by Joanne Rock
"Better than great." She'd never been an arrogant woman, but she knew without a doubt the Cesare property would be spectacular. Warm and inviting with gardens that beckoned passersby, the yard would be a natural haven in the midst of urban sprawl. "You'll never want to go back to Italy once you see your house in its new finery. I was thinking maybe I'd leave my business card with Mary Jo once I finish up so if anyone asks her who did your yard, she can spread the word."
She'd been thinking about that, hoping it didn't seem too intrusive. But if she wanted her business to flourish she needed to stabilize the roots. As a gardener, she knew this, but she'd never been one to tout her own accomplishments. Vito was frowning, however.
"I don't have to mention it to Mrs. K. if you don't want me to."
"It's not that." He replaced his mug on the counter-top, his bare shoulders rippling with lean muscle from even that small movement. "I just thought you'd be here for a few more weeks. You're not going to be finished anytime soon, are you?"
She shrugged as she sipped coffee that was as warm and tasty as she knew he would be. She'd really been much better off not knowing what he looked like without his shirt.
Yum.
"Less than a month. I want everything to be finished by the time out-of-town company starts rolling in."
He rolled his eyes, a grin playing about his lips. "You don't understand Italian weddings. Out-of-town company will probably start arriving next week. My whole extended family will want to have a hand in helping Giselle get ready for the big day."
"You're kidding." She loved her family, but the Chandlers had always given one another a lot of room. She couldn't picture having family around her for weeks before her big day. She'd probably elope before she let anyone make that big a fuss over her.
"Nope. They'll be here before we know it, which means we only have so much time to enjoy … the quiet." He nodded toward her empty coffee cup. "Can you sit for a few minutes while I cook you breakfast? Although I have to confess you've already sampled the one thing I make well in the kitchen."
Actually, she'd stake her paycheck that the two of them could make something very well right here. Against the kitchen counter. Or maybe sprawled across the table.
But she couldn't let herself think about that when she had a long day of work ahead of her. Besides, she didn't allow herself to lust after men like Vito Cesare. Too dangerous. Too temporary.
Because, no matter how much she told herself that she could scratch the occasional itch with a man as long as she didn't allow herself to think ridiculous, romantic thoughts, Vito posed too much of a threat on every level.
What woman wouldn't start thinking loopy, mushy thoughts if she stared into those dark hazel eyes long enough?
"Thanks, but I need to pass on breakfast today if I want to get a jump on things before it heats up any more." She moved toward the door before she remembered the whole reason Vito needed to talk to her this morning. "So what else did your uncle have to say?"
"Besides denying that he played matchmaker this time? He also asked me to go over your work when you're finished and then he'll make sure you receive your check right away. In fact, he told me that you weren't just a landscaper, you're an artist." He followed her across the kitchen where she'd paused. Frozen.
Too close to his half-naked bod.
"Really?" She swallowed, flattered by the compliment but too flustered by Vito's bronze chest sprinkled with silky dark hair to fully enjoy the words.
"Yeah." Vito reached out to touch her, his knuckles grazing the back of her hair. "But if you wanted to get outside before things heated up today, I think you're already too late."
* * *
5
« ^ »
Vito had spotted the reciprocal attraction in Christine's eyes, so he thought this morning was as good a time as any to step up the pace on his summer seduction.
But he realized as soon as he touched her that he'd miscalculated. Overstepped those damn boundaries of hers too soon. A flash of something akin to panic blazed in her gaze for a split second, warning him off course before he crashed and burned.
Time to nail the brakes.
"Excuse me?" Christine glared daggers at him, all hints of fear well concealed under convincing-as-hell anger.
Jamming his wayward hand into the pocket of his shorts, he nodded toward the kitchen window and the view of the relentless sunshine filling the backyard. "I just said you're not going to beat the heat today. Thermometer says it's already eighty-four."
He hid a smile while she frowned at him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to work this hard for a woman, and damned if he wasn't enjoying himself even as she scowled. How sick was that?
"Don't mess with me, Cesare." She pointed a finger at him, her gaze narrowed. "I've got my eye on you."
He did his best to look innocent while he opened the door for her. "I'm flattered. Let me know if you need help with anything."
Pushing past him amid a great deal of harrumphing, Christine and her heavy work boots stomped outside. Vito lingered in the doorway for a moment to watch her go, trying to put his finger on what exactly he found so attractive about her.
It was more than just the thrill of the chase, although he had to admit he enjoyed pursuing a woman who had no interest in his famous career or equally famous fortune. He was in second place for the most lifetime winnings on his circuit and with another good year behind the wheel he had a strong chance of taking the first place spot.
Not that he was in it for the money, but plenty of women had flirted with him for that reason alone. He liked that Christine had simpler values and a fierce independent streak. His father had raised him to be self-sufficient long before Vito made truckloads of money as a driver, and he'd always admired that same quality in other people.
As he watched Christine stare at the yard with a critical eye, her dark head turning this way and that, he realized her perfectionist streak held an appeal of its own. Her hard work in the gardens day after day revealed a woman with high standards who didn't mind working hard—or getting her hands dirty—to achieve them. Something about that characteristic of hers called to him on the most elemental level. A woman like that would make a strong partner. An awesome wife. Had he just thought wife?
Ducking back into the cool air-conditioning of the house, Vito decided the Florida sun must be scrambling his brains. He wanted Christine Chandler because she was sexy as hell and because watching her day after day seriously compromised his ability to do anything except fantasize about her.
He'd continue with his plan to woo her, but he'd have to maintain an easy pace if he didn't want to scare her off. Maybe the time had come to make a trip out to the outdoor shower and pay her a surprise visit.
Smiling at his plan, Vito couldn't wait for night to arrive.
* * *
Christine made damn sure she quit work early that night. Hauling her tools back to the workshop, she double-checked her watch.
Not that ten o'clock was early by a normal person's standards, but it meant she wouldn't be so exhausted she'd fall asleep in the yard. She'd gotten a case of delicious shivers every time she envisioned Vito carrying her to bed last night. Which made no sense given that she was so determined to keep her distance from him and his slick charm honed to perfection at too many glitzy European parties.
Or so she imagined as she stood the rake against the wall of the shed and peeled off her work gloves.
She actually had no idea what Vito's life might be like abroad, but she'd concocted an image in her mind of weekends on the Riviera and cruises on the Mediterranean. All of which included topless beaches and sophisticated women draped all over him.
She was so not into that. Slipping out of her work boots, she padded to the back of the shed in her socks. Give her a plot of land and some flowers and she could be happy. Okay, toss in a few friends and loved ones who didn't talk out of both sides of their faces and then she'd be even happier. She liked people who were honest. Rea
l.
Not people who built their whole world on glamour and pretense.
Trouble was, she couldn't decide if the real Vito preferred his Gucci shoes or his flip-flops. His Ferrari that he'd taken out of storage, or his pickup truck bearing a logo for his brother's construction firm. From what she could see, he actually spent more time on his computer than anything. He left the house occasionally to do some errands, but for the most part, he worked on a sleek laptop for hours on end.
Christine tucked into the back corner of the work space where an abandoned desk blocked the rear exit of the building. The doorway led to the outdoor shower where she'd begun to wash every night since Vito had arrived home. It only made sense to clean up before she went inside anyhow, and it saved her the awkward passing of one another in the hallway. She kept a bag with a few clothes out here along with soap and shampoo.
And although she didn't anticipate anyone walking into the small building late at night, she still took the extra precaution of changing in the enclosed shower stall. Just in case.
She wouldn't want some unsuspecting neighbor to drop by while she was dropping her drawers, only to be the subject of one of Mary Jo Kowolski's stories for years to come.
Dragging a clean T-shirt and cotton shorts into the stall, she tossed them over the six-foot-high wooden walls along with the dirty outfit. Taking time to stare up at the moon and stars, she flicked on the water and reveled in the mix of warm night air and slight steam from the shower.
Divine. If she could ever afford her own home with property, she would install one of these babies herself. Her feet rested on smooth, sloped stones while the water ran down into a grate off to one side. When the nights were superhumid, she took a cold shower, but she was so filthy tonight she craved the sterilizing effects of hot water.
Humming to herself, she scrubbed and soaped until the shower began to cool. Rinsing the last of the bubbles from her hair, she reluctantly finished her bedtime ritual. She reached for her towel and realized it wasn't there just as a voice came from the other side of the shower wall.
"Did you lose this?" Vito's hand appeared over the enclosure wall, holding her towel between his fingers.
Awareness fired through her faster than embarrassment. Hearing his voice while she stood naked and dripping…
"I need that." She started to reach for the towel and then wondered if he would see her if she got too close to the wall. Didn't he stand over six feet himself?
"Can you … um … just hang it on the wall, perhaps?" She shivered. Wrapped her arms around herself.
And it wasn't anywhere near cold outside.
"I don't mind bringing it in there to you if that would help." He waited. Held the damn towel just above the wall.
"I think you know that wouldn't be the least bit helpful." She wrung out her short hair and tried not to let him fluster her. Flirting was a way of life for men like him. She just couldn't let him see that he affected her a teeny, tiny bit. "Do I look like some racing groupie dying to get naked with you? Get over yourself, Cesare, and give me the damn towel."
"Have it your way. Just trying to be helpful." The length of fluffy blue terry cloth came sailing over the wall of the stall. "Out of curiosity, what would you have done if I hadn't come along to rescue your towel?"
Wrapping the linen around herself in record time even though she knew he couldn't possibly see her through the wooden latticework and the interior privacy wall, Christine glowered at him right through the barrier. "I certainly wouldn't have run around your yard naked, if that's what you're thinking."
"Of course that's what I'm thinking. It's a guy thing to continually conjure up scenarios where women get naked."
She tugged a clean T-shirt over her head. "Fine. Conjure away then. Just please don't include me in the myriad of ever-changing male fantasies, okay? I'm working too hard for you to diminish my contribution with idle flirtation."
For a long moment, the only response from the other side of the wall was the call of a night bird.
She felt a bit self-conscious as she slid into her shorts, every rustle of fabric sounding loud to her own ears. Could he envision her every move from the soft noises she made?
Eager simply to put the whole incident behind them, she shoved open the door to the shed and tossed her towel and her dirty clothes into a laundry bag before zipping her small bag for the night. Combing her fingers through her short hair, she walked through the workshop and shut off the lights before exiting onto the lawn.
Vito stood a few feet from the shower stall in the darkness, a tiny sliver of a moon doing little to light the yard or his expression. He wore a dark collared shirt with a pair of slouchy shorts, his flip-flops slapping the ground as he stepped closer.
"Do you really think me flirting with you diminishes you in any way in my eyes?" The teasing tone had vanished from his voice.
Sighing, she searched for a way to put them back on neutral ground. "Not necessarily. I guess I'm just a little defensive about any potential hanky-panky between us after what you told me about your uncle hiring me as a potential hookup for you."
"I never said that's what Uncle Giuseppe was trying to do, damn it. He's just an old guy with a big heart. And he'd sure as hell never endorse something so sordid sounding as a hookup."
"You're right. That was my spin on it, and I realize you never put it that way. Sorry." She needed to get to the house. Away from Vito and all talk of hooking up. "I just meant that I'm a little sensitive about any dynamic that could be construed as flirtation between us because I don't want your uncle to be right about this. About us."
And since that was more than her quota for emotional honesty tonight, she turned on her heel in the soft ground she'd prepped for sodding today and headed back to the house.
For all of two steps.
"Wait a minute." His hand slid around her elbow, warm fingers settling along her skin. "Don't tell me you're going to let Giuseppe's ridiculous romantic streak affect you one way or the other. If you don't want me to make stupid jokes about picturing women naked, I can completely respect that. But if you had any inclination to—"
"Get undressed with you?" It seemed silly to avoid the words when they both had to be thinking the same thing. Too bad she shared Giuseppe's ridiculous romanticism while Vito seemed more inclined to take "naked" whenever and wherever he could find it.
Vito shrugged, relinquishing her arm. "Just don't let my crazy family influence you either way."
She couldn't deny her skin felt lonelier without his touch. Hugging herself in the dark, humid night air, she scrubbed her hands along her arms as if to erase the memory of that gentle caress. A soft breeze rustled the palm branches above them..
"I don't know, Vito." She didn't want to think about him or her or being stripped down anymore. Not when she had an important job to finish. A business to build.
She knew better than to mess up her life's dream by screwing around, didn't she? Of course she did.
"Can you talk to me for a minute?" Vito pulled her around the new paver stones she'd installed earlier in the day and led her to the small stretch of existing patio she'd salvaged. He held out a chair for her, the same chair she'd sat in the first day he'd arrived and turned her world on its ear. "Sit with me, Christine."
Too tired to protest, she thought it might be easier in this instance to simply agree. Lowering herself into the seat, she watched him move around the glass-topped table to pull the other chair closer. Right beside her.
Some of her exhaustion leaked away, replaced by nerves. Awareness.
Words tumbled out of her mouth to fill the heated air between them. "You're going to love the new patio once it's surrounded by more greenery. I'm going to plant so much night-blooming jasmine back here it will be like walking into a hothouse every night when you step out on the deck."
"I'm sorry." He propped an elbow on the table as he leaned closer. "I want to hear more about the landscaping plans, Christine, but first let me just say I'm sorry for in
terrupting your shower."
"It's not a big deal." Geesh, she shouldn't have acted like such a harassment-suit-happy whiner about the whole thing. He hadn't offended her so much as he tempted her, but she wasn't sure how to tell him that now without the conversation taking a turn she definitely wasn't prepared for.
"I admit I was trying to rile you a little bit, just to see what would happen." He raked a hand through his dark hair, the tousled strands conspiring with the neatly shaved hair at his chin to make him look even more dangerous. Sexy. "I thought I sensed some chemistry between us and I guess I've been looking for a way to turn up the heat without coming on to you and making you mad. But I guess I did that anyway."
"I'm not mad." She just wanted the hell out of this conversation. The sooner the better. She'd had good luck avoiding Vito and the chemistry in question for the last two weeks, and now here he was, dragging it all out into the open.
The whole reason she'd ended up falling in love via the Internet was because she stank at conversations where you needed to examine feelings and share thoughts face-to-face. At least in e-mails you could maintain a hint of distance and take your time responding. She appreciated the chance to weigh her options and tweak her answers before hitting the send button.
Right now, face-to-face with Vito, she had the feeling no matter what she said—fact or fiction—she'd be kicking herself in the morning.
* * *
Vito had all of nature playing on his side. Moonlight, warm breezes and other than the occasional call of a night bird, the neighborhood remained quiet. Private.
Plus the fact that he'd caught Christine in the shower earlier, and the whole equation should add up to the two of them exchanging mind-numbing kisses and falling into his bed. Instead he found himself in sticky terrain with a woman who looked as though she would bolt if he didn't tie her down.
