Dante was standing inside the door talking to Dylan and Katelyn.
“I’ll have to ask your…” He took one look at Fiona and stopped mid-sentence. “You look incredible.”
“You clean up pretty well, too.” And boy did he. He had on a deep plum shirt, opened at the collar and crisp jeans. “Dylan, be good for Katelyn tonight.”
Dylan looked back and forth between her and Dante, a deep crease forming between his brows. “Do you have to go, Mom? I’m not feeling good.”
She bent down and put her hand to Dylan’s forehead. He didn’t feel warmer than usual, and not five minutes ago he was laughing at something Katelyn had said to him. But one thing she’d learned as a mom was that illness could hit at the drop of a hat, and usually at the worst possible time.
Still there was something.
Dylan wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
She stood up and gave Dante a sad smile. “I guess I’ll need to take a rain check on tonight.” She turned to her son next. “Dylan, go change into your pajamas and I’ll make you some soup, honey.”
Dylan gasped. “Mom, I want pizza.”
“I know.” She cupped his little chin. “Maybe tomorrow, if you’re feeling better. Tonight, it’s soup and then straight to bed for a good night’s sleep.”
“But it’s Saturday and you said I could play my new game Dad got me and watch Guardians of the Galaxy.” His sweet voice wobbled.
“We’ll save that for another night, when you’re feeling better, baby.” She turned to Dante again. “I’m sorry—”
“No need to apologize. Your son comes first. Always,” he said. “We can go out another night.
“Since you don’t need me tonight, Ms. Sinclair, I’m going to go. Hope you feel better, Dylan.”
Katelyn reached for the door. Dylan sprang forward blocked the path.
“Dylan, baby, what are you doing?”
“Uh.” He looked all around the room and then up at his mom. “I was, um… I think I just need food, Mom. Lunch was a lonnng time ago. You guys should go. Katelyn can call if I feel worse.”
Fiona scratched the side of her neck, pretending to think over his proposition. It was clear her son was not sick, but something was up. It wasn’t Katelyn, as she was one of his favorite people. And when she’d told him about tonight, he’d barely blinked an eye. So why the sudden act? Whatever the reason, she’d get it out of him eventually.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Dylan stepped aside to open the door before he bolted across the room. “Have fun, Mom. Hey, Katelyn, come check out my new game.”
Fiona waved to the back of his head as they headed out the door. On the way to the restaurant, Dante regaled her with a tale of his new neighbors and their attempt to carry an oversized sofa up a flight of stairs. She laughed where appropriate, made a comment here and there, but mostly her mind was on Dylan.
The past year had brought some big changes to her son’s life, especially his father’s new marriage. Mia was great. As much as Fiona would have loved to hate any woman who could fall for Sal’s charms and lies, she actually liked the woman. And she was a great stepmom to Dylan, showering him with love, but setting boundaries. Still, it had been a major adjustment for her son.
Then Risa got married and had Addie, and while that shouldn’t seem like a big deal, it meant Dylan had to share his auntie’s attention.
And now she was bringing someone new into his life. Someone that Dylan would have to share his mother with. Was it too soon? Too much for him to handle? Was she being selfish? Was he feeling neglected?
Not the first time these questions bounced around in her brain. It was a curse a person inherited when they took on the title of mom or dad. She didn’t know if the guilt load was heavier for single parents or not. She only knew that at times she felt like she was being crushed by her every decision and action.
“Fiona.” Dante’s warm fingers caressed the back of her hand. “If you’d feel better at home with Dylan, I’ll honestly understand.”
Relief flooded through her. He was giving her an option, without the side of grief she had expected. It made her like him all the more. Twice that night, he’d understood her priorities lay with her son and didn’t seem to mind. And while she should go home and talk with Dylan, for the first time in months, maybe years, she was putting herself first.
“Are you trying to get out of our date? Because a deal is a deal and you promised me food. And let me tell you, this girl, gets a little hangry when she hasn’t been fed.” Fiona reached for the car door and gave him a quick look over her shoulder. “You coming?”
“Not yet,” he mumbled as he jumped out of the Jeep and ran around to open her door.
It wasn’t until she stepped out of the car that she realized where they were, and it didn’t bode well for her grumbly stomach. The Breakers. One of Newport’s grandest summer “cottages,” formerly owned by the Vanderbilt family. The seventy-room Italian Renaissance styled home was her favorite to visit, but not when she was starving.
Dante reached for the back door. “I know that look. I’ve seen it on starving dogs and you’re thinking I look good enough to eat.”
“Ha. You wish.” She groaned. “I’m thinking I could eat you and still be hungry.”
His eyes sparked with interest as one side of his mouth lifted. She groaned again as she realized what she’d said and how it sounded.
“You’re in luck.” He opened the backdoor, pulled out a wicker picnic basket and held it up. “I thought we’d save me for dessert.”
“Feed me and get lucky, is that your ploy?”
She looked up into his dark chocolate eyes. He was sexy, funny, great with her son, and came with food. Perfect. Not that she’d tell him that, or that his plan just may work.
“Thought never crossed my mind.” He held out his hand. “Come on.”
She looked around. There wasn’t a public park nearby. They were at The Breakers, not a public-freaking-park. Did he plan to waltz onto the property and spread a blanket on the lawn? She doubted even Anderson Cooper, the great-great grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt II who once owned the mansion, could get away with such a stunt. Dante tugged her toward the closed gates.
“We’re not breaking in, are we?” The place had closed to the public over an hour earlier, and while she was usually up for new adventures, breaking and entering was not on her bucket list.
He pushed open the smaller side gate meant for pedestrian traffic and smiled. “I thought we’d save the handcuff fantasy for our second date.”
“That’s a shame.” She smiled at his dropped jaw and walked past him, up the pea-gravel walkway that ran to the house and around to the gardens. She loved strolling the grounds, which were gorgeous year-round, but at their glory in the summer. Had she been in Countess Sylvia Szapary’s shoes—the last Vanderbilt to own the property—she doubted she could have given the place up.
Dante took her hand and they walked in silence up to the house, before veering off to follow the path leading to the side gardens and the enormous backyard. Not that “backyard” seemed the appropriate word, as it brought up images of dogs running around and swing sets. This was more like a lawn, as in, “We’re playing croquet on the lawn,” said in the most upper crust of accents, of course.
They rounded the corner and the view stopped her in her tracks.
“It never gets old, this view. It’s beautiful,” she said.
Dante set the basket down, and cupped her face in his hands. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Fiona.”
His gaze locked on to hers. After a few moments, her cheeks started to burn with embarrassment. Dante looked at her as if she were the woman of his dreams and his sole reason for surviving. Never in her life had any man looked at her with such intensity and passion. His lips bushed across hers. Not the soul-searing, steal your breath, plunde
ring kiss she had expected, more like a reverent whisper that stole your heart.
He held on, his forehead resting against hers, his chest rapidly rising and falling with each breath he took, matching her reaction.
After a few moments, he gave her a quick kiss and picked up the basket. “Let’s eat, before you turn into a ravenous monster and attack.”
They walked across the meticulous and expansive lawn toward the water. Fiona was focused on and enjoying the view of the Atlantic Ocean when Dante stopped and she looked down.
“Ahh.” Spread out before her was a blanket, a giant pillow, flameless candles, chilled wine, and scattered rose petals. “Dante, how did you manage all of this?”
Sexy, funny, great with her son, came with food, and incredibly romantic.
She amended her earlier list of his traits and if she weren’t careful, she’d fall helplessly in love with the man.
“I am a man of many talents and surprises.” He held her hand as she slipped off her heels and settled on the blanket. He poured each of them a glass of wine before opening the basket and setting the food out before them. “Is Mexican okay?”
“It’s perfect.” He was perfect.
Maybe too perfect, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted.
He opened the first container and handed her grilled bread with cotija cheese on top. Before she could take it her phone chimed. “Just a second, it might be Katelyn.”
And, of course it was. First date in ages and something would have to go wrong. She read the text and shot off a reply.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep.” She bit into the crunchy bread and sighed as warm cheese melted in her mouth. Whatever game her son was playing could wait. Katelyn let her know he ate five slices of pizza while playing his video game. So clearly, the little stinker was fine. A part of her was mad that he’d picked the one time she did something for her to act up. But she refused to dwell on the negative, because she was on a date with a hottie who knew the way to her heart was through food. “Dante. This is delicious.”
“You should try it with the pico de gallo. I made it last night so the flavors have had time to marry.”
He spread a scoop of the salsa across her bread. An explosion of flavors sent her taste buds dancing in delight. She held out her plate to him. “More, please. I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got for me.”
Dante laughed, but he wasted no time opening the other containers revealing tequila lime grilled shrimp, chicken empanadas, pineapple and strawberry skewers, and tres leches cake to top it all off. She was going to gain twenty pounds, but she didn’t care, and planned to eat everything.
She bit into the shrimp and moaned in ecstasy. “I’m in heaven. Where did you go for dinner?”
“My kitchen.”
“No way. You made all this… today?” He really was a man of many talents and surprises.
He settled into the pillow next to her with his own plate, and offered her another shrimp. “Yep, I slaved all afternoon for you.”
“Well, it was worth it. This is the best I’ve ever had and I’ve tried every local Mexican restaurant around. You may get lucky after all.” She tried the empanadas next and thought she might have an orgasm. The crust was flaky, tender, and buttery, melting in her mouth. The spice hit the sweet spot on the heat scale, waking up her senses without setting her mouth on fire.
He watched her as she ate, a smile on his face, and his eyes lit up with… interest.
“Wait until you try my guacamole.”
She laughed. “Is that anything like trying your cannoli?”
“No, that would be my churro and once you’ve sampled my churro, you’ll be ruined for all others.”
Fiona took a sip of her wine. “I’m glad to see you don’t have a self-esteem problem.” She leaned forward and kissed Dante. “You might want to keep your churro undercover for now. We’re not alone,” she whispered.
Dante turned his head and waved to the man on the balcony. “That’s Anthony, a buddy from high school who works for the preservation society.”
“So, I won’t have to grab my dessert and make a mad dash from the police?”
“Not tonight.”
“Good to know. Where did you learn to cook? I’m thinking I need to send whoever taught you a thank you card.”
He laughed again, a deep rumble that came from deep inside and sounded like he did it often.
“My mom.”
“The one who could scare your students?” She eyed the cake, wondering if it would be okay to skip right to dessert instead of waiting politely until he offered.
“The very one. Have you ever eaten at Jorge’s Cucina in Providence?”
“Yes. It’s one of my favorite places to go.”
“It’s my brother’s place. Although his name is George. The restaurant is named after my dad.” Pride and love shone through in his voice and eyes as he talked about his family.
“I think you could give him a run for his money. Tell me more about the rest of them. I know you were pretty stressed about your family dinner. How did that go?”
“Good. Not as stressful as I expected and yet, exactly as I expected.” He refilled her glass. “They worry. They know I got hurt, but not the details or anything about the effects. They want me home, but want me happy. They want me settled with kids. My baby brother is getting married soon, so of course, my mother’s focus is now on me.”
“They sound wonderful,” she said softly.
“They are. They’d like you. You’d like them. Hell, I like them, but I can’t make them happy. I don’t plan to stay here teaching. Once I get better, I plan to get back to work. Newport is just a temporary situation.”
His tone lost the playfulness, and took on a fierce edge. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to warn her off, or convince himself. It could happen, between the medical treatments and the yoga, he could wake up one day and be fine. No more shaking, brain fog and whatever else ailed him. He could walk into her gym and say, “See you later, kid,” and walk out of her life forever. It was a fact of life with the military. She didn’t hold it against him. It was the life he’d signed up for and craved. She could hear the longing in his voice. And she didn’t plan to add to his worries.
“They’ll understand when you leave, Dante. We all will.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Sorry. That probably sounded like some kind of warning.”
“No need to apologize. We’ve got a lot going on in our lives right now. I’m not looking for forever, Dante. I’m fine with just enjoying our time together and I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
She meant every word, too. If she were at a different place in her life, if he were at a different place in his, maybe she’d entertain the idea of forever. But with Dylan acting up and Sal making noise about joint custody, she really didn’t have the energy for a new relationship. Really, she was just thrilled to be on a date, with a wonderful man, amazing food, and a breathtaking view.
* * * *
He should be shouting hallelujah. Fiona had just basically taken all the pressure off of him, promised she’d make no demands on him, and would help him get back to the job he loved. So why the fuck did his chest feel like an elephant sat down on it?
“Does that mean no second date?” he asked.
“Well that depends on two things.” She paused to sip her wine. “One, do you plan to actually share that cake with me?”
“Absolutely.”
She nodded and took another sip. “Good. Just for the record, I was prepared to wrestle you for a slice.”
Damn. Should have said no. “What’s the other thing?”
“Teach me to cook.”
He raised a brow. “You can’t cook?” His sainted mother would stroke out if she heard.
“I can cook, but not like this. Plus, yo
u promised me guac and churros.”
Yeah, he’d promised her his ‘churro’ and there was nothing he’d like better than to sample Fiona’s lips and sink into her, but knowing he planned to leave, it felt like a dick move. And he might be a lot of things, but he’d never played with a woman’s heart.
He handed her the cake and grabbed a slice. If his mouth were full of food he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her. At least, that’s what he thought until she licked whipped cream off her bottom lip.
Her very full, very kissable lip.
Man. He could not go there. If he could turn back the clock, he never would have touched her in the pool. Hell, he would have left alongside Dylan and his dad. Remove the temptation before it reared its ugly head. Oh, who the hell was he kidding?
He’d been drawn to Fiona since the first day he’d laid eyes on her like metal to a magnet. Every minute he spent in her company he found himself waiting to see what she’d do or say, because he couldn’t predict this woman’s actions. She was compassionate, funny, bold, and brave.
And she was sexy and complicated, which was the last thing he needed or wanted. Which in itself was stupid to think, because when did anyone ever want complications in their lives? He sure as fuck didn’t need the extra stress. He should just walk away, right? Keep it platonic. He’d help her with her son; she’d help him with his stress. Everyone wins.
Only it didn’t feel like winning. If felt like he was losing the best thing that every walked into his life. Because she did things to him. She made him feel, made him open his eyes, made him laugh, and made him want more. Like her. Dante wanted Fiona more than he wanted—Jesus Christ—his old life back.
And that scared the ever-living shit out of him.
“You’re thinking too much.” She stroked his cheek. “It’s just cooking lessons.”
“Yeah, of course.” All sorts of images flashed through Dante’s mind. Fiona in nothing but an apron that said, “Bite Me.” Fiona topped with strawberry jam and whipped cream. Fiona spread out before him on the kitchen table.
Disarmed by Love Page 11
