a salad. Then he nabbed a bottle of wine, a pair of glasses and a corkscrew on the way out of the kitchen. He set everything on the glass-and-redwood table on his patio. “There’s some crackers in the cupboard and cheese in the fridge,” he called to Larkin. “Oh, and Kiko will want the last of the beef that’s in there. Middle shelf.”
“She will, will she?”
“Absolutely. I’m sure that’s what I heard her just say.”
Larkin appeared in the doorway. “Kiko talks now?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What? She doesn’t talk to you? Ever since you left this morning, I haven’t been able to get her to shut up.”
To his satisfaction, the final vestiges of distress leached from Larkin’s body. While she carried the last of the food to the table, he opened the cabernet and set it aside to breathe. Then he fed Kiko, who gave a contented grunt and settled down closest to where Rafe stood, no doubt hoping for another treat in the near future.
