Robin Kaye Bundle

by Robin Kaye

  Mike’s mother took the hint. “Excuse me. I’m going to the ladies’ room to check my lipstick. Rita, would you mind showing me the way?”

  “Sure, I’d be happy to.” Rita giggled and squeezed Mike’s bicep.

  Mike stood and disentangled himself from Rita. After watching them leave, he wove his way through the tables and stopped at Annabelle’s side. “May I speak to you in private?” He didn’t wait for her response, but simply grabbed her crutches and pulled her chair out before helping her up. He tucked her to his side, turned, and considered taking her to the wine cellar, but if the tension running through her was anger, breakage could be a problem. No need to arm an angry Italian woman, he’d seen enough of them to know when to play it safe.

  Mike led her into Vinny’s office, closed and locked the door, and offered her a chair in front of the scarred metal desk. He went around to the other side, opened a bottom drawer, and removed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He held it up. “Can I get you a drink?”

  She shook her head even though she looked as if she could use a good belt. Mike grabbed a coffee cup that had been left on the desk, poured the contents into the trash can, and filled it with four fingers of Jack. He raised the glass in silent toast and sent a quick prayer for protection to both his ego and his heart before draining it.

  Annabelle wrung the napkin she still held in her hands because Mike hadn’t given her time to put it down before he’d practically forced her away from the table. She could only imagine what the family thought. She wasn’t sure if upon her return she’d be congratulated or condemned.

  Mike swallowed what had to be a hell of an after-burn. She wasn’t much of a drinker, as evidenced by the wedding, but she had done shots once. After the first of many shots she remembered feeling as if she could light a cigarette with her breath, and after the last, she didn’t remember anything.

  Mike rounded the desk and leaned against the front of it, keeping the bottle and mug close at hand.

  She had to tilt her head to see his face. “What was it you needed to talk to me about that was so important you felt the need to remove me from my—”

  “Date?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t invite Ben to join the family dinner. I didn’t even know he would be here. My mother arranged it.”

  “Not without Ben’s help.”

  “So?” She let go of everything—she stuck the memory of Mike and the puttana someplace in a lockbox in the back of her mind to deal with at a later date… or not.

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “We?”

  “Yes, you and me.”

  “Why do we have to do anything? We can just go back and pretend we never saw each other.” Mike didn’t seem to like that idea if the grimace on his face was anything to go by. “Okay, how ’bout you do something. You, being a doctor, can tell my mother I felt ill. She’ll have to believe you. I’ll grab a cab home, and then you can do whatever you want to do with your own date.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. There’s no way I’m going to let you stick me with having to deal with everyone alone.”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, you were hardly alone, and you seemed to be handling her just fine.”

  “Her name is Rita. She was after Nick for a long time. Since he got married, it looks as if she’s made me her latest target.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s all you have to say? She’s a beautiful woman, and she’s interested in me…”

  Mike was attractive and nice, and any woman in her right mind would be falling all over herself to get to him. It didn’t mean she wanted to hear about it. “I know you can get any girl you want.”

  “Obviously not. Since the only girl I want is you. And for some reason, you’re making this whole ‘getting’ thing not only difficult but frustrating.” He moved forward and put his hands on the arms of her chair so that they were practically nose to nose. “What’s it gonna be, Annabelle. Me or Ben?”

  “Very funny.” Her eyes stung, and she could swear that vein in her forehead was popping out. Yeah, it was the only thing she and Julia Roberts had in common—a vein that popped out when they were really mad or about to cry. Right now, she wasn’t sure if she was mad or if she was about to cry. Maybe both.

  “You think this is a joke?” His voice seemed deeper than usual. He was so close, his heat warmed through her cotton sweater.

  “Isn’t it? Like I’m the only girl you want. Right. Why don’t you leave me alone, and go back to your date?”

  “You’re serious? That’s just great.” He stood and stepped away from her. “I’m either totally inept, or you’re incredibly difficult. Here I am trying to tell you that I’m hung up on you in a big way, and you’re telling me to get lost.”

  Annabelle pushed her chair back and rose. She couldn’t stand being still, and if she was going to fight with him, she was going to do it standing. “What?”

  “You’re going to make me repeat it, aren’t you? You are difficult.”

  She stepped into his personal space. “Hey, if I’m so difficult, why are you bothering?”

  “I think I love you.”

  Luckily, he didn’t give her time to say anything before he kissed her. He’d probably bust something if she told him he thought wrong. She was pretty sure he’d come to his senses eventually and come to that conclusion on his own. After all, he was the smart one. She might as well have been one of Pavlov’s dogs. Mike only had to be near her for her mind to shut down and her body to take over. Maybe her hormones were to blame. Whatever it was that caused it, the effect was spontaneous heat. More heat than she’d ever experienced with anyone before. Before she knew it, her mouth opened beneath his, her tongue fought for control of the kiss, her chest heaved, and warmth flooded her abdomen and all parts south. As for all parts north—they felt as if her skin had shrunk like a favorite sweater in a heavy-duty washer on hot. Real hot. Too hot to handle.

  She opened her eyes and found Mike had his eyes opened too. Like he was making sure she wouldn’t disappear, like he wanted to watch her reaction to him, like he was nervous about it.

  The nervousness didn’t last long, because when he pulled away, he wore a smug smile. “Maybe Rita did me a favor after all. Now, at least, I know you care about me enough to be jealous—”

  She slammed her hands against Mike’s chest and pushed him away. “I am not jealous—”

  He caught her hands and held them behind her back, which pushed her front against his. “You’re arrogant.”

  “Yeah, and I’m right. You are so easy to read. Whenever you get mad or upset, that vein in your forehead sticks out. I don’t want Rita. The only person I thought about when I was stuck sitting with her was you. You’re the only one I want, so you can calm down now. Wanna know what I think?”

  She pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms between them. She would have tapped her toe if she could. Damn boot. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “I think we need a united front. We need to tell our families that we’re together.”

  “You have no idea what you’re going to unleash if my mother knows we’re together. I told Mama we were keeping it light.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind.”

  “My mother’s goal in life is to get me married off, and she’d love to have a doctor in the family. She’s a hypochondriac—you’d save her a fortune in medical bills. Believe me when I say you don’t want to go there.”

  He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms and legs in front of him, and stared into her eyes so hard Annabelle wondered if he saw more than she knew. She really wished she’d paid more attention when they were talking about body language on all those news programs. The whole crossed arms thing wasn’t giving her any warm, fuzzy feelings.

  “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to go there.”

  “Mike, I don’t know what it is you want—”

  “You don’t?”

  Okay, so she was sup
posed to do what? Become a mind reader? The only thing she could read right now was he was angry bordering on furious. Did he want to stir up a hornet’s nest? Put them under a microscope for all to inspect? “Do you think this is the best time to dissect”— she pointed to him and then herself—“this?”

  He set the mug on the desk with a thud. “Maybe you need to take some time and think about what it is you want from…”—he pointed to her and then himself—“this.”

  “What did I do to make you angry at me? I’m trying to help you out here. I’m trying to warn you about the consequences of your actions. If my mother thinks there’s something serious between us, we’ll be hounded until you run shrieking into the night about being railroaded into marriage.”

  “Why are you trying to hide the fact that we’re together?”

  Mike stepped forward. She stepped back. He was well past angry now. They did the two-step until Annabelle backed into the wall. They were nose to nose. He turned red. Her vein throbbed in time with her foot. He licked his lips, and her eyes widened.

  She knew she had to explain herself. “You, me, this… thing between us. I thought it was—”

  “Sex.”

  “Hey, don’t give me that. I told you I liked you a lot, and I do.”

  “Yeah, but I just upped the stakes. I love you.”

  “Hold on. You said you think you love me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

  “You hardly know me. I’m not so great, ya know. You said yourself I’m difficult. And I have bad luck. My first boyfriend died, and my second almost got killed.”

  “How?”

  “I caught him doing the makeup lady next to a dead body. He was lucky there were no sharp instruments around.”

  “Why are you trying to talk me out of this? Is the thought of me being in love with you so terrible?”

  He was too hot, too close, too nice, too dangerous. “No. I just don’t know if I’m capable of falling in love with anyone ever again. I don’t know if I want to take that chance.”

  “I’m no expert, but I don’t think falling in love is something you choose. I didn’t wake up one morning and think, I’m going to fall in love with Annabelle Ronaldi today—it just happened.”

  “Have you ever been in love before?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know? Maybe you just like me a lot. Maybe you’re mistaking lust for love. It happens. They even write songs about it.”

  “Look. I’m not expecting you to feel the same, but I would like you to go back in there with me to tell everyone we’re together. Don’t worry about your mother. I can handle her.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I can.”

  There was a noise outside the office door. A smile transformed Mike’s face. “You might not have much choice. It sounds as if we have an audience.”

  Mike reached over, opened the door, and exposed a strawberry blonde woman with the same gray eyes as his—she had to be his mother, Annabelle’s mother, and Vinny with his arm around a bleached blonde woman. If Annabelle had to guess, she’d say it was Vinny’s wife, Mona. Fabulous.

  Vinny stepped forward. “So, what’s the deal wit you two? We came to see if you need help. You got everything under control here, Mikey?”

  Mike didn’t look as if he believed him, but he didn’t look angry either. “Thanks, Vin, we’re good. Aren’t we, Belle?”

  Her stomach started churning again; all she could do was nod.

  Mike put his arm around her. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, Annabelle Ronaldi. Belle, this is my mum, Colleen Flynn.”

  “Annabelle, lovely to meet you.”

  Annabelle grabbed Mike’s coffee cup and drained it. She choked on the after-burn. She should have known better.

  Mike smiled and patted her on the back.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She croaked.

  Mike’s mother came forward. “Annabelle, are you feeling all right?”

  If her head weren’t swimming so badly and her stomach weren’t threatening to rid itself of the liquid fire she just swallowed, she’d almost think this was comical. “Thank you, I’m fine.”

  Mike gave her that diagnostician look, the same one he gave her when she ripped apart her ankle. Sheesh, sometimes hanging with a doctor was annoying. It wasn’t helping that she was slowly but surely dying of embarrassment.

  “I probably should have eaten something before I left home, but I’m afraid it takes me longer to do everything since I hurt my ankle. I was even late to Mass.”

  Mike didn’t look the least bit repentant.

  Richie joined the throng outside the office door. Vinny clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “I’ll just put our tables together, and we can get to know each other. Whada’ya say?”

  Everyone must have agreed because he and the woman next to him scurried off. Richie put his arm around Mama—who’d been strangely silent—and smiled at Mike’s mom. “Come on, ladies. I’ll walk you back to the table. Mike, Annabelle, we’ll see you in a minute.”

  Mike ushered his mother out and passed her off. “Thanks, Rich.” He shut the door. “That wasn’t so bad. Was it?” He kissed her forehead. “Now, come on. Everyone’s waiting for us, and you need to get something to eat. You scared me there for a minute. You’re not much of a drinker, are you?”

  Chapter 10

  WHEN MIKE AND ANNABELLE RETURNED TO THE TABLE, there was no place for them to sit together. He’d be damned if he was going to sit alone, or worse yet, sit with Rita while Annabelle sat with Ben.

  “Rita, I want to introduce you to my girlfriend’s boss. I’m sure he’d love to hear all about your work. He owns an art gallery.”

  Rita smiled up at him. “Oh, I’d love to meet him. We’ll have so much in common. You know, I’m considered something of an artist myself.”

  “I can tell. I don’t know how you do what you do. It’s definitely an art.”

  Mike helped Rita out of her chair and turned to Annabelle. “Have a seat. This will just take a moment.”

  Rita made a few adjustments to her dress to show off her assets and nodded at Mike, who was only too happy to dump her on his nemesis. He walked her over to where Ben was seated.

  “Ben, I’d like you to meet my friend Rita.”

  Ben stood and gave Mike a look that was tantamount to conceding the race for Annabelle—today at least. “Nice to meet you, Rita.” He took her hand in his to shake, but didn’t release it.

  “Rita, this is Ben Walsh.” Mike pulled out her chair while Ben held her hand as his eyes made the trip from Rita’s cleavage to her Care Bear belly button ring.

  Mike left Ben to his meal and his consolation prize and went back to Annabelle. She and his mother were chatting. The only thing between them was his empty chair. “There, Ben should be occupied for a while.” Mike sat, put his arm around Annabelle, and kissed her temple.

  She took a sip of water and gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “Rita is an artist?”

  Mike couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “You might say that.”

  “What exactly does she do?”

  He held Annabelle’s hand, studying her manicure. “She does women’s nails and paints little pictures on them sometimes.” Mike watched her try unsuccessfully not to laugh.

  “That really is cruel.”

  “To whom, Ben or Rita?” He figured being stuck with Rita was a lot less painful than the other things he’d contemplated doing to Ben. “Ben doesn’t look as if he has a problem with it.”

  “No. I just hope he doesn’t give me a hard time tomorrow at work.”

  Annabelle’s mother whispered to her aunt Rose, all the while keeping one eye on her and Mike—probably making notes for the wedding.

  She’d never noticed before how often Mike touched her. It was as if being under Mama’s watchful gaze gave every brush of his hand meaning. Every time he spoke to her, played with her hair, or put his arm around her, she felt as if she was being judged.

  She w
anted to strangle Mike for giving Mama a reason to start the constant questions, the constant advice, and the constant annoyance she received when she so much as went on a date. After this demonstration, Mama would start shopping for a new mother-of-the-bride dress as soon as the stores opened tomorrow. At least Annabelle no longer lived with her parents. She’d have to take a lesson from Becca and screen her calls.

  Annabelle tried to pay attention to the dinner conversation buzzing between her parents and Mike’s mother. The easy camaraderie between Vinny, Mona, and Richie—she’d have to find out what was up with that. And the curious looks from Aunt Rose.

  Mike, to his credit, stood up to his second interrogation—this one by Papa—the smooth yet insistent pressure by Mama, and the gypsy stare by Aunt Rose.

  Annabelle tried unsuccessfully to shut out the echo of Mike’s words in her mind. “I think I love you.” Dear Lord, had he known how badly she didn’t want to hear that, he never would have told her.

  Why couldn’t he keep things simple? He came over, he cooked, they ate, they talked, they had sex, sometimes they slept, sometimes they didn’t, and then he left. It was the perfect relationship before he dropped the “L” bomb.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t feel something for him, because she did. She just did an admirable job avoiding even thinking about it.

  She took a sip of her wine and moved the food around her plate. Mike watched and made her feel guilty for not eating. She couldn’t possibly eat any more. She felt sick, her ankle throbbed, and she just wanted to curl up in bed with an ice pack and forget today ever happened.

  Mike kept checking the time.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I have to get back to the hospital. Someone’s covering for me, and I told her I’d be back by three. It’s already one thirty, and I want to take you home and help you get settled in.”

  “Are you sure?” She was really glad he wanted to. Her mother wouldn’t get bent out of shape if the news of her leaving early came from Mike.

  “Yeah, especially since I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again. My work schedule between now and Memorial Day is more insane than usual, since I’m covering for people in exchange for the weekend off.”