by Susan Meier
“Ah.” He broke two eggs in a bowl, added milk, vanilla and a dash of what appeared to be cinnamon, beat the mixture, then rummaged for bread. When he found it, he dipped two slices into the egg mixture and put them on the small griddle. They sizzled.
She sniffed the vanilla. “Yum.”
“You really must be hungry.”
“I am.”
He turned to flip the two pieces of French toast. She tilted her head, taking in the details that made him who he was. Sexy dark hair. Wide shoulders. Trim hips. But his face was the showstopper. Dark, dark eyes in olive skin. A square jaw. High cheekbones.
Something soft and warm floated through her. She was just about to curse herself for looking at him again when she realized she’d never felt like this with Bruce. She’d liked Bruce—actually, she’d believed she’d loved him. But she’d never felt this odd combination of attraction and curiosity that mixed and mingled with the warmth of their friendship and turned her feelings into something more...something special.
She cleared her throat. What was she doing? Fantasizing again? This guy was her boss! Not only that, but he was a widower. Someone who’d lost his wife and still grieved her so much he no longer painted. What would he want with her? Plain, simple Laura Beth Matthews, who—oh, by the way—was also pregnant with another man’s child. Her job was to organize him back to the land of the living, not drool over him.
He made eight pieces of French toast, divided them onto two plates and handed one to her.
Her stomach rumbled again. “Thanks.”
He passed the syrup across the bar. She slathered it on her French toast, but waited for him to pick up his fork before she picked up hers. If there was one thing she’d learned from her years of attending Olivia and Tucker’s baby events and Ricky and Eloise’s elaborate parties, it was to follow the lead of the host and hostess.
He took a bite of his French toast, then smiled at her. “So getting a job where you get to live in was a pretty nifty way to handle the apartment problem.”
She reddened to the roots of her hair. “Does it seem sleazy?”
“No. It’s smart. After I rotated out of the foster-care system, I’d have killed for a job that got me off the streets.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have scrounged your way to Italy, where your dad found you.”
“Scrounged.” He grinned. “I love American words.”
“Hey, you’re half-American!”
“Yes, I am. And proud of it. I use both worlds.” He frowned. “Or did.” Then he brightened. “Never mind. How’s the toast?”
“I love it.” She pushed her plate away having eaten only two slices. “But I’m full.”
Antonio took her plate and his and set them in a metal drawer, which he closed. “Staff will get this when we land.”
She laughed. “Wow.”
“Hey, you better get used to living like this.”
Though she didn’t think Antonio was as persnickety or as pampered as his dad, she decided not to argue the point. Especially since she’d had a sleepless night, agonizing over her problems. With her tummy full and the lull of the plane, she just wanted to curl up on one of the sofas.
She wandered back to her seat, buckled herself in—in case they hit turbulence—and almost immediately fell asleep.
She awoke to the feeling of someone shaking her. “Laura Beth...we’re here.”
She snuggled into the blanket someone had thrown over her. “We’re where?”
“In Italy.”
Her eyes popped open. When she found herself staring into the gorgeous face of Antonio Bartulocci, it all tumbled back. They were on a plane to Italy. His dad had hired her. She didn’t have an apartment. She was pregnant.
Her stomach dropped.
She was pregnant. In a foreign country. Starting a new job. Working for Antonio, who needed her. But she was attracted to him. She thought he was the sexiest, most gorgeous man alive and she would be living with him. But he didn’t feel the same way about her.
That relaxed her. It could be a good thing if he only saw her as a friend. As long as she hid her crush, there’d be no problem. Plus, being on call twenty-four-seven to help him get his life back would keep her from dwelling on her problems.
That was the real silver lining. Not just the money. Not just a place to live. But someone to take care of, so she could forget about herself.
She pushed aside the soft cover. Her days of daydreaming she belonged in this world as anything other than an employee were over. She could take this job and run with it, create a halfway decent life for herself and her baby. Everything would be fine.
“Thanks for the blanket.”
Antonio smiled. “My pleasure.”
She found her purse and tucked her science fiction novel inside. Two gentlemen, Antonio and Constanzo waited for her to exit first.
Constanzo paused to say something to the pilots, but quickly joined them on the tarmac below the steps.
She glanced around. The sky was blue, as perfect as any she’d seen in Kentucky. Tall green grass in the fields surrounding the airstrip swayed in a subtle breeze that cut through the heat. “Another private airstrip?”
“You don’t think my dad’s going to have a plane and suffer the torment of going to a real airport and waiting to take off and land, do you?”
Pushing a strand of her hair off her face, she laughed. “Right. Spoiled.”
“Incredibly spoiled. You’re going to need to remember that.”
She frowned. It was the second time he’d said something odd about her getting accustomed to his dad. Still, he was her boss now. They might have been able to relate like friends on the plane, but here on Italian soil, his home turf, her role kicked in. She was his assistant. Basically, a secretary. But this was better than anything she’d even come close to finding in New York.
This was her life now.
Constanzo walked over. “Bags are on their way to the limo.”
Laura Beth said, “Wow. Fast.”
Antonio laughed. “So much for you to get used to about my dad.” He nudged his father’s shoulder. “Exactly how do you intend to explain to Bernice that you hired someone to help her?”
Laura Beth’s brow wrinkled.
Constanzo’s face reddened.
Laura Beth gasped as she faced Antonio. “You think Constanzo hired me to work for him?”
This time Antonio’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not working for my dad?”
Constanzo’s face reddened even more as both Laura Beth and Antonio turned to him.
“I did not hire her to help my PA. I hired her to be yours.”
* * *
Antonio’s mouth fell open at his father’s audacity. Anger whispered across his skin, causing his temper to bubble. He took a minute to pull in a breath and remind himself that his father hiring a PA was nothing compared to his deceased wife’s handiwork.
Still, when he spoke, his voice was harsh, angry. “Why are you meddling in my life?”
Constanzo headed for the limo again. “I’m not meddling.” He strolled across the quiet tarmac. “You said last night that you were thinking about this. When Laura Beth and I struck up a conversation and I realized she’d be perfect for the job, I did what I do best...I anticipated.”
He almost cursed. “You meddled!”
Laura Beth touched his arm to get his attention. Her fingertips warmed his skin, caused his breathing to stutter.
“I didn’t realize he didn’t have your permission.”
Constanzo bristled. “I did not need my son’s permission. He said last night he was agreeable. I anticipated.”
Antonio stayed outside the limo, unable to get himself to move into the car with his dad and Laura Beth, who had hesitantly climbed inside. Confu
sion and resentment clamored inside him. He wasn’t just angry about his dad hiring someone for him; his reactions to Laura Beth were wrong.
He’d always liked her. And, yes, he supposed there was a bit of an attraction there. But suddenly, today, maybe because they’d had such an intimate chat on the plane, he was feeling things he shouldn’t feel. Good God, she was a sweet girl trying to find her way in life. And he was an angry widower. He did not want to be attracted to her, and if she were smart she wouldn’t want to be attracted to him. Worse, they should not be living together.
He had to fire her.
No...Constanzo had to fire her.
Behind him, the chauffeur wheeled their luggage to the rear of the limo. One scruffy brown bag stood out.
It had to be Laura Beth’s.
Just one bag. And it was worn. So worn he would consider it unusable. But that was her best.
He scrubbed his hand across his mouth as a picture formed in his brain. Her two roommates hadn’t just found the loves of their lives, they’d made careers for themselves and she was still working temp jobs.
Damn it.
He couldn’t embarrass her by refusing to let her work for him. But he didn’t want to be living with an attractive woman—the first woman to stir something inside him since Gisella. Worse, he didn’t want someone rifling through his things.
He’d give Laura Beth a few days to rest in his country house, then gently explain that he didn’t want a PA. Since he was essentially firing her, he’d send her back to the US with a good-sized severance check and the codes for his dad’s penthouse so she’d be okay until she found a new job.
But today, once he had her settled, he intended to have this out with his dad.
CHAPTER THREE
LAURA BETH WATCHED Antonio climb into the limo. He didn’t say a word the entire drive to his father’s house.
Nerves skittered along her skin. He didn’t want her. It seemed he didn’t want a PA at all...Constanzo did. And the second he got out of the car, Antonio would fire her.
They reached Constanzo’s beautiful country home and he unceremoniously got out. Angry, too, he didn’t say a word to his son. When the limo began moving again, she couldn’t take the quiet.
“I’m so sorry.”
Antonio stared out the window. “Not your fault. As I told you on the plane, my dad has the mistaken belief that everything he wants should be there when he wants it. Sometimes that translates into a belief that everyone in his life should do what he wants when he wants it done.”
With that the car got quiet again. Any second now she expected him to apologize and fire her. But he didn’t. The twenty-minute drive was extremely quiet, but with every mile that passed without him saying, “You’re fired,” her spirits lifted a bit. They drove up to his gorgeous country home and he got out as if nothing were amiss.
Exiting the limo, she glanced around. Antonio’s home was nestled in a silent stretch of Italian countryside. Hills and valleys layered in rich green grass with a spattering of wildflowers surrounded the new house. A smaller, much older house sat at the end of a stone path.
As if seeing the direction of her gaze, Antonio said, “That’s my studio.”
She tilted her head as she studied it. In some ways the old stone house was more beautiful than the big elaborate home that had obviously been built within the past few years—probably for his wife.
Her face heated as envy tightened her chest, so she quickly reprimanded herself. This man she thought so handsome had had a wife, someone he’d adored. She’d been hired to be a glorified secretary. She was pregnant with another man’s child. And she’d also decided the night before that she was no longer going to try to fit herself into a world too grand for her. Being jealous of Antonio’s dead wife, being attracted to a famous artist slated to inherit the estate of one of the world’s wealthiest men...that was foolishness that she’d nip in the bud every time it popped into her head, until it left for good.
Antonio motioned to the door and she walked before him into the grand foyer of his home. A wide circular stairway and marble floors welcomed her. To the right, a painting of what looked to be the field outside his house brightened the huge foyer with its rich greens and striking blues of both the flowers and sky.
“I’ve seen this before.”
He laughed. “In Tucker and Olivia’s Montauk mansion.”
She faced him. “That’s right!”
“I bought it back from them.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
“It was the first thing I painted when I rented the run-down shack I now use as a studio.”
He walked up behind her. Little pinpricks of awareness danced up her spine. “The second I set foot on Italian soil, I knew this was my home, that the time I’d spent in foster care in America was an aberration. An accident.” He pointed at the painting. “This picture captures all the happiness of that discovery.”
“I see it.”
He sniffed a laugh. “Tucker did too. Made me pay him a pretty penny to get it back.” He motioned to the stairs. “Let me show you to your room.”
Taken aback by the abrupt change of mood, she almost didn’t follow him. Her skin was prickly and hot from his nearness, her breathing shallow. Still, she smiled and started up the steps, reminding herself that he was off-limits and she should be paying attention to the layout of the house rather than the nearness of her boss.
At the top of the staircase, Antonio directed her down a short hall. A glance to the left and right showed her the upstairs had been designed in such a way that private hallways led to individual rooms. And each wall had a painting. Some stark and stunning. Some warm and rich with color.
They finally stopped at a closed door. Antonio opened it and directed her inside. She gasped as she entered. Thick white carpets protected golden hardwood floors. A white headboard matched the white furniture, which was all brightened by an aqua comforter and bed skirt and sheer aqua curtains that billowed in the breeze of the open window.
“It’s beautiful.” She’d tried not to sound so pedestrian and poor, but the simple color scheme in the huge room with such beautiful furniture took her breath away.
“Thank you. I did this room myself.”
“You did?” She turned with a happy smile on her face, but her smile died when she saw him looking around oddly. “What?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Foolish.”
“Come on.” She used the cajoling voice she’d use with her older brother when he had a secret. If they were going to be working together—and she hoped his recent change in mood was an indicator that they were—she needed to get him to trust her. “We’re friends. You can tell me.”
He sucked in a breath, walked a bit farther into the room. “Most men let their wives decorate, but mine was away—” He caught her gaze. “Traveling. She also showed no interest in the samples the designer sent to her, and one day I just decided to look at the whole house as a canvas and—” he shrugged “—here we are.”
“Well, if the rest of the rooms are as beautiful as this one, I can’t wait to see everything.”
He smiled slightly. “I’ll give you a tour tonight.”
She said, “Great,” but her heart sank. Talking about his wife had made him sad. He might give her the tour, but it would be grudgingly. The disparity of their stations in life and the reality of her situation poured through her. She might be trying to get him to trust her, but if she were simply a new assistant not a friend of friends, he wouldn’t give her the tour of his house. She might not even get such a grand bedroom. He probably wouldn’t have told her the tidbit about decorating it himself. And he wouldn’t be sad.
Maybe it was time to put herself in her place with him—for him.
“You don’t have to.” She laughed lightly, tr
ying to sound like an employee, not a friend. “This is your home. There might be areas you wish to keep private.”
He faced her, his expression filled with sadness. “People in the public eye quickly realize there is no such thing as privacy. If you sense hesitancy about my showing you the house, it’s because the house reminds me of better times.”
She struggled to hold back a wince at her stupidity. Of course, memories of his dead wife affected him more than the oddness of having a friend working for him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” He glanced around at her room again. “I’d love to have my inspiration back. I’d love to paint again.” He drew in a breath, as if erasing whatever memories had come to mind and faced her. “I need to go to my father’s for an hour or so. But it’s already late. Especially considering we’re five hours ahead of New York here. You may just want to turn in for the night.”
“Are you kidding? I had a seven-hour nap! Plus, I’m still on New York time.”
“Maybe you’d like to read by the pool? Or make yourself something to eat. The staff doesn’t return until tomorrow, but the kitchen is all yours.”
He left her then and she fell to the bed, trepidation filling her. So much for thinking he’d changed his mind about keeping her. He was going to Constanzo’s to confront him about hiring her. When he came back, he’d probably tell her that her services were no longer needed.
She wanted to stay. Not just because she needed a job, loved getting room and board and wanted some time away from everyone to figure out her life, but also because Antonio was so sad. Somebody needed to help him.
Empathy for Constanzo rippled through her, total understanding of why he desperately wanted to do something to lift his son out of his sadness. Antonio was a good man. Life had treated him abysmally by taking away his beloved wife. He deserved to have someone nudge him back into the real world. And having someone to help actually gave her a way to forget about her own troubles. It could be the perfect situation for both of them.
Except Antonio didn’t want her.
