A Little Slice of Heaven

by Gina Ardito

  Gianna was gone. And with her departure, loneliness settled around him again, silent and suffocating.

  ****

  “Have you heard anything from the bank yet?”

  The curiosity in Joey’s voice carried over three thousand miles of phone lines.

  Resentment surged in Gianna, who sat on her bed, half a dozen throw pillows propped on the headboard. The bank. Another mountain she’d yet to scale, looming, ready to bury her in an avalanche of hopelessness.

  “Is that why you called? To harangue me about the daycare center?”

  Joey sucked in a breath.

  Good. He realizes he’s stepping on a live wire.

  “No,” he replied after a moment. “I called to chat with my big sister. Catch up on Setquott Beach news. So if the daycare center’s off-limits, tell me what’s up with the Wedding of the Century. Have you heard from Frank at all?”

  At the mention of her ex, she plucked a stray nylon thread on her comforter, wrapping it around her index finger in rapid swirls. Tighter and tighter, cutting deep lines into her skin. Snap! With a sharp sting, the thread popped off the down quilt. Good. She was close to sobbing anyway. At least, now, she had a better reason to cry than over Frank.

  For the first few months after the school debacle, she’d shed enough water to fill the county’s reservoir. Then one day she’d decided she’d had enough. No more crying over someone completely unworthy of so much remorse.

  “I haven’t heard from either of them since I mailed back the invitation.” Bitterness rose in her throat like smoke, choking her airway.

  Two days after she’d made her no-more-tears vow, the wedding invitation had arrived. In a moment’s pique, she’d scrawled her intention to attend—with a guest—and dropped the offensive cardboard into the nearest mailbox.

  “Besides, I don’t want to hear from him.” She swirled her tongue around her injured fingertip until the throbbing eased. “He made his choice. I hope he’s happy with Rachel.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” Joey replied. “Practice in front of a mirror. Eventually, you might sound convincing.”

  “Ha.” The retort came out flat, humorless, like Gi herself.

  “You have every right to feel hurt,” Joey said.

  His bedside-manner-in-training mode prickled the fine hairs on her nape.

  “Rachel’s a witch,” he added. “The only reason she sent you that wedding invitation was to rub your nose in her triumph. What better way to humiliate you than in front of two hundred guests?”

  “I know.” She sighed. Another huge mistake in a catalog of huge mistakes. “Which is why I think I’ll just blow off attending.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  His impatience threw an invisible wall between them.

  “Who was it said, ‘Looking good is the best revenge’?” he asked.

  Oh, sure. ‘Cuz she looked so hot these days. “I don’t know. Angelina Jolie?”

  The wall crumbled beneath his deep laughter.

  “Doubtful. But it doesn’t matter. Angelina’s got nothing on you.”

  Despite the gushiness melting her bones, she snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “Listen, Gi, you wanna move on with your life? Or do you wanna wind up a bitter old lady living alone in some dilapidated house with fifty cats for companions?”

  Ouch. Bristling, she sat up straight and set her feet on the floor. “That’s hitting below the belt, Joey.”

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  When had her baby brother become this font of old adages? Next he’d be telling her every cloud had a silver lining. “You’re just chock full of clichés tonight, aren’t you?”

  “And you’re angrier than a wet cat. So focus that anger on something useful. Go to the wedding with some super-stud on your arm. Both of you dressed to kill. Show Frank and Rachel that Randazzos always rise above.”

  How long could she hedge about her dearth of dates? Better to come clean. Maybe he could help. Then again, maybe not. “Which reminds me.” Deep breath. “Do you know where I can rent a super-stud for the evening?”

  “You mean you haven’t found a date yet?”

  The surprise in his tone both warmed and depressed her. “Not unless you count the ROMEOs. Every one of them volunteered for the task.”

  “Nice of them,” Joey replied. “But a little too old, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely.”

  Thinking of the ROMEOs always brought a smile. Despite the fact that none of them were younger than sixty, the Retired Old Men Eating Out flirted their way through dinner at Villa Mare every week. Over time she’d learned to dodge the occasional pat to her bottom, ignore the winks, and deftly decline invitations to hockey games. The upcoming wedding, however, had added new fuel to their long-stoked amorous fires.

  “Give me a day or two,” Joey said. “I’ll make a few phone calls.”

  “Forget it.” She waved a hand as if brushing away a gnat. “Frank would recognize anyone you set me up with.”

  “Well, then, who do you know Frank won’t see through?”

  Scanning her bureau, she glanced over framed photographs of close friends. No one suitable smiled back. She didn’t exactly have a stable of men waiting. Except, of course, the ROMEOs.

  And then her mind clicked on the image of a man with wide-set hazel eyes and a clipped New England accent. No. Ridiculous. She barely knew him, for God’s sake.

  “Come on, Gi,” Joey prompted. “Think. There’s gotta be someone.”

  “Maybe.” She bit a ragged cuticle on her thumb.

  “Who?”

  “Our newest employee at Villa Mare.”

  “You hired somebody?”

  Ow! She bit too close to the nail and winced, but not at the pain. Joey would want details about Kyle now. And she didn’t dare lie because Claudio would give her up faster than a parade of dancing teddy bears.

  “I’ll have to make sure he’s available first,” she said.

  “Who is he?”

  Stick to the basics. Maybe he won’t ask the million dollar questions. “His name’s Kyle. Kyle Hayden.”

  “Where’d you find him?”

  Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! “Umm…” Squeezing one of the throw pillows, she mumbled, “I found him in the parking lot.”

  “You what?”

  The fury in his voice compelled her to rush through an explanation. She began with the details of her watching Kyle with the cat the last week or so, her unexpected offer, and his acceptance. At last, she finished with the fact she’d allowed him to use the family’s apartment above the restaurant. Done, she yanked the phone far from her ear while he ranted. Even so, she managed to catch a few familiar phrases.

  “Have you lost your mind…? How could you be so naïve…? Of all the stupid things to do…” After several minutes of recriminations, he paused for breath.

  She resettled the phone. “What did you expect me to do? Ignore the poor guy?”

  “That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Why couldn’t you just stick to rescuing cats instead of graduating to bums?”

  “He’s not a bum.” Kyle’s hands, the clear polish on his nails, swam in her memory. “He’s a nice man who’s fallen on hard times.”

  “And you’re a welcome mat, Gianna. You always have been. Mom would have a fit if she knew.”

  The age old threat prickled her skin. Twenty-nine years old on the outside, when it came to Mom, Gianna was still a little girl. “Don’t you dare tell if she calls you.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m gonna tell her you’re harboring a psycho—”

  “He’s not a psycho! I spoke to him for a long time. He’s educated, cultured, polite…” None of which proved he wasn’t a psycho. But she refused to admit any doubts about Kyle’s character. “You’d like him. Even Claudio likes him.”

  “That’s a lie,” Joey snapped. “You and I both know it.”

  Of course he knew it. Claudio didn’t like anyone. And Calif
ornia’s sun hadn’t baked her brother’s brain in the slightest. “Claudio tolerates him. How’s that?”

  “Definitely closer to the truth.”

  Silence filled the space between them, long and nerve-wracking, while Gianna tracked her breathing pattern. In, out, in, out, in, out…

  Finally, he sighed. “All right. I’ll let this go for now. But, Gi, promise me you’ll be real careful around this one.”

  One heavy exhale. Out. “I promise I’ll be very careful.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Couldn’t let my grammatical transgression slip by unnoticed?”

  For the first time since they’d begun their conversation, she smiled. “Once a teacher, always a teacher. Now, speaking of teachers, how are you doing? How’s UCLA treating you?”

  “Not bad. Professor Morgan’s not big on praise, but he did say that my last two papers showed potential…”

  With the subject drifting far from Kyle, the upcoming wedding, and the daycare center, Gianna settled against the pillows and allowed her brother’s enthusiasm to carry her away.

  Chapter Three

  Kyle woke up disoriented. Had he dreamt the whole thing? God, he hoped so.

  Then he focused on a large rust stain decorating the stucco ceiling. Nope. This was no dream. He sat up in the lumpy, full-sized bed, smacking his lips and rubbing his eyes.

  Jesus, what day was it? Sunday? Monday? Who could tell? What difference did it make anyway? He might not know the day of the week, but he knew today was Day Ten.

  Ten days since the moment his life had changed forever. And all because he was a fool. Well, not anymore. He’d learned his lesson. A little late, but better late than never, right?

  Once this game was over, he’d go home and banish all the betrayers from his life. He’d start with the deceitful Lana who made promises of love forever, and then turned her back when he’d needed her most. Colette would be next. Colette, all sisterly devotion when he stood on his own two feet. But once he stumbled, the ideals of family fled faster than his Ferrari Berlinetta speeding on the Autobahn. He’d have nothing to do with women ever again. They were all poison.

  An image of Gianna’s face, her big Bambi eyes, popped into his head. Okay, so his lady of mercy from last night wasn’t poison. If anything, she was the panacea for the ills he’d encountered.

  Such boundless generosity deserved something in return. More than a token of gratitude, something special. What the hell. When he got home, he’d write her a check. Maybe she could use the money to hire a decent staff, rather than employing strangers she met in the parking lot. What was in her pretty, naïve head, allowing a complete stranger to stay here? For all she knew, he could be a serial killer.

  Oh, he was grateful. And he still had fifty days before he could return home. So, he’d stay here, earning a living and proving to Rory and David he could rise above adversity. He was tougher than they thought—not necessarily smarter, but definitely tougher.

  Tossing off the faded quilt, he rose from the bed and stretched the kinks out of his back. On his way to the bathroom, he spotted a photograph hanging on the wall. Taken at a beach somewhere, the picture showed a happy family frolicking in the surf together. Petite and dark-haired mom, tall and silver-haired dad, Gianna at the age of eight or so, holding hands with a diapered baby brother. All wore smiles of such familial joy he felt a pang of jealousy.

  Bah! He had similar photos in his home. In better frames, of course. Snapshots sparked his brain, as if taken with old-fashioned flash bulbs. The Hayden family skiing in Biarritz, he and his sister standing in the garden on her wedding day, a photograph of his parents—happy and smiling for once—taken mere hours before his father’s fatal heart attack.

  Who knew if the images here weren’t as much a sham as the ones he’d always believed in? Smiles could hide a multitude of ice and stone.

  Turning his back on the photographic vision of happiness, he entered the bathroom and closed the door. He cast the memories from his head by concentrating on the squeal of the tap when he turned on the faucet for another shower.

  Later, when he descended to the restaurant, clanging pots echoed through the thin walls. He opened the door to the ripe aroma of garlic. As if by some inner radar, his gaze honed in on Gianna, who stood before an eight-burner stove. Based on his nostrils’ opinion, she stirred what could only be a thousand gallons of tomato sauce. The pot was nearly as tall as she, and she stood on tiptoe to see the contents.

  Her thick hair was tied in a high ponytail, and a sheen of perspiration dampened her cheeks and forehead. Over a pale pink blouse and snug blue jeans she wore a stained white apron that did nothing to enhance her figure. But damn, if she wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d seen in eons!

  Images of her standing in front of his stove in his Manhattan home, cooking just for him, brought a mixture of peace and regret to his subconscious. Jeez, hadn’t he learned anything from this experience? He pushed the mental pictures into the darkest corners of his mind. A lump the size of a baseball rose in his throat, and he cleared it away with a loud cough.

  Gianna looked up, eyes wide and smile wider. “You’re here. I’m so glad.”

  “Uh-huh,” he managed. Smooth, Kyle. Nothing charms a lady like the grunting of a Neanderthal.

  He couldn’t help his sudden loss of verbal skills. She was prettier in daylight than he’d thought last night. And when she smiled, her entire face lit up.

  “Before I show you the ropes, come into the storage room. I bought groceries earlier this morning. We’ll bring them upstairs and put them away.” Wiping her hands on the apron, she led him into the storeroom where four filled mesh bags sat, waiting. She lifted two and, with a nod, indicated he do the same with the remaining two.

  The weight of the bags took him by surprise. Expecting a few items, he didn’t bother to put much muscle into the lift, and nearly fell on his backside for his troubles. “What the heck did you buy? Bricks?”

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I picked up the basics,” she said. “Mostly breakfast items. Milk, cereal, fruit, coffee, orange juice, bread, butter, and eggs. Usually, you’ll be having lunch and dinner down here so…” She shrugged, hoisting the bags higher, and then headed into the hallway and upstairs.

  Hefting his burden, he followed. “You really shouldn’t have done this. You’ve done enough already.”

  The more she did for him, the less he completed on his own. How would that affect the rules with David and Rory? Honestly, he had no idea. But he’d hate to lose Aurora over a free loaf of bread.

  “Nonsense.” She stopped at the landing, waiting for him to join her. “You have the key.”

  After placing the bags on the floor outside the door, he fumbled in his hip pocket. The jeans were too snug, and he practically scraped the skin off his knuckles shoving his hand inside. Luckily, two of his fingers pinched the thin lanyard, and he pulled the damn thing out, along with the pocket’s interior lining.

  “Here.” He handed her the key, and then fussed with the white scrap of fabric sticking out from his hip like an elephant’s ear.

  Inside the apartment, they had their own assembly line. Kyle removed the items from the bags, and Gianna stored them on shelves in the cabinets and refrigerator.

  Once they completed the task, she leaned against the counter. “There. All done. I hope I didn’t forget anything. Maybe I should have picked up some cold cuts. Not everyone likes Italian food. There’s a deli across the street. During lunch, I could take a walk over and—”

  “Enough,” Kyle interrupted. “Please. Stop.”

  His censure sent a fireball hurtling into her cheeks. Either she was the greatest actress who ever lived, or the worst. Every one of her moods communicated through her face. If her reactions were genuine, she wouldn’t last a minute in his weekly poker game at the New York Legacy Club.

  Gianna babbled, and she knew it. Obviously, he knew, too. But she couldn’t stop her tongue from wagging. If she did, it would just loll out
of her mouth like one of those Chinese dog statues at the antique shop down the road.

  This morning, Kyle Hayden’s appearance surprised her out of her wits. How could she not have seen how gorgeous this guy was? Okay, he’d washed up and shaved since she’d met him, but could dirt and stubble hide a man’s finest qualities?

  His hair, indiscernible last night, was a deep glossy brown with a hint of curl. Clean-shaven, his face resembled a Greek god’s, lots of angular lines and a cleft chin that brought to mind images of Hollywood’s gorgeous screen legends.

  Of course, the first thing she’d noticed was his height, but now she realized that height carried a broad frame of sculpted sinew and muscle. He wore some of Joey’s clothing, and she’d known the fit would be tight. But the extra large shirt and size thirty-two jeans fit him like a second skin, accentuating every bulge and camber.

  The change between the hesitant man of last evening and the confident stranger who stood in the apartment this morning pushed her off-balance. With shoulders thrown back and posture ramrod straight, he looked more like a captain of industry than a fledgling pizza man.

  In fact, only his eyes hadn’t undergone a drastic change in the last twelve hours. They were still hazel and clear, framing an aquiline nose. Everything about him whispered of nobility and breeding. She continued to stare, saying nothing, until his eyebrow arched.

  Oh, God! He probably thinks I’m staring.

  You are staring, her brain reminded her.

  Yeah, but I don’t want him to know!

  Well, then, stop.

  Ha! Easier said than done.

  Get a grip, Gi. He’s just a man—a good-looking man, but a man nonetheless. And you know exactly what’ll happen. If you give a good-looking man your heart, he’ll trample all over it, then find someone else. Don’t let that happen. Again.

  With effort, she managed to tear her gaze away from his piercing eyes. Tracing an old knife cut in the countertop, she mumbled, “Um, I think we should get back downstairs. Claudio and Sal will be wondering what happened to us.”

  ****