by Joan Kilby
Frustrated, Luke paced some more. At times like this he wished he could lace on his skates and take to the ice—feel the cold air on his face as he raced around the rink, hear the crack of wood on puck as he sunk a slap shot. He stopped abruptly. “That’s it! I’ve got it. An exhibition game. Rangers versus Islanders, all proceeds to the foundation.”
“Okay, now you’re talking.” He could practically see Allan calculating the ticket price by the number of seats in Madison Square Garden. “That’s a great idea.” Allan raised his bottle in salute.
“I’ll call the guys. I know they’ll be glad to help.” Luke’s brain was firing on all cylinders now. “I’ll go on the Mike & Mike show to publicize the game. Ask for donations. Viewers can call in and contribute.”
“I’ll talk to the bank and see if they’ll extend a line of credit.” Allan shut his briefcase and gave Luke a brisk man-hug. “This situation really sucks. But if anyone can pull a rabbit out of the hat, it’s you.”
Luke walked him to the door. He felt better just having a plan of action. “I’m no magician. But I’m going to find a way to make it work.”
Chapter Three
Tina nodded at the uniformed doorman as she entered the opulent lobby of the St. Regis Hotel. Her feet ached from being on them all day and jet lag had her dragging said-aching feet across the marble foyer. She was looking forward to room service, a shower and an early night.
Really? Then why did she regret turning down Luke’s invitation to dinner? Half a dozen times during the day she’d been tempted to run next door and tell him yes, she would love to go out with him. Unfortunately, logic and good sense had won out over her attraction. Men simply couldn’t be trusted, not when their own self-interest was at stake. Oh, she had no reason to distrust Luke. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy. Well, maybe nice was too tame a word for the brawny bar owner. But she’d been fooled before, so thoroughly it had shaken her. Even more than she didn’t trust men, she didn’t trust her own judgment.
On her way to the elevator, she stopped in the hotel convenience store for headache tablets. Fabio’s photo on the cover of a Marie Claire magazine in the rack next to the checkout caught her eye. His arm was around a blonde with acres of tanned skin and a very skimpy bikini as the couple posed on a yacht moored in Monaco. In the background was the very hotel where she’d met him at a fashion shoot. If she looked closely she could even see the window of the suite on the third floor where they’d first made love.
Tina flipped to the story inside. The blonde was a famous model and a member of the British aristocracy who had her own line of cosmetics. Of course she did. There was a brief mention of Fabio’s court case with Tina but it was glossed over as a minor financial dispute with an irate former girlfriend.
A slow burn made her want to crumple the magazine and throw it against the wall. He didn’t deserve to be out having fun, conning another gullible woman into giving him money. How he’d gotten away without a conviction she couldn’t fathom. All the time he swore he loved her, he’d been siphoning off the funds she’d given him for a photography studio—with her name on the deed as a co-owner—into a private bank account in the Bahamas. Fabio had committed the crime but Tina was the one suffering. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
And he’d had the nerve to complain about her weight when he was the cause of her need for sugary, comfort food. She scowled at his smirking photograph. The asshole had deliberately tried to make her feel bad about herself. She wished she had a bombolone. The custard-filled donut would go down really well right now.
She put the magazine back on the rack, muttering to the blonde, “Good luck, bella. You’re going to need it.”
Suddenly the thought of stewing over Fabio alone in her hotel room was intolerable. Especially when she could have spent the evening with Luke, a handsome, sexy man who wanted her for who she was, not what she could do for him. A man who had come to her aid when she needed help. Why had she said no? She deserved to enjoy herself, didn’t she? Was she really going to let her ex stop her from being open to seeing other men? That was only hurting her. She truly, honestly, didn’t care about him anymore so why did she care if he was out there having a good time? Let him. Someday karma would have him twisting in the wind where he belonged.
Tina rummaged through her purse and found Luke’s card. She tapped it against her palm, some of her doubts and fears seeping back in. What did she really know about him? He’d tried to fool her briefly into thinking he was a handyman. On the other hand, he’d told her the truth before he left, and he had nothing to gain. He’d kept up the ruse so he could spend time with her. She was flattered. He made her feel good about herself. As she should.
Bottom line, she really wanted to see him. Before she could second-guess herself any further, she found a quiet corner of the lobby and punched in his number.
“Hello?” he answered on the second ring, sounding impatient or frustrated. Maybe even angry.
She wondered what the rest of his life was like. Running a bar must have its own set of challenges. Too many drunks, not enough customers…? Whatever it was that bothered him, maybe they could take each other’s minds off their problems.
In the boutique, he’d teased her about pretending to be someone else, and hearing him laugh had been the bright spot of her whole day. Perhaps she could return the favor.
“Hey, cowboy,” she drawled. “It’s Tina, from the boutique.” She did her best to mimic a western accent. Spaghetti western, maybe. It must sound silly with her Italian accent. But when she was in Rome, being Bettina Borlenghi, head of a famous atelier, she never got to act silly. This was fun. “Do you still want to,” –what was the term? “How do you say, chow down with me?”
His deep laugh rumbled in her ear. “Well now, I reckon I do, little lady,” he said in a passable imitation of John Wayne. She could almost see him tip an imaginary ten-gallon hat. “Where and when should I pick you up?”
“Meet me at the boutique in half an hour.” She forgot to put on an accent and her words came out in a rush. “We’ll go somewhere from there.” Taking a breath, she added, “Don’t be late. I am hungry.”
“I’ll be there. On the dot.”
Tina hung up and headed for the elevator, her mind already racing ahead to the clothes she’d packed. She was tempted to wear something cowgirl-like. Oh yes, if she was going to take him up on his offer, then she’d go all-in. Fantasy, fun, her deepest desires—she wanted it all.
But in the end, she played it safe and chose an outfit that was classy but sexy. For the first time in many months, she was looking forward to going out, hooking up with an exciting man. A man who didn’t know her but who liked her.
Her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator gazed back at her accusingly. What about her, letting him think she was a salesgirl? Well, she had her reasons, and she meant no harm. She hated lying even by omission, but she felt compelled to hide her identity. It wasn’t as if they were getting involved in a relationship. It was only a flirtation with no strings attached. He didn’t need to know everything about her, and vice versa.
For years now, she’d been in the spotlight as one of the heirs of the Borlenghi fortune, a target for men from London to Tokyo. Even before Fabio, she’d never quite been certain if a man was with her for her own sake or because she had connections and money. Oh, she believed she was attractive enough, inside and out, to be worthy of attention. But she’d been so sure Fabio had loved her. And she’d been so wrong. Now with every new man there would always be that tiny niggling doubt.
Surely just this once she could remain anonymous and know that if Luke kissed her it was because he thought she was desirable in her own right, not because he could get something from her. If that was a rationalization, so be it.
…
At five minutes to seven, Luke leaned against the marble column outside the Borlenghi Boutique, twirling the stem of a big, red, daisy-like flower he’d bought after reading Tina’s text message sayi
ng she’d be a few minutes late. At ten past seven, he glimpsed her on the crowded sidewalk and stuffed his phone in the front pocket of his jeans.
Waves of her abundant dark hair cascaded down her back, bouncing lightly as her high heels clicked briskly along the concrete. Men’s heads turned as she passed. And why not? Her full breasts were molded by a sleeveless scarlet top that exposed a sliver of tanned midriff. A leather skirt curved over her flaring hips and stopped enticingly just above her knees. Luke’s imagination ran wild wondering what lay underneath.
A smile lit her face when she caught sight of him. He straightened as she checked him out from his button down shirt to his black jeans. Then her smiled turned amused when her gaze landed on the pair of lovingly-polished cowboy boots he’d bought years ago in Dallas. She brought out the playful side of him. “Hey, Cowboy, is that a phone in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?”
“Howdy, ma’am. Fastest texter in the Upper West.” He whipped it out as if it was a gun and sent her a message.
She swiped her phone open and read aloud, “You make my six shooter go bang.”
Her knowing smile and sexy accent sent his blood south, and Luke felt his groin tighten, imagining her talking dirty in Italian. He handed her the flower and gave her a lingering, but chaste, kiss on the mouth. An appetizer of things to come. She smelled sultry and spicy, like a balmy night on the Amalfi coast.
“Grazie.” She broke off the end of the flower stem and tucked the red bloom into her flowing dark hair. “What are we going to eat?”
“Cowboys eat hot dogs and beans,” he deadpanned then laughed at her surprised expression. “Hardly. I know a great Argentinian restaurant. “
“Wonderful. I’m so hungry I could eat a whole cow.” She glanced at Hat Trick where a group of young hipsters were entering. “Do you serve food?”
“Just tapas. Not very satisfying for a starving cowgirl.” He was proud of his bar but he didn’t want to take her where everyone knew him and fifty other guys would be ogling his date. Some place more romantic would be better. He hailed a taxi.
“I love asado,” Tina said. “Last year in Buenos Aires—” She broke off abruptly, biting her bottom lip.
She often started sentences she didn’t finish, he’d noticed. “Go on.” The cab pulled in to the curb and Luke opened the door for her. “Have you been to Argentina?”
She gave a nervous laugh as she got in. “No, I meant an Argentinian restaurant named Buenos Aires.”
“Ah.” Of course. She probably couldn’t afford to travel. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her. “Whereabouts in Manhattan is it? Do you want to go there now?”
She bent to adjust the strap on her high heeled sandal. “I…no, I think it closed down.”
“We’ll hit the one I know then.” Luke gave the driver an address. He’d called Andres, the owner, earlier. The restaurateur was a big hockey fan and had promised Luke a prime table for two.
“You must have influence to get in on short notice,” Tina said. “Normally you can’t walk in off the street at a top restaurant unless you know someone or you’re famous. At least, I imagine you can’t.”
“Oh, well, restaurants, bars, we’re all friends in the business.” And because it troubled him that he could still hear Tina’s whispered voice saying, “You lied to me” he added, “I used to play ice hockey. I was fairly well known.”
“You were famous? What is your full name?”
“Luke Pederson.” He chuckled at her blank look. “I take it you’re not a hockey fan.”
“I like football. What you call soccer. My brother owns—” Again she stumbled over her words. “He owns…much memorabilia. He has a football signed by all the members of the Naples team.”
“Cool. Does your brother still live in Italy?”
“Sì.” Her hand rose to tug on a long curling lock.
Damn, he’d made her uncomfortable again. Luke took her hand and pulled it away from her hair to fold it in his own. “You must miss him. How long since you’ve been home?”
“Not so long.” She turned to look out the window at the shops as the taxi wove in and out of traffic down Lexington Avenue.
With her gaze averted Luke was free to study her. Her fine leather skirt and well-cut top were trendy, but they didn’t look cheap. Probably working in the fashion industry she got designer clothing deeply discounted. But unless he was mistaken, those sparklers at her ears and around her throat were real diamonds. Were they a present, maybe from a man? Well that wouldn’t be surprising, would it? She was stunning, an incredibly desirable woman. A twinge of jealousy pricked him unexpectedly. He’d only just met the woman and already he didn’t like the thought of her with other men, even in the past. Even though he wasn’t looking for anything as serious as a relationship.
When they arrived at the restaurant, it was just as he remembered, colorful and noisy, the atmosphere thick with the mouth-watering aroma of charring meats. Luke set aside his uneasy ruminations and greeted Andres with a handshake and a clap on the back. “Thanks for fitting us in.”
“Anytime, amigo.” Andres bowed his dark head over Tina’s hand. “Buenas noches, Señorita.” To Luke’s surprise, Tina returned the greeting and added a few more words in perfect Spanish.
Andres showed them to their table personally. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Come by the bar sometime so I can return the favor.” When he left, Luke turned to Tina. “You speak Spanish too?”
“It’s similar to Italian.”
Okay, that was certainly true. The waiter brought menus and a bowl of marinated olives to start. “So, how long have you lived in New York?”
Tina hesitated, twisting the stem of her wineglass. “Not long.”
“How long is ‘not long?’”
She pushed her glass away and met his gaze directly. “I don’t actually live in New York. I’m only here to help with the launch of the boutique and for fashion week. I…I work for the company in Italy.”
“Oh.” That made a few things click into place. It was an unwelcome bit of news that took him a moment to process. He realized he’d been looking forward to having her as a permanent feature in the boutique next to his sports bar. “So you’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
“I am.” Amber eyes sparkling, she leaned toward him, showing a glimpse of awesome cleavage. “When time is short, it’s important not to waste it.”
Every cloud had a silver lining. If she wasn’t sticking around then she wouldn’t have any expectations of him. Win-win. He covered her hand, gently squeezing. “It almost seems a shame to spend it eating.”
“Oh, don’t say that. Eating is a pure pleasure.” She turned her hand over so their palms and fingertips pressed together. “Like sex.”
Luke wasn’t often at a loss for words but the way she said “sex” in that husky voice was enough to close his throat and send his blood coursing south. While he was still struggling for control, she chose an olive with slender fingers and sunk her white teeth into the juicy brown skin. Mesmerized, he watched her lush crimson mouth move as she chewed.
Tina wiped her fingers on a napkin. She gave him a challenging, sultry glance. “So you like being bossed around.”
Oh, yeah. A week with her would be better than a month with a lesser woman. His foot found hers beneath the table, and he slid his ankle next to hers. “Sometimes. Mostly I like to do the bossing.”
“When two strong personalities collide…” Tina slid her hand out from under his, but slowly, so it seemed more of a caress than a withdrawal, and then clapped suddenly. “Kaboom!”
“I like explosions. Big fan of fireworks.” He would have continued with the pyrotechnics theme but he noticed the waiter hovering nearby. “Do you know what you want?”
Her smile deepened. “Oh, yes, I know exactly what I want.”
“Stop it.” He laughed even as his body tightened. Very strange feeling to be amused and turned on at the same time. “Or we’ll never get to des
sert.”
“Okay, I’ll be good.” She turned to the waiter and rattled off her order in fluent Spanish, eliciting near adoration in the young server.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Luke said, then turned back to Tina, who was perusing the wine list. He nudged her leg. “See anything you like?”
She glanced up at him beneath her lashes, conveying the message without a word—she liked what she saw across the table. “You choose.”
Luke scanned the wine list. “The 1988 Temperanillo,” he said to the waiter then turned back to Tina. Did she like dressing up and playing sexy roles or had he misconstrued her earlier comments? He’d love to find out. He could easily picture her in a cowboy hat and nothing else. “So, l’il lady,” he said, reverting to John Wayne. “Tell me about your life in Italy.”
“As I said, I live in Rome. But I spent much of my childhood in Naples. We still go there a lot, to the family y—” She broke off abruptly.
“Y—?” he repeated. “The family yurt? Yellow submarine? Yak?”
“My grandparents live there,” she said, not answering the question. “Have you been to Italy?”
“I’ve been to the Amalfi Coast and Capri. I was in Venice a few years ago for a film festival. My girlfriend at the time was an actress nominated for an award. She didn’t win but it was good ‘exposure’ as she put it.”
“Exposure can be overrated.” Tina shuddered delicately. Then she paused. “You’re not with her now?”
He shook his head. “I enjoyed your country though. And the Italians I met.”
“Italy is very different from America. We don’t have such a thing as a sports bar, for instance. Watching TV in public while you eat and drink…it’s unthinkable.”
“What do you do instead then?”
“We talk to each other.” Her ankle had remained pressed next to his since he’d found her under the table. Now she slipped her foot out of her shoe and ran her toes up his calf. “Conversation is the sincerest form of foreplay, don’t you think?”
