“Huh.” He rested one hand on his hip, pushing back the suit jacket and giving me a tantalizing view of the way his shirt skimmed over his muscled torso. “If I remember right, you told me I wasn’t cocky, I was sure about the quality of my work.”
A little fizzle of surprised delight began to dance inside me. Vincent remembered what I’d said that night, when we’d still been in the flirt and spar portion of the evening. It wouldn’t have shocked me if he’d recalled the way my boobs looked, or how I’d sucked him off in the shower, but that he’d quoted back to me something completely unrelated to sex made me happy.
“Maybe I’ve reconsidered my opinion,” I countered. “Maybe I uncovered more information and decided that the term cocky was more accurate.”
Jeff gave a little cough. “Just a reminder that there are a few other people sitting here, Amanda. Including your mother.”
Mom laughed. “Jeff, dear, don’t stop her. I’m fascinated by this conversation.”
“Yeah, babe. Shhhhh. If we’re real quiet, they might forget we’re in listening range and say something really good.” Giff leaned forward, his eyes sparkling.
Vincent chuckled. “While I’d love to entertain you all, I promised my mother I’d help with the cutting of the cake, and Ava’s ready to do that now.” He touched my shoulder, and the feel of his fingers burned through the thin silk of my dress. “Maybe we can talk in a little while? Once the cake is cut and served, I’m pretty much done for the night. I can actually relax and have some fun.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I rode with my mother—we have a hotel room in Ocean City. So when she’s ready to go, I have to leave, too.”
“Don’t be silly, Amanda,” Mom interjected. “I’m sure you can get a ride with Giff and Jeff. They’re staying at the same place we are, and they’ll probably hang around here a little longer.”
“Of course, you can ride back with us, cookie.” Giff waggled his eyebrows at me. “Unless you get a better offer.”
“Exactly.” My mother nodded. “Listen to Giff, sweetie.”
“That sounds like a dangerous plan.” I glared at both my mom and my friend. They weren’t helping with my avoid-being-alone-with-Vincent-at-all-costs plan. Of course, they didn’t know about the plan, but still . . . it felt as though they were both throwing me to the wolves.
“I’ll find you in a little bit.” Vincent’s fingers trailed lightly over the back of my neck. “We can have a glass of wine . . . and catch up.”
The entire table was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my response. I was trapped, both by the eyes watching me and by my own wants. The sensible Amanda who’d arrived tonight determined not to let Vincent DiMartino get to her again was quickly losing ground to the reckless Amanda who only wanted to feel his hands and lips on her body again.
“Fine.” I exhaled. “If I’m still here when you’re done, that is. I don’t know. I might be tired and decide to go back to the hotel with Mom.”
He regarded me steadily. “I hope you don’t. I hope you’re here.” He leaned down and breathed one word meant for my ears only. “Please.”
That single syllable was my undoing. I ran my tongue over my lips, closed my eyes and nodded.
Mom left right after the cake was cut, claiming she was tired. When I made a half-hearted attempt to go with her, she shook her head.
“Stay, sweetheart. You don’t want to hurt Liam and Ava’s feelings by cutting out early. Enjoy yourself with Giff and Jeff . . . and whoever else might come along.” She winked at me.
“Real subtle, Mom. I’ll see you at the hotel in a little bit.”
“Amanda, you know what a deep sleeper I am. If you come in late, it won’t bother me a bit. Just text me if you decide to crash somewhere else, so we can work out driving home tomorrow.”
I bit back a sigh. Having a mother who was so enlightened and easy-going was usually something I bragged about, but just now, I thought it might be a better idea if she held me to a stricter standard.
“Cheer up, cookie.” Giff slung an arm around my neck. “Mama didn’t abandon you among strangers. She wants you to stay and have fun, because this is a party. Put a smile on that pretty face and have another drink.”
“I’ll get you a scotch,” Jeff volunteered. “And then watch out, because you’re going to get on that dance floor with my baby and me. I know you’ve got moves, Amanda. Let’s show everyone else.”
I laughed and stood on my tiptoes to kiss Giff’s cheek as Jeff headed toward the bar. “You’ve got yourself a winner there, you know? I adore Jeff. Now that Ava and Liam are safely married and you’ve pulled off another amazing wedding, I think it’s time for you two to take the plunge, like we talked about last summer.”
Giff drew me against him to murmur into my ear. “Oh, it’s all in the works, cookie. Next week, I’m taking my man to dinner in the city. Lacroix.”
“Oooooh, fancy. And pricey.” I rubbed my finger and thumb together.
“Nothing’s too good for him. And have you seen the view from that place? It’s amazing. Our reservation is set for right around sunset, so while we’re having cocktails and admiring the beautiful sky, I’ll be dropping to one knee and asking him for forever.”
“Oh!” I covered my mouth with one hand as tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, my God, Giff. I’m so happy for you both. You both deserve so much happiness.”
He sniffed, and I spied suspicious moisture in his eyes, too. “Thank you, sweetness. Now he’s coming back, so pull it together. I don’t want the secret spoiled.”
“Never.” I kissed him again, this time a big smack right on his lips. “But I better be the first person you call after he says yes.”
“Of course, you will be. Beetle will be on his honeymoon, so you might be the only one at first. But you’re my girl, you know.” He rubbed my arm. “I love you, cookie. And I want you to be happy, too. That’s why I’m going to walk away from you right now . . . even though you might not want me to go.”
I frowned, confused, as Giff winked at me and turned to intercept Jeff, who was walking our way, carrying my drink. But my bewilderment only lasted a few seconds before another arm, thicker and more muscled, wrapped around my shoulders. I pulled back out of instinct, and then I knew it was Vincent. I smelled the faint, enticing aroma of his aftershave, which was just enough to be pleasant without being overbearing.
“You stayed.”
I pivoted slowly to face him, looking up into those dark eyes. “I said I would.” Pausing, I added, “I almost didn’t. I probably shouldn’t have.”
“But you did.” His fingers brushed over my upper arm, where the short sleeve of my dress gave way to bare skin. “I’m glad you did.”
“Why?” I had to ask, just so I could hear him keep talking. On the other hand, if he said what I was afraid he might, I was potentially putting myself into a position where I’d have to make a hard choice.
“Because I wanted to talk to you. Because I like seeing you, talking to you . . .”
“Because you’re thinking we might have a repeat performance of our night together back in August?” I supplied. “Because you’re hoping you could talk me into getting naked with you again?”
“Amanda.” He shook his head. “Did I say that? Did I even hint that I wanted to get you into bed again? I don’t think so.” He quirked an eyebrow. “And you accused me of being cocky.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You’re trying to tell me if I dragged you off into a dark corner of this restaurant right now and unzipped the back of my dress, you’d turn me down?”
Vincent’s lips curled up into a smile. “I don’t know. Want to give it a shot and find out?”
“No.” Of course I did. “I’m not doing that again. We’re not doing that again. We said one night, and we had one night. Besides which, this is your family’s restaurant. What if someone saw us?”
“Aha, so you would do it . . . if this place didn’t belong to my family?” He
braced his hand on the column behind me, effectively caging me in with his arm and body. I aligned my spine with the corner and stared beyond him.
“No, I didn’t say that. I was just pointing out the pitfalls in your plan.”
Vincent snorted. “It wasn’t my plan, sweetheart. You’re the one who brought up the idea. I was just asking you to elaborate.”
“There is no plan. No elaboration.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I said that. You’re right, I was making an assumption, and I shouldn’t have. Maybe you were just being friendly, right? You were just being nice to me.”
He laughed softly. “Amanda, I’m not a nice person. Ask anyone who knows me or who works with me—I’m a son-of-a-bitch.”
He had my head spinning, trying to keep up with the twists of this conversation. I decided to go back to the start. “Why did you want me to stay? Why did it matter to you?”
“Hell if I know.” His candor, coupled with the tone of his voice—a mix of frustration and amusement, charmed me all over again. “The truth is that I’ve been dreading seeing you again.”
“Thanks.” I tried to duck under his arm.
“No, wait.” He snagged my hand. “Amanda, let me finish. I was dreading seeing you again, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since . . . well, since that night. And that’s not what I wanted. It’s not what I want. I told you that I don’t do girlfriends and relationships, and I don’t. I’m not interested.”
For some stupid reason, tears blurred my eyes again, for the second time in fifteen minutes—only this time, they weren’t happy ones. I was frustrated and hurt and pissed off at myself for caring what Vincent thought or said.
“Then let me go.” I shook my hand away from his. “Stop messing with me. I never said I wanted those things, either. I’m not looking for anything long-term.”
“That’s what you said,” Vincent agreed. “But you didn’t bring a date tonight. And you asked Giff if I was bringing a date. You cared about it. Which tells me that maybe you’re not being honest with yourself or with me.”
“Oh, really? Now you’re a good judge of honesty, huh?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And you think you know me that well?”
“Not nearly as well as I’d like to,” he responded, his gaze suddenly sober. “Because if we’re talking about honesty, you should know that when Giff told me that you weren’t bringing anyone to the wedding, I was happy. Relieved. But I was mad at myself for feeling that way.”
I swallowed. “So you’re saying we’re both lying to ourselves?”
He shook his head a little. “Maybe I’m saying we’re both screwed.”
“Wonderful. Just . . . peachy.” I moved faster this time, darting away from him and managing to get past a couple of people to stand alongside the dance floor. Ava and Liam were wrapped in each other’s arms as they swayed. There was a chorus of “awwwws” and a bunch of flashes going off as people snapped photos. I watched them, happy for my friends but all of sudden very sorry for myself.
“Dance with me.”
I heard his voice with a thrill of both dread and need. Vincent’s hand closed on my shoulder, and I turned slowly.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I stared at his chest, not willing yet to look him in the eye.
“Why wouldn’t it be? What’s wrong with two friends dancing at a wedding?”
I shook my head. “But we’re not friends, Vincent. It’s like you just said. We don’t know each other very well. We’re just . . .” I tried to think of a way to word it. “Two people who slept together. Once.”
“I don’t remember sleeping that night.” He ran his hand down my arm, stopping at my wrist.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to show him what that touch was doing to me. “You know what I mean.”
“So we had sex. It was good. Doesn’t mean we have to be weird around each other, right? Matter of fact, that’s exactly what you said to me, that night.”
“I did.” I remembered every minute of that night in vivid color. I wished I didn’t.
“So dancing together wouldn’t be weird, either. If I hadn’t fucked you that night—”
I finally looked up at him. “Seriously? You fucked me?”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Keep your voice down if you don’t want to make explanations to my parents sitting over there.”
I rolled my eyes. I hated complications, and Vincent DiMartino was turning out to be a very big one.
“Anyway, as I was saying, if I hadn’t—excuse me, if we hadn’t—”
I waved my hand. “Fine, I get what you mean. If that night hadn’t happened.”
“Right. Then us dancing together at my sister’s wedding wouldn’t be weird. Some people might think it’s weird if we don’t dance. Two single young people, reasonable attractive . . .”
I raised one eyebrow. “Reasonably attractive? That’s not what you said that night.”
“Ah, you do remember, huh?” The grin widened. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll say what I did that night. The sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever had under me. Is that better?”
It was, and it wasn’t. I turned my head to look away, not wanting him to see anything in my eyes.
“Hey.” He forced me to look up again, two strong fingers under my chin. “There’s a reason I wanted you to be here without a date. Maybe I don’t want to think about it too closely, and maybe you don’t, either, but ignoring what’s between us isn’t going to make it go away. Come on, Amanda. Dance with me. For just one more time, let me put my arms around you. It doesn’t have to be anything more than this. Just one dance.”
Harry Connick, Jr. was crooning, and the lights were low, and the man in front of me was not only incredibly handsome, he was without doubt the best sex I’d ever had. What would it hurt, just one dance?
I let him pull me into his arms, and we moved onto the dance floor. I closed my eyes and hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
She was more beautiful than I’d remembered.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it was the first thought that popped into my head when I spotted Amanda standing in the church after the ceremony, as I walked out behind the rest of my family. She was sitting next to an older woman who I figured had to be her mom. I wanted to stop and say something, to touch her in some way, but it wasn’t the time or the place—not with people pushing along behind me and everyone standing around us.
Once I reached the narthex, I had instant regret that I’d promised my mother I’d go right to the restaurant. If I’d stayed, I would’ve been part of the receiving line and could’ve seen Amanda. But there wasn’t any way I could back out now, so I stalked past all the hugging, squealing women, left the church and drove to Cucina Felice in record time.
The staff we’d left to finish the set up and prep had done an excellent job. There wasn’t much for me to do, other than to supervise a few final details. I’d only been there about fifteen minutes when the first guests showed up—and from that point on, I never stopped moving.
I knew the minute Amanda and her mother arrived, and I snuck glances at their table every once in a while. She was gorgeous, even though her blatant sexy vibe was a little toned down tonight. Her dress was a deep green that set off her dark hair, with a scoop-neck that hinted at the full breasts that I knew were beneath the silky material. It nipped in at the middle, and then it stopped about halfway down her thighs, displaying her legs, which were covered by black stockings.
Now, being a man’s man, I tried not to think about chick clothes. Hell, I didn’t think much about my own clothes, other than knowing that they fit me and were relatively clean. But I also grew up with two sisters, which meant that I knew about shit like stockings and bras—more than just how to get them off a woman. So instantly, when I saw Amanda’s legs, I started wondering if she was wearing pantyhose or stockings and a garter. Just the thought of either of those options sent all the blood in my body racing f
or my dick.
But as much as I wanted to go over and talk to her, I wasn’t off the unofficial family clock yet. The food was still coming out of the kitchen, and for a solid hour, it felt like everyone needed something, whether it was my elderly great-aunt wanting a coffee refill or my cousins asking for extra gravy for the macaroni. I never stopped moving.
I avoided getting close to the table where Amanda and her mother sat with Liam’s mom, her boyfriend, and Giff and Jeff. Once I had a moment to talk with Amanda, I didn’t want to have to rush off.
There was also the fact that I was still debating how to handle the complicated feelings I had about this woman. Over the last week or so, I’d begun to convince myself that she wasn’t that special, that the chemistry between us hadn’t been so incredibly hot. It was only that she was different than my normal hook-ups. Or maybe it was the whole thing about absence and the heart growing fonder. Whatever the case, I’d just blown it all out of proportion. The sex couldn’t have been as mind-blowing as I’d remembered, could it? It was only because I’d broken a dry spell. If we made the mistake of indulging ourselves again, we’d probably be disappointed.
As soon as I’d seen her, all of those rational arguments had vanished like smoke in the wind. I felt a crazy pull toward this woman, the kind of attraction that made a mockery of any attempt to explain it away.
If I’d seen in her eyes that she didn’t feel the same, that she wasn’t having the same internal struggle, I might’ve been able to ignore how I felt. But the raw and naked want I’d seen in her gaze couldn’t be denied. She wanted it as badly as I did. It was just a matter of timing now.
I’d loved every second of sparring with her, egged on by her mother and Giff. For a moment, she’d been a little off her game after blurting out that she loved my cookies. But then she’d come right back, giving me as good as she got, reminding me of what a firebrand she was, and I wanted her all the more.
Now, somehow, I’d persuaded her to dance with me. She was in my arms, even if it was only for one song, and we moved around the dance floor in a small circle as Harry Connick sang an old Frank Sinatra song.
Just Roll With It (A Perfect Dish Book 4) Page 10
