HER FINAL FLING
Page 15
"I'm going to stay this time." Vito's quiet announcement turned the whole room slack-jawed for a two-count before all his brothers started talking at once.
"You're going to quit racing?"
"You'd really move back here?"
But Nico nailed it as he stared out the window with him. "This is about her, isn't it?"
"Damn straight." It was all about her.
Christine.
There hadn't been two minutes in the past five days when he hadn't thought about her. He should have realized sooner how important she'd become to him. Should have cleared things up with her about their future before he left.
But he'd been so damn confused about how to make it happen, how to ditch his commitments and make a life for himself here.
"What if she doesn't show today, bro?" Nico asked the same question Vito had been asking himself all morning.
And he gave him the only answer he would allow. "She has to."
* * *
14
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She had at least to put in an appearance.
Christine gave herself a pep talk in a back alley behind the church, unable just to park the truck and go inside. She'd been circling the block for almost ten minutes now, but once she saw the bride's limo pull up to the church she knew she couldn't put this off any longer.
She'd have to face Vito sometime, if only to give him back his money. Although she'd been very nice and patient with Vito's Uncle Giuseppe when they cleared up the whole issue of payment three days ago, she'd been more than a little frustrated by his insistence that Vito was only trying to thank her for the job she'd done on the yard.
Who thanked their landscaper with a tip that could have put a down payment on a new car? If Vito had liked her work, he could have given her a box of chocolates. Or Mary Jo Kowolski's lemon cookies.
But this was the kind of over-the-top, way-too-generous gesture that seemed to suggest he thought she needed a helping hand. As if she couldn't run a profitable business on her own and needed someone to pave her way.
Either that, or he had only given her the extra cash to assuage his guilty conscience. Maybe he gave her money because he would never give her anything so valuable as his heart.
Hating that scenario even more than the first, Christine slammed the door of her truck with a little extra wrist action. Hearing her old truck groan in response, she immediately felt contrite. Considering she wouldn't be using Vito's money for a down payment on a new truck, she had no business treating her worn-out vehicle with anything but the utmost TLC.
She hurried across the tarmac, stepping double-time in an effort to make sure she was seated before the bridesmaids made their entrance. As she skirted around the limo, one sleek, tinted window lowered and a slender arm waved her over to the car.
Smiling in spite of herself as strains of Sinatra's "Summer Wind" drifted from the long, dark luxury vehicle, she peered inside to see the bride surrounded by the three other women who owned a piece of Club Paradise with her, and Renzo's wife the museum director. They looked like the perfect flower arrangement as the bridesmaids' bright fuchsia skirts billowed about their knees and the bride's white lace train took center stage in the middle seat.
Giselle passed her plastic champagne cup to Summer Farnsworth, a kinky-haired blonde with a single fuchsia clip-on braid twining through her platinum curls. Scooching forward, Giselle peered out the car window to be sure the coast was clear before leaning out to talk.
"My brother is going crazy, Christine. Absolutely, nutzoid, call-the-house every two hours crazy to find out if I've heard from you." She fidgeted with an orange blossom in her hair. "I know I can't tell you what to do when it comes to your love life, but I can tell you this." She pointed her finger in Christine's face, her French manicure as perfect as the rest of her. "Don't you break his heart on my wedding day."
As if his heart had ever been at risk.
Still, the romantic in Christine wasn't about to rain on the bride's parade. Planting a kiss on her new friend's cheek, she made sure she didn't leave a lipstick print before backing away.
"You have my solemn promise that won't happen."
"Good. Now will you go find my big brother for me and tell him to get his cute butt out here so he can give me away? I've got a man to marry!"
Her words met with whoops of approval inside the limo while Christine quietly hyperventilated. Giselle wanted her to find Vito?
So much for her elaborate plans to avoid him. It looked as though she had no choice but to face the man she'd fallen in love with against all better judgment.
Running up the church steps, she could hear the organ music playing right through the heavy wooden doors kept shut in deference to the air-conditioning on the warm Florida afternoon. She reached for one of the doors just as another swung wide.
Revealing the very person she'd been looking for.
She froze, drinking in the sight of Vito after the days they'd spent apart. What was it about a tuxedo that made a woman's heart pound? Her mouth go dry? Her hormones surge?
Oh, who was she kidding? It wasn't the tuxedo. It was most definitely the man inside it—even if he had no respect for her independence as a business professional and zero regard for her heart.
"Giselle sent me to look for you." She blurted as soon as her tongue came unstuck from the roof of her mouth. "She's ready for you to escort her—"
Her words died in her throat as he stalked closer. Closer.
Hauled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips that made her toes curls and her knees melt.
"Thank you for being here." He reached for the church door with one hand, never taking his hazel eyes off her. One of Vito's brother's peered out of the church, dressed just like him. "My brother will show you where to sit so I can find you afterward, okay? We need to talk."
He sounded so sincere, his dark eyes earnest. She knew she couldn't afford to get caught up in the romance of the day. The tuxedo. The church. The wedding music.
"Yes, we do." She struggled to remember the guilt money he'd given her before he left on his trip. She needed to give it back to him anyway, so there was really no use avoiding him any longer. "I'll see you inside."
He might have said more, but the bridal party chose that moment to spill out of the limo, their laughter carrying on the breeze along with strains of "The Way You Look Tonight."
Sliding out of his arms, she ducked inside the church while her inner romantic prepared for the emotional roller-coaster ride of a wedding ceremony on the same day she'd be saying goodbye to Vito forever.
Good thing she'd brought along her hankie.
* * *
Vito knew it was a good thing he'd put Nico and Renzo in charge of making sure Christine got to the reception or she would have bolted the moment the church bells rang after Giselle's wedding.
Something was obviously bothering her or she wouldn't have made such a concerted effort to avoid him all day.
Now, an hour after his sister had said "I do," a string quartet played in the backyard during cocktails, and Vito scanned the grounds to find Christine. The family photos had taken forever, but he could hardly complain since his baby sister would only have one wedding day. While the bride continued to pose for photos with her groom and her girlfriends, Vito searched every section of the yard for signs of his garden goddess, not an easy task with one hundred and fifty of their closest friends and family on the scene.
He was just about to head in the house to check indoors when he remembered the tire swing. Hidden behind one of the minibars erected for the event, the old tire remained empty. But sure enough, there she was a few feet away, checking out the progress of the thatch palms they'd pruned together.
She looked beautiful in a long yellow dress with delicate daisies stitched across the hem, her silky dark hair curling around her ears. She seemed so much a part of the gentle floral landscape she'd designed out of the long-ignored yard. Vito couldn't picture this place without her in it.
"Here I am." She spoke softly, as if she was already far away from him. Her fingers flexed around a tall, skinny glass, empty except for some ice. "The wedding was beautiful, Vito, but I can't stay for long."
"Can't stay?" Something was really wrong here. Drastically, incredibly wrong and he had no clue what. "Come on, Christine. You promised to be my date tonight and I've been saving up things that I need to tell you for five whole days. I've just got a few more commitments to Giselle since I'm the stand-in father of the bride for the day, but then we need to talk about what happens from here."
"Nothing happens from here." She reached inside a white purse tucked under one arm and withdrew a long white envelope. "We both knew that fling was finite when we got into this in the first place, so there's no need to pretend we're heartbroken now that summer is ending." Thrusting the envelope into his hands, she cleared her throat. "This is the extra money you inadvertently gave me when you paid for the landscaping job, so I'll hand that back to you now and call us even with no hard feelings."
It's a damn good thing the tire swing was behind him to catch him when he fell because Vito knew he'd keel over from shock any minute.
"You're saying it's over, you're leaving, and that the fling was finite … and you expect there to be no hard feelings?" He shook his head, refusing to believe his ears. "Weren't you in the same bed as me five days ago when we connected on some kind of superhuman level? And you know damn well I'm not just talking about the sex."
She peered meaningfully around the yard as if to remind him of his hundred and fifty wedding guests.
As if they mattered more than her right now.
She waved the envelope under his nose again before stuffing it in his jacket pocket.
"You're the one who set the ground rules for this relationship, not me." She sounded angry. Frustrated. Hurt. "And you're also the one trying to mix business with pleasure by ridiculously overpaying me for my skills. I wanted to be paid for professional assets and not my ass, remember?"
Now it was Vito's turn to peer around the yard and make sure no one could overhear them. Thankfully, even the string quartet was difficult to hear in a crowd of excited Italians snapping pictures and critiquing the passed hors d'oeuvres.
"You're mad about the bonus?" He'd given her some extra money when he had paid her. Had it been too much? Hell, he couldn't even remember the amount. "I saw how hard you worked this summer. Days, nights, weekends. Other people get time and a half for that kind of commitment, Christine."
"I didn't sign on for special treatment because I slept with the boss, okay? I don't need anyone to take care of me." Christine clutched her empty lemonade glass tighter and wished she hadn't guzzled it all down at once. She needed something to do to cool off the hot hurt inside her, needed an action to keep her nervous hands occupied, since just looking at Vito made her want to throw herself in his arms. Feel his hands all over her.
"That's what this is about?" He scratched his head, clearly perplexed that she'd be so mad about the money. "Hell, I thought you were upset because I took off for Germany so fast the other day."
She rattled the ice in her glass, sipped the few drops of water it yielded. Stalled until she could respond to that without sounding like all the other women in his life who'd ever tried to cling to him with both hands.
"I've understood from the beginning that you have a whole life outside me." Which was why she needed to leave this noisy, wonderful family shindig before she thought too much about what it would be like to be a part of that life.
The string quartet's music came to a halt as a local rock band took the stage along one side of the lawn. Vito's brother Nico took up the microphone, his deep voice rumbling over a squeaky hiss of electronic feedback. "Paging brother of the bride, Vito Cesare."
Vito pulled her close, his hands wrapping around her waist as he whispered in her ear. "My life outside of you is now officially over."
Before she could process what that might mean, he squeezed her hand and tugged her into the thick of the crowd toward the stage. "But for right now, I've got to play surrogate father of the bride and I need you beside me."
Having no clue what else to do, Christine closed her eyes and held on.
* * *
She would have had a blast at Giselle's reception if she hadn't been half scared of the future and half hopeful. Every time she caught Vito staring at her during dinner, she felt a mixture of thrill and hope, followed by dread that she was misinterpreting everything. But the evening included all the things that made her romantic heart beat faster. First, there had been a surprisingly sentimental toast to the bride and groom from Nico. Then Vito had decided they needed a photo of all the kids attending the wedding, so he took it upon himself to gather them all around the tire swing to capture the moment. Later, there had been lots of clinking of silverware on glasses and in turn, lots of long kisses between a glowing bride and a husband who couldn't have looked any more proud.
Now, as dinner finally wound down, the dancing began under a canopy of stars and a temporary pavilion of white lights. Vito and Christine's table was vacated as the other three couples seated with them got up to dance.
Across the yard, half the reception crowd was doing the Stroll while the band turned up the volume. Not that it mattered since the whole neighborhood seemed to be in attendance tonight. Mrs. Kowolski and Giuseppe Donzinetti were sneaking kisses a few tables away, the stars in their eyes even more obvious than the ones overhead.
"I thought I'd never get you alone." Vito's voice cut into her thoughts, pulling her attention away from all the people around them who seemed to have found their lifelong happiness.
"You call this alone?" She couldn't help but smile at the hundred and fifty guests crowding the yard.
"It's about as alone as you ever get when you come from a big family." He reached across the white linen tablecloth and covered her hand with his. "Except for the nights."
His gaze brought back the butterflies. The worries. The desire for him that she knew would never, ever go away.
"It was definitely a lot quieter earlier this summer." The warm night air brought back so memories of being out here with him. She thought about the nights in the outdoor shower. The encounters on the living-room floor. The dining room table. It had all been so private. So decadent. "But this is fun, too."
"I'm sorry about the money." His thumb traced soft circles over the back of her hand. Reminded her how much he knew about touching. Kissing. "I can see your point about overtipping and sending the wrong message, but I swear I was only thinking how damn hard you worked all summer. Giuseppe wasn't here to see how you got up in the middle of the night to water the grass before the sprinkler system went in. He didn't know how you fell asleep outside that night you were so exhausted from working all day."
His words touched her. Went a long way toward soothing her wounded pride.
"I thought maybe you were just throwing money at me to make me go away quietly." But she should have known him better than that. She did know him better than that, but she'd been too upset about the end of the fling and falling in love to really think through the money issue. "I guess I've been expecting the worst from men ever since the whole Rafe ordeal and that's not fair to you."
He scooped up her other hand as a conga line danced past their table, Vito's aunts and uncles all making smoochy faces at them as if to encourage kissing.
God, they were too much.
"I don't want you to go away quietly, Christine. As the matter of fact, I don't want you to go away at all, and that's what I've been trying to tell you all day." His pant leg brushed up against her lightweight yellow dress, eliciting a shiver over her skin.
Hope surged through her again, stronger and scarier than the little twinges she'd felt earlier that evening.
"What about the fling?" There would be no misunderstandings this ti
me. No embarrassing confusion about what a man wanted from her.
"The fling is over and while it was a hell of a lot of fun, I don't ever want another one. I want you. For real. Forever."
A pathetic little yelp-squeal escaped her throat even though she knew he couldn't come close to backing up that statement. "But you have a career overseas. A whole life beyond Miami and me—"
"I'm done." He threaded his fingers through her hair cupping the back of her neck. "That's why it took me so long to get back here this week. I told my publicist to cancel the rest of my schedule this season, because whether you say yes or no, I'm finally ready to come back home. Back to my family. Back to where I'm meant to be."
"You quit racing?" She knew the thumping bass from the band must be confusing her ears because she couldn't have possibly heard that correctly. "And what do you mean, 'whether I say yes or no'?"
She'd heard that part right.
Vito maneuvered something in his hands, his fingers twisting a thick silver band off his pinky.
"I mean whether or not you decide to marry into this rowdy clan of mine." He reached for her hand and dropped the weighty band into her palm. "I can't ask you officially today since it's my sister's wedding and I don't want your day to be overshadowed by hers. But this ring is my promise to you that I will do this the right way and replace that band with the real deal if you'll have dinner with me one night this week."
Shock mingled with disbelief. And a whole lot of hope. Happiness. Her fist curled around the silver pinky ring still warm from his skin.
"You would really give up your whole racing career? All the glitz? The insane amount of money?" Even as she thought he was the most wonderful man on earth, she also feared maybe he'd lost his mind. "You'd turn your back on all that to come to Miami and marry a messy landscaper with no sense of style and skin that will wrinkle prematurely thanks to all that sun exposure, and—"