by Pamela Yaye
“Not much. Now, back to your business proposition—”
“Come l’aragosta era? Fido di che sia stato anche il suo amare, Sig. Morretti.”
Chef Gambro, an overweight man of fifty, bounded over to the booth and clapped Nicco vigorously on the back. Speaking in Italian, his voice stern, but his manner playful, he explained that he was on a date and didn’t want to be interrupted. Nicco saw Jariah tense, then raise a perfectly arched eyebrow, and wondered if she’d understood what he’d said.
Gambro turned to Jariah and took her hand. Lifting it to his mouth, he reverently kissed her palm. Gazing at her adoringly, he complimented her effusively in his native tongue, but before Nicco could answer on Jariah’s behalf she responded—in Italian. Her tone was refreshingly light, but she spoke in a voice as lively and as animated as Chef Gambro’s. Dumbfounded, Nicco leaned forward in his seat, unable to believe his ears.
“Grazie per un pasto meraviglioso, Chef Gambro voi. Tutto era spettacolare, e il vitello era il migliore che abbia mai avuto...”
Nicco listened, enraptured, and realized that Jariah Brooks was as gracious as she was kind. She thanked Chef Gambro for a delicious meal and promised to return soon for more of his spectacular Italian cooking. The chef beamed, and when he swaggered back to the kitchen seconds later, his chest puffed up with pride.
“You speak Italian?” Nicco asked, regaining the use of his tongue.
“Yes, and Spanish, as well.”
“That’s impressive.”
“I had no choice. My parents forced me to take foreign language classes for years.”
“That must have been a total drag.”
“It was. My parents had very high expectations for me, and...” Jariah winced, as if she had a toothache, and her expression turned somber. “I owe all of my success to them.”
Silence settled at the table like an unwelcomed guest.
“Tell me more about you background, Jariah.”
The corners of her mouth tightened. “What do you want to know that we haven’t already discussed tonight?”
Everything! he thought, draping an arm over the back of the booth. Do you feel the chemistry between us? Have you ever had a summer fling? Would you like to?
To keep from reaching across the table, and caressing her skin, Nicco picked up his glass tumbler and downed the rest of his cognac. He started to ask Jariah about her career aspirations, but she interrupted him and repeated the same question she’d posed earlier—the one he’d conveniently forgot. Nicco was enjoying their conversation, and wasn’t ready to discuss his business proposition just yet. He wanted to hear more about her family, what she liked doing in her free time, and the kind of guys she dated. Not because he was interested in her, but because he planned to hire her, and felt it was important to know as much about her as possible, he had convinced himself.
“Did I get the account manager position?”
Nicco heard the vulnerability in her voice, saw the twinkle in her eyes and felt the impulse to lie. But he knew there’d be hell to pay if he upset Mrs. Reddick, and the HR Director was dead-set against hiring Jariah. Besides, he had something better in mind for her, and couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he shared the good news. “No, Jariah, I’m sorry, you didn’t.”
Her smile faded. “Why not? My interview went so well.”
“You’re right, it did,” he conceded, troubled by the pained expression on her face. “But we decided to hire someone with more experience.”
Jariah swallowed hard. “I understand.”
Driven by compassion, Nicco reached across the table and touched her hand. Jariah jerked away, as if he’d zapped her with a stun gun, and pressed herself flat against the booth.
“You invited me down here to tell me I didn’t get the job?”
He heard the accusation in her voice and rushed to explain. “No, of course not. I need an executive assistant, and thought you might be interested in the position.”
Her eyes tapered, and a scowl stained her lush, red lips. “I’m not.”
“Don’t you want to hear the job description before you turn it down?”
“No, Mr. Morretti, I don’t.”
“Please, call me, Nicco.”
“No offense, Mr. Morretti, but I have no desire to be a glorified receptionist.”
He paused to organize his thoughts. Jariah’s reaction was unsettling, and he didn’t understand why she was glaring at him. “I don’t need a receptionist. I already have one,” he explained. “I need someone to manage my schedule, accompany me to various meetings, liaise with clients and respond to my correspondence in a timely and professional manner.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Let me finish, there’s more,” he said calmly, though his temperature raised a notch. “My older brother and I oversee the day-to-day operations of Morretti Incorporated, but my real passion is the restaurant business. I love acquiring struggling establishments and turning them around, and I need someone with passion and conviction to help me.”
The waiter arrived, refilled their wineglasses and cleared the table of their dinner plates. He departed seconds later, but Nicco didn’t speak. He thought of telling a joke to lighten the mood, but decided against it when he saw her sneak a glance at her silver watch. Jariah looked bored, wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the tension hovering above their table was suffocating.
“I travel considerably for business, and have trips to Los Angeles, Chicago and Washington planned this year. Also,” he paused, to allow sufficient time for his words to sink in, “Morretti Inc. has numerous opportunities for employee advancement, and the next time there’s a vacancy in the accounting department I would personally recommend you.”
“Sorry, but I’m still not interested.” Jariah stood, purse in hand, and eyed him coolly. “Thanks for dinner. Good night.”
Determined to prolong their time together, Nicco slid out of the booth and boldly stepped in front of her, getting so close he could smell her strawberry-flavored lip gloss. “Let’s discuss the position further over a round of drinks,” he proposed, gesturing across the room. Every stool at the bar was taken, but he’d find a seat for her. Hell, he’d clear the entire bar if he had to. It was obvious Jariah was disappointed and upset, but Nicco didn’t understand why. She should be jumping up and down for joy, not tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and shooting evil daggers at him. “Hear me out. You won’t be sorry.”
“I can’t support my daughter on minimum wage.”
Nicco gave her arm a light squeeze. Her skin was soft, and her spicy, floral perfume aroused his senses. And his erection. “I’d never pay someone with your qualifications seven dollars an hour,” he said honestly. “Your salary would be sixty-thousand dollars, plus benefits, and three weeks paid vacation.”
Nicco studied her reaction, and tried to surmise what she was thinking. Her face was blank, impossible to read, but he knew she was impressed. Had to be. He was offering her a great job package, and the opportunity to work at a successful, world-renowned company. “Take some time to think it over.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
“I think there is. I spoke to your references this morning, and—”
Her eyes doubled in size. “You did?”
“Yes, and your old boss at First National Trust Bank gave you a glowing recommendation,” he said, nodding his head. “He said you were the best accountant he’d ever had, and one of the smartest, too. And now that I know you speak Italian, I’m even more convinced that you’re the right person for the executive assistant position.”
Too choked up to speak, Jariah stared down at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow her into the ground. The weight of her disappointment was crushing, so heavy she couldn’t look Nicco in the eye. Convinced she’d landed the a
ccount manager’s job, she’d imagined herself signing the contracts at Dolce Vita, and toasting her success over a glass of rose champagne. But it wasn’t to be.
Could this evening get any worse? What’s he going to do next? Ask me to do his laundry? Jariah shook off her thoughts and her feelings of utter despair. This wouldn’t be the first time a man had ruined her night, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time. Agreeing to meet Nicco was a mistake, and as Jariah blinked back the tears that formed in her eyes, she regretted ever coming to the restaurant to meet with him.
“Are you sure you can’t join me at the bar for a glass of merlot?”
Scared her emotions would break free if she spoke, Jariah shook her head and opened her purse in search of her keys.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No, thank you. I can manage.”
Nicco leaned in close and grazed his fingers across her bare shoulder. A thousand volts of electricity rushed through her body. For a moment, Jariah lost herself in the depths of his deep brown eyes. She feared he was going to kiss her right then and there in the middle of the dining room, and didn’t know whether to run or hide.
Clapping and spirited singing rang out behind her, and just like that, their spell was broken. Turning on her heels, Jariah blew out of the dining room at lightning-fast speed. Anxious to put as much distance as possible between herself and Nicco Morretti, she marched briskly through the restaurant, and out the front doors into the starry, summer night.
Minutes later, Jariah was sitting inside of her Dodge Plymouth with her face buried in her hands. Her thoughts were on dinner and the time she’d spent getting to know Nicco Morretti. From the moment they’d been seated in the restaurant, he’d been warm and complimentary, and even agreed that she’d nailed her job interview on Monday. But instead of offering her the account manager position, he’d insulted her.
“What a jerk,” Jariah grumbled, putting on her seat belt. “He must do recreational drugs because his business proposition is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard!
Jariah jammed the key in the ignition and turned the lock. The engine coughed and sputtered but didn’t start. “Oh, no, not again.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. Feeling calmer, she tried the key again. And again. On the third try, the engine roared to life, and Jariah sighed in relief.
As she drove out of the restaurant parking lot, she spotted Nicco Morretti standing in front of Dolce Vita, lighting a cigar. Smoke billowed around him, adding to his mysterious, bad-boy allure. Pretending she didn’t see him, she returned her attention to the road and stepped on the gas pedal. His words played in her mind, wounding her afresh.
You showed a lot of poise and professionalism during your interview, but we decided to hire someone with more experience in the accounting field.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but Jariah furiously slapped them away. She didn’t have time to cry; she had a daughter to take care of and a full-time job to find. Jariah told herself that she was stressing over nothing, that she’d be gainfully employed in no time, but her doubts and frustrations remained.
Sweat drenched her skin, and the fear of losing everything she held dear—her independence, her home and custody of her daughter—burned inside the walls of her chest. What am I doing wrong? Jariah wondered, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. How many more interviews do I have to go on before someone hires me? Jariah didn’t know what she was going to do when the money in her emergency fund ran out, but there was one thing she knew for sure: the next time she saw Nicco Morretti she was running the other way.
Chapter 5
Laughter, pop music and the heady scent of fresh strawberries drifted out the kitchen window in Jariah’s townhome. Despite the cheerful atmosphere inside and the mouth-watering aromas sweetening the night air, she dragged herself up the stone walkway. Not because she was tired, but because she didn’t want to answer Sadie’s incessant questions about her business meeting with Nicco Morretti.
At the front door, Jariah shook off her melancholy mood and fussed with her hair. She didn’t want Sadie to know that she’d been crying, so as she unlocked the door she arched her bent shoulders and plastered a smile on her face.
Inside the kitchen, fixing themselves a snack were Sadie and Jariah’s cousin, Felicia. The thirty-year-old divorcee had a flamboyant personality, and was such a social butterfly, she had no trouble making friends. Or meeting handsome, successful men, either. Her silky hair was touched with honey-blonde streaks, and her zebra-print body suit was so tight, Jariah wondered if she could breathe.
“Hey, you guys, what’s up?” Jariah dumped her things on the end table and joined her friends at the breakfast bar. It was covered with junk food, movies and fashion magazines.
“We’re just making a late-night snack.” Felicia opened the tub of ice-cream and dunked her spoon inside. “Do you want a chocolate sundae with caramel syrup?”
“No thanks. I just ate.” Jariah sat down on a stool and plucked a strawberry out of the fruit bowl. The oversized glass dish was a gift from her mom for her birthday. Every time she looked at it her heart ached. “Felicia, I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you had a date.”
“I did, but the guy turned out to be a dud, so I faked a migraine and came home.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
“Not to me,” she chirped. “If the chemistry isn’t there, I leave. No exceptions.”
Sadie piped up. “I agree. I don’t have time to waste with Mr. Wrong or Mr. Maybe. My biological clock is ticking so loud my mother can hear it all the way in Tennessee!”
The cousins hooted and laughed.
“How was Ava?” Jariah glanced up at the staircase to the second floor, where Ava’s bedroom was, and imagined her adorable daughter curled up in her Dora the Explorer bed sleeping soundly. “I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Not at all. She fell asleep twenty minutes after you left.” Sadie ripped open a bag of Doritos chips and popped one into her mouth. “Since Ava was already in her pj’s, I carried her to her room and tucked her in.”
“Thank you, girl. You always take such great care of my baby.”
“It’s my pleasure. I love Ava. She’s smart and saucy just like me!” When Sadie laughed, her short, thick curls tumbled around her pretty oval face. “How did things go tonight?”
“Yes, do tell.” Felicia faked a swoon. “I love Italian men, and when Sadie told me you had a date with Nicco Morretti, I almost creamed my panties!”
“It wasn’t a date. He wanted to discuss a business proposition with me.”
“Did you get the account manager job?” Sadie asked.
“No. They gave it to someone with more experience.”
Felicia put her bowl down on the breakfast bar. “I don’t understand. The guy invited you to his restaurant just to tell you that you didn’t get the job? Wow, that’s cold!”
“He wants me to be his assistant,” Jariah explained, still unable to believe it herself.
“I bet that’s not all he wants,” Felicia drawled, eyebrows raised.
“Ignore her, girl. Congratulations. When do you start?”
“I don’t. I told him thanks, but no thanks.”
Sadie wore a confused face. “Why? Working for Nicco Morretti would be a huge coup.”
“I didn’t bust my butt in college just to end up being a glorified secretary.”
“What’s wrong with being a secretary?” Felicia asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Nothing, but it’s not the right career for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I went to school for accounting, not to fetch coffee and answer phones.”
“I was a receptionist back in Chattanooga,” Felicia said, pointing at her chest. “I made decent money, and I
was employee of the month twice.”
“I wasn’t trying to imply that I’m better than you—”
Felicia sucked her teeth. “Sure you weren’t.”
Jariah felt trapped, like a rabbit cornered by a coyote in the woods. She feared if she didn’t apologize to Felicia, their relationship would be irretrievably damaged, but before she could even think about what to say, Sadie spoke up.
“Tell us more about the executive assistant position.” Leaning forward on her stool, her expression curious, she propped a hand under her chin and waited expectantly. “What’s the job description? Is there a signing bonus? Do you have to work evenings and weekends?”
Reluctantly, Jariah recounted her conversation with Nicco Morretti. The night was a blur, clouded by intense gazes, blinding chemistry and disappointments. The only thing she remembered clearly was the moment Nicco had touched her. His hands were warm, strong and they set her body ablaze. “After he told me I didn’t get the account manager position, I kinda zoned out, so I don’t remember the specifics of the EA position besides the sixty-thousand-dollar salary.”
“Sixty-thousand dollars is great money.”
“Amen to that,” Felicia quipped. “Shoot, if you won’t take the job, I will!”
“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the offer, especially in light of the rent increase.”
Jariah frowned and shot Sadie a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you get a letter from the condominium board yesterday?”
“No, why? What did it say?”
“On September 1st, our rent and condo fees are increasing by eight percent.”
Felicia threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, great, there goes my mani-pedi money.”
It’s been so long, I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon, Jariah thought sadly. I wish I could get my hair done, and update my wardrobe, too, but I just can’t afford it.
