by Susan Meier
“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 a
nd 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 w
ant 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.”
