Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  Impressed with his new attitude toward the wedding, she sat down next to him. “Thank you. I can’t wait to see them.”

  She went on to instruct him about making flowers by taking eight sheets of tissue paper and aligning them with the round paper cutter. For a while she gave him her undivided attention, but he was a quick learner. His flower wasn’t perfect, but it impressed her—he impressed her. It wasn’t just his flair for crafts, but his ability to put aside his misgivings about the wedding for his brother’s happiness.

  “Not exactly like your flowers,” he said, surveying his rather limp effort.

  “But not bad for your first try.” She gave him some pointers, and he tried again.

  “That’s better.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He turned to her. “Now that I have this flower stuff figured out, how about you tell me more about your decision not to have a family? I see the motherly instincts come out in you every time you gather that little bundle of fur in your hands.”

  But Apricot was so easy. She wasn’t stressful. Jules didn’t have to worry about messing her up for the rest of her life.

  Jules punched another set of papers. “You don’t want to hear this.”

  “Yes, I do. If you’ll tell me.” He sat there holding a stack of deep purple papers in his hand, staring at her with such compassion in his eyes.

  What did it matter now if she told him the bitter truth? He knew the answers already; he just hadn’t put it all together. But delving into those deep, dark memories made her heart pinch. It was a subject that she didn’t share with anyone. She’d learned how to push those painful memories to the far recesses of her mind.

  So why did she feel the temptation to open up to Stefano? Why did she want him to understand her?

  “It’s okay.” His voice was gentle and filled with understanding. “If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say anything. I won’t mention it again.”

  He was letting her off the hook just like that, with no probing questions about her scars—no judgments. Stefano was a complex man. She had the feeling he had his own ghosts hanging in the closet.

  Maybe he would understand her story.

  Her mouth grew dry as she struggled to swallow. “My mother, she...she tried her best. But she was a very unhappy soul. When I was little, my father left us. She did her best to find work, but without much education, her choices were limited and minimum wage doesn’t pay for much. It was a tough life, and she took her frustrations out on me.”

  The memories of her childhood came to her in snippets. Flashes of her mother crying. The sense of insecurity. Her stomach growling when she went to bed. Over the years, Jules had tried to forget the details, but some refused to fade away.

  Still she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t end up like her mother. She wouldn’t trust her future to a man, only to have him pull the rug out from under her. She wouldn’t take her anger and frustration out on her child. And she wouldn’t just quit on life.

  “I’d been removed from my mother’s care a few times. But I was always returned. Each time she promised that she’d get it right. But the last time...” Her voice drifted away as those dark memories resurfaced. “The last time she did this to me.” Jules pointed to her scars.

  She couldn’t say any more. She didn’t want to dissolve into a tearful mess. Perhaps she’d kept the memories locked up for too long. Stefano’s presence had her letting down her defenses, leaving her vulnerable to the pain she’d neatly tucked away in the back of her heart.

  She swallowed down the lump of emotions. “We should get these flowers done.”

  Before she could reach for the papers, Stefano moved to her side. His hands reached out, cupping her shoulders. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No child should ever go through what you did.”

  She glanced away, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But it still hurts. I know.”

  Their gazes collided, sending her heart beating out of control. “You truly get it, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “We didn’t have the same sort of childhood, but I know what it’s like to lose a parent and hope they’ll come back. And I know what it’s like to be forgotten by a parent.”

  In that moment, she knew that she’d found someone else besides Lizzie who understood her and didn’t judge her by her past. The breath hitched in her throat as her focus slipped to his mouth—his very kissable mouth. She wondered what it’d be like to be held in his strong arms and to have his lips press to hers. Would his kiss be swift and passionate? Or would it be slow and tantalizing?

  She didn’t have to wonder any longer as he pulled her close. Her hands grabbed hold of his broad shoulders to steady herself. When his head dipped toward her, her eyelids fluttered closed.

  Her heart beat so loudly that it was all she could hear. Could Stefano hear it, too? Did he know how much she wanted him?

  And then he was there, pressing his lips to hers. The hunger and need in his kiss answered her questions. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  He tasted of coffee. Caffeine might provide a jolt of energy, but it didn’t compare with the rush of adrenaline from Stefano’s kiss. A moan swelled in her throat. His touch was so much better than anything she’d conjured up in her imagination.

  But this wasn’t right. Getting involved with Stefano would only complicate things. She had to stop before it went any further.

  With every bit of willpower she could muster, she pressed her palms to his solid chest. The thump-thump of his heart vibrated through her fingers. Ignoring the delicious sensations that zinged up her arms, she pushed him away.

  She looked at him, finding bewilderment in his eyes. Perhaps he, too, was caught off guard by the intensity of that amazing kiss.

  “I...I should be going.” Stefano jumped to his feet.

  He beat a path through the colorful paper to the door without even a glance back. Why was he acting as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough? Was she the only one to feel anything? No, she was certain that he’d felt it, too. Then she realized that it must have unnerved him, as well.

  Just then Apricot stood up, stretched and gave off a little baby murr. She strolled across the bed to where Jules was leaning against it and rubbed her head against Jules’s hair, which was drying into an unruly mess of spiral curls.

  Maybe opening up to him hadn’t been the wisest move. She’d have to be careful going forward and keep a safe distance. Because his kiss was much too tempting, and she might just forget that she wasn’t interested in starting up anything with him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, Lizzie canceled?”

  Stefano’s irritated tone echoed through the car, catching Jules’s full attention.

  She turned in her seat, noticing the distinct frown lines marring his face as he skillfully maneuvered them through the busy streets of Rome. Why in the world was he so upset about Lizzie’s change of plans? Or was something else bothering him? Something to do with the kiss that neither dared to mention?

  It didn’t matter. She refused to let Lizzie’s call or Stefano’s gloomy mood ruin this day. This was the very best part of planning a wedding—picking out the cake.

  “Lizzie mentioned that there is a special party in the dining room tonight and it’s all hands on deck. You should be happy. Your grandfather’s restaurant is thriving again.”

  “I am.” Stefano sighed as he slowed to a stop for a red light. “I’ll find a place to turn around and we’ll head back to the vineyard.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “Why not? The only reason we were heading into the city was to help the bride pick out a cake.”

  “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  “Wha
t?” He chanced a quick glance her way. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

  “No. I’m quite serious.”

  He’d barely spoken to her since they’d kissed two days ago. Was it because she’d pushed him away? Or was it something more? Maybe he wasn’t over the loss of his wife. Jules had spied a snapshot of him and his wife in a collage in Massimo’s room. When she’d mentioned the particular photo, Massimo would only say that Gianna had died a couple of years ago. It made Jules wonder if there was more to the story—more behind Stefano’s hesitation to let himself live again.

  From the photo, she gathered that Stefano’s wife had been nothing like her. Or perhaps it’d be better to say that Jules was nothing like his wife. Gianna had worn her long hair pulled back into a conservative braid, her face had been devoid of makeup and her clothes were quite modest and not the least bit showy. She was the quintessential wholesome, modest wife—something Jules would never be.

  For the first time ever, Jules wanted to change. She wanted to be the woman who could make a simple dress look amazing. She wanted to be comfortable in her own skin and not feel the need to hide behind a wall of makeup. But more than anything she wanted a man to look at her with love and desire like Stefano had been looking at his wife in the photo. Correction: she wanted Stefano to look at her that way. But that was never going to happen.

  Now he barely glanced her way—not since she’d lost her head and let things go too far. She missed the friendship they’d been building. If only she could undo that moment.

  She couldn’t let that stand between them doing their duty as maid of honor and best man. She was a grown-up, and so was he. They could move past this. Somehow.

  She swallowed her uneasiness and hoped her voice would sound more confident than she felt inside. “We promised to do everything we could to make this wedding a success. Can you still do that?”

  “But it’s their wedding, not ours.”

  Jules’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Him mentioning them and a wedding all in the same sentence caught her off guard. She wondered if it was unintentional, or if his thoughts had been straying back to the brief but heated kiss they’d shared.

  His knuckles gleamed white as he gripped the steering wheel. “You know what I mean.” His body visibly stiffened. “Not that you and I are getting married—I mean not that we’re even involved—”

  “It’s okay. I know what you mean.” She watched as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “But that doesn’t change things. We still have to do this for Lizzie and Dante.”

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Trust me. I do.” She grabbed her wedding planner from her purse and perused the photos of cakes that Lizzie preferred. “I know what she likes. Trust me.”

  “You keep saying that, but I just don’t know.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Lizzie picked out photos of cakes. We weren’t sure what the baker could produce on such short notice, so I had her line up her choices in order of what she liked best.” Jules flipped to the section where she’d taped the pictures of the cakes. “None of these look too elaborate.”

  “If you say so. Now where exactly am I supposed to be going?”

  She read off the directions to the first bakery. While he navigated the congested roadway, she settled back in the comfortable leather seat and thumbed through her organizer. There was still so much to do for this quickly approaching wedding, but it was her escort that kept distracting her. The memory of his kiss was always lurking at the edge of her thoughts. Why couldn’t she forget it? Why did this one have to stand out in her mind?

  Going forward, she had to be careful not to let it happen again. These DeFiore men came armed with irresistible smiles, alluring dark eyes that drew you in, and when they talked to you, it was as if you were the only person that existed. Lizzie had already fallen hook, line and sinker. But Jules was smarter than that. She wasn’t going to let her heart do the thinking for her. She knew too well that the L word wasn’t enough.

  Her father had told her that he loved her and that he was doing what was best for her. Then he’d left. She never saw him again. It wasn’t until she was a teenager that she learned he’d died in an auto accident. Then there was her mother, who would tell her that she loved her, but when times got tough, her temper would flare and she’d turn to alcohol.

  If that was love, she didn’t want any part of it. Growing up, Jules and Lizzie never talked about love. They both quietly acknowledged that they cherished each other like sisters but neither could bring themselves to say the L word. It was as if vocalizing the emotion would jinx their entire relationship. Jules had since avoided the word altogether.

  Jules was grateful for the distraction as they pulled up to Sweet Things Bakery. Her anticipation was short-lived—they were booked. Soon they found that Spagnoli’s Bakery, Antonio’s Bake Shop and Cake Haven were also booked. Weddings were a big business. And it was first come, first served.

  “This isn’t looking too good.” Stefano started the car.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  He glanced at her with surprise written all over his face. And then, instead of grouching at her, he started to laugh. And laugh. To be honest, she didn’t know what there was to laugh about. How in the world were they supposed to have a wedding without a cake?

  Stefano gathered himself. “So how are you at baking?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” He was kidding, wasn’t he? She looked him in the eyes and saw a glint of seriousness. “I’m awful. I can’t even make a box cake, not without it falling. My baking skills are not pretty at all. We have to find a bakery to do the wedding cake, even if it means visiting every single bakery in this city.”

  When they pulled up in front of Tortino Paradiso—Cupcake Heaven—Jules knew they were in the right place. It may not be the wedding cake that Lizzie was dreaming of. But in times of desperation, there had to be compromises.

  The building was a dark-chocolate brick. The striped awning was the color of pink-and-pearl-white frosting. And the large windows held various cupcake towers as well as cupcakes displayed in the shape of a smiley face. The display that truly caught Jules’s attention was one of cupcakes decorated as various brightly colored flowers and placed in a garden setting with a white picket fence. It was detailed, imaginative and fun. The bakery radiated a sense of cheerful creativity where the sky was the limit.

  “This is it!”

  Stefano turned a puzzled look her way. “This is what?”

  “This is the place where we’ll find Lizzie and Dante’s cake.”

  “Maybe your Italian isn’t so good. This is a cupcake shop. I don’t think that’s what they had in mind for their wedding cake.”

  “Just trust me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  She jumped out of the car before Stefano could say more. She pulled off her sunglasses and smiled at a customer who’d just exited the bakery. In their hand was a cute bag with the picture of a chocolate cupcake with pink frosting on the front. It appeared that this place was all about the details. Now they had to pass one last test—the taste test.

  Stefano rounded the car and joined her on the sidewalk. She leaned toward him and whispered, “Just follow my lead. Or else.”

  Without waiting for his response, she reached out and slid her hand in his. Goose bumps raced up her arm, and a warm sensation swirled in her chest. She resisted the urge to glance his way to see if he noticed her reaction to his touch. She willed herself to breath regularly and act nonchalant. She assured herself that the reaction had nothing to do with that much-too-short kiss.

  “Is this really necessary?” He glanced down at their clasped hands, but he didn’t pull away.

  “Most definitely.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not about to let this p
lace slip through our fingers. So to speak.”

  “Shouldn’t you call Lizzie and let her know what you have in mind?”

  “I will.”

  “When?”

  “When I know that this place can fit the wedding on their calendar. Otherwise there’s no point in consulting Lizzie. She may not be here, but she’s still the bride and brides do get nervous. If she knew how many bakeries had turned us away, she’d start to panic. Is that what you want?”

  “No, but—”

  “That’s what I thought. Now let’s get moving. The only way to find out anything is to ask.”

  They walked up to the bakery hand in hand. Jules hoped that she looked more confident than she felt. It bothered her that the only way he’d hold her hand was by way of a threat. He probably would rather do a hundred other less desirable things than act as if they were a happy couple. But he was doing his best to be a good brother and keep his word to Dante—not many people would go to this length.

  Like the gentleman she knew him to be, Stefano opened the glass door for her. When she passed by him, she caught a hint of his spicy cologne. She’d never been one to pay much attention to those sorts of things, but in Stefano’s case, she found the inviting scent quite appealing. In fact, she was quite tempted to pause and get a much better whiff.

  The chime above the door startled her from her daydream. What was she thinking? She wasn’t in Italy to get involved with a man, casually or otherwise. Her lips pressed firmly together as she held back a frustrated sigh. When the store clerk spotted them, it was with great effort that Jules forced her mouth into a smile.

  “Showtime,” she whispered to Stefano. “Remember this is for your brother and my sister.” She didn’t know if the warning was more for him or her.

  “Hi,” the saleswoman with a pink-and-brown-striped apron said from behind the counter. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”

  “Actually, there is something.” Jules led the way to the counter. “We want to know if you have an opening for a July wedding.”