by Pamela Yaye
“There you are. I thought you’d never wake up...”
Startled to hear Dante’s voice behind her, Jordana snatched a pillow off the bed, covered her body and spun around. He looked hot in his black Nike jacket and nylon shorts. Her mouth watered at the sight of him. “Where are my clothes?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Dante, knock it off. This isn’t funny,” she snapped, glancing at the digital alarm clock positioned on the mahogany dresser. “School started thirty minutes ago, and I still have to pack Matteo’s lunch, and iron his uniform.”
“Baby, relax.”
“Relax?” she repeated, shouting the word. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Because of me Matteo’s late for school, and now there’s a good chance Ms. Papadopoulos will make good on her threat and contact Child and Family Services—”
“No, she won’t. I made Matteo breakfast, packed him a healthy lunch and I dropped him off early.” His smile was proud, tinged with mischief. “How you like me now?”
Jordana released a deep sigh. “Thanks, Dante. You’re a lifesaver.”
“What’s up with the pillow?”
“What pillow?”
He pointed at her hands. “The one you’re clutching for dear life.”
“I can’t find my dress, and I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Who needs clothes when you have a body like that?”
Heat rose up her neck, singed her cheeks and ears. He was teasing her, of course, feeding her one of his many winning lines, so why was her heart fluttering around inside her chest like a monarch butterfly? And why was she filled with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude?
“I’ve seen every inch of your gorgeous, delectable shape, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You should be damn proud. Your body is a beautiful masterpiece.”
Dodging his gaze, she stared at the framed portraits displayed on the black-and-white walls of his master suite. Seeing her refection in the dresser mirror, Jordana groaned inwardly. Masterpiece? Right. More like a freakin’ disaster! Last night, she’d sweated out her perm. Her hair was now a tangled frizzy mess in desperate need of a flatiron. But her eyes were clear and bright, and a radiant glow colored her skin. She felt changed somehow, different after their sexual encounter, and smiled to herself at the memory of their first time.
“Do you regret making love?”
“Yes...no... I don’t know,” she blurted out, tightening her grip on the pillow. Her heart thumped inside her chest, throbbing loudly in her ears. For some inexplicable reason, she’d lost her voice. She couldn’t think or speak. Jordana felt ridiculous for using the pillow as a shield, but she didn’t want Dante to see her naked. Silly, considering they’d made love several times. But Jordana couldn’t change her feelings, or control her quivering limbs.
“Baby, let’s talk.” He unzipped his lightweight jacket, chucked it on the couch and kicked off his crisp all-white sneakers. “Would it make you feel better if I got naked, too?”
“Dante, can you be serious for once? This isn’t funny.”
He strode into the walk-in-closet, which was bigger than her former apartment, and returned seconds later carrying a silk robe with the word Morretti inscribed above the pocket. Ever the gentleman, he placed it on the bed, and turned toward window. The gesture touched her heart, and as Jordana slipped it on over her shoulders, the faint scent of his Yves Saint Laurent aftershave washed over her, calming her frazzled nerves.
“Better now?” he asked, taking her hand in his.
Nodding, Jordana dropped her gaze to the carpet, and studied her fuchsia toes. She felt his eyes on her, watching her, and sank onto the bed. “Dante, for the record, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself.”
“Why? For doing something we’ve both wanted for months?”
“Dante, this isn’t me. I’ve never had a one-night stand, and I don’t have casual sex.”
“Good, because I don’t want to compete with anyone else for your heart. I want you all to myself.” He sat beside her, wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Last night wasn’t a mistake. I’m glad we made love, and I have no regrets.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re a guy, a Morretti at that.”
“There you go insulting my family again. What’s up with that?”
“You said marriage is hell on earth, so it would be stupid of me to think we’ll ride off into the sunset, and live happily ever after in this estate.”
He cocked an eyebrow, wore a what-are-you-talking-about expression on his face.
“What?” Raising her hands in the air, as if surrendering to the LAPD, she opened her eyes wide. “Don’t get mad at me. They’re your words, not mine.”
“Bullshit. I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.”
Dante dropped his hands from her shoulders to his lap. “When?”
“During Markos’s New Year’s Eve bash. You said relationships sucked, and the only way you’d ever get remarried was if a loaded gun was pointed to your head.” On a roll, she repeated their conversation word for word. “I thought you were kidding, but you sounded dead serious.”
“I didn’t mean it. I had too much to drink and ran my mouth. Don’t hold it against me.”
Jordana pushed a hand through her hair, felt a golf ball–sized knot and wanted to kick herself in the teeth for throwing herself at him last night. She had hair from hell and sore limbs. Worse still, she couldn’t get her thoughts out of the gutter. Every time Dante looked at her, she wanted to dive into his arms, rip the clothes from his muscled body and ride him like a pony.
Good job, girl. You’ve created a fine mess this time.
“I married you to win custody of Matteo, but I knew it was just a matter of time before we became lovers. I’ve always wanted you, and after last night I want you even more.”
Aroused by his words, and his gentle caress along her arms and hips, it became impossible for Jordana to focus. Her mind returned to last night and her nipples hardened, aching to be squeezed, sucked and licked. Recalling how amazing his tongue had felt between her legs caused tremors to rock her body. Jordana deleted the image from her mind and returned to the conversation, desperate to make Dante understand why they couldn’t be lovers.
“I’m not the only one who loves sex,” he teased. “So do you. I was exhausted when we stumbled into bed this morning, but you were raring to go and had your way with me, twice.”
So, we did make love four times! Jordana held his stare. She couldn’t hide her dreamy gaze, or the grin that claimed her mouth. “Are you complaining?”
“Never. We have great conversations about life, incredible chemistry and the loving is on point. But our relationship is about more than just sex.”
Dante touched her cheek, slowly caressing it with his thumb, and she nuzzled her face against his strong, warm hand. Jordana heard the vacuum outside the bedroom door, and wondered if the middle-aged housekeeper, who acted more like his mother than his employee, was spying on them or actually doing her job.
“Your friendship has changed me for the better,” he confessed. “I’m not perfect, and I still lose my temper sometimes, but I’ve come a long way since the divorce, and you’re the reason why. You’re a breath of fresh air, and I love when you’re around. So does Matteo.”
Jordana held her breath and leaned into him. She waited for him to say the words her heart was longing to hear. It was an outrageous thought, considering they’d slept together for the first time last night, but her feelings for Dante were real and she wanted to be the only woman in his life.
His cell phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket.
“It’s my boss. Do you mind if I take this call?”
Jordana shook her head. “Of course not.”
“I’ll meet y
ou downstairs. We can have lunch together on the deck.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be down in a few.”
Dante strode out of the suite with his cell to his ear, and disappeared down the hall.
Flopping back onto the bed, she sighed deeply, and stared up at the ceiling. Jordana felt empty inside, confused by their conversation, and wondered if she’d imagined the way he’d looked at her, his touch, the sweet and wonderful things he’d said as they’d made love. No, it was real. He’d said everything—except those three magic words—but Jordana chose to focus on the positives instead. They’d made love last night, opened up to each other like never before, and things could only get better from there.
Closing her eyes, she buried her face in the robe, and inhaled a deep breath. Jordana reveled in the scent teasing and tickling her nose. Hunger pangs made her feel light-headed. No wonder her stomach was growling. She hadn’t had anything to eat since dinner last night, and she’d worked up an appetite between the sheets with Dante. She needed a hearty meal so she could complete her to-do list. She had to go grocery shopping, do laundry and make cookies for the bake sale at Matteo’s school tomorrow. Add to that, she had acting class on Wednesday and needed to prepare for her dramatic scene presentation.
Jordana stalked through the room, cracked open the door and poked her head into the hall. Confident the coast was clear, she sprinted into the spare bedroom, and made a beeline for the closet. To wow Dante, she selected the purple chiffon halter dress he’d bought her at a boutique on Rodeo Drive, gold accessories and six-inch high heels. Jordana was excited about their lunch date, so anxious to see him butterflies swarmed her stomach. If he played his cards right, she’d be his dessert. Overcome with joy, she twirled around the room, giggling at the thought. Hearing her cell phone, she snatched it off the dresser, and put it to her ear. “Hello?”
“What’s this nonsense about you getting married?”
Jordana choked on her tongue. So much for the news not reaching Des Moines. Though Helene couldn’t see her, she dropped her gaze to the floor, and hung her head. Her mother’s voice was quiet, filled with pain, and Jordana felt horrible for hurting her feelings. Driven by curiosity, she asked the question on the tip of her tongue. “Who told you?” she blurted out.
“You’re not the one asking the questions, young lady. I am. Did you marry Dante Morretti in a secret wedding ceremony last Friday or not?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing!” she shouted. “Did you ever stop to think about your family? Obviously not, or you would have called to tell me, instead of leaving me to find out from the family I work for...”
Scared of going deaf, Jordana moved the phone away from her ear, listening quietly as her mom reamed her out in English and French. She’d seen Helene upset before, had even heard her swear a couple of times, but she’d never heard her this angry. She felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and guilt when her mother’s voice cracked and she broke off speaking.
“Jordana, do you hate me? Do you resent me for being sick all these years?” she questioned, her tone thick with anguish. “Is that why you ran off and got married without telling me? Because you wanted to hurt me for being a bad mom?”
Her knees buckled, and she fell into the white reading chair in front of the window. Tears pricked her eyes, making her nose run and her vision blur. But Jordana spoke from the heart, determined to convey the love and admiration she had for her mother. Helene had single-handedly raised her and her brothers, and Jordana would never forget the sacrifices she’d made for them. “No, never, you’re a fantastic mom and I wouldn’t be the woman I am today if it wasn’t for you. You’re hardworking, strong and brave, and I love you more than anything.”
Silence plagued the line, lasting so long Jordana feared her mom didn’t believe her.
“What about Dante? Do you love him, or is this some sort of publicity stunt?”
The question surprised Jordana, caught her off guard, and she suspected her mom had spoken to Waverly. Her best friend was the only person who knew about the marriage/custody scheme. Jordana wouldn’t be surprised if her gossip-loving bestie had blabbed to her mom about her outrageous courthouse wedding days earlier. It wouldn’t be the first time Waverly had let the cat out of the bag, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Driven by curiosity, she pressed the speaker button, and sent her best friend a text, posing the questions running through her mind. “What makes you think it’s a publicity stunt?”
“You’ve told me numerous times that Dante’s like a brother to you, so it was pretty easy to put two and two together.” She added, “And besides, he’s hardly your type. You prefer quiet guys, not arrogant playboys, and from what my friends at the bingo hall told me, Dante Morretti is a major player.”
Mom, you’re wrong, she argued, furiously shaking her head. He’s considerate and sensitive, generous and kind. I love him with all my heart, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and if I wasn’t scared of being hurt I’d tell him how I feel.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Too bad!” Helene said. “I want some grandbabies and I’m not getting any younger!”
Jordana sidestepped the comment, pretending she didn’t hear it, and apologized instead. “Mom, I’m sorry. I should have told you about the wedding, but I didn’t know how.”
“Baby girl, you can tell me anything. You know that. I won’t always agree with your choices, but I love you and I want the best for you. I’ll always be in your corner.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“One more thing,” she said quietly. “Did Dante give you the money to pay off my house? Is that why you married him?”
“Yes, he gave me the money, but no, that’s not why we eloped. The foreclosure letter had nothing to do with it.”
Helene released an audible sigh. “Thank God. I was worried you hooked up with Dante to help me out. I’m glad that’s not the case.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, it’s not.” Noticing the time, she rose to her feet. “Mom, I’ll call you later, okay? I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I’m starving.”
“Okay, baby girl. You go ahead. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up when I get to LA.”
Her mouth dropped, and a squeak escaped. “You’re coming to LA? When? Why?”
“Because I’m anxious to meet my new grandson, and my handsome son-in-law.”
“Mom, uh, now’s not a good time.”
“I know. You just got married, and you need to get settled in, right?”
“Yes,” she said, relieved her mother understood her plight. “Exactly. Things have been crazy busy the last few weeks, and I need a moment to catch my breath.”
“I figured as much. So, book my ticket for the end of July.”
Jordana stared at the wall calendar, willing the numbers to change, but they didn’t. Her mother was coming to LA and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Chapter 15
“Repeat the line, but this time narrow your eyes, fold your arms and raise your voice.”
Jordana lowered the script to her side, slanted her head to the right as if studying the framed movie posters hanging on the cream walls inside the private screening room, and gave him a pointed look. “Come clean,” she teased, hitching a hand to her hip. “You’ve been moonlighting as an acting coach for years, haven’t you?”
Dante gave a hearty chuckle. They’d been hanging out for hours, trading laughs. He was having so much fun helping Jordana practice for her audition he’d forgotten about the paperwork waiting for him inside his home office. He was sitting in a cushy theater seat watching Jordana do her thing, marveling at how effervescent she was. And hot. Her curls tumbled around her face every time she laughed, her teal one-arm dress hugged
her body in all of the places that mattered and her fruity perfume made him hanker for a mango as sweet and as juicy as her perfectly round ass.
Quit staring, cautioned his inner voice. You’re supposed to be helping, not lusting, so stop spacing out.
They’d been married for three weeks, but Dante still couldn’t believe they were husband and wife. Or that they’d made love every day since the dinner party. He left for work with a smile on his face, and he was so anxious to see her he often left the office early. Arriving home, his first stop used to be his office, but now he headed straight for the backyard. He’d find Jordana cooking in the outdoor kitchen or playing soccer with Matteo. Seeing them together warmed his heart.
Unfortunately, not everyone was thrilled about their union. Tavares had called yesterday, pissed that Dante had married Jordana despite his protests. His anger was understandable, justified even, and in spite of the hurtful things he’d said on the phone, Dante was looking forward to seeing him in July. He’d sit him down, buy him a beer, then explain why they’d tied the knot in a secret courthouse ceremony. If that failed, he’d buy him an expensive gift. Tavares loved the finer things in life, had a penchant for diamonds that could rival a Hollywood starlet, and the new Rolex watch would undoubtedly smooth things over.
Catching sight of the time on the wall clock, Dante wondered how his brother was faring out on the putting green. He’d planned to play golf with Markos and some out-of-town friends at the Beverly Hills Country Club, but when Waverly canceled on Jordana at the last minute, he’d volunteered to read lines with her and rescheduled with the Blanchett sisters. Though, he’d probably cancel on them again tomorrow. The twins were petulant divas who used their looks to get ahead—the complete opposite of Jordana—and he’d rather spend time with his family than accompany the twenty-something blondes to an industry event at the Playboy Mansion. “I’m not criticizing you, Jordana, so don’t take this personally. I’m just offering a few helpful suggestions so you nail your audition tomorrow.”
“How do you know so much about acting?”
